Jon Merz - Raider X

Schwarzwalder leaned against the wall regarding her. “I must inform you that I am inclined to distrust that which you say. You are one of two suspects in the murder of the Archimedes Captain Adamson.”

“Am I?” asked Cyra. “And who is the other?”

“This man here,” said Schwarzwalder.

Cyra laughed lightly. “If you consider him a suspect, why does he travel about the ship with you as if he is a free man?”

“Because he has seemed less and less like the killer over the last twenty-four hours. While you, madam, have seemed more and more likely the candidate.”

“Rather an awful thing to tell someone upon first waking up,” said Cyra. “Do you treat all of your guests in this manner, Captain? Or is it just the women who inspire this level of hostility?”

“Your gender has nothing to do with my appraisal,” said Schwarzwalder. “Your inclination toward guilt does, however.”

“And why on earth would a Captain in the German navy care so much about the Captain of an enemy vessel? Isn’t that rather an odd thing? I would imagine most times you would be overjoyed at the death of an enemy.”

Schwarzwalder shook his head. “Adamson was not an enemy combatant. Nor was he an enemy at all. He was a spy in the employ of the German intelligence service, plying the routes between England and Spain and Portugal to great effect for the benefit of the Führer’s war effort. And seeing as he was killed, it is my duty to find the killer and report all findings to the High Command in Berlin for appropriate measures.”

Cyra nodded with solemnity. “It is apparent that you take your responsibilities very seriously, Herr Captain. But I wonder if you know the full story of Captain Adamson? Perhaps you have only known what those in charge wished you to know.”

Schwarzwalder frowned. “If you have some relevant information to the matter, it would behoove you to inform me of it. Otherwise, I can make arrangements to put you off at a nearby port and let the Gestapo have their way with you.”

“Do threats such as those ever succeed in having the effect you want them to have?” asked Cyra. “I would be willing to wager they do not. You know that you can catch more bees with honey than vinegar? Have you ever heard that expression before?”

Schwarzwalder frowned. “I don’t believe that is something that Germans would appreciate.”

“No,” said Cyra. “I don’t think they would. You tend to be far too pragmatic for your own good sometimes and lose sight of the fact that there are many ways to achieve a goal without always needing to resort to threats and aggression.”

Schwarzwalder came off the wall of the cabin and pointed a finger at Cyra. “Were you in this cabin all night?”

“Of course I was. Where else would I be? There’s a guard outside of my door, at least last I checked. How could I have gotten out?”

Thatcher’s eyes flitted to the porthole for a brief second but Cyra must have caught the movement because she laughed.

“Surely, Harrison, you aren’t suggesting I somehow managed to shrink myself down like Alice in Wonderland and crawled out of the porthole? And even if I was able to do such a fantastical thing, where would I go?”

“The engine room,” said Schwarzwalder then in a move that surprised Thatcher.

“And what is down in the engine room?” asked Cyra.

“Obviously the engines,” said Thatcher, heading Schwarzwalder off before the Captain could answer her. Thatcher wasn’t sure he wanted Cyra having all of the information that they knew. It would give her the advantage.

But Schwarzwalder apparently didn’t care. “There are five dead men down there.”

“How did they die?”

Schwarzwalder kept his gaze fixed on Cyra. “If I had to guess, I would say someone ripped their very bones from their bodies and feasted upon them.”

Cyra glanced down at her tray of food and then pushed it away. “Well, that is one way to ruin a woman’s appetite. Thank you, Captain. I was fearful I was putting a bit of weight on given the rich food I’ve been dining on lately. I don’t think I will have any problem avoiding meals for a while.”

“Perhaps you didn’t need to eat that breakfast at all,” said Schwarzwalder.

Cyra eyed him. “Are you actually suggesting that I had something to do with the deaths of those five men?”

“All I know is this: someone killed those men and I am down five crew members. You are the prime suspect in the murder of another man, therefore I don’t think I can be faulted for suspecting you in these murders as well.”

Cyra stood and turned around. “Look at me, Captain. I am but a solitary woman. I have no special strength, nothing out of the ordinary that you can see, and yet you think me capable of attacking and killing five men who are in the prime of their lives? Surely, you are either complimenting me in the most fantastical way or else you are courting insanity by such thinking.”

Schwarzwalder’s frown deepened and creased his forehead. “What would you do in my position?”

“Look for evidence. Isn’t that what all the detectives do?” Cyra sat back down and took a sip of her coffee. She frowned and tore open the sugar, dumping it into the swirling black drink.

“There is no evidence save for the mutilated bodies of the brave men who served with me,” said Schwarzwalder.

“In that case, you have no grounds to accuse an innocent woman of anything,” said Cyra. She turned her attention to Thatcher. “And I must say, Harrison, I am more than a little disappointed that you seem to have bought into this outlandish theory, such as it is.”

“I’ve bought into nothing,” said Thatcher. “I’m still trying to figure this all out as well.”

“And aren’t you the criminal anyway? How is it that the Captain seems more interested in prosecuting me for these crimes than he is with the most obvious choice of them all standing right in front of him?”

Thatcher shook his head. “Perhaps his instincts have determined that I am not the guilty party in this case.”

“And I am?” Cyra shook her head. “Well, as crazy as that is, I’m exceedingly annoyed at being accused of such monstrous actions. And I would very much like you to leave. Both of you.”

Schwarzwalder kept his eyes on Cyra. “This is my ship and I will go wherever I like, whenever I deem it appropriate.” He paused. “You are still aboard only by my graces, which are running dangerously short for your sake. I hope you will take this seriously because that is how I mean it: if I find out you had anything to do with the deaths of my men, I will see you handed off to the Gestapo and tortured to the extent that you will wish for death. Is that understood?”

Cyra’s eyes seemed to turn to stone as she regarded the Captain. “You have made yourself clear, Captain. The earnestness of your statement is heard and acknowledged.”

Schwarzwalder grunted once and then turned to the cabin door.

“Have a nice day, gentlemen,” said Cyra then. “I hope you find your killer.”

Captain Schwarzwalder stood outside Cyra’s cabin and addressed the guard standing there. “I want to know if anything happens here, is that understood?”

“Anything… happens, sir?”

“Strange noises, any unusual requests, even polite conversation. Report it all to me.” He turned and strode down the hallway without waiting for the guard to acknowledge the order.

Thatcher hurried to catch up with him. “Well, that didn’t go precisely how I thought it would. She’s clearly not going to answer any of our questions.”

“And why should she?” Schwarzwalder frowned. “She knows we don’t have any evidence. And aside from the slaughterhouse we saw in the engine room, she’s absolutely correct. If this was any other time but war, she might be able to convince anyone of her innocence. But this is not such times and she is clearly willing to allow me to consult with the Gestapo on this. So I intend to. Eventually.”