Home Fires

12. JANE SIMS

“Sit down, Don.” Skip indicated a chair. “Would you like something to eat? Or a drink? The first-class kitchen’s supposed to be a bit better than second class. It may not be true, but that’s what they say. I’d think the bars are probably about the same.”

“Dos Equis, sir, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course not. I’ll have one, too.” Skip picked up the telephone and ordered.

Miles waited expectantly.

“You’re wondering why I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I need your help, or think I do. You’ve probably guessed that already.”

“I’ll be happy to help you any way I can, sir.”

“I know. I feel sure of that, but I’m going to have to ask you some personal questions. It wouldn’t be fair for me to do that without briefing you, without giving you some idea of why I’m prying into your private life. You went down into the hold with Sergeant Kent-Jermyn to fight the hijackers.”

“Yes, sir. It was a damned fool thing to do. I know that now.”

“It was a very brave thing to do. I admire you for it. Everybody admires you.” Skip paused, collecting his thoughts. “Some of you were killed. Others were captured. When you were, Mastergunner Chelle Blue led a party down there to rescue you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mastergunner Blue and I are contracted. Did you know that?”

“Yes, sir. Lieutenant Brice told me. He’s one of the ship’s officers, sir.”

“He is, Captain Kain has mentioned him. There’s a Captain Johnson on board, too. A captain in the Army, I mean. Do you know him?”

“No, sir.”

“He was in that meeting room when you came in. I should have introduced you to everyone, but I was so anxious to talk to you that it was all I could think of. Do you know Virginia Healy?”

“No, sir. Wait a minute—wasn’t that the woman who volunteered to go down as a prisoner? The first woman who raised her hand?”

“Correct. She’s Mastergunner Blue’s mother.” Skip sighed. “She’s Chelle’s mother, and someone’s trying to kill her. That’s one reason I’m poking and prying—a peripheral reason, or I think it is. Sometime peripheral reasons turn out to be not so peripheral later.”

Miles nodded. “Yes, sir.”

There was a diffident knock.

Skip opened the door, and signed the bill when the waiter had deposited his tray on a small table. “Did you fight?” Skip asked the waiter.

“No, sir. Not really. They put the older people in the second-class dining room, sir, and assigned four of us to guard them. I was one of those.”

“Did you have a gun?”

“Not at first, sir. A kitchen knife. We got guns after, sir.”

“Can you shoot?”

“No, sir.”

“Neither can I.” Skip added a tip to the check, and the waiter went out.

As the door closed, Miles said, “I heard you killed quite a few of them, sir.” He had not opened his beer.

“Yes, but I burned a lot of ammunition, and they were so tightly packed that when I missed one I hit another. I’ll try to do better next time, if there’s a next time.”

Skip sat, and twisted the top from his bottle. “You know Chelle, I know. Do you like her?”

“I’m not trying to move in on you, sir.”

“I didn’t think you were. I just wondered what you thought of her.”

“Everybody likes her, sir.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, sir.” Miles paused. “She’s good-looking, and sharp as hell. She’s got that air of command, too. You know what I mean? She’s a leader. She knows it, and you know it as soon as she shows up. I don’t know how many decorations she’s got, but Private Bonham called around, he said, and he says the eagle and maple leaf, silver. If she stays in, they’ll pin bars on her. You bet your ass, sir.”

“She’s not staying in,” Skip said. “Or I don’t think she is.”

“I don’t blame her, sir.”

“I ought to add that I don’t want her to. She has a problem, a serious one, and I’m trying to help her with it. I’m a great deal older than she is, as I feel certain you realize.”

“A little older, sir. Just a little bit. I guess you two contracted before she went up.”

“Correct. I can’t be a young man for her again. I can help her, though, and that’s what I’m trying to do. Are you contracted?”

“No, sir.” Miles’s face went blank.

“Have you ever been?”

“No, sir. We— Can I explain, sir? You won’t believe me, but it’s the truth.”

“If it’s true, I’ll believe you.”

“There was this girl in high school. We … You know.”

“You fell in love.”

“Yes, sir. That’s it exactly. We said we were going to contract. I believed it, and I think she did, too.”

“Continue, please, Corporal. Let’s have the whole story.” Skip sounded as sympathetic as he ever had to a defense witness during a murder trial, and that was very sympathetic indeed.

“Only she went off to college, sir. We said we’d call and e-mail and all that. You know?”

Skip nodded. “I certainly do.”

