Ghosts of Karnak by George Mann Read Free Book Online Page B

mistake?”
    “I can’t see how. According to the Second Mate she even had dinner with the Captain one night.” Donovan looked pained. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but she’s back in New York.”
    Then where was she? Something had happened to her. He was sure of it. “All right, then I need to find her.”
    “What if she doesn’t want to be found?”
    “Then I’ll walk away. But first, I need to know she’s okay. People don’t just disappear, Felix.”
    “You checked her apartment?”
    “Still locked up and empty. No one’s been there for months.”
    “I’ll tell Mullins to put word out,” said Donovan. “Treat it as a Missing Persons.”
    “Thank you,” said the Ghost.
    “Least I can do,” said Donovan, “but remember—that woman knows how to look after herself. If something
has
happened to her, woe betide any man who’s got in her way.”
    The Ghost hopped up onto the wall, reaching inside his coat for the ignition cord that would activate the boosters strapped to his calves.
    “Where next?” said Donovan, reaching for another cigarette.
    “The
Centurion
,” said the Ghost. “I’m going to take a look for myself. Ginny, the exhibition, the dead woman—maybe even the Reaper—they all have ties to that ship, one way or another. I’m going to give it a kick and see what falls out.”
    “Be careful,” said Donovan. “You’re in no fit state for a brawl.”
    His words were lost, however, by the roar of the Ghost’s boosters, as he shot up into the air on a plume of brilliant flame, streaking across the skyline toward the docks.

EIGHT
    The
Centurion
hulked in the dock, ominous and dark.
    The Ghost circled high above, observing the deck for any signs of habitation. It was a cool night, and the sea breeze played across his face, making him feel alert and ready, despite the nagging pain in his chest.
    He’d expected to find guards or dockworkers patrolling the vessel, but the deck appeared silent and still, and even the lights in the small office on the dock had been put out. The only sounds were the roar of the canisters strapped to his calves, and the rhythmic
shushing
of the ocean.
    He cut the fuel line, causing the booster jets to sputter and spit, and then fall silent, guttering to nothing as he slowly descended, feet first, to the deck. He hugged the shadows close to the main funnel, keeping low. If there were any guards down on the dock, he’d sooner not give them cause for alarm. The last thing he wanted was a firefight with a bunch of innocent men.
    The upper deck had been packed away since he’d stood on the quayside below, watching the passengers milling around while they waited to disembark. The chairs had been upended on the tabletops and tied into place with lengths of blue twine, and canvas tarpaulins had been stretched over all of the lifeboats. The deck had been scrubbed and polished, too; the boards gleamed, even in the moonlight, and he could smell the oils they’d rubbed into the wood. He guessed the ship would be setting out on the next leg of its journey within a day or two, or perhaps making a return trip to Egypt and the far-off ports of the Middle East.
    He took a moment to get his bearings, and then, still clinging to the shadows, crossed the deck to a set of double doors, which he presumed would open up onto a staircase and down into the main passenger areas.
    He tried the handle, but, unsurprisingly, found them locked. A quick shove splintered the wood around the mechanism, however, and within seconds he was inside, the door wedged shut behind him.
    It was dark in the stairwell, so he adjusted his goggles to their night-vision setting, casting everything in a pale red glow. Cautiously, he crept down the carpeted stairs, still wary of triggering some sort of alarm.
    The stairs opened up onto a lower deck resplendent in its finery; crystal chandeliers dripped from molded rosettes on the ceiling, plush red carpets lined the floors,