Before Duncan could respond, Marcus stood and reached over to a shelf above his bunk. He pulled out a bundle of papers, which he handed to Duncan. The two men stood there, staring at each other again, two stags fighting over scraps of paper.
‘I’m afraid there’s no cartoons,’ Marcus said, letting go of the notes as Duncan snatched them away.
‘Fuck you, Graves.’
‘What a rich vocabulary you’ve developed. Get that from Daddy, did you?’
‘I hope you rot,’ Duncan said, easing his large frame out of the cabin and stamping his booted feet as he stormed off down the passageway, presumably to the command centre.
Marcus took a deep breath and sat down on his bunk. ‘How can you tolerate that arsehole?’
‘Same way I tolerate you. You’re just as bad. How’s your face?’
He shrugged as though it were nothing, but the blood was still seeping from the cut and a horrible swelling had puffed up around the edge of his left eye; a nasty purple and black bruise was starting to flourish.
‘You should go see Annette,’ Eva said. ‘I’ll take you.’
‘Nah, forget it. It’s just a scratch. We’ve got more pressing matters.’ He pointed to the bits of gravel within the spilled mashed potato. ‘I think it’s obvious who did this.’
‘Li?’ Eva asked.
Yeah. She and I, well, we . . . Before we got on the sub . . .’
‘Oh no. You didn’t screw her, did you? Tell me you didn’t.’
Marcus grimaced as he nodded. ‘It wasn’t my fault.’
‘Not your fault? What, she forced you to comply? She accidentally fell on you while you were naked? Does Cath know?’
‘Yeah, I told her before I left.’
Eva smiled now, suddenly understanding why he had been so adamant that the rest of his family stayed behind. ‘So that makes sense . . . Why you came alone and left the others behind. I bet Cath wasn’t too pleased when she found out Li was coming with us.’
‘Livid,’ Marcus said. ‘But it’s cool. We’ve been through worse. Hell, back before the drowning, I caught her sleeping with one of my rival gang’s enforcers. She’s cheated on me more times than I care to remember. It’s just how we are. But Li . . . Well, she can be quite persuasive when she wants to be.’
‘Not to mention unhinged. I could have died. Now I know why she accused us of being together. The woman’s jealous. It also explains why there was a weird atmosphere between you two earlier. Why didn’t you say something sooner?’
He shrugged. ‘I thought it had all blown over.’
‘You’re a fool, Graves, you know that? As much as Duncan, if not more. What the hell were you thinking? She’s barely spoken two words to anyone on the flotilla in all the time she’s been here, and then you just rock up and you’re at it like rabbits?’
‘What can I say? Some people find me ruggedly handsome. I guess she was just lonely and wanted some comfort. I didn’t mistreat her. I even turned her down the first few times, but then she was so upset. I was concerned she might do something stupid.’
‘Like telling Cath?’
‘No, like hurting herself or something.’
‘You’re not that great a catch – don’t flatter yourself.’ Eva bent down and began to clear up the mess. She grabbed a towel from Marcus’s washing things, using it to gather together the potato and the broken pieces of bowl. As she did so, she noticed something catch the light and sparkle within the material of the towel. When she looked closer, she noticed it was a fish scale. There were more of them on the towel.
‘That’s it!’ she said, standing up, clutching the towel in her fist. ‘It all makes sense now.’ She held the towel towards Marcus. ‘You used this to dry yourself after washing, right?’
‘Yeah, and?’
‘And that was directly after working on fixing the electrical system.’
He nodded.
‘Don’t you see? It was Li who sabotaged it! She would have been on duty shortly before it exploded. She’s been prepping fish for soup most of the day and must have left some scales behind, which you picked up while you were working. Given that she tried to choke me, believing I was with you, it doesn’t take a huge leap of imagination to think she would be vindictive enough to try to set you up for the blame, given that both malfunctions were items you were responsible for.’
‘It’s as good a guess as anyone’s, I suppose.’
‘I’m going to get Tom, then go have a word with Li.’ Eva made to leave the room, but Marcus reached out and took her wrist.
