‘This lecture, Worse. This lecture. Do you know what a difficult subject is validity?’
Worse briefly sympathized before telling Spoiling of the secret embarkation, and asking if police could intercept the motor launch heading upriver.
‘I will send you the video within an hour, Victor. Get some sleep.’
When Worse reached his stateroom, Hilario was in the corridor, impeccably dressed in a starched white jacket.
‘Is there anything I can get for you, Mr Worse?’
The door to Sigrid’s bedroom was closed. Worse sat at his office desk and downloaded his night vision from the binoculars. He studied the raw footage, then reprocessed a copy through edge-enhancement software. Several frames showed the boarding man’s face in sufficient detail to identify him, and it matched the image from the auto-teller in Fremantle. He was Haberdash. Worse sent the material to Spoiling.
There was a soft knock on the stateroom door, and Worse rose to open it. Hilario entered with a tray of tea and fresh sandwiches. He began to set his wares neatly on the breakfast table, but Worse interrupted.
‘Thank you very much. I can do that.’
Worse turned to his computer screen with its portrait of Haberdash in eerie green. He motioned Hilario to look at it.
‘If you see this man on board, please let me know.’
‘Of course, Mr Worse.’
They were due to leave port at 7.00 that morning, bound for La Ferste via Singapore. At 6.00 am the ship’s captain broke the silence with an announcement that shore police had determined a need to search the ship, and that all passengers should remain in their cabins with IDs available for inspection. Their sailing time would be later than scheduled.
Worse and Sigrid were perfectly happy to stay in their suite. Hilario served them breakfast on the balcony. As he was leaving, Worse spoke.
‘Hilario. Do you know people who work in the casino?’
‘The casino people are not part of the shipping line, Mr Worse. They are a different company. They have their own quarters and dining room. They do not mix with our staff. Even the casino bar waiters and cleaners are not ours.’
‘Thank you, Hilario.’
When Hilario had gone, Worse looked across at the shipping on the other side of the harbour.
‘For an ocean cruise, we haven’t gone very far.’
Sigrid didn’t mind. She was absorbed in writing a conference paper. Worse went inside to collect his laptop, returning to the balcony to work over breakfast. They didn’t notice the next two hours passing, until there was a knock on their door. Worse opened it.
‘Victor!’ he said. ‘Come in. Have you made an arrest?’
‘Thank you, Worse.’ Spoiling stepped inside. ‘Worse, I have seventy officers searching this ship and we have not found him. I feel a headache coming on.’
Worse gestured Spoiling across the suite.
‘Come and meet my travel companion.’
They walked out onto the balcony.
‘Sigrid, let me introduce Victor Spoiling. Victor, Sigrid Blitt.’
The two shook hands. Worse indicated to Spoiling that he should sit down on a third chair. Without asking, he poured some orange juice and placed it before his friend.
‘Thank you, Worse. It is infuriating that we know he is on board and we cannot apprehend him.’
‘What do you want me to do if I find him after we’ve sailed?’ asked Worse.
‘It’s very messy. Detaining him at the captain’s discretion. We will need an international warrant, extradition proceedings, escort detail. Very messy.’
‘Simpler if I interrogate him then toss him overboard?’ said Worse.
Spoiling looked at Worse to judge his seriousness. Then he turned to Sigrid, leaning forward.
‘Do you have a strong interest in the matter of validity, Dr Blitt?’
The inexplicable manifestations of their steward noted by Worse and Sigrid almost certainly place Hilario in the rare company of Erscheinenvolk. The term was coined by von Steppenbert in 1919 to describe those (one in fifty thousand, approximately) individuals who are notable in the way they appear and disappear in social situations with what would commonly be viewed as unexpected, often arresting, suddenness. Early studies excluded motivated deception and conjuring techniques as explanations; indeed, Erscheinenvolk typically lack insight into their behaviour until made aware by the distress of those around them, for example in the workplace or within intimate relationships. For much of the twentieth century the phenomenon was marginalized to the paranormal, but it is now attracting mainstream scientific attention. The best recent review is by Anna Camenes in Psi Quarterly.
