The older woman in the Elysium suite, while frail, is elegantly dressed, chignon, eye patch. The younger woman—far more robust—appears quaintly old-fashioned with large round spectacles that keep sliding down her nose. And she keeps pushing them back. Her movements are clumsy, awkward.
He watches as the old woman slumps onto the bed and moves a strand of white hair off her brow. She looks tired.
The younger woman sets down her heavy bag—looks like it contains books—and goes to the old woman. There’s a surprising tenderness in her movements as she takes the old lady’s cane and gently leans it against the nightstand.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the old woman says, gesturing to the windows.
A smile curves Theo’s mouth. He has audio. It works. He adjusts the volume in his headphones as he continues to eavesdrop on the women. He knows their names from the manifest that Maxine gave him. Lillith Ravenscroft McGregor and Poppy Buchanan.
“It’s far more beautiful than I imagined,” Poppy says. Theo notes that her accent is British. And common—nothing posh. But he doesn’t know enough about Brits to be able to pinpoint anything more specific.
“How are you feeling, Lillith?” Poppy asks. “Would you like some water? Shall I unpack for you? I can hang up your clothes, put your cosmetics and medicines into the bathroom cabinets?”
“Perhaps later, dear. I think I’ll just lie down for an hour or so. Why don’t you go settle into your own suite, unpack your things, relax awhile.” She smiles kindly. “Go enjoy a cocktail or three. Take a dip in the pool. You can watch the launch from your own private balcony as we set sail. We’ll dress and go up for dinner later.”
“Are you sure? I—” She glances at the cosmetic case on the table near the window. “Do you need any medications right now? Anything I can set out for you before I go?”
“This cruise is about relaxing, dear. For both of us. And working on my book when I have the energy. Go.”
The bespectacled assistant hesitates, then gathers up her heavy bag of books. She hefts it over her shoulder, wavers once more, as though undecided about something. Then exits.
A push notification suddenly flashes across Theo’s screen. An alert: There’s motion in the Calliope Sky Villa.
Theo quickly flips over to the Calliope feed.
On-Screen Text: Calliope Sky Villa
Theo’s monitor shows Roshaan in her blue uniform entering the empty suite. She pauses, appearing tense, uncertain.
Roshaan presses her hand against her sternum, and her gaze goes straight to the camera. Theo stiffens as Roshaan appears to look directly at him through his screen. The wide-angled lens makes her eyes look wide with worry. Her features are tight.
She breaks the gaze and turns to the desk nearby. She takes the chair and drags it over to the sliding glass door. She climbs onto the chair. Her hand reaches up to the blinds railing and moves toward the camera hidden there. Her fingers open like an approaching catcher’s mitt.
Theo lunges for his mobile phone, hits speed dial. He hears his own ringtone inside the Calliope suite. Roshaan freezes at the sound. Her phone rings again with Theo’s custom jingle.
She swallows. Slowly she lowers her hand. She’s realized Theo is watching her. She glares into the camera, her face distorted by the lens.
Her phone rings again.
“I can’t do this,” she says to the camera. “I can’t fucking do this, Theo!”
“Pick up pick up,” Theo whispers inside his cabin.
“I won’t do it.”
“Pick up, for Chrissakes.”
The jingle sounds again.
She pulls her mobile from her pocket and connects the call via her earpiece.
“What in the hell, Rosh?” Theo demands. “What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Emotion gleams into her eyes.
“I can’t go through with it.”
“Of course you can. Listen to me—can you listen to me, Rosh? Can you just do that—relax for one second and actually hear me out?”
