“What if we are discovered?” said Dr. Nassiri.
“We won’t be,” stated Jonah. “They’ll think we’re getting it chopped in Sicily or Algeria. End of story. That’s where yachts go when they disappear in the Mediterranean.”
Dr. Nassiri frowned, turned and walked away in a huff. It wasn’t long before the gunfire resumed.
Solace wasn’t hard to come by on the Fool’s Errand. Dr. Nassiri found a fresh linen suit in one of the crew compartments. Alone on the bridge while enjoying a sparkling water, he amused himself by watching the tiny green blips travel on the radar screen. The gunshots subsided when Youssef and Jonah finally lost interest. Youssef snuck off to nap or loot and Jonah began pacing the entire length of the ship, as if the sheer openness of the vessel were the most pleasurable thing in the world.
The bridge door slid open behind him, but Dr. Nassiri didn’t bother to look up as Jonah slumped into one of the racing chairs beside him. The American had his index finger curled around a plastic ring of an inexpensive six-pack. By the look of things, he was on his second. Dr. Nassiri silently questioned the choice given the king’s ransom of top-shelf wine and liquors for the taking.
“Must you?” he asked.
“What?” said Jonah. “It’s just beer. I’m not getting fucked up.”
Dr. Nassiri grunted his continuing disapproval.
“You want one?”
“No.”
“You observant?” asked Jonah.
“Not especially.”
Both men allowed silence to linger between them.
“Why are we doing this, Doc?” asked Jonah. “I’ve got to say, I’ve worked a lot of recoveries. We know your mother is dead. That’s not a mystery. And I hate to say it, but body recoveries are ugly business. You’re probably not going to want to see what I pull up.”
“I’ve seen bodies before.”
“This is your mom we’re talking about.”
“You needn’t spare me.”
Jonah frowned.
“Why are we doing this, Doc?” the American repeated. “Islam considers burial at sea consecrated; we’re not putting her spirit at rest by disturbing her grave.”
“Mr. Blackwell, we are not here to put her spirit at rest. You mistake the priorities of my intentions.”
“So correct me,” said Jonah. He stifled a small belch.
“Some days previous to her disappearance, my mother contacted me. She said she’d found traces of something terrible in the Horn of Africa, something that changed her understanding of the region. It was a discovery that would be vital to oceanographic research for a generation, a discovery with global consequences. She would not tell me what it was.”
“And then she vanished.”
“That’s right. And then she went missing. I must complete her—”
Jonah waved him silent with a hand and leaned forward in the racing chair to scowl at an instrumentation panel.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hold that thought,” said Jonah.
The doctor realized the American wasn’t meaning to be rude, something was happening. Jonah flipped between a series of menus, continuing to scowl.
“We may have a problem,” Jonah said. “Somebody is messing with the fuel/air mixture of the engines.”
“Sabotage?” asked Dr. Nassiri.
“That’s the strange thing; I really don’t think so. They’re messing with the parameters, but if I’m reading this correctly, they’re improving engine efficiency at cruising speed. This is definitely not a latent script running under computer control. This is a person.”
“Could it be Youssef?”
“If it’s Buzz, I’m feeding him to the sharks. But does tuning the fuel/air mixture really sound like your moron cousin?”
“No,” admitted Dr. Nassiri. “No, it does not.”
Beers in one hand, pistol in the other, Jonah stood up. Dr. Nassiri chambered a round and prepared to follow him.
“Should we get Youssef?” asked Dr. Nassiri.
“Not enough time. Besides, I’d rather not have anyone get shot. I want to find out what’s going on first.”
Dr. Nassiri nodded and allowed Jonah to take the lead down to the engine room.
Jonah opened the heavy metal fire door to the engine compartment and locked it open. Pistols in hand, both men slowly made their way into the chamber. Jonah stopped at the first intersection of gangplanks and ducked his head around the corner towards a row of computer servers. He pulled back, frowned, and tucked his pistol behind his waistband.
“You’d better take a look at this,” whispered Jonah.
Dr. Nassiri peeked around the corner. With a laptop resting on long tan legs, a young blonde woman sat cross-legged on the steel-grate floor next to the computer servers, trendy headphones over her ears, bobbing her head to an unheard beat. She was totally oblivious to the two baffled men watching her. Dr. Nassiri fought back an urge to straighten his shirt, run a hand through his thick black hair, anything that might make a difference in her first impression of him.
“Excuse me,” said Jonah, then repeated himself a little louder.
Still nothing. Six-pack in hand, Jonah waved both arms until her peripheral vision caught the motion. Startled, she yanked off her headphones and looked up.
“Um, hey,” she said, with the slight twang of a Texan accent.
“Hey, yourself,” said Jonah.
She stared at the two men for a moment. The compartment was silent except for the low humming of the engines. Dr. Nassiri cleared his throat. He wanted to say something, but all he could think about was her freckles, blonde hair, those long legs disappearing into short shorts—
“You need something?” she finally asked. “Usually Frank does the tours. I’m kind of in the middle of something, but I’m almost done.”
“Who’s Frank?” asked Jonah.
“Frank, the chief engineer?” she answered. “I’m Assistant Engineer Andrews. Frank usually does the engine compartment tours. So how was the big shindig last night?”
“It was a nice distraction,” said Dr. Nassiri dryly. He found it difficult to imagine how she’d missed all the commotion of the previous night. And yet, here she was.
Jonah snorted, trying to fight down laughter at the doctor’s wry comment.
“I hear a lot of stories about those fancy parties,” said Andrews. “I’d love-love-love to attend one someday, but they’re not really for the crew.”
“What’s your name?” asked Jonah.
“Alexis,” she answered, more than a little taken aback.
“Listen Alexis. This is a little awkward, but where have you been over the last twelve hours?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Let me rephrase. How did you spend your last day or so?”
“Um…” began Alexis.
Dr. Nassiri could tell she would have preferred to know where the line of questioning was headed before answering. She glanced at Jonah and then the doctor, then back to Jonah, leaving Dr. Nassiri to wish she’d held his gaze for just a moment longer.
“I’ve mostly been working the big software patch,” she said.
“Updating the fuel/air mixers?” said Jonah.
“Yeah, that’s it. Frank told you about that project? I didn’t think he’d paid it much mind.”
“Sure,” said Jonah. “Let’s assume Frank told me.”
“So I was a little late turning in,” she continued. “Got up early, and I’ve been in here for the last… jeez, five hours or so. Kind of feel like I’m the only one working today, to be honest. Where is everybody?”
Jonah and Dr. Nassiri both joined her in the uncomfortable laughter.
“Here’s what I need you to do,” said Jonah. He pulled one of the beers off the plastic rings and tossed it to her. Alexis fumbled as she caught it, almost dropping it to the deck. “I’m going need you to wrap up what you’re doing, drink at least one of these, and come join us in the galley. No need to chug, just do it at your own pace.”