Salt (5 page)

“And what’s in it for me?”

“Protection, resources. This place is going to the shitter. Stuff’s breaking down, resources going missing. How long do you think Jim’s decisions are going to be tolerated? There’s mutiny afoot. And you know as well as I do what’ll happen if anarchy breaks out on this place: we’ll all be fucked. You help me solve this little riddle, you get the killer, and Danny gets a safe place with people capable of looking after him. And that extends to you too. When the shit hits the fan and this place splits, you’ll want to be on my side.”

“Tell me one thing first,” Eva said.

“What?”

“That stupid business with Frank. What the hell was that all about?”

He shrugged. “Nothing to do with me.”

“And you know about his wife?”

“I don’t believe that story. He came to me an hour before going after Jim. You know Frank’s an ex-crack addict, right? His brains are scrambled; fuck knows what goes on in there half the time.”

“So you’ve seen her, then, his wife?”

“I don’t keep tabs on everyone.”

“That’s exactly what you do.”

The sly grin again.

“She’s fine. She was out working the compost bins last night. Frank’s talking shit. If someone put him up to take out ol’ Jim, they didn’t have his wife. He tried it for some other reason. But really, I couldn’t give a shit about the reasons behind it. Jim’s a dead man walking these days. If Frank didn’t take him out, one of Faust’s nutters will. She’s been whipping them up a storm lately.”

“Fine, whatever. What exactly is it you think I can do for you?”

“Investigation, love. I want you to find out where this key goes, and recover the stuff that Mike found before he fucked off. Before whoever killed Jean gets it. And besides, who the hell wants a killer running loose on this place? You’re an ex-copper, that’s kind of your thing, ain’t it? Better than fishing and being a general dogsbody, right?”

He handed her the key.

“Here, see, you can trust me. Take it, find out where it leads, and come to speak to me when you’ve got something to share. In the meantime, I’ll make sure Shaley and Tyson aren’t on your case. Hell, you can use them for your investigations if you want. They make good guard dogs.”

“No, they don’t,” Eva said.

Marcus chuckled. “Well, not against you, obviously, but they’re not all bad. We’ll also make sure the kid stays safe. You saw how easily Jim and Duncan let him out of their care. Poor kid. I’ll make sure I’ve got eyes on him at all times until you find the killer.”

That was the tipping point for Eva. She couldn’t deny that Marcus’s influence covered most of the flotilla. He had people all over the place, keeping an eye on developments. If Danny was to remain safe while she was investigating Jean’s murder, it made sense to have Marcus’s resources backing her up.

She held out a hand. “Why do I feel like I’m doing a deal with the devil?”

Marcus bowed, took her hand, and kissed the back of her fingers.

“Maybe you are, love, but better the devil you know, right?”

C
hapter 8

Jim put the last rivet back in place and sat on his bed. The sound of waves battering the side of the Bravo echoed into the small room, the steel amplifying the water’s kisses. Thunder roared in the distance. If the weather kept up, it would be even more difficult to send a ‘volunteer.’

He thought about visiting Frank, getting him to take Faust, but that would require too much trust. He couldn’t afford for Frank to come back to the flotilla with the truth.

A knock on the door made him start.

“Captain? Are you in there? It’s Duncan.”

Jim stood, looked around him to make sure he hadn’t left anything out, and unlocked the door. Duncan’s large frame filled the open space. Worry etched waves into his forehead beneath his long, wild hair. More a Viking as every day passed, Jim thought.

“What is it, Dunc?”

“Just wanted to give you a progress update. The hydropower should be back on in a few days. The engineering boys have figured out the problem. Someone smashed up the transformer. They’re putting together a new one.”

“That’s good. With the way the storm’s coming in, that should generate enough power to recharge the batteries. What about the wind turbines?”

“The main one took a real battering. Most of the gears and fins are damaged beyond repair. The guys say they can fabricate new parts, but it’s going to take a while.”

“At least it’s something. That bitch Faust’s plans won’t stop us all just yet.”

Duncan’s worry seemed to deepen.

“What is it, son?”

“We discovered the powered desalinators were destroyed last night. Even if we get the power back on, they’re beyond repair. Need parts that we just don’t have. We’re down to natural evaporation. We’ve got enough water stocks for about three days before we’re out.”

“Faust’s people?”

Duncan shrugged his hefty shoulders. “Hard to tell, but after her reaction this morning, I wouldn’t rule it out.”

