The page was torn from a legal pad. Blood stained the bottom half, obscuring the text. Above the stain, however, a string of characters remained legible.
‘It looks to me,’ Marcus added, ‘that the two communicating with each other like this didn’t have time to destroy the key before Stanic went bat-shit crazy and killed the crew.’
Eva’s stomach growled and she yawned, feeling the tiredness now that the adrenalin had dissipated. ‘So?’ she said. ‘I’m hungry and tired. What’s so interesting about all this? It could just be love letters between two men. Homosexuality wasn’t exactly embraced in the navy. In other words, get to the damned point – why is this stuff worth being so secretive?’
‘Give me two minutes,’ Marcus said, turning his attention to the papers he had removed from the gap behind the panel. Using the key to decode the messages, he went from one sheet of paper to the next until he apparently found the one he was looking for. He handed it to Eva. ‘There . . . Now, this is interesting.’
‘What am I looking at?’ she asked. The text was still coded.
Marcus pointed to a collection of letters across the top of the paper. ‘These are names and designations. Russian. And that there’ – he pointed to a section towards the bottom of the sheet – ‘is a mention of our dear captain, Thomas Martinez.’
Eva’s breath caught for a brief moment as her brain connected Tom, Russians, and the submarine – could he have been involved in some conspiracy?
‘So what are you suggesting?’ she said, now more than interested.
‘This sub was home to at least two Russian spies, as far as I can make out,’ Marcus said. ‘And the only other crew member, aside from Stanic, to be named in these communications is Tom.’
‘Are you being serious? I will double-check this. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Absolutely. You can check them if you don’t believe me. I’ve gone through everything I’ve found, and other than the two spies, Tom and Stanic were the only ones mentioned by name. And who were the two who survived the massacre?’
Eva didn’t need to answer; it was clear already.
‘There’s far more here, though,’ Marcus added as he scanned the papers.
‘Like what?’ Eva asked, leaning over the cot to peer at the scraps of notes.
When Marcus looked at her this time, all his bravado had gone and she was sure she was looking at his true self, with no subterfuge or games.
‘There’s mention of some new device, some programme they referred to as the Banshee Project. This was months before the drowning. Tom’s never mentioned anything about this, despite, according to these notes, the fact that he was involved with the project. Doesn’t that strike you as suspicious?’
‘I . . . don’t know,’ she said, weighing it in her mind. It all depended on the context. Perhaps there was some secret programme and Tom was involved with it, but that didn’t necessarily mean their mission to find the base and the truth of the drowning was in jeopardy.
‘We ought to talk to him first,’ Eva said. ‘Give him the benefit of the doubt – as I’ve given you.’
‘Are you crazy?’ Marcus said, waving his hands at the papers. ‘It’s all there. Tom was involved with a secret programme. A device . . . perhaps even some kind of weapon. It was certainly interesting enough to the Russians to have infiltrated this sub’s crew in order to get to him.’
Eva ran a hand over her face, trying to think clearly. Her mind was racing with a hundred questions and possibilities all at once.
On one hand, she thought, she had Marcus exposing some secret about Tom, casting suspicion on the man who had not only helped stop Stanic, but also spent weeks training the crew, all with the twin goals of finding the truth – if there was one – about the drowning, and then figuring out what was next for the survivors, how they would move on from their flotilla existence.
On the other hand, she had Marcus, who, throughout his stay on the flotilla, hadn’t always been so helpful. It was a lot to believe, that Tom would somehow want to harm them.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘You tell me – if you think Tom was involved with this project, then why go to all the trouble of getting us trained to find this base?’
‘Well,’ Marcus said, ‘What if this thing is a weapon? And it’s at the base? Maybe Tom wants to recover it. Perhaps cover up his involvement in it, or some other conspiracy. Perhaps this project has something to do with the drowning? The timing’s right.’
‘Say you’re right in all that,’ Eva said. ‘Then what?’
‘That’s something I’m trying to find out. We’ll need to decode more of these pages, figure out what Tom’s involvement was.’
Eva took a deep breath and sighed. Suspicion and more lies were the last things anyone needed. But then, she reminded herself, this was Marcus Graves suggesting all this. As honest as he might look in this moment, she couldn’t take him at face value.
‘Our shift is over,’ she said. ‘I’m too exhausted to argue with you. Let me take the notes so that I can read them for myself.’ She fully expected him to refuse.
‘Sure, go ahead,’ he replied, surprising her. ‘I want you to see that I’m telling the truth. If there is something else going on here, it’s important to me that I have at least one ally.’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But you stay off Tom’s case until I’ve had a chance to read all this, okay?’
He held up his hands. ‘Sure, do what you want, but, in the meantime, don’t expect me to trust him.’
‘You don’t trust anyone,’ she said.
Footsteps sounded from the hallway outside.
Eva and Marcus quickly shuffled the papers together. She stuffed them under her navy blue sweater. The footsteps stopped outside the cabin door. Marcus put his finger to his lips and indicated to her to be quiet as he opened the door a crack and stepped outside.