‘Wait – let me clean up here. I’ll come with you.’
Eva stared down at his hand around her wrist. ‘I’m more than capable of handling this myself without a chaperone, thanks.’
Marcus let go as if her skin was made of ice. He turned away, breaking their fleeting eye contact. ‘Sure, you’re tough as old boots, as my old Nan would say, but still, I’m coming. Just give me two minutes to clean up.’
Eva found herself not wanting to press it. Although she hated the idea, she was starting to like his company. The thought sickened her. He was the kind of guy she would have spent considerable energy going after back in the day as a policewoman. He was selfish, egotistical, and a criminal, yet despite that . . .
‘I’ll get Tom and meet you back here,’ she said, cutting off her line of thinking and concentrating on the job at hand: deal with Li and then speak to Tom about this whole Russian thing. If Tom had some knowledge of this, then she’d get the truth out of him. If she couldn’t do that, then she was sure Jim and Duncan could. It was too late in the scheme of things to not have the truth now.
One way or another, these situations were about to be resolved and the truth exposed.
Hell, that’s what this whole trip was about.
Eva entered the mess, along with Marcus and Tom. Li Poh saw them approaching the hatch and her eyes grew wide: it was clear they hadn’t come for food or drink. Eva prepared to sprint after her; she had that wild fox look about her, as if she were fixed in the headlights of a car.
‘Li, we need a word,’ Tom said gently, in the comforting tones of a teacher about to address a star pupil. It seemed to catch Li Poh off guard, and she nodded and came out of the side of the hatch to face them in the mess. She stood with her arms straight by her sides, her head lowered, and those small eyes of hers looking up through the shaggy-edged fringe of her dark hair.
She looked so frail and withdrawn that it was difficult for Eva to imagine her sabotaging the sub, or trying to choke one of her fellow crew. For the briefest moment, Eva thought she had it all wrong, but that soon changed.
‘I know you tried to choke me,’ Eva said. ‘You put fish scales in the potato, didn’t you?’
‘And then there’s the electrics,’ Marcus said, folding his arms across his chest and blocking her access to the door of the mess.
Li Poh exploded then, launching at Marcus with clawed hands. Spittle flew from her mouth and a stream of Chinese words Eva assumed were expletives came pouring forth. Tom grabbed her by the waist before she could get to Marcus, who casually stepped back out of her way. Eva grabbed at her arms to calm her, but she raked her nails across Eva’s face, scratching her cheek.
The blood rose within Eva and she struck out instinctively, slapping Li as hard as she could, leaving a bright red handprint on the smaller woman’s face. Li stopped instantly, as though someone had pulled the power cable from her. She collapsed to her knees.
Tom followed her down and held on to her as she dropped her head against his shoulder and sobbed.
The two of them stayed that way for a few minutes. Eva took the opportunity to move around into the kitchen prep area. She searched through the cabinets and drawers and found something that confirmed her guilt: a set of stolen tools wrapped in a cloth – the material of which, like Marcus’s towel, had fish scales caught in it.
Eva rejoined the others and held out the incriminating items.
Li looked up at her with p
uffy, red eyes. When she saw the tools, she dropped her head once more, but there was no more crying, just a cold response. ‘I did it,’ she said quietly. ‘It was me.’
‘Why?’ Tom asked. ‘You were so eager to come with us. Why try to stop us now?’
In broken English, Li admitted that it had been to frame Marcus, to get him back for not staying with her. She also admitted to putting scales in Eva’s food.
‘I see no other option,’ Tom said, ‘than to keep you locked up until we return to the flotilla. You’ll be taken off duty and kept in one of the cabins. We’ll provide you with food and water, but you’ll spend the time alone. I can’t risk you doing anything else to sabotage us. If you’d messed with the wrong system . . . Well, it’s just damned lucky you didn’t.’
Eva noticed Tom’s chin trembling with repressed anger. She was impressed with his ability to hold it in. Given the mark on Li’s face, Eva could have done with the same kind of restraint, but the scratches on her cheek still stung and she found it difficult to feel any sympathy for the woman.
