In the Eye of the Storm

01. Cold and Hot

'I mean important. Think very carefully, Captain. Have you never heard the name Rikkard Ambrose before?'

The Captain opened his mouth to blow yet another smoke ring – then he choked, and coughed out the smoke through his nostrils. Underneath the tan of his weathered skin, I could see the colour slowly drain from his face.

Ha!

'Y-you don't mean... You can't mean the Rikkard Ambrose? The financial magnate?'

As if there were any others like him!

I met the Captain's gaze without flinching.

'That's the one.'

Captain Crockford's teeth clenched down so hard, they nearly bit his pipe in half.

'Well?' I raised a questioning eyebrow. 'Are you going to keep searching?'

*~*~**~*~*

Captain Crockford didn't just keep searching – he called in three more ships to help. I didn't see them at first, the white of their billowing sails almost invisible against the white cliffs of Dover. But when men on the other ships started waving signal flags, coordinating search patterns, I realized we were not alone any longer

There are more of us now! And we're going to comb the whole breadth and width of the English Channel until we find him!

'Man overboard!' The cry from the stern of the boat sent me whirling around. 'Man overboard ahead!'

I reached the stern just as the dinghy was lowered into the water. The men began to row, and I looked around wildly, trying to see where they were going.

'Where is he? Where is he?'

The ship's Lieutenant, who was standing beside me, also gazing after the departing men, pointed to a spot not too far away from the ship.

'There, Miss!'

I followed his outstretched arm with my eyes, and saw a man in a dark tailcoat floating in the water – floating face-down. Without warning, a feeling of nausea came over me.

Well, look on the bright side: if you're going to vomit, the ship's railing is just a few feet ahead. Do it over the side and nobody will care. You might just throw yourself over the side while you're at it, too.

I felt like laughing and crying and screaming my rage all at the same time.

Calm down! It's just a man wearing a dark tailcoat! Lots of men wear dark tailcoats. It doesn't have to be him.

No, it didn't have to be him. I kept telling myself that, over and over. But the question kept coming back: what if it is?

The men out on the water pulled the motionless body into their little boat and returned to the ship with swift dips of the oars. I stood motionless, awaiting their return. Awaiting my doom, or my salvation.

And since when have you been so bloody melodramatic?

The answer to that was simple. Since him, of course.

A rope was tied around the dead man's torso, and he was pulled up the side of the ship until he slid over the railing and landed on the deck with a wet thwack. I didn't look. I didn't dare to.

'Miss?' It wasn't the lieutenant's voice. Captain Crockford had appeared beside me, looking not half as relaxed and aloof as earlier. His face still was rather pale. 'Miss, I'm terribly sorry, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to identify the body.'