Sigrid Blitt’s invited conference lecture was entitled Symptoms Verbalized: The Ekphrastic Challenge of Psychiatric Description. Also executive editor of the diagnostic manual Fifteen Valid Moods in Adolescence, she demonstrably has a ‘strong interest’ in the subject of Spoiling’s question.
19 HIGH ROLLERS
Once aboard, it is not difficult to stow away on a large cruise ship, particularly with the assistance of conspirators. The manhunt was deemed unsuccessful, the police team withdrawn, and the ship allowed to sail at 11.00 am. Worse and Sigrid stood with a group of other passengers on a starboard observation deck, just forward and below the bridge, to watch their departure.
They still didn’t know the identity of Haberdash. Fingerprints and DNA from the Fremantle accommodation were nowhere on record, and facial recognition databases using Worse’s images proved unhelpful.
Given the connection to Camelline, Worse thought it was likely that Haberdash had been moved through the ship to the casino staff quarters. He had conveyed this idea to Spoiling, who promised that their search of that section was especially thorough.
Thinking about this, Worse messaged Spoiling to ask whether Haberdash was a smoker. Yes, he was; his DNA was on butts recovered in the flat. The only places aboard where smoking would not set off alarms were the outside decks. Sooner or later, reasoned Worse, Haberdash would risk exposure.
The deck surface on this level was dimpled steel plate, but grip was compromised by a glossy paint coating. It also sloped seaward for drainage. Worse walked to the edge and looked over. All that protected him from a long fall to the water were two strands of stainless steel wire tensioned between steel posts topped by a varnished timber handrail. No wonder a sign inside the door declared this deck off limits to passengers during bad weather, with compliance encouraged by clearly evident security camera monitoring.
The casino, inauspiciously situated on level 13, was closed while in port. The public-access section was designed to be a thoroughfare to capture impetuous souls walking through the ship, seduced by the sparkle of gaming machines.
Worse found no enjoyment in gambling, and detested card games especially. When he and Sigrid entered, the dozens of colourful slot machines were alight with flashy promise, and a few blackjack tables were staffed by croupiers awaiting custom. At one end, below the sign Bank in gold antique script, were two cashier windows with curlicue grilles. Beside this was a door guarded by a casino employee. Hilario had described this as the entry to the private room reserved for high-stakes gamblers. He thought there were also management offices there, connected to the bank.
They passed through the area slowly, headed for the next aft elevator lobby, and returned to their stateroom. Worse poured glasses of mineral water, handed one to Sigrid, and toasted.
‘Underway at last.’
‘Underway at least,’ she responded.
Worse picked up a telephone extension to request lunch, but before he had pressed for service there was a knock on the door. It was Hilario with menus. When he had left with their orders, Worse followed Sigrid out to the balcony.
‘It’s unsettling, you know. No sooner do I think of calling him than he appears. It can’t all be explained by coincidence.’
‘Yes it can,’ said Sigrid definitely.
Worse looked at her doubtfully.
‘And another thing,’ he added. ‘Have you ever seen him laugh, or even smile? For a man named Hilario, it’s out of character.’
‘You’re obviously not amusing enough. Try to be more witty, Richard. I could be better entertained as well.’
‘Then I shall do my best to make him smile at least once on this cruise,’ said Worse.
After a short silence, Sigrid asked, ‘You do trust him?’
‘Oh yes. Very much so,’ said Worse.
After lunch, Sigrid left to explore the library. Worse investigated the ship’s security system. He could easily access the CCTV feed, and he set up a multi-panel display from those cameras covering exits to outer deck areas. To this he added a screen-based movement detector with an alarm, which he planned to switch on only at night. Police had shown their wanted person’s photograph to all passengers and crew; if Haberdash decided to emerge from hiding for a cigarette, or to assuage claustrophobia, he would choose a time when most people were in bed. Worse also studied the ship’s deck plan. The closest, most easily accessible fresh air to the casino was the observation deck where he and Sigrid had watched their departure from Fremantle.