‘Come on,’ Tom said, hauling Li to her feet. ‘Let’s get you sorted.’
The four of them left the mess and made their way through the narrow passages of the sub until they reached the aft-most cabins. Tom opened the door, and Li walked in of her own volition. She stood there, looking wretched, as the sub’s captain closed the door and locked it with a key that he kept on a chain on his belt.
‘Crazy bitch should be fired out of the torpedo tubes,’ Marcus said.
‘If it wasn’t for you being unable to say no, we wouldn’t be in this mess,’ Tom said. ‘Take some advice for once in your life, Marcus. Keep your mouth shut, your cock in your pants, and perhaps we can finish this journey without any more disasters.’
Tom pushed his way past and headed towards the centre of the submarine. Eva made to go after him, wanting to question him about the Russian issue, but Marcus grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
‘Let him go,’ he said. ‘He’s not in the mood to listen right now – not when we’re about to accuse him of being a Russian informant. Let him sleep. We’ll deal with this tomorrow when everyone’s more level-headed, including your untamed Viking pet.’
‘For god’s sake, he’s not my pet. He’s my nothing, and don’t you go getting any ideas. I’m sick of both of you right now and just want to go get some rest. I suggest you do the same – and put some ice on that eye of yours. It looks terrible.’
‘Concerned with my appearance, huh?’ he said, the corners of his lips twitching up into a self-satisfied grin.
‘I already have to look at your ugly face and would prefer it not to be even uglier.’ With that, Eva gave him a gentle slap on the cheek, making him wince, and walked away to her own bunk, satisfied that the whole sabotage issue had been dealt with.
She could hear him laugh and wince as she walked away. She smiled before reminding herself it was Marcus Graves – Graves the criminal. And yet, there was a part of her that was happy to have cleared his name over the whole tampering issue. She told herself it was because she needed him as much as the rest of the crew to get to Mt McKinley – that her happiness was entirely selfish, professional even, and not about his welfare.
Eva yawned as she opened the door to her cabin. By the time she had finished the yawn, she had fallen onto the bunk and slipped into a deep, restful sleep, the dreams of which, thankfully, she wouldn’t be able to recall when she woke.
CHAPTER NINE
Fifth day at sea. 11:20 a.m.
Jim rubbed his eyes and swallowed the cold, bitter remnants of his coffee. The command centre had descended into a weary silence as it always did during the final stretch of a shift. In another forty minutes, Team One would come and relieve them of their duties, but until then, Jim made sure to focus on his task: work with Patrice and Bernita to ensure the smooth sailing of the sub.
They were so close now – just a day or so.
Turning in his chair to look behind him, Jim addressed Patrice, who sat hunched over the central sonar console, headphones crooked on his head. ‘How’s the sonar?’ he asked, more from a desire to break the silence than from any legitimate enquiry.
‘Nothing – well, just the sounds of the whale following us. It’s been a couple of days now,’ Patrice said, slurring his words through tiredness, making them even more French-sounding.
‘I call him Moby,’ Bernita said from the console to Jim’s right. She had taken up the controls for what would have been the traditional planesman role. She had kept them on a steady course, just as Tom had trained her to do.
‘Of course – what else?’ Jim said. He smiled at her before turning his attention back to his controls and the two screens that showed the video feed of their cameras. They were sailing close to the surface in order to observe the horizon, but in all of Jim’s time, he’d seen nothing but sky, ocean, and trash – a briar tangle of it, mostly plastic, driftwood, panels, and other unknown detritus from much farther below in what used to be towns and cities.
He rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. All the stress of dealing with Li had sapped him, and most of the crew, of energy.
Despite that, the new revelation of the Russian notes played on his mind.
When Duncan had given them to him earlier, his first thought had been to agree with his son that this was another of Graves’ scams. But the more he read over them, the more he realised that no, they weren’t a scam: they were the real thing – Graves wouldn’t have had the forethought or smarts to come up with something so authentic.
A few quiet minutes passed and then Tom entered the command centre.
