015. Reunion

Hattie Redfield watched as a trio of surly, dishevelled looking men entered the cargo hold. They appeared – and also smelt – as if they were drunk.

‘Look over here.’ one of them said, grinning.

He sidled up to where Hattie was bound and gagged. The cogs turned in his drunken mind until a revelation came: the girl had not been gagged before tonight. On closer inspection, the drunk found the gag to be a pair of women’s stockings. He grinned that dirty little grin again.

‘Eh, lads,’ he began, turning on his heel, ‘This one’s...’

His comrades were nowhere to be seen. He scratched at his head, dumbfounded. Suddenly, something hard and hollow clocked him on the back of the head and he fell bodily to the ground. The sailor briefly saw something grey pass over the top of him, but he passed out before he could speak.

Caroline Carol tossed what was left of the splintered barrel to one side. It had been a lucky find, though one question persisted in her mind: what was a cargo ship doing carrying nothing but empty barrels? Caroline had a vague understanding of cargo operations, though it seemed unlikely a ship as large as the Eastern Promise would be sailing so light. The barrels had “VIN” stamped on them, though there was no smell or trace of wine as one would expect.

Caroline returned to Hattie’s side and removed the gag from her mouth.

‘Why did you gag me?’ the other woman demanded.

‘I, uh...’ Caroline began.

‘Oh, never mind now. Untie me!’

‘I can’t.’

‘What? Why not?!’

‘It’d draw too much suspicion.’

‘Oh, and clocking three sailors over the head won’t?’

‘The unconsciousness of three drunks can be explained away; the disappearance of a bound prisoner can not.’

‘So, what are you saying? You plan to leave me here with those...with those...sailors?!’

Caroline had quite enough of this. She reapplied the gag, much to Hattie’s protestations.

‘Now listen,’ she said sternly, ‘I’m going to poke around a bit and see what I can find out. I’ll also be looking for a way to get us both of this ship. Until then, I expect you to stay here and not to speak a word to anyone, okay?

Hesitantly, Caroline removed the gag.

‘You...you...you’re unbelievable, Caroline!’ Hattie screeched, ‘Simply unbelievable! Gallivanting around some ship – that’s probably crewed by foreigners – whilst I sit here, bound and gagged in some dingy basement. Why, it’s just...mmph!’

Caroline replaced the gag. She gave her friend a brief, reassuring hug before standing and moving towards the exit. Looking over her shoulder, she said:

‘Don’t wait up!’

Against Hattie’s protestations, Caroline abandoned her friend. A very small part of her – probably the same part that had added the comment at the end – felt good about this move. She slinked down the corridor, pausing in shadows wherever possible and listening for any sort of movement or sound. She climbed the stairs back up to “D” deck and made her way to the door of Spalding’s stateroom.

Caroline listened for any sound yet heard nothing. She quietly slipped inside and snapped on the light on Spalding’s desk. There were an assortment of papers including a cargo manifest, a handful of receipts and a map. The manifest revealed the eventual destination of most if not all of the Eastern Promise’s cargo: the Port of Alexandria.

‘Egypt?’ Caroline whispered.

The receipts were for the rental of four trucks, a river boat and – strangely – a balloon. Caroline consulted the map and found it to be of the Nile River. Her mind raced to put the pieces together. Why was Spalding planning a trip down the Nile River? What did he need all this equipment for?

She heard voices, though not from outside. Caroline looked around her and deduced that the voices were coming through a small, grated air vent above Spalding’s desk. She carefully removed her shoes and climbed up onto the desk, pressing her ear up against the grate.

‘...coded transmissions from the British Navy.’ a young and unfamiliar male voice said.

‘Oh?’ said another voice, possibly Spalding’s.

‘We couldn’t make much of it, though the word “Grendel” appears several times...’

‘A codeword, perhaps?’

‘Yes, that was our line of thinking too.’

‘I wonder...have you the message with you, Sykes?’

‘Yes,’ the first man said, a pause and then, ‘Here it is.’

‘Hah, nothing but a simple Donner-Reich cipher. A child could solve this.’

‘You know what it says?’

‘The British Navy are worried German’s newest attack sub – Codename: “Grendel” – has completed sea trials and has been dispatched to the Strait of Gibraltar...’

‘Oh, is that all?’

‘No, there’s also talk of a second “Grendel”-class submarine being dispatched to...and the last part’s incomplete. Nothing to worry about, I suspect.’

Caroline heard an audible sigh of relief from the other man. She quietly slipped down off the table and poked her head out of the door. Seeing the coast was still clear, she darted across the narrow hall and hid behind an electrical cupboard.

‘Captain says we’re making good time and expects we’ll make Alexandria in about four weeks time.’ Sykes said.

Spalding seemed irritated by this news.

‘Unacceptable,’ he said, ‘Remind him of the terms of our contract; we must make landfall by the 12th or all this will be for nothing!’

‘Yes, Mr. Spalding.’

Caroline watched as he re-entered his stateroom. What was so special about the 12th of June, she wondered?

TO BE CONTINUED...