The next day was rougher, with the threat of a storm. It was a formal night in the restaurant, and Worse reluctantly wore a tuxedo.
After dinner, he led Sigrid to the casino. There, he went straight to the cashier and showed his passenger ID to purchase five thousand dollars of chips. As he turned away, the doorman at the private entrance said, ‘Sir, Madam,’ and used a key card to open the door for them.
Inside, there were five tables. A door to their right appeared to lead to the bank area, and probably private offices. Next to it was a large mirror that Worse suspected was one-way glass. If there were a staircase to the catwalk used for surveillance of the tables, it was probably in the office. There seemed to be no other doorway; apparently, access to the casino staff quarters was also through the office. The deck map had not been sufficiently detailed to reveal this, and he decided that he needed to access the original naval architect’s plan.
Worse led Sigrid to a roulette table at the far end of the room. There were four empty seats, but he chose to stand. Those gambling were being served lavish quantities of champagne and spirits, and he felt sorry for them. In a game of chance, the only control players retained was how much to lose—whether to start and when to stop; alcohol stole even that from them.
He watched the wheel and the chip placements for about fifteen minutes, when the croupier spoke to him.
‘Placing bets, Mr Worse?’
‘Observing the balance, for now,’ replied Worse. A few minutes later, he and Sigrid moved to a blackjack table, watched the game briefly, then made their exit. At the bank, he cashed in the chips.
‘Not lucky today, Mr Worse?’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Worse replied. ‘The swell is a little strong for the wheel, I thought.’
‘We hope to see you back when the weather calms. Good night, Mr Worse.’
But the weather didn’t calm. Worse sat at his computer and studied the ship’s plans. There was a service elevator accessed from the casino office area adjacent to the private room. This would connect to level 4, where Hilario had said the casino employees were quartered.
The key drawings were those detailing the ship’s services. Worse estimated that the ceiling space above the gaming tables was more than two metres in height, accommodating air conditioning, power, communications, drainage and sprinkler system ducts. There was no indication of access for casino security, but a catwalk could easily have been a post hoc modification during the fit-out. If so, Spoiling’s search team, using the ship’s plans, would likely have missed it. Worse wanted to get into the casino office and see for himself. He suspected the way up might be via a folding attic ladder concealed above a disguised roof panel. It was possible that Haberdash was secreted there.
By midnight the storm had hit. The ship was tossing wildly, the wind flipping between whine and roar, and rain pelted almost horizontally against their balcony door. Despite its weather seal, Worse could feel a cold draught from outside.
A warm drink would be nice. He decided on an experiment: he thought to himself I would like some hot cocoa, and reached for the phone. As he did so, he heard a knock on the door. There was Hilario with a mug of hot chocolate on a small tray.
‘Good evening, Mr Worse. I hoped this might be calming, given the conditions.’
Worse stared at him, starting to wonder about telepathy. He was tempted to wake up Sigrid and report the result.
‘Thank you, Hilario. I should have thought of that myself.’
‘If there’s nothing else, good night, sir.’
Worse settled into an armchair to enjoy his drink. He thought about their fugitive, cramped somewhere in his hiding place, feeling the wildness of the sea, wanting a cigarette, trying to sleep.
It was 2.30 in the morning when Worse’s motion detector awakened him. He leaped from his chair to look at the computer screen, in time to see a dark figure passing through an observation deck door. Still in his crumpled tuxedo, and oblivious to the temper of the Indian Ocean, Worse left the stateroom and took an elevator to the starboard deck where he and Sigrid had stood the previous day.
Worse pushed opened the outside door against the wind with great difficulty. Despite his effort to be surreptitious, it slammed shut behind him. Rain was beating down faster than the deck could drain it. There was hardly enough light to see, the wind was stinging his eyes, and he was cold. He stayed close to the wall, edging around its curved section to the bow aspect with little to grip for support. There was no one there, and it occurred to him that not even the most desperate nicotine addict in history, or in fiction for that matter, would bring himself out here for a cigarette.
