Phantom Prospect (8 page)

Hunter set them up his quarters, which really weren’t that much better than the crew quarters Annja shared with Cole. But there was room enough for a small table and space for them to sit behind it. Annja nursed a cup of coffee while Hunter and Cole went through the résumés.

“How many?” Annja asked.

“Ten,” Cole said. “Not including us or Tom.”

Annja nodded. “Who are we starting with?”

Cole sighed. “Doesn’t make sense to question Sammy or Jax right now. Both of them are doubtful on the suspicion meter, but we’ll check them out later. I’ve got a friend I can radio back on the mainland who can look into their pasts if I want. I’d rather keep them where they are right now. Jax is manning the wheel?”

Hunter nodded. “She’s not due to get relieved for a while. But everyone else is fairly suspect. Sammy’s working on the engine to get it all fixed and make sure there wasn’t any other damage.”

“Good.” Cole looked at the top résumé. “So that means we start with this guy…Dave Crosby.” Cole looked at Hunter. “What’s his position?”

“Dive master. He’s good hands-on for the dig itself. He knows how to work the vacuum that we use to extract the sand without damaging anything under it.”

“Let’s get him in here.”

Hunter picked up the intercom and paged Crosby to the captain’s quarters. Five minutes passed and someone knocked on the door.

“Enter.”

A man came in. Annja had seen him before. He was an average-looking guy with short sandy hair and blue eyes. But his chest looked like a barrel, no doubt from his diving experience.

Hunter smiled. “Just a few questions for you, Dave. Then you’ll be on your way. All right?”

He nodded. “This about the engine room fire?”

“It wasn’t a fire,” Cole said. “Just a bit of smoke.”

“Okay.”

Annja eyed him. “You’ve been diving long?”

He looked at her. “Almost twenty years. Got my start in the Bahamas where my folks ran a dive shop. I left and joined the Navy.”

“What’d you do there?”

“I started on a frigate and then put in my application for the SEALs.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

Dave smirked. “You want my BUD/S class number?”

Annja smiled. “Sure.”

“It’s 263. Hell Week was in the middle of winter. We nearly froze undergoing surf torture.”

Cole and Hunter looked at Annja, who was still staring at Dave. “Go on.”

“You know about it?” Dave asked.

“I’ve met a few of your fellow comrades over the years. They told me something about what you guys go through to wear the Budweiser.”

Dave smiled. “Less than four hours of sleep over the course of the entire week. You know what sleep deprivation can do to you?”

“It’s not pretty,” Annja said. “I take it you passed?”

“Everyone in my boat crew did. None of us would have quit if you’d put a gun to our heads. We just weren’t wired that way.”

“What happened after you graduated?”

“I saw action abroad. Not really sure I can talk about any of it.”

Annja nodded. “When’d you graduate?”

“In 1996.”

Annja counted back in her head and came up with a half dozen possible overseas assignments that Dave could have reasonably been expected to participate in. “When’d you get out?”

“After Afghanistan, 2002. Before they sent us into Iraq. I went back home and kicked around there awhile. People find out you were a SEAL they want to live vicariously through you. Tell you how they did something almost as tough as what you went through. But there’s really nothing I’ve heard of that even comes close. Kinda sad, really.”

Annja smiled at him. “Did you sabotage the boat?”

Dave chuckled. “If I wanted to sabotage this boat, it wouldn’t be floating. I know at least three dozen ways to blow this thing in two and send her right to the bottom.”

“I’ll bet you do.” Annja looked at Hunter and shook her head.

“All right, Dave, you’re secure. Thanks for your time.”

“No sweat. You find out who’s doing this, I hope you’ll let me have a crack at them. I don’t like traitors.”

He left. Hunter looked at Annja. “You sure about that?”

Annja shrugged. “Just didn’t get that vibe from him. He seems very switched on, and the fact that he was a SEAL—”

“Unless he was lying,” Cole said.

