I forwarded everything to my own email address, copying Ry and Dan in for extra insurance, and then deleted all the evidence. Meanwhile, Ryker photographed the printout he’d discovered and then replaced it in the cabinet. Once we’d returned the office to the way we’d found it, we rejoined Dan and got out of the building as quickly as we could.
Ryker drove us back to Cranham University to go through the emails. None of us wanted to be hanging around near the offices for longer than we had to, and at this point, the hockey house was the safest place for us to be. Ryker’s room was not only a tiny cell, but it was on the samefloor as Volkov’s, which made it off limits. So this was our only option.
It was now almost three in the morning, and I handed out energy drinks while Ryker booted up my laptop. We’d all resigned ourselves to the fact that we weren’t going to be getting any sleep until we got to the bottom of this, and it took precedence over uni work and hockey. We were on the cusp of something that went much deeper than I’d initially realised, and now we were about to discover who was behind this situation.
By the seventh email, Dan was lightly banging his head on the counter and groaning. “Why do they have to make life so much harder for us? These emails are too fucking cryptic.”
“Maybe not.” Ryker scrolled back to the latest email, studying the screen withhis brow furrowed. “Jay? Pull up a map. Find the port.”
I dug my phone out of my pocket, navigating to the port situated on the River Severn. “What am I looking for?”
“I think…” He clicked the trackpad, highlighting a section of text. “Are there any churches or cemeteries nearby?”
“Uh…there’s a St. Andrew’s church.”
“That might be it. Any others? We need to cover all our bases.”
I scanned the screen, zooming farther out to cover a wider radius. “Purton Ships Graveyard… No, forget that. It’s not a church.”
“Fuck! That’s it!”
“Huh?”
“Look at the email. See? P.S. Graveyard.”
I read through the brief message in its entirety.
Compensation due as agreed. Thursday, usual time.
P.S. Graveyard
The email had been sent two days prior, which meant…
“Whoever this email account belongs to is meeting the accountant this Thursday at—what was it again? Purton Ships Graveyard?” My voice was doubtful, but Ryker gave me a decisive nod.
“It’s the only thing we have to go on. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, but look how close it is to our port. If itisconnected with the sabotage, we need to check it out. We can’t let the chance slip past us.”
Dan sat up straight, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I agree. Want to bring the syndicate in on this?”
Ryker shook his head. “Not yet. Not without us having more concrete answers. You know what my dad’s like. If I go to him with vague rumours, he’s just gonna brush me off.” He glanced at Dan. “We can’t bring your family in, either. They don’t need to be caught up in this shit. It’s down to us.”
“Yeah. I don’t like it, but you’re right. Neil would probably help out anyway if he knew it was someone actively working against you, but we need to know who and what we’re dealing with first. How are we supposed to know what time we’re going? The email just says, ‘usual time.’”
I thought about it, scrolling through my bookmarked browser tabs to find the information I’d saved. “It would make sense for it to be in the evening. The accountancy firm is open until five on Thursdays, so they wouldn’t be able to get away before then, and they probably wouldn’t risk meeting when there’s a possibility of other people being around.”
“Yeah, too many walkers around,” Dan added. WhenRyker and I stared at him, he rolled his eyes. “I haven’t been sitting here doing nothing while you two do all the work. I’ve been scoping out all the areas of interest, and that includes the ship graveyard. Yeah, maybe I just stumbled on it while I was looking at the port and seeing if there was anything interesting nearby, but I took the time to research it. Ask me anything, I’m a font of all knowledge.”
“Course you are.” I smirked at him, and he gave me the middle finger before clearing his throat dramatically.
“Purton Ships Graveyard, aka Purton Hulks, on the banks of the River Severn, is the place boats go to die, cruelly abandoned to the whims of the elements. Some say the ominous creaks of the hulls are the screams of the souls of the boats, trapped there for all eternity. In fact?—”
“In fact, at least ninety percent of what you just said was completely made up,” I told him. “Can we get on with the plan?” Dan did have a habit of using humour and general dramatic behaviour to cover how he really felt—whether he knew it himself or not—but now was not the time for joking around.
“Sorry. I thought you might be interested in the history because the port probably wouldn’t be there without it. They abandoned the boats there to stop the riverbank eroding, and it helped the port to survive.” He sighed. “Never mind. Forget it.”
“Dan. I’m interested. Can we talk about it after we get through this shit, though?”
He flashed me a quick grin, instantly brightening. “Deal.”
