Thatcher frowned. Could she have killed Adamson? She’d been with Thatcher most of the previous night but the truth was that Thatcher had no memory of anything that had happened after they’d made love. He had dropped into a deep sleep and Cyra could have easily dressed and left his cabin before he knew she was even gone.
But she’d told him she’d left in the early morning.
Unless she had lied.
Anything was possible. As smitten as Thatcher was, he wasn’t a damned fool. He’d seen enough high society women turn to true evil from time-to-time. And he knew that anyone could murder if they had the cause and justification in mind to do so.
The question of why forced its way to the forefront of his brain, however. Why would Cyra kill the captain? What had Adamson done that would have mandated such a fate? It didn’t make any sense at the moment, but perhaps when Schwarzwalder came by for his talk, Thatcher could turn the tables a bit and ask some questions of his own. The task before him most immediately was convincing Schwarzwalder that he was not the murderer. After all, he’d already confessed to being a criminal. Certainly that would factor into Schwarzwalder’s line of questioning.
“Halt.”
Thatcher stopped as the guard behind him stepped in front and put a key into the cabin lock. He opened the door and gestured for Thatcher to enter. Thatcher inclined his head and said, “thanks,” before stepping inside.
He hardly had a chance to examine the cabin before the door closed behind him and he was once again a prisoner.
CHAPTER 19
Thatcher appraised his new surroundings. There was a porthole that he moved to almost immediately. From it, he could see the patch of ocean where the Archimedes had been scuttled, but the ship had already vanished. The scuttling charges had broken her keel and flooded the ship within a minute, taking her to the bottom soon thereafter.
As he watched, Raider X slowly turned away and its engines began to gain momentum. Thatcher could feel the ship starting to speed up and knew they would want to leave the area as quickly as possible lest they be tracked down by any Royal Navy ships in the area. Although Thatcher doubted there would be any operating close by. Hewitt would have made sure of that. He wanted the Archimedes taken and Thatcher to be brought aboard. So far, Hewitt’s plan had worked out precisely according to plan. Albeit with the murder of Adamson not being part of that consideration.
Thatcher turned away from the porthole and took in the rest of the cabin. There was a bunk, a toilet was partitioned off with a simple folding door, and a small desk and two chair made up the rest of the Spartan surroundings. But it seemed comfortable enough. Thatcher lay down on the bunk and wondered how long it would take for Schwarzwalder to make his way to his cabin and question him.
How had he known Adamson? Thatcher wondered if it was just a smaller community among captains that brought them both into each other’s circle or if it was something else entirely. Was there more to Adamson than just being the captain of the Archimedes? Was he more involved in the war effort than just as a captain? Had he been pressed into some sort of service in the same manner that Thatcher had? And if so, had that role brought to him to the attention of someone who would want to kill him?
He closed his eyes and thought about last night. The dinner with Cyra had been delightful. And the wine had been rather spectacular. He was sad that that part of this trip was now over. He was firmly in enemy hands, and yet Thatcher didn’t feel nearly as endangered as he might if he truly had any skin in the game. The fact was, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole mission. Aside from needing to ensure his aunt was left alone, Thatcher didn’t really give a stuff about Hewitt’s grand plan. And he resented being pressed into service at his behest.
Had Thatcher had his way, he might have stolen down to some part of deeper Africa and hung out with the rich Colonials that he knew were waiting out the war in their mansions amid the equatorial weather. Or even Lisbon might have provided a more temperate atmosphere for him to engage in his usual proclivities of wining and dining wealthy dowagers and divorcees while he worked to relieve them of their money.
Anything was preferable to doing what he was currently doing, he decided. But it was what it was and Thatcher was stuck aboard the Loki now. Raider X still had secrets to give up and Thatcher would uncover them all if he could.
There came a knock at the door and then it opened even as Thatcher rolled his feet off of the bunk and sat up again. Schwarzwalder stood in the doorway and despite the fact that the Loki was his ship, he bowed his head. “Do you mind?”
Thatcher held out his hand. “Please.”
Schwarzwalder entered and removed his hat before taking a seat across from Thatcher who remained on the bunk. He glanced around and smiled at Thatcher. “I’m afraid it’s probably not up to the standards of the previous vessel you were riding upon, but I’d caution you it’s a damned sight better than if you’d been taking aboard U-boat.”
Thatcher grinned. “I certainly won’t argue with you there.”
“As a commerce raider, what we lack in armoring and armament, we make up for with crew quarters. The men who serve under me are much more comfortable than many of their brethren aboard the various German naval vessels currently operating.”
“It’s a fantastic ship,” said Thatcher. “Although I must admit I’m torn.”
“How so?”
“Well, as we rode over on the launcher, the ship looked, forgive me, a bit weathered and worn. But once aboard, it sparkles as if it was commissioned only yesterday.”
“A few weeks previously, actually,” said Schwarzwalder. “And our exterior appearance is to make us look like less of a threat than we are. You’ve heard of commerce raiders before?”
Thatcher shrugged. “I was in prison. We didn’t get much in the way of news.”
Schwarzwalder smiled. “Indeed. We approach and board ships who mistake us for being a merchant marine ship — most of my fellow raiders are former refrigeration vessels. Once aboard, we take what is of value before scuttling it. For those ships that we cannot take, we sink through other means. The Führer has dictated that we sink as much of allied shipping as we can in order to deprive our enemies of needed goods.”
“Sounds like a dangerous job.”
“Indeed it is,” said the captain. “If we were to be discovered engaged in our activities, we would almost certainly be sunk by responding forces. And they would be well within their right to do so.” He leaned back in the chair. “You’ve been very forthright with declaring that you were a criminal. Do you mind me asking why you were imprisoned?”
Thatcher smiled. “I apparently deprived far too many woman of their jewels and stocks to be tolerated any longer.”
For a moment, Schwarzwalder said nothing and then a big grin broke out across his face. “You were a thief?”
“I prefer the term ‘liberator of antiquities, liquidities, and proclivities’ myself,” said Thatcher. “But that works too.”
Schwarzwalder nodded. “And for that they sent you away to prison. Interesting.”
Thatcher shrugged. “I apparently annoyed a great many women once they discovered my true vocation.”
“And you’re American as well.” Schwarzwalder leaned forward. “We are not at war with Americans.”
“And yet you hold me as a prisoner,” said Thatcher.
“Yes, but not as one of war; but rather as a suspect in the murder of Captain Adamson.” He leaned back. “Were you surprised this morning to hear of his death?”