Glass Eels, Shattered Sea

by Charlene D'Avanzo

  Even though Harvey had wrapped me in an oversized towel as I stepped off the ladder, I couldn’t stop shivering. “Damn, I’m cold. Time for shower number two.”

  “It’s probably adrenaline too,” Harvey said.

  Ted put his hand on my shoulder. “You reached us just in time. I swallowed so much water, I couldn’t manage.”

  I squeezed his hand. “We’re a good team. Ted, your fingers are ice.”

  “Both of you to hot showers, pronto,” Harvey said.

  I lowered my voice. “After that, let’s meet someplace where we can talk. What happened to Alise was no accident. It’s the second time she’s been targeted, and we need to figure out why.”

  An hour later, cradling a hot mug of tea, I followed Harvey into the library. Except for Ted, the little room was empty. With an occasional look over my shoulder, I lowered my voice. “Remember that acid bottle I found? When I asked Alise about it, she said she’d been in the chem lab, left for a half hour or so, and came back to finish her calibration. She didn’t see the bottle when she walked in.”

  Rubbing her forehead, Harvey asked, “So someone put that bottle on the table when Alise was in the back of the lab? That’s awfully bold.”

  “Maybe they didn’t know she was there. I didn’t see Alise when I walked in and spotted the acid bottle. So, yes, that’s what I’m thinking.”

  Ted leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I don’t get it. If someone’s trying to scare the eel researchers, why go after Alise? She doesn’t do that kind of work.”

  “She doesn’t,” I said. “But she’s been helping with the MOCNESS net. Maybe it’s a crewmember who assumed she works on eels.”

  Harvey’s scrunched-up nose said she wasn’t buying it.

  “It’s thin,” I agreed. “Someone would need to be pretty confident about their target before they risked their cover to harm anyone on a crowded ship like this one.”

  “Let’s think back,” Ted said. “See if we’re missing something.”

  Harvey nodded. “Mara, before we boarded the ship, when did you first see Alise?”

  I slid my empty mug onto the table. “We got out of the van near the pier, and she walked over to meet us.”

  “Then what?” Harvey asked.

  I shrugged. “I was standing next to the driver as he pulled my duffel out of the trunk and put it on the ground. Alise asked if the bag was mine. When I said yes, she insisted she’d carry it onto the ship.”

  “Well, maybe that’s it,” Harvey said.

  “What is?”

  “Mara, you already suspect that someone targeted the old eeler…”

  “Nelson Ives.”

  “Nelson. Because of the Operation Broken Glass sting,” she said.

  “Yes, but—”

  “In the airport you spent an hour talking to the guy who oversaw that sting. Someone could have watched you carry that red duffel into and out of the interview room.”

  “But why would they connect that bag with Alise instead of me?”

  “Maybe their contact in South Carolina was told that the target was a woman carrying a red duffel bag.”

  20

  I shut my eyes for a moment. “Harvey, you’re right.”

  “It’s a good idea,” Ted said. “But how can we find out? There’s no video surveillance footage we can look at to see if someone pushed Alise.”

  “No,” Harvey said. “But a couple of people on the upper deck used their phones to record the MOCNESS deployment.”

  “But with Alise going overboard, the net never went in,” I said.

  “Nick is documenting everything for an eel presentation,” Harvey said. “I was standing next to him when he recorded the grad students preparing the net. If someone nudged Alise off the fantail, we might see who it was.”

  Harvey found Nick in the lab, editing the phone footage he had already uploaded to his computer. When she explained our interest in the feed, Nick was more than happy to help.

  Computer in hand, Nick followed Harvey into the library. This time, I closed the door behind him. Setting his computer on the coffee table, he started the video feed. We leaned in closer and watched several of his students lay the massive net on the fantail, kneel down, and begin to untangle it. A minute into the feed, Alise knelt and joined the other students.

  “There she is,” I said. “But why is she so close to the end of the fantail?”

