by J. S. Law
Chapter 23
Monday Evening – 29th September 2014
Dost think, in a moment of anger,
’Tis well with thy seniors to fight?
They prosper, who burn in the morning,
The letters they wrote overnight.
Dan read the verse again as she perched on the edge of her bunk, her mind racing. Was it a threat? Was it genuine advice? Or was it simply an act of dominance; a calm and collected way of letting her know that she was in a position of complete subordination?
The Old Man had given her a verse from the same, relatively obscure poem that Whisky Walker had sent to her, but what did it mean? Walker had worked for the Old Man, and maybe he’d got the poem from Bradshaw too? Maybe the Old Man tossed it around like confetti, a form of attempted intellectual snobbery or benevolent education?
She looked up towards the ladder, had done at least a dozen times now. It was a habit that had developed into a nervous tic.
Ben had changed after the slip that she’d made in the wardroom, and only a few people had heard her misspeak. He had then made an effort to try and speak to her in private and that effort had been scuppered until he died or, in Dan’s estimation, was murdered.
She stood up and paced in the tiny space before sitting down on her interview stool again and placing her head in her hands, massaging her scalp as though she might knead out some ideas.
What did Roach have to tell, or show her? What did he know? Was his information about Walker, or maybe Cheryl? Why was he selected to be the casualty during the exercise and who selected him? Who had access to his EBS mask before the exercise? Why did the Old Man, and Walker, want her involved in this investigation at all?
Her mind was overloaded with questions, all without answers. She rubbed at her eyes; they were grainy and sore. She knew that she needed some proper, restful sleep, or she was going to cease to function effectively. But, as exhausted as she felt, she couldn’t sleep now. Her skin felt grimy from dried sweat; she hadn’t been able to shower since the heave, nor since the Chief Stoker had met her after her last one. Deodorant wasn’t allowed on board due to its effects on the ventilation system, and the submarine seemed to be permeating its way into her skin, as though she would never be able to wash Tenacity off her.
One question kept coming, repeating over and over again: Could someone on board one of the Royal Navy’s nuclear submarines really plot to kill a fellow sailor and get away with it?
‘Hey.’
Dan looked up. Her head jerked around towards the speaker and the first warnings of a possible migraine appeared behind her eyes like tiny dots on a distant horizon.
Aaron walked slowly towards her, his hands hanging loosely by his side. ‘Thought I’d pop down to see how you’re doing,’ he said, and sat down on her bunk, facing her across the small gap.
Dan thought quickly. She was being blocked in every direction in which she tried to move. She needed a friend, needed support; couldn’t do this alone. Looking at the grief etched onto Aaron’s face, she made her decision.
‘I need help,’ she said. ‘I need your help.’
He looked up at her, his bloodshot eyes a clear sign that he’d been crying.
He nodded. ‘What?’
‘Aaron,’ she paused, knowing this was absolutely the wrong thing to do and at absolutely the wrong time, but seeing no other possible way around it. ‘Chief Walker’s wife was raped and murdered on the night that Tenacity docked back into the UK. One of the reasons that I was sent here, alongside investigating Walker’s suicide, was to ensure that no members of Tenacity could have been involved in that murder.’
Aaron’s face had gone slack.
Dan decided to push on; the decision had been made and she desperately needed someone on her side. ‘I believe that a member of your crew may have been involved in this and I think that Ben Roach knew, or suspected, something or someone.’
She reached across him to grab her clipboard, aware that he didn’t move away as their bodies came into contact. She hated that even now, even with all that was happening, her stomach reacted, flipping at the feeling of his body touching hers. Refusing to linger, she retrieved the board and sat back down. The headache had retreated for a few seconds, but now it started to grow again, warning her that there was a long night ahead.
‘Dan—’
She raised a hand and cut him off. Then, flipping over some sheets, she located the napkin. ‘This is what Steward Roach sent to me,’ she said, holding up the note written on the paper napkin, but pulling back when Aaron tried to reach for it. ‘He wanted to meet me where nobody else would be, to show me something or talk to me.’
Aaron shook his head. ‘What are you saying? Are you really telling me that you think Ben’s death wasn’t an accident? I was there, Dan. I was the Lead Safety Officer.’
Dan looked away from him and took a deep breath, but this couldn’t wait, there was no time for grief. Turning slowly, she waited for him to make eye contact. ‘I really don’t know if it was an accident or not, and if I suspected you, I’d hardly be coming to you now. I need to find out.’
Aaron’s face contorted. He looked like he would fly into a rage and Dan recoiled, steeling herself for whatever he might do. His chest heaved, but he gradually seemed to bring himself back under control.
‘You know,’ he said heavily. ‘It was me that told the Old Man to ask for you. I know it was years ago, but I always liked you. You’ve got a reputation for being fair and honest, if dogged, stubborn and annoying.’
They both chuckled, a strange and guilty sound in the quiet of the bomb-shop.
‘I think you’re wrong about this. Ben was one of us, he was one of the brotherhood; no one on board Tenacity would harm him. But I’ll help, if only to prove to you how wrong you are.’
He was shaking his head slowly.
