“Okay.” Max jotted down his number on a piece of hotel stationery. He let Eddie lead him out of the suite and into the richly paneled elevator vestibule. Eddie could see the concern in Hanley’s face even in the distorted reflection of the polished brass doors. Behind them, they heard Jenner slipping the clamshell lock over the doorknob.
“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.”
“I think I’m in the mood for Italian,” Max quipped, to show he wasn’t totally out of it.
“Sorry, mate. Chinese food or nothing.”
CHAPTER 18
AS THE OREGON DROVE THROUGH THE DARK WATERS of the Mediterranean at a little over twenty knots, far below her true capabilities because there were dozens of other vessels plying the shipping routes, there was almost no sensation of movement in her tastefully appointed dining room. If not for the background hum of her magnetohydrodynamic engines and her pump jets, Cabrillo felt like he could be sitting at a five-star restaurant on some fashionable boulevard in Paris.
Juan wore a summer-weight sports jacket over a custom dress shirt open at the collar. His cuff links were tiny compasses and his shoes were Italian leather. Across from him, Linda Ross wore cargo pants and a black T-shirt, and, even without makeup, her skin glowed by the candlelight, highlighting the dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose.
Juan twirled the stem of his wineglass and took an appreciative sip. “If Maurice is going to have his staff prepare a special dinner, the least you could do is dress for the occasion.” Linda slathered a piece of still-warm bread with unsalted butter. “I had brothers growing up. I learned to eat fast and as often as there was food around. Otherwise, I’d go hungry.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Ever watch one of those nature shows when sharks are in a feeding frenzy or a pack of wolves have taken down a deer? My oldest brother, Tony, would sometimes even growl at us.” She smiled at the memory.
“My parents insisted on table manners at all times,” Juan said. “I’d get grounded for putting my elbows on the table.”
“Our only rule was, utensils had to be used on the food and not each other.”
“Are you sure about tomorrow?” Juan asked, turning the conversation back to work. Even in these sumptuous surroundings, the specter of their chosen profession was never far off.
“I’ve been cramming all day. I might not be ready to lead a Responsivist revival, but I can more than hold my own in a conversation with one of them. I have to admit that the more I learn about them, the weirder it gets. How anyone can believe that an alien intelligence from a parallel universe can control your life is beyond me.”
“It takes all kinds, I suppose,” Juan said. He’d always believed that as long as it didn’t hurt others, people’s belief systems were their own individual choice, and he wasn’t one to judge. “You know that after what we did to them, their security is going to be on heightened alert.” She nodded. “I know. They may not even let me in, but it’s worth the risk.” Juan was about to respond when four people appeared at the dining room’s double-door entrance. Julia Huxley wore her lab coat, as always, while, flanking her, Mark Murphy and Eric Stone had cleaned themselves up. Both sported jackets and ties, although the tails of Mark’s shirt were sticking out. Eric’s naval background had given him a sense of deportment, but he was clearly uncomfortable in his clothes.
Or perhaps it was the fourth in their party that made him uneasy.
Julia untied the scarf from around Jannike Dahl’s eyes that had kept her from seeing any part of the ship, other than medical, and now the mess. Juan had relented, giving her a temporary reprieve from the infirmary, but had insisted on the blindfold. Janni wore a borrowed dress from Kevin Nixon’s Magic Shop, and, despite her weakened condition, Juan could understand how young Masters Stone and Murphy could be so vexed. She was a lovely, delicate woman who could leave even the most cynical player tongue-tied. Now that she had lost her pallor from being ill for so long, her normally dusky complexion had returned. Her hair was an obsidian wave that swept off her head and across one bare shoulder.
He instinctively got to his feet as they approached. “Miss Dahl, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you, Captain Cabrillo,” she replied, still trying to get her bearings in the room.
“I apologize for having you blindfolded, but there are sensitive parts of this ship I couldn’t have you seeing.” He smiled to himself, while Eric and Mark were in a pushing match to be the one to pull out Jannike’s chair.
“You and your crew saved my life, Captain. I would never question your wishes.” Her voice and accent had a charming lilt that captivated all three men. “I am just grateful to be out of bed for a little while.”
“How are you feeling?” Linda asked.
“Much better. Thank you. Dr. Huxley is able to control my asthma, so I have not had any more attacks.” Eric won the honor, so he got to sit to her left. Mark glared as he circled the table to take a chair next to Linda.
“Unfortunately, there was a mix-up in communications with the cooking staff.” As the words left Cabrillo’s mouth, waiters, led by Maurice, marched out from the kitchen bearing trays. The Oregon ’s chief steward blamed Juan for the gaffe. “Somehow,” Juan continued, pointedly eyeing Maurice, “they were under the impression you were from Denmark rather than Norway. They had wanted to make some of your native dishes, but we have a traditional Danish meal instead.”
“That is very thoughtful of you all,” Janni said, smiling. “And the two are so close that I won’t even notice.”
“Hear that, Maurice?”
“I did not.”
“I believe we’re having herring,” Juan said, “which is the traditional start to any meal, followed by fiskeboller, which I understand to be fish dumplings. Then there is roast pork loin with red cabbage and browned potatoes, followed by your choice of pandekager pancakes with ice cream and chocolate or ris à la mande .”
At this, Janni’s smile widened. “That is a rice dessert,” she explained to the others, “With cherry sauce. It is my favorite in the world. We have it, too.”
“Are you from Oslo?” Linda asked as the first dishes were laid on the linen tablecloth.
“I moved there when my parents died, but I was born in the far north, in a small fishing village called Honningsvad.”
That explained her darker complexion, Juan thought. The native Lapps, like the Inuit of Alaska or the indigenous people of Greenland, had evolved darker skin as protection from the relentless glare of sunlight off the ice and snow. She must have some native blood.
Before he could ask a question, he spotted Hali Kasim framed in the dining-room entrance. His hair stuck up in tufts at the side of his head, and even at a distance Juan could see the plum-colored circles under his eyes and the fatigue that made his flesh look like it was slipping off the bone. Juan stood.
“Would you all please excuse me?”
He strode across to his communications specialist. “You’ve looked better.”
“I’ve felt better, too,” Hali agreed. “You said you wanted the results of my work cutting through the static jamming our bug as soon as I finished. Well, here it is.” He handed a single sheet of paper to the Chairman. “I even used the sound-mixing board Mark has in his cabin. This is the best I could do. Sorry.
The numbers in parentheses are the elapsed time between words.” I DON’T . . . (1:23) YES . . . (3:57) ’BOUT DONNA SKY . . . (1:17) (ACT)IVATE THE EEL LEF
. . . (:24) KEY . . . (1:12) TOMORR(OW) . . . (3:38) THAT WON’T BE . . . (:43) A MIN(UTE) . . .
(6:50) BYE.(1:12)