  “I guess it was the only place where there was room,” Nick answered.

  “Mmm,” I muttered. “Nick, can you slow this down?”

  He nodded and we watched the students work in slow motion. Another minute ticked by, then two. Then I saw it. “Nick, stop the video.” I pointed to the bottom right side. “See that? Someone walked up next to Alise. I’m pretty sure it’s a crewmember.”

  We watched those few seconds several times over. The image was grainy, but there was no doubt. We could see the man’s boots and the lower parts of his pants very close to where Alise knelt.

  “But most of the crew wear that kind of footgear,” Ted said. “It could be anyone.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “But it’s something. Let’s watch the rest.”

  In the slow-mo footage, the man’s feet stayed right where they were for what seemed like a very long time. Then, for a half second, I saw it. A hand and a ring. The rest of the footage was a total blur.

  Nick closed the computer. “That’s the end of it. I stopped recording when the ship hit a good-sized wave and tilted to starboard.”

  I shook my head. “Bad timing for Alise, good for the guy who pushed her. But that ring? I’ve seen it before and would bet that the man next to Alise reached down right before she went over.”

  “I’ll do my best to sharpen the image and email you a still of the hand and the ring,” Nick said.

  It was surprisingly difficult to check out people’s hands and rings without attracting attention. Meals were a good time to hand-spy because the mess was well lit, and I had every reason to be there. Feigning curiosity in events that didn’t interest me, like repeat deployments of the chemists’ rosette, I also hung around on the fantail to watch the crew as much as I could. But that turned out to be a bust. Unless the work was delicate, guys handling heavy, wet equipment wore gloves.

  I also wanted to see how Alise was doing, but each time I poked my head into the infirmary she was asleep. Finally she was awake, sitting up and sipping tea.

  The medic looked up from his computer as I entered the room. “Alise is doing great. Why don’t you two visit while I take care of a few things? Be back in fifteen minutes or so.”

  Smiling, Alise slid her mug onto the nightstand. “Mara. Just the person I wanted to see.”

  I slid a chair over to the bed and sat down. “So how do you feel?”

  “Um, like I got spun around in a washing machine set to freezing cold water.”

  I grinned. It was great to see Alise’s wacky sense of humor was in full play again.

  “Seriously,” she said, “I don’t remember a whole lot. The medic hasn’t told me much.”

  I saw no reason to sugarcoat it. “You were on the fantail, helping untangle the net, when someone shoved you overboard. I was in the shower and didn’t see it, but Harvey, Ted, and I viewed what happened on Nick’s phone video. So you don’t remember going into the water? Or how you got back?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “As you were working on the net, a guy walked up next to you. All we could see in the footage were his boots and bottom of his pants.”

  “I don’t remember anyone standing beside me, either. But the net was a mess, and I was concentrating pretty hard. Half the boat was watching, and he pushed me? That’d be crazy.”

  “We’re assuming he’s the one. There was some commotion when the ship hit a wave. He must’ve done it then.”

  “But why?”

  “We’re not sure,” I said. “But it’s important that you are in the loop.”

 
I took the precaution of walking over to the door and scanning the passageway. Alise watched, her eyes widening. At her side again, I told her why we thought she had been the target instead of me.

  “Damn,” Alise said. “That’s the last time I offer to carry your bag. Sorry, I know this is really serious. Joking makes it a little easier for me.”

  “Alise, you’ve just been through an awful time. If joking helps, do it.”

  “Um, now what?” she asked.

  “For an instant, the guy standing beside you reached down. He was wearing a kind of unusual ring, and I’ve been looking at crewmembers’ hands.”

  “And how is that going?” she asked.

  I stood to leave. “Not so good.”

  “Before you go, tell me how I got back to the ship.”

  I described the armpit tow and added, “Ted couldn’t have done it if you panicked. You lay on your back and did exactly what he told you to do.”

  “Wish I remembered how good I was,” she said.

  The medic returned. “How’s it going?”

