Chapter 19

           Ortega’sfightdromewasanancientbulkcarrier,mooredupinthenorthendoftheBay,alongsideacresofabandonedwarehouses.Thevesselmusthavebeenoverhalfakilometrelongwithsixclearlydiscerniblecargocellsbetweenstemandstern.Theoneattherearappearedtobeopen.Fromtheair,thebodyofthecarrierwasauniformorangethatIassumedwasrust.

           "Don’tletitfoolyou,"Ortegagruntedaswecircled."They’vepolymeredthehullaquarter-metrethickallover.Takeashapedchargetosinkitnow."

           "Expensive."

           Sheshrugged."They’vegotthebacking."

           Welandedonthequay.Ortegakilledthemotorsandleanedacrossmetopeerupattheship’ssuperstructure,whichataglanceappearedtobedeserted.Ipushedmyselfbackintotheseatalittle,discomfitedinequalpartsbythepressureofthelithetorsoinmylapandmyslightlyoverfullstomach.Shefeltthemovement,seemedsuddenlytorealisewhatshewasdoingandpulledherselfabruptlyuprightagain.

           "Noonehome,"shesaidawkwardly.

           "Soitseems.Shallwegoandhavealook?"

           Wegotoutintothecustomaryblanket-snapofwindofftheBayandmadeforatubularaluminiumgangwaythatledontothevesselnearthestern.Itwasuncomfortablyopenground,andIcrosseditwithaneyeconstantlysweepingtherailedandcranedlinesoftheship’sdeckandbridgetower.Nothingstirred.