Oh hi there, remember me? XP Yeah, I'm the person who hasn't updated in about a MONTH. Please forgive me! I have been trying so hard to find time to write but I think everyone will agree - Spring is the busiest time of year. All the activities and sports and crap... *sigh* Anyway, I have promised myself I will always be one chapter ahead in my rewriting, so I had to finish Chapter 12 before posting this, even though it's been sitting on my computer the whole time. I really really hope all my readers haven't abandoned me. But if you're reading this, it means you haven't given up yet - THANK YOU! :'D I love you. No, really. With all my heart. :3 And lots of love to my newest followers, including Soffi . record - so happy to have another reader. :) Rock on!
Just realised I've never done a disclaimer or whatever. Er... I don't own Tintin or any other Tintin characters in this story. They are property of Moulinsart or something. So don't sue me please! *hides under desk*
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE MARLIN
Back in the yacht, there was nothing to do but wait until the Captain could get the engine working again. Wait and pray that they could leave before Macarthur's men, out trooping up and down the dock, connected the dots and stormed aboard The Marlin.
Tintin finally found a couple towels in a hall closet. Monique wrapped herself up gratefully, trying not to breathe in too much of the dust. Tintin then went down to help the Captain with the engine, leaving her alone in the galley.
That was when she realised she was starving.
She had a steaming, only slightly burned saucepan of soup waiting for Tintin and the Captain when they came back up, to celebrate a working engine. She was no cook, the soup was courtesy of a can she'd discovered on a rickety shelf. Snowy got a small dish of beef picked out of the soup. It was, in fact, just as they were sitting down that Monique realised she'd done the cooking while the manly men had done the manly mechanical work, and she swallowed her first spoonful with a frown. Then promptly spat it back out and hung her mouth open to let her tongue cool.
After they had covered some distance and the port was no longer visible behind them, Tintin and Monique began to relax. Two bowls of soup each had been consumed, as well as a glass of whiskey in the Captain's case, when Tintin was concluding their story.
"...And that was when I realised Macarthur was on the train. We tracked him down, and got a hold of this." He pulled the envelope from Monique's bag and took the letter out, handing it to the Captain, who raised his eyebrows. "I'm not sure what to make of it," Tintin went on. "I didn't get much time to sift through it, anyway, because then we arrived in Belem and, subsequently, were chased off the train. Monique asked for directions..."
She groaned and rolled her eyes. "Am I ever going to live that down?"
Tintin smiled. "It was only yesterday. And, no. We were kidnapped, and woke up on that black merchant's ship. We escaped, barely, and found you. And here we are." He dropped his spoon into his empty bowl.
The Captain flipped through the letter, before pushing it back to Tintin with a half smile, shaking his head. "It's another of your messes if I ever saw one."
"So I take it you're in, then?" said Tintin.
"How could I possibly refuse? I've already got two wanted thieves on my ship." He groaned good-naturedly. "I'm neck deep in geopolitics at any given time just by knowing you."
Monique cleared her throat. "I'm kinda scared to ask this, but… is there a place for us to sleep on here?"
Tintin looked up with a grin. "Oh, I thought you'd just sleep in a cabinet."
She gave him a withering look.
He chuckled and stood up. "Captain, would you show us to our arrangements? You do have enough beds, don't you?" he added worriedly.
The Captain laughed. "Oh, aye. This way."
He led them down the hallway and into a broom closet of a room; barely big enough for the twin beds it contained. An armoire was shoved optimistically between the foot of the right bed and the wall, causing the two lowest drawers to be inaccessible. The open porthole let a fresh breeze permeate the dank, musty smell of decaying wallpaper. Monique eased through the doorway and stood between the pair of beds.
"Cosy," she said. Tintin sighed.
"Really, Captain, how much did you pay for this-"
"And right across the hallway," the Captain interrupted him brightly, "is the bathroom, with running hot water and a shower!"
"Isn't that a wonder," Tintin murmured.
The Captain gave him a smile. "Well, I've a few things to tend to. I'll leave you two to settle in."
Monique leapt onto the left bed on all fours. "I call this one!" She dissolved into a coughing fit as a mushroom cloud of dust blossomed from the sheets.
"Fine by me." Tintin gave his quilt a few half-hearted swipes before laying out on it, folding his arms behind his head. Snowy hopped up beside him. "Sorry about the close quarters," said Tintin.
"It's fine." Monique copied him, stretching out, hands clasped behind her head. "It's been a while since I've slept on a real bed, let alone one all to myself, so... it's nice."