Annja shook her head. “Doubt it. Anyone who goes through Hell Week never forgets their class number. They’ll rattle it off without a second’s thought. I think he’s legit and he’d certainly know how to blow this ship up if he wanted.”

“All right,” Cole said. “Let’s keep it moving.”

Hunter picked up the next résumé. “Yeah, okay, let’s see what Sheila has to say. I was on the fence about her when I hired her.”

“Why’s that?” Annja asked.

“Said she specialized in antiques from the early nineteenth century. But something didn’t seem right about her.”

Cole looked at Annja. “You any good with that era?”

“Nope. I’m better with ancient civilizations, to be honest, and medieval stuff is my specialty. Don’t know I could even fake it if I tried, but we’ll see where the conversation goes.”

Hunter paged Sheila to his quarters and she showed up a few minutes later, suddenly standing in the open doorway without any fanfare. “Yes?”

Hunter smiled at her. “Come on in.”

Annja watched the way she moved. There was a litheness to her movements. Sheila fairly slid into the room like cream flowing out of a cup. There was no wasted movement. And Annja felt herself tensing slightly as she recognized someone who was very at ease in her own body.

“Just a few questions,” Hunter said.

“About the fire.”

Cole sighed. “Is that what everyone’s saying? That it was a fire?”

“All that smoke,” Sheila said. “Sure seemed like a fire to those of us not down there with you guys.”

“Just a badly burned screw,” Cole said. “Nothing more. Where were you earlier?”

“Why?”

“Because we want to know.”

Sheila frowned. “You think I did it? You think I sabotaged the boat’s engines? Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Annja asked.

Sheila turned and fixed her stare on Annja. “Sorry, who exactly are you again? And why would I answer to you?”

Annja smiled and got ready to respond when Cole cut her off. “Do you know who I am, Sheila?”

“Yeah, you’re the nut who swims with sharks.”

Cole frowned and looked at Hunter. “Thanks.”

Hunter shook his head. “Your reputation precedes you, bro. I had nothing to do with that one.”

Cole looked at Sheila. “It’s my money that’s backing this venture. You understand what that means?”

“You’re the one in charge.”

“Hunter’s heading the crew but who stays and who goes is up to me. Now if I ask you a question, or Hunter asks you a question, you answer us. As for Annja, she’s here as an expert. She’s got a background in psychology and has worked for the FBI. So if she asks you a question, it would probably be in your best interests to answer it, as well. Got it?”

Sheila nodded and looked back at Annja. “Sorry.”

Annja waved it off. “Forget it. Just tell me a little something about yourself. How’d you get interested in this stuff?”

Sheila grimaced. “I hate boats. I’m here for the chance to see some of the artifacts from the White House.”

“You really think this is the place you’re going to find them?”

Sheila nodded. “I know what the so-called experts think, that the
Fantome
is a ghost chase and it doesn’t really have anything on it, after all. But I don’t believe them. I think this ship is carrying actual relics from the White House and I want to be here when they come up.”

“How’d you find out about the operation here?” Cole asked.

“I answered a classified ad in the
Washington Post
.” Sheila pointed at Hunter. “He put it there.”

Hunter nodded. “The ad said that I was gathering a team of experts who specialized in early nineteenth century antiques. Nothing about the treasure hunt. Too risky to do that.”

Sheila sighed. “Imagine my surprise when I get the gig and he tells me I’m going on a boat. I’ve been constantly seasick since I got here.”

Annja cocked an eyebrow. “You sick yesterday?”

Sheila nodded. “Pretty much all day. I was in my cabin. You can inspect my toilet if you don’t believe me.”

“Why would I do that?” Annja asked. “You don’t flush after you throw up?”

“Of course I do. But there might be some leftover on the bowl.”

Annja stared at Sheila, who stared right back at her. “I think I’ll take your word on that. No need for me to go poking my nose into your toilet.”