“Only I didn’t have the money to call very often, and I’m not very good about writing anything. After a while, well, I enlisted and she stopped calling. It—it didn’t bother me back then. It wasn’t a big thing. This next is the part you won’t believe, sir.”

“Try me,” Skip said.

“She was on the planet, on the world they sent me to. She was an officer, sir.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sir. She’d studied physics in college, and gotten really high up. There was a weapon we had there. She couldn’t say what it was, but it was something one of her teachers had come up with. He was old and hadn’t wanted to go, but he told the Army they ought to take Jane. He said they ought to make her an officer and all that so she could take care of his weapon, and they did it. After I’d been at that base about a week, we—well, we saw each other. I can’t tell you how that was, sir. I haven’t got the words.”

“I think I understand.”

“We said we wanted to get together to talk about old times, and that was all it was. Only we knew better, both of us. We’d go to the officers’ club. I was an enlisted man, but nobody said anything. They could see how it was, and they just smiled and went back to their card game or whatever. We said we were going to contract, and we meant it. We were going to do everything right. You could get model contracts on one of the computers she worked on. Then…”

“Something happened,” Skip said.

“She got killed.” Miles cleared his throat. “I was out on the periphery then, sir. There were outposts, and that was where I was when the missile hit. It was just a little one, not one of the big ones like you fire into space, but it … It killed Janie—killed her, and a hell of a lot of other people.”

“One question, please.” Skip paused. “I know this must be painful.”

“Go ahead, sir. It’s not going to get any worse.”

“Was Janie’s last name Sims?”

“Yes, sir. It was. How’d you know, sir?”

“Chelle told me. You were on Johanna.”

“Yes, sir. I’m not supposed to tell anybody that, but you know already.”

“So was Chelle. She was hurt pretty badly there, perhaps by the same missile, although I don’t know that.” Skip returned his glass to the tray and rose to pace the floor. “Before we knew about Sergeant Kent-Jermyn’s group, Chelle gave Captain Kain her word that she wouldn’t go down into the hold. Her word’s usually good. Better than mine, I think. Achille—do you know Achille?”

Miles nodded. “The little guy with no hands? Yes, sir.”

“He’ll have hands again when we get back home. I’m going to get him replacements. I owe him, and I like to pay my debts.”

For a few moments Skip paced, swinging along with the pronounced roll of the ship and collecting his thoughts. “You know that Chelle assembled a force of her own and went down to rescue you. They were defeated, just as the group you were in were. A good many of them were killed and the rest were captured, including Chelle.”

Miles nodded again. “It’s called defeat in detail, sir. It’s what happens when you break up and let the enemy fight you piece by piece.”

“Thank you. I didn’t know that. You did, but you went down with Kent-Jermyn anyway.”

“Yes, sir. A raiding party of a few men can get a lot done sometimes. You and the skipper didn’t know the setup down there, for one thing. We found out.”

“I think I understand.” Skip sipped his beer and set it back down. “What I started out to say was that Achille came with a list of the captives. The hijackers had gotten all of you to write down your names.”

“Yes, sir, except for the ones who were hurt too bad to write. We wrote theirs for them.”

“I see. I believe that was before Angel Mendoza escaped?”

“Yes, sir. We wouldn’t have put down his name if he hadn’t been there.”

“I see.” For a few seconds, Skip paced in silence. “I’ve been assuming that he had a similar list. And of course he may have—he could have written such a list himself.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I think he did. When we found Chelle, she told me she needed a psychiatrist. She was joking, I’m sure; but many a truth is told in jest. As we took her up to J Deck, I asked what she’d meant by it; and she told me that when she’d read your names she felt compelled to get you men back, and that her compulsion to do it overrode every other consideration.”

“I don’t think I’ve got this yet, sir.”

“I think I do,” Skip said, “and right now that’s what matters. It involves Jane Sims and a note Chelle wrote once. It may also involve my secretary in some way, and I admit I don’t understand that yet. Perhaps I never will, but…” He smiled. “But we may get to the bottom of it today, Corporal Miles. I dare hope so.”

“Then so do I, sir.”

“Good! I want to take you to the infirmary to talk to Chelle. I want you to tell her about Jane Sims, in much more detail than you told me. And I want you to tell her how Jane Sims died. Did you see her body?”

“Yes, sir. Not for long, because the medics grabbed it and froze it. They use them for organ replacements, sir. Then the parts they can’t use—whatever’s chewed up too bad—get shipped home in a sealed coffin. People here don’t seem to understand that, but that’s how it is.”

