“What’s going on?”
“It’s the captain,” said the crew member. Then he broke free from Thatcher’s grasp and continued on his way. Thatcher took a moment to consider and then hurried after the crew.
When he reached the next corridor, he could see that the door to Captain Adamson’s quarters was ajar and there were several crew members loitering nearby. Thatcher pushed past them and poked his head in the door. The ship’s doctor knelt close to where Adamson’s body lay on the carpet. There was a puddle of blood around Adamson’s head but no obvious wound that Thatcher could see.
“He’s dead?”
The doctor looked up. “You’re the pilot we rescued.”
Thatcher shrugged. “Gunner, but yes.”
“I attended to you when they brought you aboard. Glad to see you’re well.”
“Thank you,” said Thatcher. “At least better than the Captain. What in the world happened?”
The doctor nodded for Thatcher to come inside the cabin. As he did so, Thatcher noted that there were no signs of a struggle. The cabin was neat, sparse, and in keeping with the sort of man that thatcher estimated the Captain to be. He knelt next to the doctor. “What happened here?”
“Some sort of blunt force trauma, if I had to guess,” said the doctor.
Thatcher eyed him. “Are you being asked to guess? It seems like you ought to know for sure.”
The doctor grunted. “If I had the proper facilities aboard this ship, then I’d be willing to agree with you. But as it is, this was only just discovered. The captain failed to show up this morning and the executive officer sent a runner to see if he was all right. When the captain didn’t answer the door, the crewman noted that the door was ajar and pushed in. This is what he found. He sent word for me immediately and here we are.”
“How long has he been dead for?”
The doctor frowned. “Again, it’s just a guess but at least four hours. There is some rigidity already setting in. And the discoloration around the eyes indicates as much.”
“Any idea what was used?”
“If it was actual murder and not some sort of accident?”
Thatcher looked around the room. There were a number of odd edges that the Captain could conceivably have knocked his head against if he tripped and fell. But Thatcher didn’t feel like that was the cause here. “We’re in the midst of a war. Do you really think that was an accident?”
“Frankly, no,” said the doctor. “But who would want to kill the captain of a steamer like the Archimedes? Adamson wasn’t some high profile member of the military. What’s the value in eliminating him?”
“I don’t know,” said Thatcher. “But there’s no sign of a struggle, either, which means that whoever did this must have taken him by surprise.”
“He’s still dressed in his uniform,” said the doctor. “Which means this happened either after he got off duty last night or as he was readying himself for duty this morning.”
“What time was he supposed to be on the bridge?”
“Seven-thirty.” The doctor sighed. “He was disciplined; never late. Hence the alarm from the crew when he failed to show up.”
Thatcher nodded. “He definitely struck me as someone for whom the discipline was vitally important.”
“You would find no one else so regimented in his approach to life,” said the doctor. “But even with that said, it appears as though someone got the better of him.”
“Any enemies among the crew? If he was a disciplinarian, was there a chance he’d punished a crew member for some infraction?”
“I’ve heard nothing about any of that,” said the doctor. “The crew loved Adamson. He was more of a father figure to them than an overlord. He took care of his people and was known for helping anyone with a problem. I sincerely doubt you’ll find the killer among the crew.”
“That leaves the passengers then.” Thatcher looked around the cabin but failed to find anything of note. “How many of them are there?”
“In total? Perhaps twenty. We haven’t sold out our berths in some time since most people are reluctant to put to sea what with the Germans prowling the waves.”
“Then we’ll need to figure out who might have had access to the Captain’s cabin and where they were during the night.”
“You as well,” said the doctor rising from where he knelt. “No disrespect intended, of course. But you are as likely a suspect as anyone else.”
Thatcher nodded. “None taken. I’d insist on the same if I were in your position. I wish I could say that I had a solid alibi but after dinner, my companion and I returned to my cabin where the effects of the two bottles of wine took their toll on me and I passed out rather soon thereafter.”
“Immediately upon reaching your cabin?”
Thatcher cleared his throat. “Not quite immediately.”
The doctor grinned. “I see. And your companion, was she with you when you awoke this morning?”
Thatcher frowned. “No, I supposed that she had returned to her own cabin instead of waking me. She would have preferred to be discrete about where she stayed last night, as one would imagine.”
“Indeed,” said the doctor. “And what is her name.”
“Cyra,” said Thatcher. “I know her only by her first name.”
“I’ll have a look at the manifest and find out where she is staying and what the proximity of her quarters are to the Captain’s.”
“I highly doubt she’s the killer,” said Thatcher.
“As do I,” said the doctor. “But we must address each and every person with the means to do so. If we find nothing among the passengers, then we will need to also interview the crew. And we have little time to do so before we dock in Lisbon. Once there, this will become a matter for the British Embassy most likely since they are the representative of the Crown in the region.”
“Understood.” Thatcher took another glance around the room. “Who will have the key to this cabin once his body is removed?”
“I will.” The doctor shook his hand. “They said you were named Thatcher. I’m Wilkins. Glad to meet you.”
Thatcher shook the man’s hand and found it firm. “I appreciate you looking after me when they pulled me out of the Channel.”
“Just doing my job,” said Wilkins. “As I would for any other poor sod who was floating in the drink.”
Thatcher smiled and started to turn when he heard shouting in the corridor outside. Wilkins and Thatcher both raced to the door. Wilkins questioned one of the crew members outside.
“What in the world is going on now?”
“Ship on the radar, sir.”
“How far?”
“Two kilometers and closing fast.”
“Friend or foe?”
But the crewman just shook his head. “She looks like a freighter but she’s running a German flag. And we spotted guns on her as well. One of them commerce raiders we’ve been hearing about, I’d expect.”
Thatcher and Wilkins ran to the bridge. As they arrived, the executive officer had a pair of binoculars up to his eyes and was scanning in the direction to the Archimedes’ starboard side. Thatcher turned and saw the ship emerging from the horizon. Raider X must have tracked around to their flank to come at them head on. As he watched, the ship started to turn so it was broadside to the Archimedes.
“Why is it showing us her side?” asked Wilkins.
“To bring all of her guns into play if necessary,” said Thatcher. And even as he watched, he could see crew members now scampering all over the main deck, uncovering other firing points. Toward the rear, Thatcher spotted tubes being uncovered that were obviously torpedo launchers. If Raider X wanted to, she could turn the Archimedes into a burning hulk that would sink within minutes.
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