Sheila nodded and then looked at Hunter. “Are we through here? I’m not feeling very well again and I’d like to go lie down.”

“Sure. Take it easy.”

Sheila left and closed the door behind her. Annja held up her hand before anyone could speak and waited a few seconds before getting out of her chair. She walked to the door and opened it a crack, checking the hallway outside.

Sheila was gone.

Annja came back inside and closed the door again. “Well, she gets my vote as a possible.”

Cole frowned. “Really?”

Hunter shook his head. “I didn’t see anything suspicious about her. Just struck me as someone who wasn’t feeling very well and didn’t want to have to bother with this line of questioning.”

“She said she hates boats,” Annja said.

“Yeah. So what?”

“Did you see the way she moved?”

Hunter frowned. “I wasn’t really paying attention to that, to be honest.”

“You should,” Annja said. “For someone who hates boats as much as she claims, she certainly knows how to move. She’s well used to being on boats. If she wasn’t, she would have been a lot more unsteady on her feet. But she looked pretty damned graceful to me.”

“So she was lying about it?” Cole frowned. “I guess she could be.” He looked at Hunter. “How did she seem when you interviewed her for the position?”

Hunter shrugged. “She was the first person to phone. Kinda funny, actually. I got the call from her at eight o’clock in the morning on the day the ad ran. Talk about an eager beaver. And she was a bit put off when I decided to hire her and told her about the boat.”

“Could have been an act,” Annja said. “I’m telling you that she has been on boats for a long time. She wouldn’t be able to move like that if she had such a fear of them. She’s our primary, I think.”

“I don’t want to jump the gun on this, Annja,” Cole said. “We need to be sure before we accuse her.”

Annja nodded. “Fine. I understand. But let’s keep her in our sights until we can rule other people out of the equation.”

“How are we going to do that?” Hunter asked. “We can’t sit outside her cabin on surveillance. We’d be kind of obvious.”

“Leave that to me,” Annja said. “You guys are okay here without me.”

Cole looked up. “You’re leaving?”

Annja nodded. “I’ve heard enough. I think Sheila is our target. But she might not be acting alone. That’s where you guys come in. Try to ferret out her accomplice, if she’s got one. I’m pretty sure there were two people in my cabin yesterday when I was attacked. That means there’s still another traitor in our midst.”

“And where are you going?” Hunter asked.

Annja smiled. “No place special. Just visiting a friend.”

Annja walked down the corridor toward the crew quarters. She kept her footwork light, her hands out in front of her as she progressed. She felt confident that Sheila was the person who had attacked her. She just moved too smoothly to be anything remotely like a seasick bystander.

Annja crept closer to where Sheila’s quarters were. A stillness swept over her like a soft mist.

She checked to make sure she could summon her sword, if necessary. It hovered in the gray mist. She considered drawing it, but part of her said no. Not yet. In the close confines of the corridor, she would have difficulty swinging it to ultimate effect. It would be better to wait until she knew exactly what she was dealing with.

Annja paused to allow more sounds to filter into her consciousness. She waited and listened.

She could hear the engines somewhere below still grinding away. Sammy must have been working hard to get them back online. Around her, she heard the dull sounds and pings that occurred on any boat.

But little else.

Maybe Sheila was already asleep.

Annja almost smirked. She didn’t believe that. Sheila was probably perched somewhere behind the door to her quarters, waiting for Annja to knock.

Annja crept closer to the door and waited. Her instincts told her Sheila was definitely up to something.

Annja heard a shuffle on the other side of the door. She placed one hand on the doorknob and started to turn it.

The door was pulled open and Annja found herself dragged into the room.

She spun, already lashing out with a kick as she crashed across the bunk in the tiny cabin. Her foot caught Sheila across the bridge of her nose. Annja heard a crack and saw the rush of bright red blood cascade down the woman’s face.

But Sheila didn’t stop. She immediately rushed Annja, tackling her around her midsection as Annja started to move off the bed. Annja’s wind rushed out as Sheila crashed into her and they tumbled back onto the mattress.