‘How’s it all going?’ he asked. He looked refreshed after his rest and change of clothes: a naval working uniform of navy blue T-shirt and a pocketed jacket in pixellated camouflage design. He must have found it in one of the cabin’s storage lockers; most of the other uniforms had been burned along with the deceased when the sub first arrived at the flotilla.
‘All according to plan,’ Jim said, taping a pair of dividers against a chart he had been double-checking earlier in the shift. ‘We had to make a small westerly correction, but nothing major.’
Tom approached Patrice, who was sitting at the sonar station. A copy of their navigational charts lay to one side. Tom bent down and inspected it, humming occasionally before nodding. ‘Good job, everyone,’ he said with a smile.
‘Merci,’ Patrice said, replacing the headphone to his ear.
Bernita just nodded and focused on her duty, watching the readouts from the sub’s systems. Tom stared at the video display for a moment, tapping his index finger against his bottom lip.
‘Something the matter?’ Jim asked.
‘Not at all. Just thinking about our progress. Despite all the drama, it seems like we’re actually ahead of schedule. We should be getting a visual on McKinley within the day at this rate.’ Tom’s eyes widened a fraction, as though he were excited about the prospect. But then, just as quickly, they narrowed again. A frown creased his forehead.
‘You’re concerned about the arrival,’ Jim said.
‘Not so much the arrival, but what we’ll find there.’
Now it was Jim’s turn to feel tense. When Tom didn’t expand on his last statement, Jim considered bringing up the matter of the Russian notes. Was it right, though, to get into this around the others?
‘Tom, can I have a quick word with you, in private?’
Patrice arched an eyebrow. Bernita side-eyed Jim. The vice captain didn’t respond.
‘What’s up?’ Tom said.
‘Just something of a personal nature. Shall we?’ He extended his arm, indicating the exit of the command centre. Tom gave Patrice some orders and followed Jim, who led him into the officer’s cabin. Shutting the door behind them, Jim let out the breath he had been holding as he’d considered how to approach the subject.
He chose bluntness. ‘Tom, you trust me, right?’
‘Of course I do. Why? Have you done someth
ing?’
‘Not exactly. Listen, I’m only bringing this up to nip it in the bud.’ He shuffled from foot to foot, thinking how best to explain. ‘Marcus found something a few days ago,’ he said, watching Tom’s reaction. ‘Some notes from before the drowning, between two ratings.’
Tom sat down on the wooden chair in front of the officer’s desk and leaned forward, his hands on his thighs. ‘Where’s this going, Jim? I feel like there’s going to be an accusation at the end of this discovery.’
Jim pulled a wad of papers from his pocket and handed them to Tom. ‘It appears the crew were infiltrated by Russian spies,’ Jim said. ‘You’re named in the correspondence, along with mentions of some secret government project – and a string of numbers that don’t seem to relate to anything. Were you in league with these spies, Tom? Were you supplying them with information about Gracefield and his project?’
‘You’re fucking kidding me, right? You think I’m a traitor?’
‘No,’ Jim said. ‘That’s not what I’m saying. I’m asking you straight because I respect and trust you. But we need to address this issue. Put it to bed. Otherwise, Marcus is going to continue sowing the seeds of doubt. Just tell me what you know.’
Tom shook his head and scanned through the papers.
‘Do you know anything about the Banshee Project?’ Jim asked. ‘When you were serving on the Utah, was there any talk about a secret government programme?’
‘There’s always something secret going on,’ Tom said. ‘DARPA and the other agencies are for that exact thing, but no, I personally know nothing of it. Hell, we barely even mentioned Gracefield. The only time he had any effect on this crew was when he signed the kill orders that Benedict dutifully carried out.’
‘Why do you think,’ Jim said, ‘these spies mentioned you specifically? Do you have specific knowledge or skills they thought could be useful?’
Tom slumped onto the bunk and lowered his head. With a deep sigh, he looked up at Jim as though he were a defeated boxer. ‘I don’t know, Jim, really. I’m as shocked as anyone. I mean . . . I’m just a submariner. There’s nothing special about me. I don’t know why they were discussing me as a potential target.’
Soil (The Last Flotilla Book 2) Page 7