  I squeezed Alise’s hand. “We’re talking to the captain to let him know what happened. I’ll fill you in afterward.”

  21

  Nick had scheduled the meeting with Captain Davies so we could explain our suspicions about one of his crewmates. Once more Harvey, Ted, and I climbed the ladder to the bridge. Nick and Davies were already there.

  Davies nodded at Nick. “The chief scientist gave me the basics. Of course, I need to know more before I communicate with the folks onshore.”

  Following ship protocol, it was appropriate for Nick to continue to describe in more detail why we believed Alise had been targeted.

  Davies rubbed his beard, said the occasional, “I see,” but didn’t interrupt. When Nick had finished, the Captain said, “Thank you. That’s quite an account.”

  “Well,” Nick said, “as I explained, sir, we’ve no proof and are not trained detectives.”

  With an “I understand,” Davies turned to me. “I know about eel trafficking, and the newspapers have covered Operation Broken Glass to some extent. Can you tell me more about why they interviewed you in the airport?”

  Anticipating the question, I explained what I could—Nelson’s role in the sting, his shooting, and Jack’s disappearance. “That’s pretty much it, Captain.”

  Studying the horizon, Davies said, “And if you folks are on the right track, one of my crewmen belongs in jail.”

  Having nothing to say to that, we stood there waiting for the rest of the captain’s response. It wasn’t long in coming.

  “Here’s what I’ll do,” Davies said. “One of the guys in headquarters has police training. I’ll fill him in on what you’ve told me and have him communicate directly with the Operation Broken Glass people. He has the list of crewmen aboard. First thing is to see if any of our men is on Broken Glass’s radar. I’ll let you know if anything interesting comes up.”

  Ted, Harvey, and I left Nick to discuss the cruise plan with the captain. Back down on deck, Harvey said, “We’ve done what we could, and now we wait. What are you guys up to?”

  “Mara and I have a date with a whole lot of Sargassum seaweed,” Ted said. “We’ll be in the lab for a while.”

  Ted’s “a whole lot” was not an exaggeration. Alise had carefully labeled all our seaweed samples and kept them fresh in the lab’s walk-in cooler. Ted and I stepped into the cooler and took stock of the clear jars, each with a handful of Sargassum. Row after row of jars occupied a whole wall. We’d decided to work with as many samples as we could on the ship, preserve the rest, and deal with them back at MOI.

  Ted whistled and added, “Damn. I didn’t realize there were so many.”

  “You got that right,” I said. “Unfortunately, the epifauna aren’t going to count themselves. Let’s each carry a bottle into the lab and do this.”

  The protocol was straightforward but tedious. From each jar we removed five smaller samples of seaweed, washed each sample with filtered water, and passed the wash through a fine mesh. Next, using tweezers, we picked off the tiny animals caught on the mesh, put them in the bottom half of a petri dish, and counted and identified them through a binocular microscope—one with two eyepieces. Two-plus hours later, we had done a grand total of four jars.

  Rubbing his eyes, Ted fell back into his chair. “Tonight there’ll be gastropods, nematodes, copepods, and hydrozoans dancing through my dreams.”

  “Boy, do I appreciate the pickers even more than I did before,” I said. “This is tedious and exhausting at the same time. I’ll take hydrocasts, salinity and oxygen profiles, anything over this.”

  “But, Mara, it’s good, you know—working again like this with you. It’s been a while.”

  I grinned. “It is good. We’re a great team.”

  He winked at me and looked just like he had the first time we met—an oceanographer with wheat-colored hair, dimples, and deepest of blue eyes. I fell for him fast and hard, and it stayed perfect for him, but not for me.

  Silent, Ted folded his hands on the table and waited. I knew he wanted to talk about living together again. But I still wasn’t ready. Not quite yet.

  Several hours and hundreds of gastropods, etc., later, I told Ted I would see him at dinner and made my way back up to the infirmary.