Sheila lunged, launching an elbow strike at Annja’s head. Annja ducked under and drove her own elbow into Sheila’s midsection. Sheila grunted and brought her hammer fist down on Annja’s skull.

Bells rang in Annja’s head. Taking a head shot a day after a concussion wasn’t good and she fought off the fog that threatened to overtake her. She shoved back at Sheila and drove her off the mattress, across the room and into the wall.

Sheila’s head snapped back against the wall and Annja heard her grunt again, but she didn’t give up the fight. Sheila brought her knees up one after the other and it was all Annja could do to ward them off, until one got through her defense and sank into her midsection.

Annja retched, but drove down and locked the knee out before yanking back. Sheila lost her balance and fell.

Annja aimed a kick at her head and Sheila only just managed to bring her hands up in time to catch the brunt of it and deflect it away. She chopped down at Annja’s exposed knee but there was no power in it.

Annja rushed her but then, at the last minute, saw the pistol coming up in Sheila’s hand.

“Stop!”

Annja skidded to a halt and stared at Sheila. “So, you’ll shoot me now? Is that it?”

With her free hand, Sheila wiped her sleeve across her nose and winced. “I think you broke it.”

“I’d break your neck if I could,” Annja said.

Sheila laughed. “I don’t doubt it. I was warned that you’d be formidable. You’re good, Annja Creed. I’ll definitely give you that.”

“Put the gun down and we’ll continue,” Annja said.

Sheila shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m worn out from that matchup and, frankly, I’m not really into unarmed combat when a gun can solve things a lot faster.”

Annja didn’t make a move, aware that the gun Sheila held didn’t waver in the slightest. Whoever Sheila was, she was a trained killer. “Guns are always the last resort of the uncreative.”

Sheila smirked. “Doing a bit of paraphrasing there?”

“Maybe.”

Sheila gestured toward the bed. “Have a seat. You and I need to talk without Hunter and Cole being close by.”

“You’re going to shoot me,” Annja said. “May as well get it over with now, don’t you think.”

“Sit down, Annja. I won’t ask again.”

Annja took a seat on the mattress, actually grateful for the chance to sit. The strike to her head had rung her bell and she wanted nothing more than to cradle her skull and wish the pain away.

But she wouldn’t do that in front of Sheila. Plus, she needed to gather her strength before Sheila tried to shoot her.

Sheila watched her for a moment and then smiled. “You know, you and me, we’re a lot alike.”

“How do you figure that?”

Sheila shrugged. “Well, we’re obviously both gifted fighters. I’ve fought a lot of people—as I know you have—and very few can hold their own against me. Not that I’m bragging or anything.”

“Oh, of course not.” Annja sighed. “That doesn’t necessarily mean we’re alike, Sheila.”

“Means we’re more alike than we are different,” Sheila said. “Surely you can see that.”

“What I see is a woman who has sabotaged this operation and nearly cost the crew their lives for some reason I don’t yet fathom.”

Sheila smiled. “I wonder if you always take such a literal approach to your problem solving.”

“Meaning?”

“Are you only superficial? Do things look one way and you simply accept that as the fact or do you dig deeper? Do you see beyond the convenient and beyond the horizon to greet the grander vista.”

Annja frowned. “You should probably save the psychobabble for someone who actually cares about it. I don’t. I’m here for my friend. And he’s in trouble so I do my part to help.”

“Is he in trouble?”

Annja nodded. “He’s got a traitor on board. That’d be you.”

“Did I say I sabotaged the engine room?”

“Nope.”

“So, why are you convinced it was me? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking and all.”

“I saw the way you moved.”

Sheila started to say something and then stopped. Finally, she broke out into a grin. “Ah, yes, the seasick comment. It didn’t jibe with the way I walked.” She nodded. “I told you you were good.”

