Ghost Writer(72)

Dora was at her desk, working at her laptop. She shot me a blank look when I came in, but said nothing. I decided to cut to the chase.

“So, are you pissed off at me too?”

Once upon a time I would have hated to confront anyone like that. Working with Dora had taught me it was the best approach with her.

“Mary Lou is pissed off. I'm disappointed. Jamal thinks you've been planted by CSIS and you're working with Gravell.”

“I'm not working with Gravell. He's working with me.”

That got her attention. Now she was more curious than angry. I pulled up a stool and closed the physical gap between us.

“It started while I was trapped. You know I rescued the document satchel, well I also copied the digital memory from the cameras, ours and Parker's.”

She whistled.

“I knew Tinsdale would have the memory chips confiscated so I copied them to my smartphone. I am so glad I beefed up my memory before I left home. Anyway, I had lots of time, so I viewed the video on the camera and imagined what the place was like when the crew was still alive. I got the notion that the journal might have some answers. When I took the memory chips out, I used the blue screen to read the journal.”

It wasn't a great explanation. I hoped Dora would be more excited about having the video than angry about me reading the journal before it was processed.

“And you have the video here?” she asked.

Bingo, I thought and suppressed a sigh of relief.

“I'll upload a copy to your laptop.”

“Excellent,” she said, changing seats with me. “While you do that, you can explain that comment about Gravell and tell me why you held on to the journal for so long.”

I didn't bother suppressing the next sigh. How far was I willing to go? Did I mention ghosts? Dora would think I was nuts.

“It's complicated,” I started.

“No it isn't. Don't lie to me Jen, I'll know and be offended.”

Maybe it wasn't complicated. I took a deep breath and told the truth, uncluttered by inconvenient facts.

“Someone is trying to kill me, Dora. Gravell is trying to protect me. We're both trying to find out what happened thirty years ago and why it matters so much to someone now. The journal is a key piece of evidence.”

I clicked and dragged the file with the journal scans.

“I couldn't let the journal be confiscated by the Americans so I held onto it. Gravell dusted, swabbed, and scanned it. If he hasn't already, I'll ask him to turn over any forensic results.”

She nodded.

My smartphone made a tingle-ling sound, telling me it was finished its assigned task. I packed it away and let Dora sit at her laptop again.

“Still disappointed in me?”

She shrugged. “I'll forgive all if you go fetch coffee.”

She handed me her mug and shooed me out the door.



Outside, I took a deep breath and smiled. I did it. I survived the wrath of Dora. Now I had to call Gravell or be subjected to his wrath.

“Bonjour, Madame Kirby.”

“Bonjour, Chief Gravell. Did you get the message that I went to my cabin to confront Dora.”

“I was told you went to your cabin. Are you there now?”

“No. I'm fetching coffee for the boss.”

He sighed. “Didn't you mention someone is trying to kill you?”

“She knows. I know too, which is why I'm calling.”

“I'll bring a carafe of coffee.”

“Can't we just meet in the wardroom?”

He heaved another sigh. “Yes, but take the inside route.”

My first thought was the man's paranoid. My second thought told me to walk briskly until I was in the wardroom where there would be safety in numbers. A third, cowardly thought wanted to call Gravell back and tell him I'd let him fetch coffee. I'd go hide in bed with the covers over my head.

“Minton?”

Nothing.

“I could use a little help here.”

I felt a chill creep up my spine. When it reached the nape of my neck I had the sensation of whiskers tickling my skin.

“Margolo? If you're trying to freak me out, you're doing a good job. If you're trying to flirt, you need to warm up. I'm going to catch a chill.”

I backed against the bulkhead and Margolo appeared before me. He spread his hands out in a mute query.

“Do you want me to find the truth about what happened to you?”

His expression was impatient. His nod was curt.

“Well somebody doesn't. So I need you to watch my back. Okay?”

His expression shifted to concern and he nodded again. A pleasantly cool hand was placed on my shoulder. With his other hand he pointed two fingers at his eyes then at me. He would be watching me.

Other than a card game being played by a few of the off-duty crew, the wardroom quiet. Gravell waited by the coffee brewing machine. He greeted me with nothing but a stern expression.

“I know I'm being a bug, but I just made peace with Dora, and I didn't want to blow it by refusing to get coffee.”

“At this point she could hardly fire you.”

“Maybe not, but we're friends, and I value her respect.”

His expression softened. “I understand, and I don't mind being on call. What worries me is how long it took you to get here.”