‘Mr Tournier, you’re not really Mr Tournier—’
The crest of another wave broke over them. They were riding it well, and it wasn’t as frightening as the last surge, but it was enough to make Joe look away.
When he got the water out of his eyes and he could see again, Fred was gone.
Kite was still at the rail, staring into the heaving water.
At least four officers had told Joe what you were supposed to do if someone went overboard. Shout at the top of your lungs, and point with your entire arm, and don’t move, or the men with the lifelines wouldn’t know where to go.
Kite turned away and put the small of his back to the rail. ‘Get below,’ he said to Joe.
‘He could still be alive, aren’t we going to—’
‘He can’t swim.’
Joe scanned the water, willing there to be even a flash of blond hair somewhere, but there wasn’t. He looked at Kite again. It would be utterly stupid to accuse him of murder, even though Joe was certain that was exactly what had happened. An accusation like that – it would be Kite’s word against his, and Joe would be locked up for the rest of the journey. Or worse, locked up without kneecaps.
But he couldn’t just stand here and pretend everything was fine.
‘Is it that fucking important?’ Joe asked, fighting to keep his voice low. ‘That no one tells me who I am? So what if he recognised me? You’ve given me Madeline’s letters, for God’s sake, and I still don’t remember anything! Fred could have told me a name and I’d have been none the wiser, I think that’s pretty bloody obvious by now. Something else is going on here, isn’t it? It isn’t just about whether I remember or not!’
‘Your business is not the policing of this ship,’ Kite said, quiet and dangerous now. ‘Get back to your watch, Tournier. We’ll be coming into Edinburgh soon.’
‘My God!’ Joe heard his own voice go high. ‘A child is dead! Were you born a machine, or was there a time when you were human? Can you even remember?’
Kite looked as though he wanted to say something, a dozen things, and all of them filled the air with a charge. For a delirious moment, Joe thought he might explain. But then the charge vanished, Kite shut down, and only stepped silent and fast around Joe to go into the stateroom.
Joe had to stand where he was in the rain, shuddering with rage. When he could think in a straight line, he ran down to the infirmary to find Agatha.
‘He’s just killed Fred Hathaway,’ he said flatly. ‘I watched him do it. He pushed him overboard.’
He expected her to tell him not to be so stupid. Instead she only set her hands on the edge of her desk and studied him. ‘Why?’
‘Fred was about to tell me who I am.’
‘Right.’ She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t look surprised in any way.
‘I don’t understand why that matters,’ Joe said into the silence. ‘I haven’t remembered a damn thing since I’ve been here, and I’m obviously not going to. Even if I turn out to be Napoleon fucking Bonaparte it wouldn’t matter. Agatha, what is going on? This doesn’t feel like – Kite doesn’t give a toss if I go back through the gate and tell the French government in my time! Why would they believe someone like me? And even if they did, all you lot have to do is brick up the bloody gate and it isn’t a problem any more. This is personal. He was scared. I have something on him, don’t I?’ he asked. He swallowed, because he was still soaked, and he felt unbalanced now, because his thoughts were arriving while he was speaking, and they were running away from him. ‘If I remember – I could wreck him, couldn’t I? Personally wreck him. What is it? Did I witness some other murder?’
‘Joe …’
‘Jesus, did I see him kill Jem?’ Joe whispered.
‘No.’ She was holding her hands out, conciliatory. ‘Listen; listen. I know this is all infuriating, but first things first. I need you to tell me what happened to Fred Hathaway. What did Missouri do exactly?’
Joe told her, as measuredly as he could. Afterwards, though, he found that he was trembling, and not with anger. It was something else, and he couldn’t tell because he couldn’t feel it; his body wasn’t connected properly to his mind. From nowhere, he saw that imaginary memory of Lily going under the engine again, the flat crunch, and all at once black stars started to crowded in on his vision.
Agatha caught his elbow. ‘You’re all right. This is just shock, it’s normal if you’ve never seen someone die before.’ She steered him into a chair. ‘I’m so sorry this is happening to you,’ she said quietly. ‘But I think you’re tough. You must be, if you were a slave. No?’
Joe shook his head. ‘No, I’m useless. Ask my wife. Agatha, you have to do something about Kite. He can’t just go around murdering children. I don’t care what the reason is.’
‘I know, I know. I’ll go and see him soon, but I’d like to see your heart rate come down first. Can you hear it?’ She was holding his wrist. She smiled like he’d never seen her smile before. It lit her up and gave away her age. He didn’t feel nervous to be this near to her now. ‘You could have been sprinting.’
Joe swallowed hard. His tonsils might as well have been gravel. ‘He’s a frightening man, your brother.’
She nodded, full of apology. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I made him that way. It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
24
Cadiz, 1777
The Missouri had gone down in a storm and taken their mother with it. When her second husband Pedro died five years later, there had