“I don’t need you telling me that. I’m well aware of my own talents. As much as I am my own weaknesses.”

“Well, you’re wrong on this one, Annja. Dead wrong, it would seem.”

“About what—you?”

Sheila nodded. “I’m not what you think I am.”

“You’re not a traitor?”

“Nope.”

Annja sighed. “Look, someone knocked me out yesterday. I suspect it was two people, actually, but whatever. And then today, we have the engine room mishap. Now, you’re the only person I’ve met on board who seems capable of doing that stuff, so in my book, it’s pretty apparent who the troublemaker is around here.”

Sheila nodded. “Well, I did knock you out yesterday. But it was just me. No one else.”

“And you’d tell me the truth, why exactly?”

“So we can build a little trust here.”

“Why would I want to trust you? You’ve got a gun on me.”

Sheila nodded. “That’s true. I do.” She smirked and lowered the gun. “Or rather, I did.”

Annja frowned. “Why did you do that?”

“You feel better with that gone?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

Sheila shrugged. “I can bring it back to bear on you in the flick of an eye so don’t give me cause to, okay? We need to have a serious conversation about what’s going on here.”

Annja leaned back. “So, what
is
going on around here?”

“First things first. Do you at least believe that I may not be the root cause of all the trouble here?”

“Maybe. I’m still getting over the knock to my poor skull.”

“An unfortunate event, I assure you. You weren’t supposed to be back at your cabin that quickly. I thought I had plenty of time to go through your gear.”

“Why would you need to go through my equipment?”

“To make sure you were who you said you were.”

Annja grinned. “Are there a lot of other women going around claiming to be me?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I would be.” Annja looked at Sheila. The longer she did so, the more Sheila’s guise of the antiques expert seemed to slip. Annja could read the steely resolve in her eyes. Whoever had trained her, they’d done one hell of a good job. But Annja knew of the organizations that were capable of training someone like Sheila to that level. And she didn’t relish the involvement of any one of them.

“So, why exactly is the CIA involved in this operation?”

Sheila looked amused. “You think I’m CIA?”

Annja shrugged. “Well, forgive me for sounding like a fan girl, but you’re obviously well trained. Your skills don’t grow on trees. And you aren’t going to find most young women with the kind of talent you have. I ran down the list of organizations that could churn out someone like you. It’s a short one.”

Sheila nodded. “True enough.”

“So, you
are
CIA.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Annja frowned. “I thought we were building up some trust here.”

“We are.”

“You’re not being straight with me now.”

“I’m not?”

“No.”

Sheila sighed. “Annja, forget for a moment that everything has to be so literal with you. Imagine that I’m not CIA. In fact, put that completely out of your mind, because—put simply— I’m not.”

Annja frowned. “If you’re not CIA, then you’re with some intelligence outfit. Maybe military?”

“Nope. You’re barking up the wrong tree again, Annja. You can do better. I’m going to chalk this up to the whole sea air thing. Maybe that shark, too.”

Annja shook her head and regretted it. “All right, I’m tired and that shot to my head has rattled me. Suppose you save me the time and effort and just tell me what the hell is going on here?”

“You want me to ruin all the fun for you?”

“Yes.”

Sheila looked disappointed. “How about we do it this way— I’ll ask you a question and see if that helps?”

Annja took a breath. “All right, fine. Whatever.”

Sheila turned the pistol over in her hand and checked the slide. Then she looked at Annja. “Take the government out of the equation. Who could train someone like me…realistically?”

“Honestly?” Annja frowned. “I know two people who could. But it would take time. A lot of time. They’d need to make sure you turned out just right before they unleashed you upon the world.”

“And who would these two people be?”

Annja frowned. “Suppose I don’t feel like sharing their names with you?”

Sheila shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I think I’ve gotten your thought process back on track enough. At least enough that I’ll finish the work for you.”

She got up and walked toward the porthole. She turned and smiled at Annja. “Garin sends his best regards.”