Ghost Writer(78)

He pulls out a thick manual and flips through pages. Without having a clue what he is doing, I get the impression something isn't right.

I follow him into the torpedo room. He pulls out a screwdriver and opens a plate, exposing a tangle of wires. Scanning them, he quickly tugs at one. He reaches in and pulls a hand-held radio out from behind the bulkhead. It has two wires connected to it.

Smiling grimly, Naire disconnects the radio and follows the second wire behind the bulkhead with a flashlight.

Further along, there is a gauge to indicate the status of one of the torpedo tubes. Naire unscrews it and in behind the mechanism is a box, wrapped in electrician's tape, with the wire going into it.

Naire rocks back and forth on his heels and purses his mouth as if whistling. His head cocked to one side, he listens. He pushes the box back. He jams the disconnected radio in with it. The gauge mechanism is replaced. No time to tighten the screws. No time for anything.

He is prepared to lie. He is prepared to fight. He is not prepared for a knife to come out of nowhere and pierce his throat.



I staggered. Welland and Mercuros caught me by an elbow each. We were in the torpedo room. Naire's ghost hovered before the scene of the murder.

“I think it's behind that gauge. Or it might be one of the others. Try there first and look for blood evidence wherever you find the bomb. Someone found the bomb and disarmed it. They might have died here.”

I hoped that sounded plausible and backed away from the activity.

They found the radio and the bomb. Mike bagged and tagged the items and started dusting the area for prints. I stood and tried to get my heart to settle down. It didn't help that a ghostly montage was playing over the activity across the room.

Minton was dragging bodies in on a makeshift sled and laying them out in a neat row. When they were all present, he stuffed them into the torpedo tubes. Then he swabbed the deck, once…twice…three times until he was satisfied. I saw fragments of a job that must have taken him hours to complete. Cleaned up and neatly dressed, he bowed his head in prayer. Finally, he fired the tubes, then collapsed on the deck, face in hands.

“You should check inside the torpedo tubes if possible,” I said, feeling a bit like collapsing myself. “That would be the logical way of disposing of the bodies, right?”

Tim was incredulous. “That's in the journal? All of that is in the journal?” He looked as though he wanted to shake me.

Mercuros and Welland saw it too. Welland took up a defensive posture and Mercuros lay a hand on Tim's shoulder.

“Not just the journal,” I assured him, trying to keep things friendly. “It's a combination of sources.”

I shifted my gaze to Mercuros.

“I'm going to check out the other teams now.”

I hope he understood that it would be best to keep Tim from following me.



Mary Lou was in Command and Control.

Mary Lou still wasn't very happy with me.

After dealing with Tim, I knew I wasn't up to dealing with her. On the other hand, I wasn't sure I was up to the galley either.

“Are you okay?” Welland's professional tone was modulated with concern.

She covered the microphone on her head set and waited for me to do the same.

“Chief Gravell warned me that you might feel faint. He didn't say why, but it seems to me you have some psychic ability to read the history of places.”

“It's complicated…”

I was spared the necessity of trying to explain by Captain Campbell who asked if there was something wrong, because he had lost our audio signal.

Welland tapped her mike noisily.

“Can you hear that, sir?”

I had to bite my lip not to laugh.

“Yes, Welland. Please don't do that again.”

Welland made a face at me and mouthed ‘oops.’

“We're going to the galley,” I announced, to Welland and whoever else was listening. No one objected.



I hesitated at the entry. Most of the water had been pumped out of the room, but there was still a few centimetres covering the floor. That and the red glow reminded me too much of the night I was trapped.

“You okay?” Welland asked.

I nodded and forced myself to walk down the stairs.

In my dreams and in the visions I had experienced in the galley, I saw the crew sitting around the table. They played poker. They apparently talked about Minton behind his back. I saw his point of view and with it his anger and isolation. Then I saw blood. I suspected now that Minton blanked out the rest.

I needed to see another point of view.

Margolo? I thought the question and closed my eyes. I opened them as a cool finger flicked my cheek.



Naire is alone at the table, a half-eaten sandwich and empty mug in front of him. Margolo comes to the table with a carafe and second mug. He pours coffee and signals Naire to continue what he was saying. Naire talks. He pulls out a folded sheet of paper which Margolo examines. With a shrug, he hands it back. He says little, but his expression in thoughtful. Naire is watching him. Margolo nods, and I see him mouth the words, ‘Check it out.’



Naire must have shared his suspicions with Margolo. This must have happened just before Naire was killed. What happened after? I cast my mind back to the vision I had when I was trapped.