He and Tom had a brief argument about something related to a maintenance issue. Eva curled into the lowest cot, hiding in the shadows, feeling like a thief, hoping that Tom wouldn’t come in. She didn’t want to have to explain what they were doing, or, worse, give him the wrong impression. Duncan would soon be after Marcus, and that was one conflict she wanted to avoid as much as possible.
She heard Tom order Marcus back to the engine room, then two pairs of footsteps heading in opposite directions. When all was quiet, she slipped out of the cot and peered around the door. All was clear, so she headed to her own berth, hungry not for food now, but for confirmation.
Confirmation of just what the hell had been going on in this sub before Stanic’s murderous rampage – and what that meant for their situation now. If Tom was just using them as staff to get to the base for some other reason, she needed as much foresight as possible. And if that wasn’t the case, she needed to find a way of getting to the bottom of it and clearing the air between Tom and Marcus before their actions caused some serious harm.
CHAPTER THREE
Third day at sea. 11:00 a.m.
Over the next day while everyone continued with their duties, Eva read through the notebook and papers Marcus had given to her. She read each line closely, using the key to decode the notes.
Marcus, surprisingly, was telling the truth this time around. The two submariners, or ratings as Tom would say, who were communicating like this did appear to be responding to some outside agent, a handler who was referred to only as 0219.
The back and forth notes dated back to nearly two months before the drowning. Using the sub’s various communication technologies, they had sent coded messages back to 0219 regarding the ‘Banshee Project’ and obscure references to some new weapon or technology the US was developing.
Besides the mentions of the project, the most worrying were the references to Thomas Martinez – Tom, their captain. Although she didn’t understand some of the nuances of their messages, it was still clear that these Russian spies had identified Tom as someone whom they could potentially turn and recruit for their aims of knowing more abo
ut this secret device.
There was, however, no indication in the notes that they had managed that. Stanic had killed them before any confirmation had been written. And there was no confirmation that Tom did indeed have any insight or knowledge regarding the project.
Eva placed the notes underneath the mattress of her cot and lay back down. She still had an hour or so before her next shift started at 12:00 a.m. and she wanted to figure out the consequences of all this.
It was a tricky situation, for sure. If she approached Tom, accused him of working with Russians, how would he react? And what would that mean for the sub? They needed him as their captain – but even if he were guilty of some act of conspiracy?
How could they trust him, if he had worked against his country?
She wondered if that even mattered now. It wasn’t as if there were any countries to worry about any more. The only thing that mattered was survival. The truth of the drowning would bring closure, and help the remaining population move on, especially if this base could be a potential destination. If Tom could help with that, and didn’t pose a risk to anyone, then all this was just pointless suspicion.
Her mind was brought back to the secret files that Stanic had killed for. Tom was the one who had decoded them, after all was said and done. He was the one who had identified the base and helped plan the journey. What if, she thought, this is all a set-up for something?
What if he needed the crew to get him to the base?
But for what purpose?
The Banshee Project? She didn’t even know what that was. The notes between the spies were careful not to spell it out. There were some thoughts from them that it could be a revolutionary new device, a weapon, or both, but there was nothing concrete to go on.
Travelling at around twenty-five knots, they’d reach their destination, Mt McKinley, in approximately ninety hours. As she lay there, listening to the humming sounds of the engines, she thought about all that she had left behind, all those who had perished.
She tried not to dwell on the past too much – the past that included her being tied up and threatened with death by Stanic; the past that included Mike’s and Jean’s tragic deaths; and the past where her daughter and family were left to drown while she floated away. It just brought the pain, but sometimes, like now, when all was confused she found it safer to return to those times, those memories, even if they did hurt.
It didn’t help that she had taken this particular bunk within the sub. It had belonged to the previous sonar tech. When Eva had first got settled, she had respectfully collected together the detritus of the young man’s life: photos of his family, letters, and even video recordings burned to DVD. Like Eva, he’d had a young daughter.
Was this the way archaeology would be done from now on? Assuming that humanity continued to survive. There was still doubt in her mind on that front.
Their then-captain, Benedict Montgomery, a.k.a. Stanic, had shot the young man, along with the rest of the crew, on the order of President Gracefield. What kind of man would make that order? Had he been justified? She hoped the base would offer some insight into that particular question.
Or was it all a lie, and Stanic’s desire for murder trumped all?
Only five minutes into her rest and her mind was already drifting back to the grim events of five weeks ago and Stanic’s attack on her and Duncan. Back before the world drowned, she’d likely have seen a therapist and received treatment for PTSD. The only thing to be done now, though, was to push the horror as far down inside as possible and keep smiling.
But even a smile isn’t a smile when tears are tracking down one’s cheeks. Although the memories hurt, they kept her motivated. Reminded her that she needed to keep moving forward, and somehow find peace and bring justice to those events.
Without that pain, it would be too easy to forget and give in to the daily existence on the flotilla. But that was no way to live in the long term. What was left of humanity needed more: closure, and a way forward. Perhaps the base could provide for both of those desires.
With that firmly in mind, she concentrated on the here and now, listening to the ambience around her, bringing herself back to the moment, the clarity of her convictions sharpened by her introspection.