“This is not good,” Jim said, rubbing his face, all the while thinking of sending Faust to the sharks as a warning to her congregation. “You think this could be part of her plans for mutiny?”

“Unless her idea of mutiny is to kill off most of the population, I don’t think so. It seems more calculated. You saw what she was like this morning. The woman’s nuts.”

“But she’s clever,” Jim added. “Don’t underestimate the intellect behind the fury. She knows what she’s doing. Her flock grows bigger every day as people cling to any meaning to all this. We’ve got to keep this place together, Dunc. United, we’re safe.”

“I know, Dad. I know.”

“How’s Danny getting on?”

“Oh, crap, I forgot to take the kid his breakfast.”

“Do that now, son. That poor kid is probably scared and overwhelmed with grief. You see that he’s okay. After that, let Stanic know I want a word with him. There must be some way those desalinators can be fixed, and if anyone knows, it’s him.”

“On it,” Duncan said as he dashed off down the corridor, ducking beneath the low beams and runs of pipes.

Jim left his room and made to head toward the brig when he heard commotion coming from outside. Putting on his waterproof coat and hood, he headed out.

Surrounding the bow and standing in a group on a number of smaller boats lashed to the Bravo’s railings, Faust’s congregation were calling for her release. At least half of the flotilla had come out of their boats and storage containers to watch the proceedings.

Jim approached the group. They grew quiet. A single person stepped forward. A pale-skinned, sick-looking woman in her late sixties. “You have to release Susan Faust right this minute, Jim. You’re holding her unjustly. We can’t allow that to happen.”

The politeness was a front; he’d seen this woman, Meredith, act as crazy as Faust once before, in one of their many rituals.

“I can’t do that, Meredith,” Jim said, squinting against the rain as it splashed into his face. The wind whipped it almost at right angles. “She tried to steal the flotilla’s stocks. You and her know the rules for that.”

“The divine will not allow it!
He
has spoken to her. She does
his
work.”

“Look, divine entity or not, the rules are clear on this flotilla. You know it, she knows it, and everyone else knows it. I’m doing the will of the people. That supersedes any voices Susan may have heard in her head.”

That was the wrong thing to say. It seemed to infuriate the woman. Her face twisted into a mask of hate. The rest of her group shouted and yelled, every word incomprehensible. As one, they moved from the smaller boats until they reached the ladders and steps that led up to the deck.

Jim stood his ground. “I’m telling you people to stand back. I’ve done nothing wrong here.”

That only appeared to encourage them as they started to climb onto the deck, forcing Jim to retreat. They gathered pace and number; at least thirty of them had climbed over the bow and were heading for him like an angry mob ready to lynch him. He had no doubt they would do it either.

Driven by their mad priestess, these people could be stirred up to do almost anything in
His
name.

They continued to stalk Jim, making him retreat to the bridge section. He couldn’t let them get in. They’d overrun the ship. But he was just one man. He stopped a few yards from the door.

When it seemed like they would rush him, Duncan and three of his crew stepped out and stood by Jim’s side. Duncan held a gaff hook. “You lot, back up,” he said. “You’re out of order.”

They stopped for a brief moment before seemingly swelling with fury.

As a group they acted as one, following Meredith’s lead. Two younger men rushed forward and tried to disarm Duncan, but he was too quick and swung the blunt end of the pike, catching one of them on the side of the head, sending him slipping to the deck.

“Stop,” Jim shouted over the wind and rain. “This is madness.”

The words fell on deaf ears.

“Kill him!” Meredith screamed, pointing her finger at Duncan.

A smaller group of five men and women broke off from the pack and dashed toward Duncan. Jim and the crew members stood by him, braced for the impact. As they tangled in a melee, people throwing fists and kicks, Jim saw more people approach from one of the old fishing vessels to the side.

Marcus Graves and three of his goons clambered over the railings and systematically dispersed the crowd, mostly by throwing them over the side of the railings onto the boats beneath. Once they had cleared nearly half the group, Meredith and her mad allies backed off, screaming obscenities.

Eventually they retreated fully.

Graves and Jim pushed them all the way to the edge of the bow and stood guard as they lowered themselves down onto the next level. “You lot, fuck off,” Graves said. “And don’t come back. Otherwise there’ll be a world of trouble even your god won’t protect you from, you hear me?”

