The Tsarevich lived in the penthouse on the fourth floor. He would be the last to be incinerated, which was a bit of a risk. It would give him time to realize what was happening and maybe do something else about it.
Another risk was that she had no way to put out the fire once it started. The Pinega had a steel hull but much of its interior fittings were made of wood. It would burn like a torch for days, perhaps, and maybe kill everyone onboard. If the fire got into the vast tanks of diesel fuel at the bottom of the ship everything inside the hull would be incinerated.
Then there was the question of what the living faithful, the zealots who worshipped the Tsarevich, would do once they saw what was happening. Ayaan hoped they would listen to reason. With the Tsarevich dead they would be leaderless and their power would be cut down to a fraction. If they strung her up from the yardarm, well, at least she would have spared the rest of the world from whatever it was the Tsarevich had planned for his ship of fools.
She had only one certainty'that this was the best chance she would ever get. The Tsarevich was bent on something, some unknown scheme. Capturing the ghost had set his entire operation into motion. By the time they reached dry land it would be too late to stop him. She had to act with real haste or lose this opportunity forever.
'Get back to your station or someone will see,' the Siberian told her. He never looked at her eyes. He had lived as a gay man under Soviet rule long enough to know how these things were done. He'd been trained by the best'the KGB. Under their ever-present gaze, just to have a love life he had become a master conspirator.
Ayaan had little experience at plots and schemes. She'd always believed that the Avtomat Kalashnikov Model 1947 was the answer to every question life posed. She was learning so much. The girl navigator, the Siberian, the doctor cutting hands on the stern'they had been secret agents from the beginning. They needed her, too, though. None of them would ever have acted on their own. The Tsarevich's power felt too great, too pervasive. They needed Ayaan's leadership.
She headed out of the tower and back toward the stern, back toward her official duties. When the time came she knew she would be ready. She had no choice.
Monster Planet
Chapter Fifteen
Sarah swabbed out the inside of one of the buckets they used to catch rain. As usual a seagull had shit in it'the birds mistook the white canisters for public toilets every time. Sarah had never thought she could learn to hate living animals so much.
The tug rolled and she smacked her hip against the gunwale. It happened enough she was starting to get calluses. She had learned not to use her hands to try to steady herself when she had tried to catch a moving line on the side of the wheelhouse and felt the skin burn right off her palms. The tug had not been meant for the kind of swells the Mediterranean offered. Sarah had no idea how they would stay upright on the open ocean, if it came to that.
At least she was getting over her seasickness. As long as she didn't go aft and have to smell the diesel fuel (or worse, its hot hydrocarbon exhaust), she only felt partially nauseous. Bilious, perhaps. Like something liquid and extremely foul was wallowing around in her empty stomach but at least it didn't try to come up too often.
She cleaned out the last bucket with a dirty rag and headed forward, toward the bow where Ptolemy sat in a perfect lotus position, evidently enjoying the salt spray. She touched the soapstone. Even though he was facing away from her that simple contact was enough to get his attention. 'Were you a sailor in a past life?' she asked.