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“They found the missing girl,” Kemper said, his voice low. “Or, at least, part of her.” There was a brief silence. LeSeur felt a sudden wave of horror as he tried to process this information.
“Part of her,” he repeated at last. His throat seemed to have gone dry.
“Portions of a human body—entrails, viscera—were found stuffed into a ma
“So the rest was thrown overboard,” LeSeur said, very quietly. This was a bad dream—a nightmare. It had to be.
“It would seem so, sir. The girl’s iPod was located on Deck B, outside the hatch leading to the engineering spaces. It appears she was accosted down there, led or carried up to Deck 1, then killed and butchered on the weather deck and thrown overboard—with a few, ah, trophies retained. Those in turn were brought up to the Regent Street fur shop and left on a ma
“Do the passengers know yet?”
“Yes. Word seems to be spreading quickly. They’re taking it badly.”
“How badly?”
“I’ve witnessed numerous scenes of hysteria. A man in the Covent Garden casino had to be restrained. I’ve warned you about how dangerous hysteria can become—my recommendation is that the commodore declare an ISPS Code Level One and that you take steps to increase security on the bridge immediately.”
LeSeur turned to a second officer. “Activate security hatches on all bridge approaches. No one passes without authorization.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turned back to the security chief. “I will discuss the ISPS Code with the commodore. Any leads on the killing?”
“None. Except the killer seems to have remarkable access to the ship, including a key to Engineering and the Regent Street fur shop.”
“Pendergast said the killer had somehow managed to get a security passcard.”
“Or a master key,” said Kemper. “Dozens have been issued.”
“Motive?”
“It could be the work of a raving sociopath. Or it might be someone with a specific goal in mind.”
“A goal? Such as?”
Kemper shrugged. “I don’t know. Sow panic on board, maybe?” “But why?”
When the security chief had no answer, LeSeur nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Kemper. Would you please accompany me while I report this to the commodore?”
Kemper swallowed, nodded. LeSeur strode over to the center bridge, placing himself in the path of the commodore’s walk. “Commodore Cutter?”
Cutter stopped pacing, slowly raised his massive head. “What is it, Mr. LeSeur?”
“Mr. Kemper has just reported another killing on board. A young girl.”
At this, Cutter’s eyes flashed briefly before going dull again. He glanced over at the security chief. “Mr. Kemper?”
“Sir. A sixteen-year-old girl was murdered early this morning on Deck 1. Certain body parts were placed on a ma
“Is your staff conducting an investigation?”
“My staff, sir, is strained to the maximum just trying to keep order, answer reports of disappearances, and reassure passengers. With all due respect, we are not in any position to gather evidence, question suspects, or conduct an investigation.”
Cutter continued gazing at him. “Anything else, Mr. Kemper?”
“I would recommend declaring an ISPS Code Level One on the ship.”
The eyes focused briefly on LeSeur before swiveling toward the officer of the watch. “Mr. Worthington?” Cutter called out. “Estimated time to New York?”
“At current speed and heading, sixty-six hours, sir.”
“St. John’s?”
“Twenty-three hours, sir, again if we maintain speed.”
A long silence enveloped the bridge. Cutter’s eyes gleamed in the dim light from the electronics. He turned back to the security director.
“Mr. Kemper, declare a Code One. I want you to close two of the casinos and half of the nightclubs. In addition, select the shops and lounges that have been doing the least amount of business. Reassign those employees to the maintenance of order on board this ship, as far as their skills and capabilities will allow. Close the game rooms, health clubs, theaters, and spas—and again reassign the staff to security duties, whenever possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Seal any areas that may contain forensic evidence of this and the other crimes. I don’t want any entry by anyone to those areas, even you.”
“Already done, sir.”
He turned. “Mr. LeSeur, a ten P.M. to eight A.M. curfew will remain in effect until we land. All passengers will be confined to their staterooms during those periods. Move up the restaurant di
“Yes, sir.”
“All room service and other passenger services are to be canceled. All waitstaff will follow a minimal cleaning schedule. All crew are to be confined to quarters when not on duty or at mess. No exceptions. Mr. LeSeur, you will take appropriate steps to cut down on the movement of nonessential perso
“Yes, sir.”
“You will make an appropriate a
There was a long, long silence. LeSeur waited for the most essential order to come.
“That will be all, Mr. LeSeur.”
But LeSeur didn’t move. “Captain Cutter, excuse me for mentioning this, but surely you’ll be diverting to St. John’s?”
As Cutter’s eyes rested on him, they turned cold. “No.”
“Why not, sir?” LeSeur swallowed.
“I am not in the habit of explaining my reasoning with junior officers.”
LeSeur swallowed again in an unsuccessful attempt to loosen his throat. “Commodore, if I may—”
Cutter interrupted him. “Mr. LeSeur, call the staff captain back to the bridge and confine yourself to your quarters until further orders.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That will be all. Mr. Kemper, you may vacate the bridge as well.” And without another word, Cutter wheeled away and resumed his pacing.
44
CAREFULLY, CAREFULLY, PENDERGAST BROUGHT THE CRUMBLING box out into the light. He fitted a jeweler’s loupe to one eye and, with a pair of tweezers, began sorting through the debris inside—dead insects, particles of resin, sawdust, fibers—placing select items into small test tubes taken from his jacket pockets. When he had finished, he fitted the lid back on the box, reassembling it with exquisite care, and placed it back in the safe in the rectangle of sawdust from which he had taken it. He closed the safe, dipped the passcard into the reader to lock it, then closed the teak cabinet and stepped back.