“All yours,” he said.
She opened the door and went in. The smell of mint chewing tobacco was overpowering, and a puddle of wet brown liquid told her his opinion of giving up his room. The bottom bunk smelled like Marshall, and she stripped the sheets and blanket and tossed them on the floor. She sniffed the bottom mattress.
Top bunk.
She found a set of fresh sheets in the locker. They smelled like mildew, but that was way better than Marshall, and luckily, she’d brought her own pillowcase from Tesla’s. Even after being dragged around all night, it was still probably cleaner than what they had here. Next to the top bunk were two tiny windows that didn’t open. A quick look through the lockers turned up a set of rubber boots and a wool pea coat that looked older than she was. Both were too big for Marshall and might actually fit her. A copy of a magazine called Big Asses was under the bottom mattress. She left it there because she didn’t want to touch it. The bathroom was a fetid mess, but she found a bottle of bleach under the sink, a set of towels that looked and smelled fairly fresh in the locker, and a wet towel on the floor. Marshall probably hadn’t noticed the fresh towels.
The cabin could be made livable if the smell of chewing tobacco ever went away. All in all, it wasn’t the worst place she’d ever stayed. No point in whining instead of working. She was, after all, on the clock.
She used the wet towel to mop up the chewing tobacco puddle, moving it around on the floor with her foot. Then she kicked the dirty towel into the corner, sacrificed a washcloth, and wiped everything down with diluted bleach. By the time she was done, the room wasn’t half bad.
Someone rapped on the door while she was washing the slimy feeling of bleach off her hands. She recognized Tesla’s knock and let him in. Edison came in after his master and wrinkled his nose.
“You should have smelled it before,” she told him, and the dog trotted off to inspect her tiny bathroom. He wasn’t going to like that much either.
“I’m sorry your quarters are so… ” Tesla looked around. “Spartan.”
“Spartans made good warriors,” she said.
He closed the door, glanced at the towel she’d kicked into the corner, and gestured to the bottom bunk. “Mind if I have a seat?”
She sat next to him.
“I know you might be wondering why I picked this ship.”
She waited him out.
“The engines have a particular sound signature,” he said.
If he hadn’t said weird things like this all the time, she would have been more surprised. “Uh-huh.”
“It’s outside the range that the particular Swedish-designed sub we’re tracking listens for.”
That sounded like Fred. She’d met him only once, but he seemed like an even weirder version of Tesla. Super smart, but odd. “Did Fred Mulcahy recommend this ship?”
“He did,” Tesla said. “Only a few ships have this particular sound profile, so my choices were pretty limited. But on this ship, we’re as close to invisible as we can get while chasing the sub.”
Made sense, as far as it went. “That’s half of the equation.”
“The other?” Tesla hated to forget things.
“How do we find them?” Edison came back out of her bathroom and licked her knee, probably out of sympathy.
“I know where they were a few days ago. I have an idea where they might be now—”
“Like, you drew a giant circle on a map?” She wished she’d had the chance to pack more clothes. This might take a while.
Tesla laughed. “Better than that. I was able to track oxygen generators I think they ordered online.”
Of course he had. Everything led through the Internet for Tesla. “Where are they?”
“They’re being delivered to a yacht called Shining Pearl in Halifax tomorrow. We ought to be able to intercept the yacht, then follow it at an undetectable distance until it meets up with our sub.”
“Then what? This ship doesn’t look like a destroyer. A submarine could kick our ass. Hell, a luxury yacht could probably sink us.”
“I’ll stay in touch with my naval contacts, and hopefully, they’ll step in.”
“Like they have in the past?” All they’d done was give him Fred Mulcahy, and she suspected that was because nobody else wanted him. Either way, she was going to locate the life rafts and make sure they were well stocked.
“I’m going to take pictures and slap a transponder onto the side of the sub. It transmits on a specific band Fred can track. Once they see this ghost ship, they’ll step in then, or I hope so. Once I’ve done that, I’ll have done all I can.”
“First off, I’m sure you’ll think of something more to do.” He always thought of more. “‘Done all I can’ doesn’t ever really stop, not with you.”
He shrugged.
“Second, how are you going to stick a transponder on a submarine in the middle of the ocean?”
“Rest up,” he said. “Because I have a plan.”
He always had a plan.
Chapter 32
Laila sat alone in her cabin. Her short hair was wet from the shower. She’d used up more than her share of hot water, but she still didn’t feel clean. Perhaps she didn’t need to. Her crew was ready for their final mission. She’d had doubts — doubts they would be able to take the sub, doubts they would be able to pilot it in combat conditions, and doubts they would be able to take lives. Now her doubts were settled. Once they picked up the replacement oxygen generators from Aunt Bibi’s yacht, they would be ready to go.
An eye for an eye, a life for a life. Her crew understood, but she dreamed often of the man’s body crushed under her submarine. In her dreams, he woke up and begged for his life. He always told her his death was meaningless, that he was innocent, and even if she killed the prince, it couldn’t bring back her sister. But the people they had killed had to die in order to save many others. Difficult choices had to be made. If she didn’t make those choices, others would.
She leaned against the hard wall and let the now familiar hum of the engines thrum through her body. The narrow bed usually felt comforting, but today it felt claustrophobic. She wanted to pace around outside, or even inside, but she couldn’t let the crew see her agitation. She was the captain, and she needed to stay in control.
A soft knock sounded at her door.
“Come.” She longed for a distraction. Nothing serious. Maybe a minor mechanical problem.
“Meri,” said a soft voice.
Meri had been at the top of her class in medical school, had dreamed of being a surgeon, and had instead been ordered to marry and give up her career. Meri’s fury at that fate had led Nahal to her. Meri had been one of their first recruits, and she was the one most loyal to the cause.
Meri entered and stood next to the swivel chair in front of the captain’s desk. It, like all the furniture, was bolted to the floor, a stable object in an unstable world.
“The crew is happy they downed the Narwhal, Captain.” Meri closed the door, the sound loud in the once quiet space.
“Any regrets?” The crew wouldn’t tell her their feelings. As the captain, she needed to stand above them and show no doubts.
“Rasha,” Meri said. “Of all the women, only Rasha seems affected.”
Laila sat up in surprise. “But we killed the man who injured her. She should rejoice!”
“Collateral damage happens in wartime. It has to.” Meri sighed. Laila wasn’t sure if it indicated sadness at this tragic truth, or exasperation that Rasha didn’t accept it.