Without breaking stride, she hurdled up onto the stage, past the orchestra leader, and dodged her way through the surprised musicians. None of them missed a note. Courtney found her way backstage and through a narrow corridor. Where to now? At this point she was operating more out of instinct than with any plan. She wanted to lose her pursuers long enough to stop and think about her next move.
The corridor led her through the back side of the busy kitchen, where dozens of chefs prepared the elaborate feast. They paid Courtney no attention as she slid past them and out the far side. She found herself in a service stairwell. It was fifty-fifty. Up or down? She chose down. Lower and lower into the bowels of the ship she went, figuring she’d lose them in the labyrinth of corridors and cabins. She stopped on D Deck, choosing that one to continue her flight.
She knew where she had to go. Dodger would be waiting for her at the bow of the ship. She needed to get there and tell him what had happened. She was a fugitive. It was only a matter of time before her luck ran out. The responsibility of getting to Mark was now on his shoulders. Hopefully, she thought, the crew didn’t know there were two stowaways. It was a slight hope, but it was hope.
She continued running forward. She passed through a foyer, hoping to find a corridor where she could open up and sprint. Opening the door on the far side, she got hit with a blast of hot, steamy air. She thought for sure she had found an engine room. Instead she was on a long balcony that looked down on a swimming pool. The sight threw her, since she knew she was so deep in the bowels of the ship. It looked to Courtney like something out of a European estate with its wall carvings and fine tile work. Nobody was swimming, which made it all feel kind of eerie. She wondered why people would take an ocean cruise, only to go swimming in the deep recesses of a ship. There was nothing about 1937 that Courtney understood, or liked very much.
She sprinted along the balcony and left the pool on the far side to find herself in another restaurant. It was elegant ballroom off the Promenade Deck. This one had a low ceiling and was crowded with tables and people. It was already filled up for the evening meal. Nobody wore tuxedos or gowns. She figured it was probably for the third-class passengers. She wondered if these people ever got the chance to look at what they were missing up above. Probably not. There’d be a mutiny. She moved quickly through, trying not to attract attention. She left the restaurant on the far end and discovered another stairwell. She figured she had to be nearing the bow so she climbed. And climbed. And climbed up from the depths of the grand ship.
When she finally felt the chill of evening air, she found herself in what looked like a fancy nightclub. There was a curved bar, where people sat drinking and chatting. It was a festive atmosphere. Many people were listening to a woman singer who stood near a white, grand piano, singing a song Courtney vaguely remembered hearing in an old movie. She realized she had left the lower-class sections of the ship, because everyone was back in tuxedos or gowns. She was scanning the room, looking for her next move, when she realized that one whole wall of the bar was a curved window that looked out over the enormous bow of the ship. She had made it! Almost. She ducked out the door into the chilly night air and followed around a walkway that crossed in front of the curved window.
The forward decks of the ship spread out before her in layers, coming to a point at the bow. The sea was black, but the decks were brightly lit by flood lamps. High above, built into a heavy mast, was the crow’s nest, where she knew sailors would be looking out over the ocean for trouble. She hoped they wouldn’t also look down for trouble, because she had plenty already. Unlike the stern decks, the forward decks weren’t protected from the elements by the ship’s superstructure. It was chilly. The wind came off the ocean with no obstruction and whistled through the rails. That was good. It meant there wouldn’t be many people out, and she’d have a better chance of finding Dodger quickly. She held her hand up to block the floodlight from blinding her. The bow itself looked to be another hundred yards forward from where she stood. She squinted, and saw a figure standing alone, very close to the bow itself. She knew it had to be Dodger.
Courtney wanted to shout for him, but he was too far away and the sea wind was too loud. She would have to go to him. The design of the ship didn’t make that easy. She had to climb down stairs to go from the Promenade Deck to the Main Deck, climb down another flight to A Deck, sprint across thirty yards of that deck, and then climb up another set of stairs to get back to the Main Deck level. From there it was another twenty yards to the bow, and Dodger.
She ran, hoping that none of the crew members chasing her would wander into the nightclub and look out the big window to see a tired stowaway scrambling across the decks. It wasn’t until she climbed up the final stairs to get back to the Main Deck that Dodger spotted her.
“Hey!” he shouted. “I’m freezing my butt off out here! Where you been?”
“Don’t talk. Listen.” She grabbed Dodger’s arm and pulled him back the way she had come.
“He’s here, Courtney,” Dodger said. “I found out he’s on board.”
“I said don’t talk. I saw Mark. Saint Dane, too.” “What?” shouted Dodger, stunned. They kept moving down the stairs to A Deck. “I tracked Mark through the library. He’s on board with a woman.”
“Yeah,” Dodger agreed. “KEM Limited bought tickets for three people. I got that much, but I couldn’t get their cabins.”
“Listen to me!” Courtney barked. “They know I’m a stowaway. I’ve been running from the crew for half an hour.”
“Oh,” Dodger said flatly. “Not good.”
“I don’t know if they know about you. Saint Dane might not even know you’re here. But they’re going to get me sooner or later, so it’s up to you. You’ve got to find Mark. Do you still have his picture?”
Dodger jammed his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out the old photo of Mark and his parents.
“He doesn’t look much like that anymore,” Courtney said. “His hair is cut short. He’s wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a suit that makes him look like he’s grown up. But he isn’t. He’s just… Mark.”
They made it across A Deck and climbed back up to the Main Deck.
“Saint Dane is in the form of Andy Mitchell,” Courtney continued, breathless. “Remember the cab driver who nearly drowned us?” “Like I could forget?”
“That’s him. I don’t know who the woman is. I’ve never seen her before.”
“I’m thinking she’s some kind of actress,” Dodger declared. “You know, a Hollywood-type dame.” “Why?”
“‘Cause she’s using a made-up name.” “You found her name?”
“I told you, I got three names from the passenger list. Mark Dimond, Andy Mitchell, and a lady. At least, I think it was a lady. I never heard of a name like that.”
“What is it?”
Dodger reached for the door that would lead them back into the enclosed section of the Main Deck. “It’s Nevva Winter,” he said. “Who ever heard of a crazy name like that?” Courtney froze.
The door opened before Dodger could grab it. He was pushed behind the open door as two ship’s officers stepped out. If Courtney’s brain hadn’t locked at the sound of that name, she probably would have turned and run. She didn’t get the chance. The two officers jumped her and firmly grabbed her arms.
“That’s enough gallivanting around for one night, missy,” one officer said.
They led her back inside. The door closed behind them. They never saw Dodger.
A few hours later, after being interrogated by the ship’s security officer (to whom she said nothing), and officially identified as a stowaway, Courtney found herself alone in a hospital-like room toward the stern of the ship. It was called the “isolation ward.” It was where they put people with contagious diseases, to keep them away from the rest of the passengers. There was nothing Courtney liked about that. The room had four white bunk beds with clean sheets, and a sink. It was comfortable enough, and thankfully, there were no other occupants. The metal door closed with a loud clang and was locked securely from the outside. A single round window in the door allowed outsiders to check on the occupants of the ward without having to actually breathe the same air. It may have looked like a hospital, but Courtney knew what it really was. A jail cell. She was sentenced to spend the rest of her voyage locked up.
The job of finding Mark and stopping him was officially Dodger’s.
(CONTINUED)
Courtney paced the small hospital room, trying to come up with a plan. Any plan. Everything she thought of started with her getting out of that lockup, which was impossible. Time was running out. Mark was in danger. If events followed the history she’d seen on Third Earth, someone was going to shoot him and dump his body overboard. Soon. There was nothing she could do but hope that Dodger would somehow get to him before the