‘We’re not what you think, you know, Dan. Some of the lads haven’t treated you well, but you forced your way on here. You’re an occupying force and these guys will resist you. They’ll do that and they’ll follow the Old Man, and he’ll resist you too. But these men give up their families for long months, to live here, amongst this.’ He gestured around the bomb-shop. ‘It isn’t hand-to-hand fighting, Dan. We don’t fix bayonets and charge down enemy trenches, but we give up all luxuries and put ourselves in one of nature’s most dangerous environments, out of a sense of duty and to protect the people we love, and the ones we don’t. Those men that are fighting and dying in Afghanistan, they aren’t fighting for the Government, or the Queen; they fight for each other, to make sure that everyone comes home together.’ He paused. ‘We’re no different down here. We work for each other, so that we can all come home together. It’s that simple when you break it down. I don’t believe that any submariner would do this to Ben, or that any one of them would hurt Cheryl, but if you do, I’ll help you to be sure.’
‘Thank you,’ said Dan.
She wanted to smile, to stand up and embrace him as the ally she’d so desperately needed.
‘But Dan, you haven’t told anyone else, right? About Walker’s wife or what you think about Ben Roach? About that napkin?’
He looked hard at her.
‘No, no one knows about the message on the napkin except you, but the Old Man thinks that I suspect foul play and he didn’t like it.’
He breathed out and closed his eyes. ‘Dan, I have to tell the Coxswain and the Old Man about the napkin, I’m duty bound to. You know that, right?’
Dan nodded, she had known.
‘But I won’t say a word about Cheryl Walker. I’m going to pretend you didn’t either. There’s been rumours kicking around since you came on board, but I don’t think confirming them would be good for anyone.’
‘I agree,’ said Dan.
‘Just don’t say anything to anyone else, OK? Submarines are a fragile eco-system and emotions are high. Ben’s body’s going into the freezer in a while and the lads don’t need to hear any of this; submariners ar
e good at keeping secrets, but not from each other.’
Dan nodded and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she repeated.
He leaned across towards her, reaching out and touching her hand. ‘Can I ask, how did Cheryl Walker die?’
Dan looked at him carefully, letting him know that she couldn’t say too much. ‘She was attacked and badly beaten,’ she began.
‘Do the police have any leads at all? Anything to go on?’
‘I really can’t say, Aaron,’ she said more firmly.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, seeming to be aware that he had pushed too far. He sighed. ‘It’s just so sad that it happened at all. I knew her quite well.’
‘It’s OK. I’ve just said too much already, but I needed to know I had someone here who would help me if I needed it.’
He looked at her and held her eyes for a long moment before he spoke again. ‘When we eventually get back—’
‘Let’s just see,’ said Dan, cutting him off, conscious of his hand on hers.
‘So what do you want me to do?’ he asked.
Dan thought about it. ‘To be honest, Aaron, I just needed to know that I wasn’t alone. I will need help, I’ll ask when I do, but I needed to know that I had someone to …’
He smiled at her, his hand still on hers.
‘Boss!’
They spun around towards the hatch, Aaron snatching his hand back like a recoiling viper.
‘Old Man wants you,’ said McCrae, his head upside down and a few inches below the hatch.
‘On my way,’ said Aaron, watching until McCrae was gone.
‘Could he have heard?’ asked Dan.
‘No. But submarines have ears, Dan. You need to be really careful.’
Chapter 24
Monday Evening – 29th September 2014
Dan watched Aaron leave and then looked around the bomb-shop slowly. Instantly, she knew that she had to get out of there, if only for a short while.
The lights were bright and constant, and ordinarily this would be a comfort to Dan, even a condition of her life, but now, as a migraine loomed and the six-hourly rounds seemed like speed bumps in every stretch of possible downtime, it was starting to feel like torture. When the migraine took off, she would be trapped here, lying in the omnipresent blaze as she tried to wait out the storm in her head.
Time was ticking down too, in several ways.
Her investigation lacked pace, seeming to stall whenever she made an advance. She had learned little of note about Walker and less about his wife, Cheryl, and instead of solving a murder, she was certain she had witnessed one.
She grabbed a sheaf of papers, ones that she had sorted back into order but had not yet read properly, and headed up the ladder. Standing on two-deck, she looked along it in both directions before heading towards the pantry. Ben Roach wouldn’t be there, and there would be no food parcel on the side waiting for her, but she couldn’t resist glancing through the doorway.
Ben’s iPad was lying on the worktop in a smart leather cover that had ‘Submariners go Deeper’ embroidered onto it and a set of dolphins mounted below. Dan couldn’t help but step inside and pick it up. She opened the leather flap and switched on the device, but was immediately asked to enter a passcode.
‘Crap,’ she whispered.
She turned it over in her hands; saw the marking on the back, ‘Luxury Real Leather Custom Goods’. Dan ran her finger across the indented markings.
‘Very nice,’ she whispered, as she felt the quality of the leather, lifting it up and smelling it.
Someone spoke in the wardroom, a quiet voice just a short distance away through the pantry curtain.