  Alise was seated in a chair, dressed, and reading a book. “The medic will be back in a little while,” she said. “Then I’m free to leave, thank goodness.”

  “Sick bay is for sick folks, and you look hale and hearty.” I described our meeting with the captain and added, “He’s doing what he can.”

  She twirled one of her stud earrings. “I understand and really appreciate it all. It feels pretty weird to be in the middle of this intrigue.”

  “I’m sure it does,” I said. “But whoever went after me and got you by mistake is basically attacking all the scientists on this ship. And he’s very likely doing it for money.”

  “I just had a thought,” she said. “Would it be fruitful if I tried to get into his head?”

  “What?”

  She spoke quickly. “Have you ever done any acting?”

  “Good god, no. I’d be terrible. Way too self-conscious.”

  “Well I have—Becky Sharp.”

  “Really?” I asked. “Becky Sharp as in Vanity Fair?”

  “Don’t look so surprised,” she said. “Thackeray drew her as a beautiful, smart, cynical hustler. I managed the smart hustler parts quite well and, with makeup, looked pretty good up on stage. I was younger too.”

  Afraid I had insulted her, I opened my mouth to apologize.

  Laughing, Alise cut me off. “You look, I don’t know, like you scolded the wrong puppy. I’m pulling your chain, Mara. I did play Becky Sharp in high school, but it was because nobody else could manage the part.”

  “Got it,” I said. “You were a high school actress. This helps us how?”

  “I could try to get into the head of this guy who shoved me off the fantail. Unless he hides down in the engine room, this ship isn’t that big and there’s really no place to go.”

  “You mean how does he behave around everyone, including you?”

  Talking more quickly, she said, “Yeah. So imagine he walks right by me. Or he’s serving food in the mess. Does he look away? Get flustered? Feel angry? Whatever it is, he’s probably going to give himself away somehow. If I try to get into his head, maybe I’ll see it.”

  “Well, if you do, please don’t act on it,” I said. “Tell one of us. We’ve got to remember that this guy is dangerous. And since you’re now walking around healthy, he may also be angry, scared that he blew it, or both.”

  “Scared?”

  “His boss is someone who directed a killer to shoot Nelson.”

  “You mean,” she said, “someone who doesn’t tolerate screwups.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  22

  Pillow under her head, Harvey was stretche
d out, reading a book, when I walked into our stateroom. Seated on my own bed, I gave her the good news about Alise’s recovery and described the “getting into a villain’s mind” approach.

  “It sounds like she’s both well and bored if she’s coming up with things like that,” Harvey said. “She’s got to watch it, though. We’re not dealing with play actors.”

  “Yeah, I told her that. Um, we’ve got some time before dinner, so can we talk now?” I asked.

  “Talk about…?”

  “You know. Relationships.”

  Harvey dropped her book onto the nightstand between our beds and sat cross-legged, facing me.

  “What about relationships?”

  “It’s terrific how well you and Connor get along even though you’re so different. You live together and it seems, I don’t know, very peaceful.”

  “If I had some wine I’d offer you some, Mara. It sounds like that kind of chat. I’m not sure where to start.”

  “Well, you came from a wealthy family, and Connor grew up in rural Maine, where half the people were working timber when it went bust. Did you talk about that when you first got together?”

  “Sure, we talked about our backgrounds. But as far as getting along and living together, it didn’t matter. We just enjoyed each other’s company and spent more and more time together. Eventually, it just made sense for him to move in with me, and that was it.”

  “Well, Connor Doyle is a terrific guy,” I said. “You’ve heard me call him the Irish uncle I never had. But he’s a retired cop, he’s older, and I would’ve thought he was, um, messier than you are.”

  She shook her head. “He was a good cop because he’s logical, cares about the truth, things like that. He also knows how to handle a gun, and we both enjoy hunting. Actually, Connor is pretty neat. He is ten years older, but that doesn’t matter at all.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Bottom line, what does matter?”

  “Love. Really wanting to be together. Missing one another when you’re apart.”