He turned back towards the door, beginning to worry whether he would be able to open it and get inside. The ship crashed into a trough and shuddered, sea spray soaking him in saltwater that seemed even colder than the rain. Worse clung to a public address speaker high on the wall, waiting for any small lull that might allow him to return to the door. He would rather be holding its outer handle for safety than this rusty fitting engineered to support no more than the weight of a loudspeaker. The ship rolled to port, and Worse thought he would make a run for it while gravity held him against the wall. When he let go of his flimsy anchorage, he felt adrift, and alone in the world.
But he wasn’t alone. Halfway to the door, Worse suddenly found himself enclosed in a bear-hug from behind. It took him a second to realize what was happening, it was such an insanely risky manoeuvre for anyone to try under these conditions.
Despite the cold, and the improbability of his plight, Worse’s reflexes were intact. His assailant made the common tactical error of enclosing a victim’s arms within the embrace. Before it had fully tightened around him, Worse abducted his arms violently, at the same time bending his knees and dropping his weight a metre to the deck. He reached between his legs, grasped the soaked trouser cuffs of the man behind, and pushed himself backwards. Unable to rescue his balance, the attacker fell heavily to the deck with Worse on top.
Worse rolled onto his stomach towards the wall, and got to his knees. He might have made his escape, but above the wind he heard a loud semiconscious groan that informed him the other man was badly stunned. Worse leaned over to examine his face; even in the darkness, he recognized Haberdash. He searched his pockets, taking a mobile and a wallet, then snapped a lanyard carrying a key card from Haberdash’s neck. Worse stuffed these into his own pocket.
There was another loud obstructed inspiration from Haberdash, and Worse decided that he couldn’t abandon him there. He dragged the comatose man toward the door but the ship was beginning its cyclic roll to starboard. Worse reached out with his left arm to hold onto a wall-mounted lifebuoy, his right hand grasping Haberdash by his saturated coat. As the roll advanced, Haberdash became heavier, and Worse wondered for how much longer he could hold on. Both hand
s were frozen numb, and either might give way first. It could be Haberdash alone who rolled to the precarious barrier at the edge, or both of them in an ironic and unwilling embrace.
Worse guessed the roll angle reached forty-five degrees before it stopped. When the ship righted he let go of the lifebuoy and dragged Haberdash along the deck. They were now rolling to port, the rain wash collecting so rapidly against the wall that Worse realized he had to prevent Haberdash from drowning.
Worse used both hands to try to open the door. Even the wind pressure alone would make it difficult. Now the effort was also uphill against the roll of the ship, and his arms had little strength in the cold. If he waited until the next starboard roll, when the weight of the door might assist its opening, he would also be trying to stop Haberdash from sliding overboard.
He had no choice but to wait, and the inevitable roll began. Worse tried to lever the handle down while pulling on the door, as well as grasping Haberdash as the incline worsened. He couldn’t manage. At the full roll, all his strength was taken in holding on, to the handle and to Haberdash.
He wondered about getting back to the lifebuoy and devising some method of securing them both. His mobile phone was useless, but he thought about using its camera flash to get the attention of the bridge; he knew that would be futile in this density of rain. In the end he considered it best to stay where he was and hold on. Each time the ship righted and he could briefly let go of Haberdash, he pulled on the door with both arms. But whenever he managed to open it a crack, the wind seemed to surge in order to defeat him. Then, either the roll to port would weight the door closed or the roll to starboard would require he grasp Haberdash.
Worse counted five full rolls in attempting this exercise. During the tilt to port he found himself sitting down between the door and Haberdash, too exhausted to care about the freezing rush of rainwater that washed back across the deck to be dammed against the wall. His thinking was already blunted by the cold. He knew that he risked perishing from hypothermia, even if he managed to save himself from hurtling across the deck and through the flimsy wire rail at its edge. He needed a better plan.
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