IN A STORE room off the main engine room, Lucya and Martin leaned over a table covered in huge printed diagrams. Written in large letters in the corner of each page were the words” Technical Schematic - Not To Scale.

They wore ear-defenders to protect against the noise of the gigantic diesel electric generator that churned away nearby, creating enough power to keep the whole of the Spirit of Arcadia operational. When they spoke, it was by shouting at each other.

“Jake said you knew every inch of this ship,” Lucya cried, her mouth inches from Martin’s covered ear.

“I know it a damn sight better than he ever will. I can’t be expected to remember the location of every single service hatch and cleaning access point though. Not on something this size.”

His finger traced backwards and forwards across a complex-looking drawing. Lucya had trouble making out the ship underneath all of the labels and technical explanations.

“Isn’t there a version of this on a computer somewhere?”

“Probably,” he shouted. “I prefer paper. Here! This is the vent for conference rooms two and three. There’s no way to isolate it. You’ll have to make sure there’s nobody in room three. Got that?”

She nodded. “Keep three clear. Got it.” Lucya looked at the part of the page Martin was studying. A thin red line indicated the path of the ventilation pipe. He traced it backwards.

“No…no…this is no good.”

“What’s up?”

“This pipe, it comes straight from the main air-conditioning plant. There are no service hatches. The only openings are in the conference rooms themselves.”

“Can’t we cut a hole in the pipe? Squirt the virus in through it then seal it up again?”

He shook his head. “The only parts that are accessible are too close to the plant. If we injected the virus there we’d risk it getting into the plant and spreading throughout the whole ship.”

“Bad plan,” Lucya agreed. “Okay. You said this pipe goes to conference room three as well?”

He nodded.

“So we spray the virus in through the vent in that room. Easy!”

“No, that won’t work either. Well, it might, but the chance of success is minimal. The air flow from the plant will carry it straight back out into conference room three. It won’t go against the air current.”

“Can you reverse the air flow?”

“No. That’s not how it works. Besides, it would draw it back into the plant and redistribute it throughout the ship.”

Lucya banged the table with a fist. She turned and leant against it, staring at the metal ceiling. “Shit. There has to be a way!”

“Inject the virus under the door?”

“I think they’d notice.”

Martin leaned forward further, studying the diagram closely. He pulled the enormous page to one side and started rifling through the others, discarding most of them on the floor until he finally found what he was looking for. He spoke quietly to himself, too quietly for Lucya to hear what he was saying over the constant drone of the engine.

Eventually he tapped her on the shoulder. “There might be a way.”

“What?” She turned and looked at him, then pulled one side of her ear-defenders off.

“I said there might be a way. Here.” He pointed to an even more complex diagram.

Lucya looked, and didn’t understand anything.

“This is the air-con plant. The pipe originates here. It’s theoretically possible to enter the pipe by entering the main fan chamber. There’s access for cleaning. Normally that’s only ever opened in port during an overhaul.”

“But you could open it?”

“Yes. We would have to shut off the air conditioning for a few minutes, no big deal.” He chewed his lip.

“What? What’s the problem?”

“Someone would have to get into the pipe. Right inside. They would have to take the virus and crawl through it until they were almost at the conference room.”

“Okay. So again, what’s the problem?”

“We would have to switch the fan on again, as soon as they were inside. They’d have to crawl along the pipe with cold air blowing over them the whole time. They’d have to get to the room without making a sound that might alert the Koreans. They’d have to release the virus near the vent, exposing themselves to it and thus risking a painful death. Then they’d have to stay there, stuck in the pipe, silently, until the Koreans were paralysed and the gas-masked security men could secure the room. There’d be no coming back through the pipe; it would risk contaminating the rest of the ship. And to top it all, this pipe is forty-six centimetres in diameter.”

“Which means?”

“Which means no security guard is going to fit. It would have to be a child. Even I wouldn’t send a child to do this. So that means…”

Lucya nodded slowly. “It would have to be someone small. Someone nimble. Someone with narrow shoulders, who could shimmy through the tight space?”

“Right.”

“In other words,” Lucya said, not bothering to shout, “someone like me.”

• • •

Cabin 811 was easy enough to find, and although Jake didn’t need Erica’s help to locate it, the memory of the recent trip up there, with the young girl leading the way, weighed heavily. He’d felt responsible for her since the very first moment he’d seen her, when her father was unwell. Now those feelings were laced with guilt. He had failed to protect her, failed to keep the bad men away.

He approached the cabin door, and forced the negative feelings aside. The situation existed. Now he had to put all of his effort into resolving it. He reached out and tapped three times.

Miss Matsuo answered straight away.

“Oh, Captain Noah. Another nice surprise. Please, come in.”

“Thank you.” He entered the tiny cabin. In his mind’s eye, he could see Erica, back in the corner, carefully examining the many books that were neatly stacked.

“How can I help today? You have more symbols? Perhaps something to explain explosion?” Miss Matsuo clasped her hands together and tilted her head as she spoke.

“No, not symbols. I’m here for rather a different purpose. I seem to remember you have some cameras? And a computer?”

She looked towards the bedside cabinet. “Yes. A little hobby of mine. I know it is cliché, yes? Japanese tourist with camera? I love to take pictures.”

“Does your computer have software to manipulate the pictures you take?”

“You mean Photoshop? Yes. My father say it is cheating. He says computer destroys authenticity of a scene, removes truth. I say it removes trees that grow from people’s head!”

Jake smiled at the young lady. “So you know how to alter pictures?”

“Yes. I take course at college. Very good teacher.”

“Could you, for example, take a picture of a boat that’s nearby, and make it look like it was a long way away?”

She paused, considering the question. “Yes, I think so. It is simple to cut out boat, replace it with sea, and put boat back smaller.”

“Miss Matsuo, you could be about to save some very young lives. Please, I need you to come with me. Bring your cameras and your computer. We have very little time.”

• • •

Russell Vardy insisted that Lucya pay a visit to the medical suite before embarking on the ambitious plan. She left Martin working out the finer points of dismantling the air-conditioning system, and took the fastest route to deck five.

The inner door to the treatment room was open when she arrived. Vardy made no attempt to hide the two men laid out inside, both submariners. Captain Coote was out cold, a drip feeding fluid into his body via a bulky and uncomfortable-looking connection on his arm. It seemed strange, seeing him out of uniform. Stripped of his booming voice and equally large personality, he was somehow more ordinary, more vulnerable.

McNair, on the other hand, was awake, although under a heavy dose of painkillers. Carrie fussed around him, constantly asking if he was comfortable, and if she could make him more comfortable. He seemed to be enjoying the attention. Lucya imagined it made a change from being cooped up in a tin can full of testosterone.