Chương 3
Two cooks were working shoulder to shoulder while a young woman sliced herbs at the counter.
No Elias.
I opened the refrigerator as though I belonged there, which technically I did and suddenly felt absurd.
My father had paid for this yacht.
My name was on the ownership documents.
Yet I was moving through it like a burglar.
“You need help?”
The young woman looked up.
“Water.”
She pointed.
“Still or sparkling?”
“Still.”
She handed me a bottle.
I twisted the cap without drinking.
“Do you know where Elias is?”
Her knife stopped.
Only for a moment.
“Engine deck, maybe.”
“Why?”
“He told me the guest internet wasn’t the only connection.”
Her eyes met mine.
That had been a mistake.
Too direct.
I smiled.
“I need to send my parents a photo before they accuse me of disappearing into married life.”
She relaxed a little.
“Crew network is restricted.”
“Of course.”
I took a swallow of water.
“Thank you.”
As I turned, she said, “Mrs. Delorme?”
I looked back.
“Your husband said you should stay inside this afternoon.”
The bottle felt slippery in my hand.
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
She looked uncomfortable now, as if she regretted passing along the instruction.
“He said you’re not well.”
“I’m not.”
That part, at least, was true.
I walked out before she could say anything else.
The engine deck was accessible through a narrow passage behind the laundry room.
I had been shown it during the first-day tour and remembered almost none of the machinery.
I remembered the noise.
I remembered Elias standing near a breaker panel and telling me that most yacht owners never came down there unless something broke badly enough to affect their cocktails.
At the time, I had laughed.
Now I found him crouched beside an open cabinet, writing numbers on a clipboard.
He looked up when he saw me.
“You’re lost.”
“Probably.”
He stood.
He was younger than I had guessed, maybe thirty-five, with tired eyes and grease on one forearm.
“You need the bridge?”
“No.”
The engine noise filled the spaces between us.
“I need internet.”
He stared at me.
“Guest service is supposed to come back.”
“I need it now.”
“You can ask Captain Laurent.”
“I’m asking you.”
His face changed slightly.
Not suspicion exactly.
Attention.
“Why?”
I looked toward the corridor behind me.
Nobody was there.
“My husband doesn’t want me using it.”
Elias put down the clipboard.
“That sounds like a marriage problem.”
“It is.”
He wiped his hands on a rag.
“I don’t get involved in those.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“You came into the engine room to ask for restricted access your husband doesn’t want you to have.”
He spoke without hostility.
That made the refusal worse.
“I’d call that involved.”
I swallowed.
The drugged heaviness was returning in waves.
My body wanted a bed.
My mind wanted to crawl out of my skin.
“I need to contact my father.”
“Use the bridge phone.”
“Can you?”
His eyebrows moved.
“Can I what?”
“Use the bridge phone.”
“Yes.”
“Can everyone?”
“Senior crew.”
“Does Florent know that?”
Elias looked at me for several seconds.
Then he glanced toward the door.
“What is this?”
“I don’t know yet.”
That answer surprised both of us.
He folded the rag once and set it aside.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m seasick.”
“No.”
The word was quiet.
“You’re drugged.”
I stopped breathing.
Elias immediately lifted both hands.
“I’m not accusing anyone.”
“How would you know?”
“My sister used to take clonazepam.”
He nodded toward my face.
“Your eyes.”
I touched my cheek stupidly, as though sedation could be wiped away.
“What do they look like?”
“Slow.”
“That’s not a medical term.”
“I’m an engineer.”
Despite everything, a sound escaped me.
Not quite a laugh.
It startled him.
It startled me more.
For three seconds the terror loosened.
Then it came back.
“I need to send a message without my husband knowing.”
Elias studied me.
“Is he hurting you?”
“Not yet.”
His mouth tightened.
“That’s a strange answer.”
“I heard him talking to his parents.”
I stopped there.
Saying the rest out loud felt dangerous, as if the words might become audible through the steel walls.
Elias waited.
I could tell from his expression that he disliked waiting.
People who worked with machines probably preferred problems that announced themselves clearly.
“He plans to kill me tonight.”
Nothing in his face moved.
The engines went on humming.
After a moment he said, “That’s not funny.”
“I know.”
“You heard him say that.”
“Yes.”
“Exactly?”
“Yes.”
“With who?”
“His parents.”
“What did they say?”
“They discussed dosage, timing, weather, inheritance.”
The engineer looked away.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
“You could be confused.”
“I could.”
The words hurt, but I made myself say them.
“I’m drugged, frightened, and I heard it from a staircase.”
He looked back at me.
“But?”
“But I found the pills.”
I told him where I had hidden them.
Elias stared at my shoes.
“You put unknown medication under your insole?”
“I panicked.”
“That part I believe.”
Footsteps sounded outside.
He grabbed my elbow and pulled me behind the open machinery cabinet.
I almost cried out.
A crewman passed the doorway without looking inside.
Elias released me.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
His discomfort was oddly reassuring.
Florent never apologized unless the apology improved his position.
Elias seemed annoyed with himself.
“I can get you access for five minutes.”
My throat tightened.
“To the internet?”
“To a maintenance terminal.”
“Can it send messages?”
“Yes.”
“Can it be traced?”
“Everything can be traced.”
He pointed a finger at me.
“Do not log into anything obvious.”
“What counts as obvious?”
“Your email.”
“My bank?”
He stared at me.
“Especially your bank.”
“I was joking.”
“Bad time.”
“I know.”
He led me through another door into a cramped technical office.
May you like
The desk was bolted to the floor.
A battered laptop sat beside a stack of inspection folders and an empty coffee mug with WORLD’S OKAYEST ENGINEER printed on it.
