Ghost Writer(89)

“Well, Jenny?”

I gently pressed the ice pack to my jaw. I needed x-rays and pain-killers and rest, but this had to come first. I had to strike while the guilt was fresh.

“You need to let me do this, Sean. It isn't grandstanding. Everyone needs to know what this is about. It's why we're here and it's the only chance I have at being safe again.”

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Just give me the gist of what you're going to say. That's all I ask.”

“No.” I heaved a sigh and pushed myself out of the chair. “I'm not angry. Well, not much. You made it clear from the start that I couldn't confide in you. I respect that. I also know that whatever constraints you have to work under, you want the truth too. So, will you give me your arm? Or shall I call Chief Gravell?”





Chapter Forty-One ~ Into the Light



My colouring must have improved, because the only stares I got were directed at the developing bruise on my jaw.

“What the bloody hell happened to you?” Dora demanded, swooping down on me. Then she answered her own question. “Blunt force trauma.”

“Pistol butt,” I said.

She nodded. “You should get it x-rayed. Some facial oedema with evidence of petechial haemorrhaging about the cheeks and nose.”

“Pillow over the face.”

“No cyanosis.”

“Been there, got over that.”

“Muscular fatigue?”

“Oh yeah. But not as bad as it was.”

“I look forward to hearing all about it.”

It was a tossup what shocked people more, my state or Dora's reaction to it.

I felt a hand on my back. It was Alex. He had a tall glass of juice for me and stayed close. Franchot joined us. His expression told me that he felt bad enough. I forgave him. I forestalled apologies and let him take up position with his first mate. My bodyguards.

Looking around, I counted heads. All the research team was present. Tracy, Reuben, and Lil were watching me with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Mary Lou and Jamal were regarding me with suspicion. Mike's expression was unreadable. It matched the look on Marine Corporal Madison. Barb Welland and Draco Cross were also present. If I had a third shoulder, I think Barb would have been at it.

An awkward moment of silence stretched into a minute or so. Then Tinsdale appeared with Gravell behind him and the dance began.

Campbell greeted Tinsdale. Tinsdale gave me a slight bow.

Franchot gave up his spot to Gravell and offered Dora his arm. They exchanged words with the captains and we all went to the table. Captain Campbell sat me at the end of the table opposite him. Gravell sat next to me on one side. Alex invited Welland to sit with him, and he took the other side. Dora was on Campbell's right, with Franchot beside her. Lil was on Campbell’s left with Tinsdale next and so on until the naval officers and the researchers were thoroughly mixed.

I caught the captain's eye and smiled. I wonder if remembered his comment about diplomacy being a dance. In any case, he smiled back.

Soup was served. Normal table chatter commenced. Pass the salt. Pass the rolls. I had agreed to let the captain give me my cue, and wondered if he was going to wait until the end of the meal.

The soup was taken away. The main course arrived and immediately I understood Captain Campbell's timing. As soon as it was offered, I waved away the plate of roast beef au jeu, string beans, and roast potatoes. My jaw wasn't up to that kind of chewing.

“Perhaps you'd like to start, Ms. Kirby,” Campbell said, once everyone was served.

I nodded. Then I closed my eyes and thought about the crew of the station. When I opened them, they were there. Naire, Boreman, and Dawson stood behind their children. Shore took up a position behind Tinsdale. Kant and Golanger bracketed him. I could feel Margolo behind me. Last, but not least, Minton appeared next to me.

Gravell’s knee pressed against mine. He knew they were there. From their faces, I thought Barb Welland and Mike Naire could sense something too. The rest waited expectantly. I began.

“An hour or so ago, Tim Neville tried to asphyxiate me. He didn't want me to tell anyone what I had pieced together using your work, my research, and William Minton's journal. Ironically, Tim filled in a few important gaps between assaulting Sergeant Dippel and almost killing me.”

Tinsdale spoke up. “I left the gunny in surgery. Neville hit him with sufficient force to cause a subdural haematoma. Dr. Stern is guardedly confident that the damage is reversible.”

I sighed and blinked back tears of relief.

Dora rapped on the table. “Get on with it, Jen. You can fall apart later.”

This seemed to produce equal amounts of angry grunts and nervous laughter. The important thing was it worked. I was able to continue.

“The point is, although I have recently found out that he was under suspicion of sabotaging the station, Neville's actions don't make a lot of sense until you know, as I do now, that he is William Minton's son.”

The reaction was dramatic, and I took the opportunity to ice my jaw while everyone settled down.

“Minton escaped the station. He started a new life, but eventually the old one caught up with him. He confided in his teenage son who, mistakenly I think, assumed that his father wanted him to keep the truth from being known.”

Jamal punched the air. “I knew it! I knew there was a conspiracy.”