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tomorrow
afternoon, so they're in port for at least that long." She turned
to Carter. "What now, boss?"
    "Let's go take
a look," he said.
    They walked to
the waterfront. It was full dark, and they kept to the shadows,
circling wide around the streetlights as they slunk down the
aptly-named Wharf Street. Smith was in the lead, and everyone froze
when he raised his arm.
    The Arcadia was a vast shape looming in the darkness. She had a
single chimney stack, so she was steam-powered, but Colleen could
make out several masts as well. She was rigged for sailing,
then.
    She was moored
at a wharf. The seven of them stood in the shadow of a warehouse
and looked the ship over. No one was in sight, but lights burned on
deck, and light gleamed from a few portholes. Colleen eyed the
ship, trying to guess her size. Three hundred feet long? Four
hundred? Maybe forty feet wide? It was a lot of ship to hide one
woman in.
    "What's the
plan, boss?"
    Colleen wasn't
sure who asked the whispered question, but it was Carter who
answered.
    "We watch. We
have no idea what we're dealing with, or how many there are. So we
set up surveillance, keep track of who comes and goes. Tomorrow
we'll find out how long she's in port, and set up some kind of
schedule."
    Surveillance?
Tomorrow? Colleen thought of Jimbo, his feverish eyes, his knife,
and knew there was no time to spare. She thought about arguing with
Carter, decided it would be pointless, and shrugged.
    So be it.
    "Hang on,
Jane," she murmured. "I'm coming." And she stepped out of the
shadows.
    Carter's voice
was an urgent hiss. "Colleen! What are you doing?"
    She turned to
him, her heart thumping in her chest, almost hoping he could
persuade her to stay back. But her voice was level as she said,
"You do all the surveillance you want. I'm going after Jane." And
she turned her back on the group, ignored Carter's sputtering
voice, and set off down the wharf.
    She reached the
ship, moving to the edge of the wharf where the ship cast a long
stripe of shadow. The hull was close enough to touch, a pitted
surface of chipped white paint and flaking rust. There was no
gangplank, and the side of the ship rose above her like a wall.
Colleen kept walking, hoping to find a way up.
    In the middle
of the ship the hull was lower, and Colleen stood looking up. The
top of the hull here was even with her head. She had no idea what
lay beyond it. She shrugged and crouched, preparing to jump.
    A rustle of
feet made her turn her head. Carter, Smith, Rick, and David Parker
were marching up the wharf. She raised an eyebrow when they reached
her, and Carter shrugged.
    Smith waved
Colleen back, then sprang nimbly, clinging to the top of the hull.
He lifted himself up until he could peer over the top, then pulled
himself up and over.
    Colleen went
next. Smith was crouched below the gunwale, a pistol in his hand.
Colleen dropped into a crouch beside him, and the others quickly
joined them.
    They were in
the shadow of the forecastle. Electric lights on the masts burned
down, painting the deck in alternating stripes of light and shadow.
The deck was an orderly clutter of ropes and davits, lifeboats and
pipework. For a long moment nobody moved. When Colleen realized
they were waiting for her, she rose and darted to the
forecastle.
    She found a
door, unlocked, and slipped through. There was a corridor ahead,
and a ladder leading down. She took the ladder, guessing that Jane
would be hidden deep in the ship, away from prying eyes. They
arrived at a lower deck, she had a quick glimpse of another
corridor, dimly lit, and she took another ladder deeper into the
ship. She could hear the rustle of footsteps as the team followed
her, and the hum of machinery in the bowels of the ship.
    The ladder
ended and she stepped into a corridor. It was an oppressively big
ship, and her heart sank as the immensity of it sank in. However,
there was nothing to do but keep on.
    The corridor
was too narrow for two people to walk side by side, but Smith