The white mustache twitched.
“I’m trying to get used to that, I guess. I—I’ve been calling her Mother, and she was waiting for me when I came dirtside. Her and Skip. We—we’re contracted, Skip and me. But…”
“But she was there,” the white-bearded man prompted. “She was there waiting for you.”
“Yeah. She was and we hugged and all that. I … Oh, dammit! I was glad to see her. It was wonderful.”
Vanessa smiled at Skip. “You see? I know I was a nuisance.”
“To whom I was rude,” Skip said. “I apologize.” He turned to the white-bearded man. “You were with your daughter when she was captured. Captured on your order?”
“I was not, and she was not.” The white-bearded man picked up his menu. “I was in the room with her after she was captured, but I did not order her capture. Will this cross-examination survive the arrival of our food?”
“It isn’t a cross-examination,” Skip said. “I’m just curious. Rick Johnson was plainly a spy. Do you know who he was spying for?”
“Certainly. The Os. I suppose you’ll need to prove that in court if I’m put on trial. The roast beef’s good here—”
“I haven’t said I’ll take your case.”
Vanessa surprised everyone by asking, “What about the hijackers, Charles? Can you tell us who they were working for?”
“With certainty?” The white-bearded man shook his head. “The EU, probably, but I’m not sure of it. I was about to say that the roast beef’s good. My doctor tells me I’ve got to eat fish, but I tried the roast beef last night and found it delicious.”
Chelle said, “Have you had the yam and macadamia crusted red snapper?”
The white-bearded man appeared to study her over the top of his menu. “No, I haven’t, honey. I might try it tonight, though.”
“You two were contracted. You and Mother.” Chelle glanced at Skip.
The white-bearded man’s nod was barely perceptible.
“Yes, we were,” Vanessa put in.
“Only you broke up, didn’t you?”
The white-bearded man glanced at Vanessa. “That was none of my doing. Ask your mother.”
Vanessa smiled. “He means your biological mother, Chelle darling. The woman who carried you in her womb. He’s aware that you and I are divorced.” She turned the smile on Skip. “That was none of my doing, Counselor. She sicced the Army’s lawyers on me.”
Chelle said, “You voided your contract with Charlie, though.”
“I did. We’re still married, however.”
Chelle looked puzzled.
“It’s religious, darling. Not law. They separated the two, oh, a long time ago. If I’d divorced Charles, we’d no longer be married. But it seemed like such a bother. Just voiding our contract cost a lot.”
The white-bearded man muttered, “You hoped I’d do it.”
“I did not!”
A waiter arrived to take their orders. Vanessa asked for roast lamb, and the white-bearded man for filet mignon. Chelle said, “What are you having, Skip?”
“A hard time imagining what went on in Jerry Brice’s room.”
“Shouldn’t we talk about it in private?”
“The part that you mean, yes. The part that I mean, no.”
The waiter cleared his throat.
Chelle asked him, “What’s good tonight?”
“I’d try the filet of sole, ma’am.”
“Fine. I’ll have that. Rice pilaf and spinach. Tossed salad, vinegar and oil.”
The waiter wrote.
Skip told him, “Lamb and mint jelly.”
When the waiter had gone, the white-bearded man said, “What puzzles you, young man? I feel quite certain I can put all your doubts to rest.”
“A great many things. And thank you for that ‘young man.’ ”
“My pleasure. You may not credit my answers, of course. You’re of a skeptical turn of mind.”
“We’ll see. I believe you implied that you were not there at the time Chelle was brought in.”
“He wasn’t,” Chelle said, “and I was scared to death. Then he came in, and he was probably hoping I’d recognize him, but I didn’t.”
“That you would recognize me,” the white-bearded man told her, “and keep your knowledge to yourself.”
“I didn’t recognize you either, Charles,” Vanessa said.
“Now you will demand that I establish my identity,” the white-bearded man told Skip. “Let’s get that out of the way at once. I cannot.”
“You’re asking me to take you on faith?”
“No, sir. On the testimony of my wife and my former daughter. Do you recall the Old College Inn? You and I had dinner there one evening.”
Chelle said, “I was there, too, Charlie. You told us about firing Marcia.”
“Indeed you were.” The white-bearded man nodded. “I talked about it for Skip’s sake, though. You’ll never have a secretary, honey. Or if you do, it will be some kind of dodge. The blonde was Skip’s secretary.”
“The one with the wheelgun? Not anymore. Skip fired her.”
Skip cleared his throat. “I think I’d better set the record straight, Chelle. I didn’t fire her, she quit. Now she’s my secretary again, because I hired her back.” He turned to the white-bearded man. “You told us Marcia had been doing a poor job. That was why you let her go.”
The white-bearded man nodded.
“Susan was an excellent secretary. I was stunned when she resigned. And I’d be delighted to have her back in my office, although that wasn’t the reason I rehired her.”
“What was?” Chelle asked.
“She’ll be charged when we reach port, probably with first-degree murder. I intend to defend her pro bono—to have Mick or whoever do it, nominally. It’s liable to be an expensive undertaking, one that may drag on for the better part of a year. If she’s no longer an employee, there will be questions. Chet Burton’s not active in the firm these days, but he keeps an eye on things. Ibarra’s junior to me, but he’s just as much a partner as I am. If Susan’s still working for us, that could be the difference. We try to take care of our own.”
Chelle nodded. “She was lost. I could see that even when she was holding a gun on me.”
Vanessa reached across the table to touch her hand. “You mustn’t sympathize with them, Chelle darling. It’s an emotional trap.”
“Well, she was. She was loyal to Rick, but she hated what they were doing.”
Skip spoke to the white-bearded man. “You came in after they had taken Chelle from the infirmary. Why?”
He chuckled. “Because I wanted to see Chelle, that’s all. I’d heard she was on board.” He paused, blinking. “She divorced me. You know that. It had been a long time for me, but only a couple of years for her. Frankly, I thought she might hang up on me if I phoned your stateroom, or slam the door in my face if I went there. Then I found out she’d been hurt by the hijackers.” The white-bearded man paused. “You fought them, Mr. Grison. I heard about that, too.”
Skip nodded.
“I didn’t. I offered my services and was herded into the second-class dining room with the women and children, and the other old men. I’ve never been a soldier. Neither have you, I dare say.”
“Correct.”
“You’re old when your dreams become regrets. Remember that. In time you’ll learn how true it is.”
Chelle said, “You must have known I was in there.”
“I did. Your Mr. Grison told me, though he seems to have forgotten it. Did they feed you?”
Chelle nodded. “I’d been asleep. They made me go to sleep some way. When I woke up there was food. Not much, but some. Rolls and a little butter, and a bowl of cold soup. Crackers. I ate it all.”
Skip said, “Is this to the point?”
“Absolutely. You wanted to know how I knew Chelle was in there. I phoned the infirmary, but nobody answered. So I asked Refugio—he’s my steward—to find her for me. He asked somebody else, and that person said that she was up in Signal Three. I didn’t ask how he knew. I simply assumed he’d asked a waiter who’d delivered food there.”