Sailing in a sub, she realised, didn’t sound like anything she had seen in the movies. There was no ‘ping’ sound constantly ringing out and little to no metal-on-metal boom. These newer craft were built to be silent throughout: there were rubber seals between panels to dampen all sound. The ping, she had discovered, was from active radar, not the preferred (and more frequently used) passive kind.
No matter how long it had been since the drowning, it never stopped being so damned weird to think of the planet now with everything she ever knew underwater. Eva wished she could go outside and explore. What would it be like to swim around the streets and buildings? She sighed and let her body relax in the tight confines of the bunk. Before she could think of something else, she suddenly became aware of an absence of sound.
The white noise had stopped.
It was as though the vessel and all those who sailed within her had been caught, frozen in time and space. The lights outside in the passage shut off, sending her room into complete darkness. For half a minute, Eva leaned over and held her breath, straining her hearing to figure out what was going on.
Someone ran past the door, heavy boots clanging against the floor.
Eva let go of her held breath and inhaled deeply, tasting smoke on her tongue amidst the stale air created by the sub’s air-scrubbers. She coughed and rolled out of her bunk completely, standing up in the narrow space. Even after just three days at sea she could navigate her way out into the main corridor in the darkness by feel and memory alone.
When she opened the door and stepped outside, loud voices arguing echoed down from the level above and towards the centre of the vessel. The command centre.
Along with the raised voices, more smoke billowed into the passage.
‘What’s going on?’ Eva said, staggering forward, her arms out in front of her as she stumbled. Up ahead she saw a light swaying back and forth, reflecting off the steel steps. She raced towards it, thinking of the others on duty.
Before she’d reached the top of the steps, Duncan appeared above her, carrying a flashlight. He shone it down on her, blinding her for a moment before swinging it aside.
‘Eva?’
‘Yeah, it’s me. What the hell’s going on? Where’s that smoke coming from?’
‘You’d better come to the command. Everyone’s there. I was just coming to get you. Don’t worry about the smoke; it’s under control. We’ve got a problem with—’
‘Marcus?’ Eva said, taking Duncan’s hand and quickly scaling the steps to the upper level.
‘Yeah,’ Duncan said.
Eva followed him through the narrow passage until they came into the command centre.
Marcus had Tom up against a wall, his hands around the collar of his navy blue jacket. Tom’s face was red as he squirmed beneath Marcus’s grip. The two men thrashed and fought until Jim stepped towards them, grabbed Marcus by the shoulders, and heaved him away from Tom. Jim raised both of his arms, holding the fighting men at bay. He looked at Marcus, his eyes wide with fury – the same look he’d had when he had battered Stanic’s skull with the wrench.
Duncan moved in between Marcus and Tom, helping his father keep the two men separated.
‘Will someone tell me what the problem is?’ Eva said, looking at Marcus, who got to his feet just a metre from Eva. He spun to look at her and pointed at Tom. ‘That scumbag’s accusing me of sabotaging the sub. That’s what’s goin’ on. But I ain’t having any of it. That fire ain’t my fault.’
Tom stepped out from Jim’s grip and pointed an accusing finger at Marcus. ‘The fire started in your department! One of the main power converters blew. You were supposed to be the one keeping an eye on all this stuff. A world-class electrical engineer, you said.’
�
�Screw you,’ Marcus said. ‘We’re operating this damn thing on the barest of crews. I’m knackered. I’ve not slept in thirty hours, and before my last break, I checked my area and everything was working fine. Besides, you’re not exactly—’
‘Marcus, give it a rest,’ Eva shouted, worried he was going to bring up the notes. It wasn’t the time or the place. She still needed to think of the best approach. Observe for a while, at least.
Marcus glared at her, and she mouthed the word please silently.
He got the idea and continued to rant about shift patterns.
‘You think you’re the only one who’s tired?’ Tom demanded. ‘At least you’re not on active work; you’re just monitoring dials and doing some basic maintenance. What more do you want from me?’
‘Some fucking respect wouldn’t go amiss,’ Marcus shouted back. ‘And perhaps cut out all the accusation bullshit when something goes wrong – unless you’re trying to divert attention to me for something you’ve done.’
‘Are you accusing me of sabotaging the power converters?’ Tom raged. ‘Why on earth would I do that, after spending weeks training you all?’
‘You’re not as squeaky clean as you seem,’ Marcus said, narrowing his eyes.
‘Oh? Care to elaborate?’
Eva winced and stepped closer, fearing it would all bubble out, and she’d lose her opportunity to understand the implications of the notes before it descended into a bigger, and perhaps terminal, argument as far as their goals were concerned.
‘Okay, enough,’ Jim said with a growl in his voice. ‘I’m sick of you two bickering. It’s been non-stop since we left the flotilla. As vice-captain of the vessel I’m ordering you two to shut the fuck up and figure out how to return power to this tin can as soon as possible.’
Eva stepped towards Marcus and placed a hand on his shoulder. Whispering, she said, ‘I believe you, but you need to chill out.’
Duncan raised an eyebrow when he caught Eva’s eye. She just shook her head, which was her way of saying, ‘There’s no problem here.’ She’d had to use it on almost a daily basis since they’d started training on the sub.
Soil (The Last Flotilla Book 2) Page 3