They lay in silence for a moment, listening to the water lap up against the side of the boat and muffled cursing coming from the control room which, Monique had learned, was called the 'bridge' by nautical people.
"Monique, I have to ask you something." Tintin paused. "What made you want to listen in on the Mapache's secret meeting? How did you...know about them?"
She gave a small sigh and bit her lip. "I don't know, I guess I wanted to see what they were gonna do next. I don't like the way they make deals."
"Are their plans widely known to the locals in Buenos Aires?"
"No... It depends on who your friends are. I've kinda got my nose in everybody's business," she said carefully, her stomach beginning to twist. Deflect questions, she thought. Turn on the offensive.
"I've got a question for you, Mr. Ace Reporter. Why isn't your editor person wondering where you are? Aren't you supposed to be doing a story right now?" She rolled to face Tintin, giving him an 'aren't-you-in-trouble' look.
"I am doing a story right now. And I think they've determined that I don't... ah, follow by the rules, as it were," he said.
Monique snorted. "You're cute when you try to sound like a rebel."
Tintin went quiet, smiling in a distant and not very intelligent way. It didn't seem like he was going to say anything else.
"Um... Tintin?"
He blinked and the smile dropped. "Hm? Oh, er, sorry. Did you say something?"
Monique rolled her eyes and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bunk. "Let's go back up to the galley. If I stay in this closet room much longer, I'm gonna lose it."
"I hate to break it to you, Monique, but these are your quarters for the next week and a half." Tintin gave her wry smile, standing up.
She frowned and went to the doorframe. "Don't remind me. I guess I'm just going to have to get used to you."
Tintin gave a half chuckle, following her out. He muttered under his breath, "Likewise."
/*/*/*/
Tintin was bent over the letter at the galley table, a pencil in one hand and, in the other, a German to English dictionary the Captain had found. His brow was furrowed, gaze switching from letter, to book, to letter, to notepad, on which he scribbled furiously. Snowy lay at his feet, letting out an occasional annoyed sigh.
Meanwhile, Monique began an optimistic quest for edible food. For a kitchen, there was a surprising amount of non-food items filling the cupboards and pantry. Random books and maps, nautical instruments, string, a few old coats, jars of strange rocks, scissors, socks, and whiskey. A lot of whiskey. Bottle after bottle, most empty, some not. This Captain fella' must have the liver of a sea lion, Monique thought.
"Aha!" Tintin burst suddenly, making Monique jump and drop the box of crackers she'd found. She came up beside him.
"Okay, I'm tired of listening to you mutter to yourself. What have you found out?"
Tintin looked up at her and blinked, drawing himself out of his own world. "Oh! Of course. Well, it seems to be instructions for Macarthur's operation in Saudi Arabia. Vital information. No wonder he was so broken up over losing it. Here, you can see my notes. I think I'll get us some tea." He stood up and went to the counter, filling a black kettle from the sink.
She bent over his notebook and frowned, narrowing her eyes. "Um... is that another language, or is your handwriting really that terrible?"
"Oh, sorry, it's shorthand. My own language, I suppose." Tintin gave a sheepish smile and leaned up against the counter. "I'll just tell you the most important discoveries. First is who sent the letter. A Nazi organisation called Fichtes Verteidiger, which means Fichte's Defenders."
"Who's Fichte?"
"I'm guessing it's a reference to Johann Fichte, a 19th century philosopher the Nazis admire. I wish I knew more about him, but, unfortunately, I skipped over that bit of my history studies. He was probably an advocate of social reform and nationalism, the whole fascist campaign."
Tintin lifted himself up off the counter and returned to his seat at the table. "But back to the letter. The first page is just a big formal carrying-on about Macarthur's duty to Der Fuhrer, his service to Germany, et cetera. Then they get into more interesting details. They're planning something that involves Muhammad Kalahn and Ricaco, that's for sure. Here are the floor plans of his palace and the surrounding grounds. I get the feeling they're going to steal something." He flipped to the floor plans and showed them to Monique. "They also keep mentioning another man named Cezar Dudek, but I can't quite figure that part out."
"Wouldn't Macarthur and these Fitchy people want to take over Muhammad Kalahn's company... Ricaco, right?" Monique fiddled with the pen. "For control of the oil?"
Tintin nodded. "Yes, that's certainly a possibility. It would explain why he needs the Mapaches; they'd serve as manpower."
"Well, what have these German 'fellas said they want Macarthur to do?"
"Either they didn't specify in this letter, or I haven't translated that part yet. It's mostly guesswork, at this point. I'm not even sure what I'm looking for."