Not wanting to be seen but desperate not to lose the chance to examine the iPad later, Dan looked around for somewhere to hide it. She pulled open the top drawer, the one where the Old Man’s tea bags were kept in neat, boxed rows, and tucked the device at the very back. Closing the drawer, she stepped quietly back into the passageway.
It was like a ghost ship. No one was moving around and no one was there to see her; Tenacity was in mourning.
She looked down two-deck and walked towards the ladder that led down towards the ship’s office.
Aaron had said that No.2 auxiliary machinery space was down there, the place that Ben had wanted to meet her, where he’d hoped that they’d be able to speak alone and undisturbed. Aaron had also said that sometimes people read down there, to get away from their own bunk-space, but that now it was out of bounds.
Hesitating for only a second, Dan climbed down the inclined ladder, conscious of every sound her boots made as they touched the metal steps, and looked around.
The ship’s office door was closed and marked with a sign stating ‘NO ENTRY’.
Dan could hear voices from within, raised voices. One was the Old Man and he was shouting. The other voice, low and steady, was Aaron, sounding as though he was nursing the Old Man back from the edge of control.
Then Dan heard another voice, quieter still. When it started, the other two voices silenced and she recognised Jago Maddock’s Cornish accent.
She fought the urge to listen and become embroiled in the conflict any more. There was no way she could risk being caught wandering, no way she could cope with another clash at this moment.
The bomb-shop seemed like the safest option, but as the voices continued, Dan knew she had to go and take a look. She followed the small walkway round to her left and passed two large grey machinery cases, the first clearly marked as ‘Battery Breaker 1’. As she rounded it she saw the two hatches that Aaron had described to her, both clearly marked and one with a wooden blank laid across the hatch, completely filling the gap. KEEP OUT was stencilled onto it. She checked that this one was the No.2 AMS, and then looked around, her heart beating so loud that she was sure someone would come running to investigate the constant thump-thump, thump-thump. She had her papers ready, a story about being lost and wanting to read. Thinking fast, she knelt down and lifted the wooden blank as quietly as she was able, slid it to the side and placed it onto the identical hatch to No.1 AMS.
Looking down into the space, she could see that it was a very small compartment, no bigger than her tiny kitchen at home, and it was filled with chunks of grey machinery. The compartment was accessed by a short vertical ladder and was so low that Dan suspected even she wouldn’t be able to stand up in there. Still able to hear the voices in the ship’s office, she climbed down. As soon as her feet landed on the green painted deck she saw she wasn’t alone.
At the other end of the compartment there was a pile of bags and holdalls. On them, asleep, was a submariner. The name badge on his working rig named him as Ryan Taylor.
His face was red and marked with dirty tear tracks. In one hand he was clutching a leather-cased iPad, almost identical to Ben’s.
Dan remembered the day that she had first come on board, remembered how Ben had wanted to stop the hazing that had been going on in the Senior Rates Mess as the Chief Stoker whipped a young sailor in the same stretcher that would later play a part in Ben’s death. She recognised the sailor in front of her now, Ben’s friend Ryan.
The scene came back to her as she looked at the sleeping sailor. She remembered how Ben had reached across as he released Ryan, how he had gently wiped away a tear as it meandered down Ryan’s freckled cheek. Dan hesitated, about to turn away and sneak back up the ladder, when Ryan’s eyes opened, bloodshot and sunken, and he focused on her.
‘You ain’t supposed to be down here,’ he said quickly.
Dan looked at him. ‘Neither are you,’ she said.
He sighed, but didn’t look embarrassed that she had found him asleep; he just looked up towards the deck-head, a tear forming instantly in his eye before it walked the well-worn track down to his chin.
‘You OK?’ Dan asked, as quietly as she could whilst still being heard above the hum of the ventilation system.
He said nothing and Dan thought about climbing back out right away, maybe admitting to Aaron that she
’d been down here, despite his warning that it was out of bounds.
There wouldn’t be another chance to come back, not once they found out she’d tried to come down here already.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ she asked, crouching down to face Ryan from across the compartment.
He nodded; his whole demeanour told her that it didn’t matter one way or another now.
‘How long were you and Ben together?’
He looked at her, his body language changing; it was the first time that he’d really moved since he’d opened his eyes. At first he seemed defiant, angry maybe, and then he looked down at her boots.
‘The boys don’t like fags,’ he said. ‘Ben never wanted ’em to know.’
Dan nodded back. ‘I think I understand, now more than ever, what it’s like to be an outsider.’ She tried to smile. ‘If it wasn’t for Ben, I’d have starved to death by now.’
Ryan smiled as he thought about this, shaking his head. ‘He told me what they done,’ he said. ‘Told me he was feeding you. Some of ’em hated him on his last boat ’cos they said he was bent. Never knew why, though, he was careful as to be paranoid, but he was proper determined not to get tagged here.’
‘But you all know each other,’ said Dan, more of a question than a statement. ‘The submarine service is so small.’
‘But here he had the Old Man, didn’t he? The Old Man saw him box at a show ages back, only submariner on the card. He liked what he saw, liked the way that Ben banged, so he brought him to Tenacity and looked after him. I ain’t saying the Old Man likes fags, he probably don’t, but he likes loyalty, and he liked Ben.’
‘What do you mean?’