Johanson's jaw was grinding. What would happen if he dropped the bombshell? What would happen to him if he aimed her down point-blank?

'Done,' he said.

Li smiled. 'Thank you, Sigur.'

WEAVER

All things considered, she would have preferred to stay on the well deck. Anawak was still doing his best to lift Greywolf's spirits, which made her feel doubly disinclined to go. Her feelings for one man made her want to stay with him; the grief of the other made her reluctant to leave. She couldn't bear to see Greywolf so overwhelmed with sorrow. Yet what Johanson had told her was even more disturbing. The more she thought about it, the more ominous his memories seemed. Deep down she felt that they were all in grave danger.

And by now Rubin would be back at the lab.

'I'll see you later,' she said. 'Stuff to do.'

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew they sounded false. Too casual.

Anawak's brow furrowed. 'Stuff?'

'Oh, you know, bits and pieces.'

She was rubbish at this kind of thing. She hurried up the ramp and into the passageway. The door to the lab was open. As she walked in, she caught sight of Rubin talking to Oliviera. They were standing by one of the benches. Rubin turned to her. 'Hi. You wanted to ask me something?'

Weaver pushed the switch on the wall, so that the door closed behind her. 'I wondered if you could explain something.'

'You picked the right man.' Rubin grinned.

'That's good to know.' She joined them. Her eyes scanned the bench. All manner of equipment was littered over it, including an upright holder filled with scalpels of varying sizes. She said, 'I don't suppose you'll have any trouble telling me why there's a hidden lab up there, what you're doing in it, and why you knocked out Sigur?'

HANGAR DECK

Johanson was seething with rage. He was too furious to know what to do with himself, so he ran to the hangar deck and inspected the wall. In his memory he knew exactly where the door was, but there was still no trace of a camouflaged passageway. It was a waste of time looking for it: Li had already admitted that the lab existed. But he wasn't prepared to let it lie.

Suddenly he noticed long streaks of rust in the grey paint of the bulkhead. Or, rather, he'd always known that they were there, but he'd never paid any attention to them because peeling paint and corrosion were not unusual on a vessel. Now it dawned on him that rust had no business on a new warship – and the Independence was brand new.

He took a few steps back. The pipes on the left stretched up along the bulkhead, leading to a long streak of rust. Above that was a fuse box, surrounded by flaking paint.

He'd found the door.

It was incredibly well concealed. He would never have spotted it if he hadn't been looking; so determinedly. Even when he and Weaver had searched for it earlier, they'd fallen for the artful disguise. He still couldn't make out the contours, just an apparently random collection of details that in combination hid a door.

Weaver!

Would she have got to Rubin? Should he call her off, in line with what he'd said to Li?

Breathing heavily, he paced up and down the empty deck, unsure what to do. Suddenly the ship took on the aspect of a prison. Even the gloomy hangar with its yellow lights seemed oppressive.

He had to think.

Striding towards the starboard side of the vessel, he stepped on to the elevator. Gusts of wind tugged at his clothes and hair. The swell was still rising. Within seconds his face was covered with spray. He walked to the edge and gazed down at the turbulent lunar landscape of the Greenland Sea.

What was he to do?

CONTROL ROOM

Li was standing in front of the monitors. She watched as Johanson inspected the bulkhead and strode across the hangar deck in frustration.

'What was all that crap about an agreement?' growled Vanderbilt. 'You don't really think he'll keep his mouth shut until tonight?'

'It wouldn't surprise me,' said Li.

'And what if he doesn't?'

Johanson disappeared out of the hangar bay on to the elevator. Li turned 'You should know better than to ask. You're going to solve the problem, Jack. Right away.'

'Hang on a minute,' Peak objected. 'That's not what we'd agreed.'

'How do you mean, solve? Vanderbilt asked warily.

'Solve,' said Li. 'I mean solve. A storm's getting up out there. You'd think people would know better than to wander outside. A gust of wind…'

'No,' said Peak. 'No one said anything about-'

'That's enough, Sal.'

'Jude, we could lock him up for a few hours. That's all we need.'

Li didn't bother to acknowledge him. 'Do your job, Jack,' she said to Vanderbilt. 'And make sure you do it personally! Vanderbilt grinned. 'With pleasure, baby.'

LAB

Oliviera's long face was now even longer. She stared at Weaver, then at Rubin.

'Well?' said Weaver.

Rubin blanched. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Mick, listen to me.' Weaver moved between him and the table and laid an arm across his shoulders in a gesture that seemed almost friendly. 'I'm not a great talker. I like short, snappy conversations. So why don't we start again? This time, don't wind me up with excuses. There's a lab directly above us. You can get there from the hangar deck. Sure, the door's well camouflaged, but Sigur saw you going in and out. And you socked him one. Isn't that right-'

'I might have guessed.' Oliviera looked at Rubin contemptuously.

The biologist tried to free himself from Weaver's grip, and failed. 'I've never heard such utter-No! Stop!'

Weaver's free hand was wielding a scalpel. She pressed the tip against his artery. Rubin flinched. She pushed the blade a little further into his skin and tightened her grip. The biologist was locked in her embrace. 'Are you out of your mind?' he croaked. 'What right do you have to-'

'Mick, I'm not squeamish. And I'm stronger than you'd think. When I was little, I cuddled a cat and accidentally crashed it. Isn't that awful? I only wanted to stroke it, and then, crunch… So, you'd do well to think over carefully what you're about to tell me…'

VANDERBILT

Vanderbilt had no real desire to kill Johanson, but neither was he interested in keeping him alive. In a funny way he liked the guy, but that was beside the point: he'd been given the assignment, and his instructions were clear. Johanson wouldn't pose a security risk for much longer.

Floyd Anderson accompanied him. Like most of the men on the Independence, the first officer was there to serve a dual role. His training was with the navy, true, but his loyalties lay with the CIA. Almost everyone on board, with the exception of Buchanan and a few crew men, was on the CIA's books. Anderson had already taken part in covert operations in Pakistan and the Gulf He was a good agent.

And a killer.

Vanderbilt pondered the turn of events. He'd maintained his belief that they were fighting terrorists until the bitter end, but now he had to concede that Johanson had been right all along. It seemed a shame to kill him, particularly as it was Li's idea. Vanderbilt couldn't stand that blue-eyed witch. Li was paranoid, conniving and twisted. He hated her, and yet he couldn't fault the perfidious logic of her ruthlessness. She might be crazy, but she was right. And she was right about this.

Suddenly he thought of how he'd warned Johanson about Li in Nanaimo.