Silent Thunder

'Then tell me why the hell you have those damn scribblings on that navigational map.'

She could feel him tense against her. 'You're in a very vulnerable position to discuss the matter.'

'That's right, I've nothing to lose. You'd know I saw them anyway. If you're going to kill me, you'll kill me. If you're not one of those bastards who killed Conner, I'm going to keep after you until I get answers.'

He hesitated and then swung off her and stood up. 'Then by all means, I must let you get your breath before you start interrogating me.'

She felt a rush of relief. God, she'd been scared. 'I don't know if I can get my breath.' She flinched as she sat up. 'I think you cracked a rib.'

He shook his head. 'No, I only bruised you.'

'You seem very sure of that.' She ignored the hand he offered and got to her feet. 'You must indulge in this kind of violence frequently.'

'Enough to be able to gauge the damage.' He turned and moved across the cabin. 'While you, on the other hand, were miserably inept.'

'You took me by surprise. I acted on impulse and didn't mean to-' She was defending herself, she realized in disgust. 'I hate violence, and I don't need to make excuses for not being good at it. There's too much-' She stopped. He had turned on the light and she got her first good look at him. A shock of dark hair generously flicked with gray, blue eyes lined at the corners from squinting into the sun, high broad cheekbones. Not a classically handsome man, by any means. Yet it was difficult to look away from that face.

'Acting on impulse is foolish. One must always make excuses for being foolish.' He opened the cabinet and took down a bottle. 'Would you like a drink? You look like you could use one.'

'No, I don't want a drink.' She stared at him in frustration. He was perfectly calm, almost offhand, and it bugged the hell out of her. 'I want to know about those symbols.'

'They're navigational symbols as you guessed. Samsovian school.' He poured himself a whiskey. 'A bit esoteric but hardly criminal.'

'But it's criminal if you kill to get your hands on them.'

'True.' He gestured to the map. 'But if you study them I'm sure you'll realize they're not the same ones on the bulkhead of the Silent Thunder. Go ahead, take a look.' He sat down in a chair at the desk. 'And you'll see I'm just a poor fisherman charting my path.'

She made a rude noise and heard him laugh as she crossed to stare at the map.

She was too upset to concentrate enough to bring up the full memory of those markings on the bulkhead, but now that she studied the map, she could see that they weren't the same. He was right, dammit. Similar but not the same. She turned to face him. 'It's different. But that doesn't mean-' She wearily shook her head. 'I don't know what the hell it means. I just know that you're probably as crooked as everyone else, and I want to know why you were following the Silent Thunder from port to port.'

'Admiration for an exceptional vessel?'

'Damn you.'

His smile faded. 'I believe that sounded a bit quavery. You do need a drink. But I'll give you coffee instead.' He turned to the galley. 'Wait on deck while I make it. You'll feel safer than down here with me.'

'I don't want coffee.'

'But you want answers, and you've found out just enough to be troublesome to me. That might induce me to give you what you want.'

'Or it might induce you to permanently remove the source of the trouble.'

'I could have done that anytime since you barged onto my boat.' He opened the coffee tin. 'Wait on deck.'

She hesitated, staring at his back. She didn't like orders, and he had been entirely too much in control of the situation. But refusing a possible breakthrough to make a token protest would have been brainless.

She turned and headed for the hatch.

She was sitting on the deck, her arms linked around her knees, when he came out of the cabin ten minutes later. 'You took a long time.'

'I thought you needed it.' He handed her the mug of coffee. 'Black. That's how you take it, right?'

'How do you know that?'

'It's not exactly classified information.' He sat down opposite her and leaned against the rail. 'I guess I must have picked it up somewhere along the way.'

'Along the way to where? From where? And why should you know anything about me?'

'We have a mutual acquaintance.' He lifted his glass to his lips. 'And I have a boundless curiosity.'

'Drop this enigmatic crap. Am I supposed to guess what the hell you're talking about?'

'Enigmatic crap,' he repeated. 'Interesting phrase. It brings up a rather bizarre vision.' He held up his hand as she opened her lips. 'But I've no desire to indulge in that kind of pretentious bullshit. Life's too short, and by nature I'm basically a simple man.'

She studied him. His words had the ring of truth, but she'd judge him to be nowhere near simple. 'Yeah, sure.'

He chuckled. 'You're right. I own to being convoluted on occasion, but that's by choice, not by instinct. Sometimes it's necessary.'

'Like it was necessary to follow Silent Thunder from port to port.'

'Exactly.' He sipped his whiskey. 'And like it was necessary for you to try your hand at burglary.'

'I wasn't going to steal anything. I just had to be sure-I had to eliminate possibilities and I thought I might-' She was defending herself again. She wouldn't put it past him to have manipulated her into that posture. All the time she had been talking to him, she'd been aware of the easy confidence, the presence, and the sense of power he emitted. 'There was a chance that you might be a reporter or someone else completely innocent.'

'I haven't been innocent since I was nine years old. But reporters are seldom completely innocent either. I might be-'

'A reporter who's familiar with those Samsovian coordinates? A reporter who knew coordinates were scribbled on the bulkhead even though it wasn't public knowledge? A reporter who's lived on this boat for at least the last three years? A reporter who knows I drink black coffee?'

He was silent a moment. 'You've been asking questions. Young Sarks?'

'He was helpful.'

'I imagine he was. He likes the pretty ladies.'

'And he says they like you.'

'Of course, they do. Most women have tender hearts.' He smiled mockingly. 'And I'm obviously a pitifully lonely man. All I have to do with my life is follow an old submarine around.'

There was nothing pitiful about this man. If women were drawn to him, it was because of the mature strength and confidence he exuded. 'You're joking. But I know it was you following the sub. Why?'

He didn't answer.

'Dammit, you said that you'd give me what I want. I do know enough to make it difficult for you. I'll go to every newspaper in town, I'll talk to the police. I'll go to Congressman Preston and let him swing his weight around. I'll follow you and dog your footsteps until you-'

His phone rang.

'Pardon me for interrupting this fascinating oratory. I'll be right with you.' He answered the phone and listened. 'Yes, you're right, she probably did learn too much for comfort from those media files. I'll take care of it right away. As a matter of fact, she's sitting four feet away from me right now.' He listened again. 'Stop sputtering. I've no intention of disposing of her. Though your clumsiness almost succeeded in doing that several times. If you'd stopped her before she got to this point, I might have left it in your hands. Now she's mine, Bradworth.' He hung up.

She inhaled sharply. 'Bradworth?'

'Drink your coffee. It will get cold.'

'Screw the coffee. You're working with Bradworth?'

'No, but we're working toward a common goal on parallel paths.' He tilted his head consideringly. 'Maybe.'

'Then you're with the U.S. government?'