Page 33 of Too Far To Sea
before sailing time today. We hope that moving you to a balcony suite will make up for any disruption in your trip. Your new room will be on deck 11…
A scribble of blue ink obliterated the printed name of the Chief Purser who signed the letter.
The other paper was directions on how to contact her room steward to move her belongings, etc. Dana read the message a second time. A balcony? Maybe she didn’t need to leave the ship to find a bit of Irish magic after all.
She sipped the last of her juice. Pale rays of sun penetrated the space between clouds. Dana folded the letter up and looked out the window. The town called to her. She couldn’t let this chance slip by to make a memory. A slow walk around town while the room steward moved her room, seemed like just the thing. As soon as she changed her shirt, of course.
Martina’s plan was simple: move Dana to a cabin near the blind spot on deck eleven. Because of an electrical problem, the ship had sailed with several empty cabins, including one just two doors down from the blind spot. Yesterday, after a replacement part arrived at the Galway port, maintenance completed the cabin repairs. If Dana moved to the newly repaired cabin, with a bit of luck, either Dana or her sister would catch the fiancé and cause enough noise that security could intervene. Then they could question Chandler Fairfax and his red-haired friend about their choice of location for the clandestine meetings.
McKay hated the plan.
They overruled his vote. He was all for someone telling the bride she might want to rethink her wedding plans and even giving Dana a room upgrade. However, putting Dana in the awkward position of having to tell her sister about the infidelity, not so much. Or worse, if Dana discovered the couple and a fight ensued, she could be hurt. Although being a Hastings employee, it was more likely she would inflict well deserved pain on Mr. Fairfax. Which could lead to Dana’s removal from the ship.
The real problem was that the only way this plan would accomplish the true goal of finding out which crew member had leaked the blind spot location required the bride to blow up at the groom in such a way that crew members became involved. They needed to orchestrate a confrontation, if possible.
Deception.
With Dana in the middle of it.
Why not add a camera to remove the dead spot? His suggestion was met with the same explanation security gave when the extra cameras were installed: The ship’s electricalsystem didn’t have the capacity at some points. Dead spots were unavoidable. Most of the spots were smaller than a meter. Blah, blah, blah. This dead spot was the largest one in the passenger area due to a jog in the hallway.
Frustration mounting, McKay paced the corridor, searching for an alternative solution. His phone buzzed with a message from Alvaro summoning him to the security chief’s office.
His boss didn’t glance up from his computer as McKay entered. “Shut the door and have a seat.”
McKay complied, settling in to wait while Alvaro collected his thoughts.
Alvaro broke the silence. “I know you disapprove of Martina’s scheme. I wanted to explain why I green-lit it. The leak about that blind spot must have come from this department, either directly or through a lower-ranking crew member. I like your idea of an off-network camera. I’ve put one on hold at a shop in Belfast. The trip should take you about five and a half hours.”
“Where am I going to get a car? Passengers have rented everything within miles.” McKay didn’t mention that the last time he drove on the left side of the road, it hadn’t gone well.
“I asked the port authority to arrange something. You better go change. You’ll be far too conspicuous in your uniform. Get off with the crew going ashore. It will cut into your scheduled work time a bit, but I’ll cover for you.”
“You don’t think it will seem odd to the rest of the crew that I won’t be at my post when passengers return?”
“Fortuitous timing, since this is your last voyage for a while, I’ll say I approved extra leave, so no one should be suspicious.” Alvaro’s eyes gleamed with sly humor. “Stop by a tourist shop and pick up an Irish souvenir while you’re out.”
“I’ve already added one extra suitcase to my flight home.”
“Get something small, then. Something you can put the camera in, since you will still need to go through security. Crew is looking for food and weapons. It shouldn’t be hard.”
“The head of security is telling me to bypass security protocols.”
“Yes.” Alvaro’s grin widened. “First time for everything.”
“That should be interesting.”
Interesting was not the right word for the rest of his day.
The Port Authority’s niece and her best friend—both university students—were off for the summer. According to them, they had nothing better to do than to drive adathúilAmerican to Belfast.
Their tiny VW Polo belonged in a circus. At six-foot-three, McKay had to fold himself practically in half to fit, his knees jammed against the dash and his elbow kept banging against the door. If he had to guess, he’d say the car was older than he was. Clearly, Volkswagen hadn’t had men of his stature in mind when they designed this model. McKay learned more about Irish music in the two-and-a-half-hour drive into Belfast than could be squeezed into a semester-long class. Occasionally, the women burst into fits of laughter when speaking in their native tongue. McKay couldn’t understand them, but he knew it involved him.
The electronics store he needed was located in a large shopping center. The women gave him a half hour to find what he needed and meet them back at the entrance. The store employee tried to up-sell him on a camera hidden in a Guinness bottle. It might be useful for someone who was guarding the contents of their refrigerator, not so much for ship security.
A few shops down, he found a souvenir store full of kitschy items made on the other side of the world. A leprechaun flashlight presented as the best item to sneak a tiny camera onboard in. Unless security examined it closely during the x-ray scan, they’d likely overlook it.
On the return trip, McKay kept his eyes glued to his watch, studiously ignoring the speedometer. Plausible deniability seemed the wisest course when it came to the velocity at which the car whipped along the narrow roads.