“I see. Do you happen to know whether Jane Sims’s family has received such a coffin?”

“No, sir. I don’t, and I’d like to.”

Skip nodded, mostly to himself. “I have a man in Boswash, which is where I live, who’ll look into things like that for me. I’ll have him find out, and I’ll tell you what he learns.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“In return, I’d like you to talk to Chelle. Tell her what you’ve told me about Jane Sims, and about seeing her body. Describe it. Give her as much detail as you can remember.”

“I will, sir.”

Skip took a deep breath. “It may work, and it’s certainly worth trying; I’ll be indebted to you whether it works or not. A moment ago I said I liked to pay my debts. Are you going to stay in the Army?”

Miles nodded. “I’ll have to, sir. It’s damned hard to get a civilian job, sir. That’s what everybody says. I qualify for a pension—they say I’ve got twenty years’ service—but for a corporal that’s not much.”

“Suppose you could get a civilian job, a good one?”

“Then I’d put in for a discharge, sir. I’d have the salary, whatever it was, and my pension, too. I’d be set.”

“Do this for me, and I’ll get you one.”

Miles swallowed the last drop of his beer, and paused as though afraid to speak. At last he said, “Really, sir?”

“Yes. I’ve got connections. Let’s go see Chelle.”

* * *

Someone was shouting in the infirmary, his hoarse voice audible far down the corridor: “Hey! Hey! Anybody! Come here!”

The middle-aged woman who had sat at the desk when Skip and Susan had come to see Chelle was dead, her body slumped across the desk, her white cotton blouse bullet-torn and scarlet with her blood. Chelle’s bed was empty, her pillow on the floor, her sheets tangled.

The man in the big room next to hers stopped shouting as they came through its door. “Don! What the hell’s going on?”

“That’s what we want to know, sir,” Don said; Skip felt that he spoke for both of them.

Five minutes later, they found Dr. Prescott’s body behind his desk in his consulting room.

* * *

Hours later, Skip told the captain, “He had been dragged there. He’d heard them shoot his nurse and had come out of his office. The gunman shot him three times and dragged him back inside. I don’t know why.”

“We’ll find him,” Captain Kain promised.

“Will we? We’ve spent three hours looking without finding him.” Skip took a long swallow of a vodka-and-tonic he felt sure he should not have asked for. “Can he get off the ship?”

“No.”

Skip raised an eyebrow. “Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that. You’re going to suggest that he could escape in a lifeboat.”

“Couldn’t he?”

“No. It takes two people to launch one, one at each davit—two able-bodied men with strong arms. If they were going to ride in the boat themselves, they’d have to jump into the sea after they had it down. That’s how it would be done if we were sinking. Do you want to hear more?”

Skip nodded.

“Very well. That wouldn’t be possible if it’s only one man. He could threaten Ms. Blue with death and force her to help, agreed. He could also force her to jump before he did. But you say she has a broken arm. I doubt that the strongest man in my crew could operate one of those davits without two sound arms. No doubt Ms. Blue is strong for a woman, but with her right arm broken? There’s not a chance.”

“Suppose—”

“That there are more than one. Exactly. That’s the chance we cannot take. Here’s another, one you may not have thought of. Suppose he’s got a great deal of money. He finds a couple of my sailors and offers them … Oh, ten thousand noras to let down a lifeboat for him. Some of my men wouldn’t take it, I know. Others might. I’ve got patrols on the Boat Deck watching the boats for just that reason.”

“An inflatable raft,” Skip suggested. “He forces her to jump, jumps in after her, and inflates his raft. She’d have to climb aboard or drown.”

“Normally, we have only one lookout, a man who looks forward. Now I’ve stationed a man aft to watch for that, or a suicide attempt.” The captain sighed. “For a raft or dinghy of some kind, or a body overboard.”

“You think he might kill her.”

“Of course I do. Who is he? Why does he want her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then we can’t even begin to guess—”

The captain was interrupted by his phone. When he hung up, he told Skip, “That was Dr. Ueda. She’s a passenger, but she’s agreed to fill in for Dr. Prescott until we reach port. There are a lot of wounded in the infirmary, and she’s found women with medical backgrounds to help her take care of them.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Skip said.

“Naturally not. But it was my duty to find somebody, and I did. While we were searching she’s been looking at bodies, Dr. Prescott’s and Nurse Eagan’s, and those poor girls who used to work for Virginia.” The captain paused. “If I weren’t so damned tired I could probably think of their names.”