"Well," Monique said, "we've got a week and half to find it, right?"
Tintin nodded. "Right."
Suddenly, a strange duet of noise came from the stovetop. A bubble, a gurgle, and then the angry hissing of water on the flames. Monique lifted her head to see the kettle rattling on its burner, water bubbling out its spout.
"Crumbs, the tea," Tintin yelped. He leapt from his chair and lifted the kettle up, then let it clatter back down onto the counter in a hurry, shaking his fingers. The kettle gave one more spiteful spat of water and quieted.
The Captain strode into the room, picking up the box of crackers from the table and shoving two in his mouth before asking, "What was all the ruckus?"
"Your kettle doesn't whistle," said Tintin, turning off the burner. The Captain chuckled.
"Oh, I never use that silly old thing. It just keeps kicking around. Maybe it was a gift."
"Well, whoever gave it to you must not like you very much."
"Come to think of it, it must've come with the ship."
Tintin raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Ah. That explains it." He wrapped a towel around his hand and began pouring the water into three teacups. "Can I offer you some tea, Captain? Monique?"
Monique had been listening to them talk, fascinated by how different Tintin was acting. He seemed more relaxed, enjoying the ping pong game of conversation. She didn't think she'd ever seen the easy smile he gave the Captain. She felt a sudden pang in her stomach. Maybe it was just hunger, or maybe it was the longing that he would smile at her like that.
She jolted herself from her thoughts in enough time to say, "Yeah, sure."
"Thanks, but no thanks," said the Captain. "I'm going to go check the pressure on that tank. I don't trust it for a second."
"I'll help you," said Tintin, setting down Monique's cup in front of her.
"Hey, wait a minute, I'm coming, too." Monique left her tea and followed them down the hallway into the lower level of the ship. Snowy trotted along at her feet. "Aren't I allowed to see what's down here?" she asked teasingly. "Or is it a secret?"
"As long as you don't touch anything," said the Captain, leading the way down a metal walkway into a large space in the hollow of the yacht's belly. Twin machines sat there, side by side, a maze of metal pipes connected with rusted tubing. They filled the whole room with a humming, high-pitched noise that made Monique's ears buzz.
"Wow, how does it work?" She approached the left machine, reaching out a hand to the rattling pipe.
"I said," the Captain grabbed her arm, "don't touch anything."
Monique tore her arm away. "Okay, fine, geesh," she muttered, moving over to where they stood before a huge blue tank. It reached from the floor to the ceiling, and a glass panel on its side displayed the pressure.
"See, it's a bit too high for my liking, but I can't figure on why..." the Captain said to Tintin. "It's not a system I'm used to. Works nothing like a freighter." The Captain tapped the glass of the pressure display, as if it would make the wobbling little arrow move down.
There was a long panel of dials on the wall nearby. Monique walked up to it and examined the labels by the dials, a rainbow of sizes and colours. Most had names she didn't understand, but then she noticed a large black one marked 'pressure.' It's an easier system than the Captain thought. Monique grinned as she twisted the black dial down a few notches.
"Fixed it!" she declared. They swung their heads towards her. The Captain scowled and rushed over to the panel.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
"I fixed it." She pointed. "I turned down the pressure."
"No! That's the pressure of the air tanks in the engines, to keep them from overheating," the Captain spat, his voice rising. "You meddling little spider monkey! I told you not to touch anything. I don't know where you get off being so insolent, but on my ship, you do as I say."
"I was only trying to help." Monique crossed her arms.
"Captain, try to keep your temper, please. She didn't mean any harm," said Tintin, stepping forward.
"Oh yes, defend her idiocy. I can see she's got her claws into you," the Captain growled, fiddling with the panel. "I told you, Tintin, I warned you she'd be trouble. Women are nothing but bad luck, and she just proved it."
Monique looked at Tintin, furrowing her brow. "When was this? You were talking about me?"
Tintin winced. "No, Monique, it wasn't like that, I-"
"It's just a stupid thing! I barely touched it!" She threw her arms out to the panel.
The Captain whirled on her. "This stupid thing is what just saved your skin from those thugs back in Belem which, I seem to recall, was your fault... and this ship is what will get you to Saudi Arabia, so I'd watch your mouth if I was you."
Monique grit her teeth and put her hands to her forehead. "I have no idea how I'm going to last a week on this godforsaken piece of junk with you two."
The Captain stepped towards her, fists clenched. "Piece of junk?"
Tintin put his arms between them hurriedly. "Alright, that's enough. I can see that if we're ever going to leave this boat with our sanity intact, we're going to have to set aside our differences. And for the sake of the case. We'll never catch up to the Mapaches if we're quarrelling all the time. So, perhaps if you both apologised..."
