Ghost Ship

“Nothing.” Sam smiled. “You look a hell of a lot better than me, that’s all.”

She grinned. There was something confident and teasing about it. “I always did.”

Sam said, “So what now, professor?”

“Well. I’ll be going to sleep soon. I’ve just finished a night shift. This afternoon, I’ll take some bloods from you, and deliver them to the hospital myself. That will tell us what really happened to you in the past twenty-four hours.” She met his eye, made a carefully delivered smile that suggested empathy and competence, before squeezing his hand tight. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Sam, I promise.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “I mean it. I don’t know what happened between us, I want to, I really can’t remember anything about you or us — but from where I’m sitting, all I can imagine was that I was a real schmuck to ever lose you. You’ve been a real friend.”

“You’re welcome. If it makes you feel better, I won’t hold it against you, because you can’t remember how right you are.”

Sam laughed at her joke. Stopped. And then wondered how much of a schmuck he really was.

Catarina caught his pensive mood. “What is it?”

“I need to know what sort of person I am.”

“Well. You like to SCUBA dive, you’re generally fun to be around, and…” she paused, and smiled lasciviously. “You’re not bad in bed — or at least you weren’t.”

Sam swallowed. One of the greatest regrets in his life right now was that he would never remember it. He shook the thought out of his mind. He had other problems to deal with. “No. I need to know what sort of person I am.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam took a breath and said, “I mean, am I a good person, or an asshole.”

She laughed. “That one, I can answer.”

He held his breath. “Well, which one is it?”

“You’re a good person.”

“How do you know?”

She met his eye. “Hey, I know.”

“But you said you haven’t seen me in nearly fifteen years!”

“So?”

Sam persisted. “I might have changed.”

“I doubt it. And not by that much. Besides, even if I had never met you, I could tell you that you’re a good person.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re asking the question.”

Sam squinted. “What question? What are you talking about?”

“Well. Think about it. An asshole would be asking if he was rich, powerful, feared by people — how good looking his girlfriend was… if he could seduce women and if men admired and feared him.”

Sam’s lips raised in a slight grin of relief and understanding. “Whereas, I’m asking if I was a good person?”

“Exactly! And, only a good person would care.”

Sam grinned. “While we’re at it… am I rich?”

She laughed. “As a matter of fact, you are.”

“I might not be anymore.”

She shook her head. “You couldn’t have blown the amount of money your family owned in one lifetime.”

“Even if I joined the marines to piss off my dad?” Sam suggested. “Maybe he cut me from my allowance after I failed to make him proud in the family business?”

“I doubt it. It was never like that. The fact was, your father was more disappointed because he expected you to make the company richer. He would have never cut you off if you had something more valuable to do with your time.”

“Maybe I became a gambler or got into debt with risky enterprises. Who knows? Just because my dad and grandfather were good at the accumulation of wealth doesn’t necessarily mean I would follow suit. Isn’t there some sort of statistic that suggests the poor grandparents generally make the money, the children turn it into more money, and the grandchildren blow it all?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But that wasn’t you.” She grinned. “Besides, unlike most rich people I’ve met, you always knew you had enough of the stuff. There was never a need to have more. For you, it was just one less thing to have to worry about in life. A means to an end, instead of the other way around.”

“That’s reassuring to know.”

“What do you want to do to kill the time?”

She licked her lips. “I know what we used to do.”

He turned his gaze to avoid hers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Even so, I don’t know if I should be doing that. For all I know, I could be married by now.”

“You don’t have a ring.”

“Maybe I don’t wear one. You know, with all the SCUBA diving and stuff?”

“Maybe. But I doubt it. I think I would have heard if you got married.”

Sam’s eyes darted between her and the couch. She was a beautiful woman. He wanted nothing more than to sleep with her. But he didn’t know all the facts. Even though he couldn’t recall his history with her, she had told him that he’d broken up with her because he was angry with her, and they hadn’t spoken since. Besides, who was to say that he wasn’t blissfully married? He didn’t wear a wedding ring. But not everyone does.

He shook his head. “I’d better not.”

She smiled. “It’s just for sleep, nothing more. Like I said, I’ve just finished a nightshift at the hospital.”

Sam didn’t need much persuading. “All right.”

Chapter Thirteen

National Military Command Center — Pentagon