“Amelia was one,” Skip told him. “The other was Polly, I think. Or Paula. I don’t remember the last names.”

“Amelia Nelson, I believe, and Polly Lutz. They were both killed by the explosion. No bullets.”

“I’d assumed that.”

“You were right,” the captain said, “but now we know. Eagan was shot once through the heart. Prescott was shot three times.” The captain paused.

“You’ve got something.” Putting aside his drink, Skip leaned forward. “What is it?”

“I do. Or rather, Dr. Ueda does and I don’t know what it means. Prescott was shot once in the abdomen and twice in the chest. The bullets in his chest probably came from the gun that killed Nurse Eagan. Dr. Ueda can’t be sure of that, but she says the wounds look the same. The third bullet is from another gun.”

When Skip said nothing, the captain added, “It’s about the same size, or she thinks it is. Everything else is different. It didn’t expand, and the metal doesn’t look the same. She weighed them, and that third bullet is quite a bit heavier. The bullet that killed Eagan looks like the ones from Prescott’s chest.”

“There are two of them. Two shooters.”

“That’s how it looks. Did Ms. Blue have a gun?”

Skip nodded. “She did when I came to see her. Yes.”

“Could she have been one of the killers?”

“Of course not.” Skip made it as positive as he could.

“Why not?” The captain smiled to take the sting out of his question.

“Chelle isn’t a criminal, just to start with. I’ve talked to people who believe that the Army turns its soldiers into heartless killers, but I’m in the business of defending people accused of crime and I know how low the crime rate is among returned veterans.”

“It doesn’t bother you, defending criminals?”

“I’m not finished yet, and in fact I’ve hardly begun. I’ll get to that in a moment. Second, Chelle was badly hurt. She’d be killing the people who were trying to help her.”

Skip raised three fingers. “And third, she didn’t have a ghost of a motive. The real killers had a clear one: they wanted Chelle.”

“Why?”

“I could guess, but I’m not going to. It would only be a guess, and I prefer to deal with facts. Fourth, Chelle is right-handed and her right arm is broken. She said your doctor put in a plate and held it in place with screws driven into the bone. She could hold her gun when I handed it to her. But could she have shot it? I’d like your honest opinion.”

“Yes,” the captain said. “With her left hand.”

“Possibly, but notice how unlikely it is. Fifth, from what I saw at the scene, the nurse was standing behind her desk when she was shot in the chest. If Chelle had left her room and shot her— Just a minute.”

Skip’s mobile phone was vibrating. He took it out and flipped it open.

Susan appeared in its small screen. “ ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’ Do you remember saying that, Mr. Grison? You quoted it during the Zayas trial.”

“Correct.”

“I’m going to disprove it.” Susan’s smile was bitter. “We’ve got your precious Chelle. She’s a mess, but…”

Skip said, “Please don’t hurt her.”

“But I feel sorry for her, and for you, too.” Susan paused for so long a time that he feared she would hang up. “I still love you. Does that surprise you?”

“Yes. Yes, it does. I still love you, too, Susan. I love you and I’m terribly sorry I hurt you.”

“I love you, but I love him more and we’re going to kill her.” The words brought the ghost of a smile. “It will be fast, I promise. And soon. He’s promised me that.”

“Who is he, Susan?”

“But I’m going to let you talk to her first. Just for a few minutes, because I’m not sure when he’s coming back. I think you should have a chance to say goodbye.” Susan’s face disappeared from the tiny screen.

Chelle’s replaced it. “Don? Is this Don?”

There was a knock at the door, which Skip ignored. “I’m afraid not. I’m S. W. Grison, Don’s attorney. How can I help you?”

“I want to tell Don how much I love him. I—I’m going away again. Going away for good. That’s what they say. Please let me speak to him.”

The captain had risen and admitted Rick Johnson.

“He’s not here, I’m afraid, but I’ll find him and send him to you at once. Where are you?”

“In Jerry’s room.” Chelle turned to speak to someone out of frame. “This is Jerry’s room, isn’t it?”

Susan’s face replaced Chelle’s. “Did you say goodbye? I hope so.”

The screen went black as Johnson whispered, “Something up?”

Skip snapped his phone shut. “We need the number of Sergeant Kent-Jermyn’s cabin. That’s where Chelle is.”

“Half a minute.” The captain turned to his computer. “Thank God his name’s not Smith.”