“But something did happen. I told them about it in my accident report.” Someone from the Harbor Patrol had taken her statement in the hospital. Sadly, not the cute guy who’d performed the rescue. “Plus, they have a dead guy to explain.”
“Just a bodyguard,” her mother said. “And you hit your head, dear. You were probably imagining things.”
Vivian touched the stitches in her scalp. “I didn’t hit my head hard enough to imagine a giant submarine.”
Her mother’s piercing eyes stared into hers. “Maybe you did.”
Vivian didn’t answer.
“Get up, take a shower,” her mother said. “You told me that cast on your arm is waterproof.”
No lying around in bed at her mother’s house, near-death experience or not.
An hour later, Vivian had showered and gotten dressed. She was already tired of having a broken arm. She followed the smell of Portuguese sausage into the kitchen.
“Let me make you a plate. Sit right there,” her mother said.
Usually, she hated it when her mother fussed, but today she was grateful for the food and attention. Something felt off, though.
She looked around the kitchen. “When did you get a new refrigerator?”
“While you were sleeping. From Mr. Tesla. They took away the old one, and we’re not sending it back.” Her mother put a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast in front of her.
Vivian didn’t even know where to start on the refrigerator thing. Maybe she ought to take Tesla’s full-time-job offer. Then she could pay him back for the fridge. But he’d offered her a big raise, and it made her uncomfortable. Plus, she didn’t like the idea of having a single employer. Too much like the Army. She tugged on her sling.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” her mother said. “They gave you pills. Take the pills.”
“They make me stupid.”
“You think maybe you’re going to cure cancer today without them?” Her mother glared up at her, hands fisted on her round hips.
“We won’t know if I take them, will we?” She knew she was being contrary.
Her mother held out two pills. Vivian hesitated before scooping them up and washing them down with a sip of coffee. So she wasn’t going to cure cancer today.
The door buzzer rang.
“We can’t keep the refrigerator,” Vivian said before going to answer the door.
Just as she opened the door, her mother yelled, “If your Mr. Tesla wants to give us a refrigerator for saving his life, we’re keeping it!”
A woman in a worn navy blue pantsuit stood in the doorway. “Vivian Torres?”
“How can I help you?”
“I’m with the New York City Harbor Patrol. Officer Bellum.” She showed Vivian her badge.
“I gave a full statement.” The pills were making her too tired and slow. She needed to wake up. “And please also deliver my thanks to the officers who rescued us.”
She motioned for Officer Bellum to step inside.
“I was going over your statement.” Officer Bellum held up a sheaf of papers. “So, Mr. Tesla has a history of drugs.”
“He got slipped a mickey once, and I injected him yesterday. That’s not much of a history.”
“A refrigerator is a pretty big bonus.”
Thanks, Mom, Vivian said silently. “He gave it to my mother as a gift.”
“It might not be seen as a gift.”
“No?” Vivian asked.
“It could be seen as a bribe.”
“Is there anything else you need to go over in my statement?”
Officer Bellum walked her through her statement again. They stood in the hall — Vivian didn’t want her in the rest of the house. By the time it was over, Vivian was ready for another nap. She wanted to be angry about the whole situation, but she was too tired. Once she woke up, she planned to make trouble.
Big trouble.
She’d been run over, nearly drowned, and now she was accused of taking a bribe for who knew what reason. She was going to find out what was going on and kick someone right in the ass.
Chapter 10
Laila glanced over at Ambra, who was the Chief of the Watch. Ambra sat at her station near the diving officer, the helmsman, and the planesman. They looked at home working the rudder and diving plane controls. Hard to believe that a month ago they’d been living as humble wives and daughters and sisters.
“We’ve completed our regular sonar sweep,” said Ambra. “All clear.”
No one had followed them from New York yesterday. Laila had hoped they’d get out clean, even as she’d worried the survivors from the wrecked sub would alert the US military, which would start a wider search. Maybe there had been no survivors.
Ambra rose and took a few steps to where Laila stood looking down at maps on the plotting table. The blue lighting made her look drawn. “On course to intercept the Shining Pearl.”
“Show me.”
Ambra took the yellow pencil from behind her ear and used it to point out their position relative to the Pearl’s on the paper maps. The Siren had electronic maps, and the GPS took her position when she surfaced, then tracked her course relative to that point when she was submerged. The computerized system was supposed to be foolproof, but Ambra created backup plots on paper, too. A trained mathematician, she had a good head for such calculations. Ambra’s parents would be horrified to know how she was using her expensive degree.
Laila pretended to study the map unfurled across the plotting table, but she was really thinking about the Pearl. The Pearl belonged to her beloved Aunt Bibi. Her husband had died young and left his wife a sizable fortune. She’d used it to purchase a yacht and perpetually travel the world, out of sight and control of the rest of the family. All the women envied her.
Bibi kept a small, intensely loyal crew. She paid them well, and they said nothing about what took place out on the open sea. Bibi was free in a way none of them would ever be. Her husband was dead, and she’d borne him no children. No one had a claim upon her obedience.
Every summer, Laila and her mother and sisters had spent a few weeks with Aunt Bibi on her yacht. Freed from the strictures of everyday life, they swam and fished and watched forbidden television, played games, and ate whatever they wanted. Aunt Bibi’s carefree existence had inspired Laila and Nahal to dare the unthinkable and take the submarine.
Aunt Bibi had known about parts of their plan since the beginning, and she’d pledged to help them. She didn’t know why they were taking the submarine, or what they would do with the submarine now that they had it, and Laila would never tell her. She hoped Aunt Bibi thought they would use it as she used her yacht — for freedom and peace.
“Think of the food,” Ambra whispered.
“Chocolate and black tea,” Laila said. The Chinese had left only a few weeks’ worth of supplies and hadn’t included anything indulgent. The crew had eaten nothing but rice, fish, and canned cabbage since they stole the Siren. Their supplies of soy sauce and hot mustard had been exhausted the first week.
“And fresh figs,” said Ambra. “And baklawa.”
“And new oxygen generators, so we can finally dive and stay under for a long time, like a proper submarine.”
And gossip. She wanted to know what the family thought about the plane crash that had supposedly taken her life and the lives of the women in her crew. Had the plane gone down as planned, and was their secret safe, or had the pilot taken her money and betrayed them all?
Had the prince died in the wreck? She didn’t see how he could have survived it, but she had to be sure. Aunt Bibi would know. Bibi had remained in close contact with her sisters, never needing to care about the cost of satellite-phone calls as she crisscrossed the seas.