There was silence for a long moment.
Tintin turned his palms up, exasperated. "Please?"
Monique sighed. "Okay. I'm sorry I messed with with your air pressure thingy, Captain Haddock. I didn't mean to make any trouble."
"Hmph." He'd turned back to the panel of dials.
"Captain..." said Tintin warningly.
"Oh, alright, just to make you happy." He turned around to face her. "I'm sorry I lost my temper, Monique. It's nothing I can't fix. And I didn't really mean that women are nothing but bad luck... just most of the time..."
Tintin lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "Thank you, Captain. Now I'm sure you'd work a lot better if we left you alone, yes?"
"Yes, please feel free," he replied, only slightly sarcastically, as he went back to the dials, then to another panel near the twin engines, muttering to himself. Monique and Snowy followed Tintin back up to the galley.
Monique settled back into her seat and gave her tea a tentative sip, pleased to find it had cooled to the perfect temperature. Tintin took his cup from the counter and came to sit beside her.
"Thanks for making peace with the Captain," he said. "I know he can be a bit..."
"High-strung? Flammable? Crazy?"
Tintin chuckled. "I was going to say quick-tempered, but yes."
"How long have you two known each other?"
He thought for a moment, staring into his tea, cupped between both hands. "Must be close to two years now."
"You seem like good friends," said Monique, turning her gaze to the countertop.
"Yes..." Tintin looked up at her. "Are you missing anyone? Friends you left behind in Argentina?"
She shook her head.
He lifted an eyebrow gently. "Not really the type for friends, are you?"
"I don't... I try not to talk to people much, as a general rule. And when I do, I think they're kind of put off by me. I mean, I know a lot of people back in Buenos Aires, but knowing is different than actually getting to know them." She trailed off as she realised she'd just opened up to Tintin more than she had to anyone in her entire life. Brain to mouth, stop talking!
Tintin nodded. "I know exactly what you mean."
"You do?"
"Sure." He gave a small smile. "I meet so many people on every assignment, whether they're helping me or working against me, or just happen to be where I am. But then I move on, and I never see them again. Sometimes I wonder what they're doing now. If they're still alive." He put his teacup down and set his hands on the table. "But it wasn't that way with the Captain." He looked up to catch her eyes again. "And I hope it won't be that way with you."
Monique was frozen for a moment, trapped in his kind, sincere gaze. She dropped her eyes quickly. "You can't mean that... I've been awful to you. I..." She looked back up, just thinking of something. "I never even thanked you for rescuing me from drowning today. You saved my life."
He gave her his dimpled grin. "There, you thanked me just now. You're welcome."
Monique grinned back, thinking of something else. "And thanks for dancing with me in Tucurui."
Then it was Tintin's turn to stare into his tea, a slight flush touching his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "Ah... yes, that."
She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure that couldn't have been the first time you've ever danced with a girl, Mr. Ace Reporter."
He gave a nervous chuckle. "You'd be surprised..." Hearing footsteps, he glanced up at the doorway to see the Captain walk in. "Did you get it sorted out?" he asked him, relieved for the interruption.
The Captain nodded. "Oh, aye. You should thank your lucky stars you didn't really break something," he said to Monique, shaking a finger.
"Hey, Captain, toss me the deck of cards on that shelf by you?" Tintin asked.
He obliged, and Tintin split the deck in half as he began to shuffle. "Fancy a game of poker, anyone?"
"Alright," said the Captain, taking the third chair at the table. "As long as we use crackers instead of money. I've got a bad track record with gambling."
Monique set aside her tea and smiled. "Sure, deal me in."
Now, there's some bonding! Took me a while to figure that out. And heheh, I have no idea how ships work, can you tell? :/ If you are a sailor and can correct my mistakes and/or give me a brief 'Engines for Dummies' course, I would be so grateful! Just shoot me a PM.
However, regardless of your nautical aptitude, anyone and everyone who just read this chapter is qualified to write a review! Things you loved, things you hated, things that confused you - you know I'd love to know.
Next chapter starts in Saudi Arabia, getting right back into the story. I'm skipping their epic crossing of the Atlantic for obvious reasons. But I'll give you a hint - remember the Dudek fellow referenced in the letter. He may be playing a part in this whole mess later on... Oh, who am I fooling? Yes, he'll be popping up. Duh.
*cough, virtual* Pie for reviewers! :D You are the best. And here's hoping Chapter 12 will be up soon! *clinks virtual pie forks*