Meredith looked up from the bottom of the ladder and spat at the ground. “You’ll regret this, Graves,” she said. “You’ll burn in hell with him.” She pointed to Jim.

“Bloody hell. What’s with all the burning?” Graves said.

Together they watched Faust’s group disperse.

“You’re bleeding, old man,” Graves said, pointing to Jim’s cheek.

Jim dabbed a hand at it and winced. Someone had scratched him deep.

Duncan approached, still carrying the gaff hook. “You okay, Dad?”

“I’m fine. Just need to clean this up. Let’s get inside.”

“Good idea, Captain,” Graves said. “I need to have a word with you.”

Shaley and Tyson, grinning from the fight, stayed outside and kept watch like obedient dogs.

***

“I’m telling you for the final time, Graves. Frank’s going nowhere. Attempted murder isn’t something I can easily forget. Besides, he’s scared out of his tiny mind. He doesn’t want to leave.”

Jim stood opposite Marcus Graves in his bridge office. Marcus had taken Jim’s seat as though the office were his. Jim remained standing, not wanting to be at the other’s level. He pushed against the Band-Aid across his cheek. The cut was sore but had stopped bleeding.

“That’s all crap, about his wife,” Graves said. “There’s no American threatening him.”

“So why else did he come after me? On your orders, perhaps?”

“Don’t be a twat, Jim. You think I’d send an idiot like Frank after you? If I wanted you dead, I’d do it myself.”

Jim flinched at the threat. He was starting to get more than a little pissed off with people thinking he was expendable. “If it wasn’t for me, this flotilla would have self-destructed months ago. I’ve kept this place together, given us all a life. And if you forgot, I was elected to this position.”

“Who are you trying to convince here, eh? You or me?”

“What is it you want, Graves? I’ve got better things to do than waste my time with the likes of you.”

“Easy, sunshine, let’s keep things respectful, shall we? No need to get all excited. Think of your heart. Take a seat.”

“Like I said. Just tell me what you want.”

“I want Frank back.”

“Why? You said yourself you chucked him out of your little gang.”

Marcus gave a little smile at the taunt. “My
little gang
has need of him for something, but it doesn’t need to trouble you. Here’s the deal. You give me Frank, and I’ll make sure Faust is… dealt with. She and her flock will no longer be an issue here.”

“And why would you do that? It’s certainly not for saving my arse,” Jim said, scrutinising Graves, trying to figure out the man’s motivations. The way he lounged back all casual on Jim’s chair made Jim want to kick the legs out from beneath him and watch him fall.

“Mutiny is in the air, Jim. That fracas today, that’s just the beginning. Both you and I, despite being polar opposites, know that if we’re all to survive, this flotilla has to function, it has to stay united… even if it means making a few sacrifices along the way.”

“That’s not how it should be done,” Jim said.

“You don’t think it’s worth crushing a few bad apples for the greater good?”

Jim’s first reaction was to say no, but then he thought back to each of those volunteers sent away. He’d sacrificed them for the greater good. What was so wrong with doing the same with Faust and the troublemakers? Hadn’t he already set a precedent in his own mind as to what was acceptable?

“You know it is,” Graves said as though he could read Jim’s mind.

Jim sat down and sighed. “So what do you have in mind?”

“I suggest that you accidentally leave the brig unattended one night, the key at hand, and my boys will remove Frank to a safe place, and Faust… to a not-so-safe place.”

Jim mulled it over. Letting Frank out seemed crazy, considering the guy attempted to murder him. “I need some answers and assurances,” Jim said.

“That’s fair enough. What you got in mind?”

“I need to know what was behind Frank’s assassination attempt. If you’re saying this American figure isn’t real and you didn’t order the hit, then why the hell did Frank try to put a gaff hook into my back?”

“Okay,” Graves said, leaning forward, clasping his hands together, locking his fingers and tapping his thumbs. “Here’s the deal. We spring Frank to somewhere safe where we can all have a chat. I’ll make sure we get the truth out of him. Then we deal with Faust.”

“If I agree to this, I want Faust removed my way.”

Graves shrugged. “Sure, no skin off my nose. You say how, and it’ll be done. But not until Frank’s handed over.” Graves unclasped his hands and held out his right hand, palm open. “We got a deal?”

“Deal,” Jim said, shaking his hand.

As though timed to strike the deal, a flash of lightning lit up the dark skies outside through the porthole, freeze-framing Graves’ satisfied grin.