Role Reversal

Back in her room, Maria shucked off her robe and slippers and climbed into bed without bothering to pull the covers over her. Once more, she stared at the ceiling, telling herself again and again that it was no big deal. Everyone had bad dreams from time to time. There was nothing to worry about.

  Maria Rakosi worried all the same.

  Nightmares, she knew, could be caused by any number of factors: stress, drugs, liquor, sleeping in the wrong position...even eating too soon before bedtime could do it.

  She ran through the checklist. The girls always dined early; neither went in much for midnight snacking. Felicity didn't use drugs—not even aspirin—and apart from a glass of wine or two with dinner, she drank little. Working for Cramer was often demanding but seldom genuinely stressful, and their personal lives were simple and uncluttered affairs...by design. On the few occasions when either of them did have something troubling on her mind, they always—always—immediately confided in the other.

  So what was the matter with Fliss? Was it the cruise? Was she afraid? Unlikely—she would have said something had that been the case. Maria knew her friend to be an expert swimmer and oarswoman, completely at home in and on the water; and she couldn't imagine seasickness entering into the picture either, not on the ninth deck of a huge and heavily stabilized cruise ship.

  Frustrated and now completely unable to sleep, Maria turned on first her right side, then her left in an effort to relax. And wasn't that damned silly, she thought. If you have to make an effort, how in God's name could you expect to relax?

  Then something occurred to her. What if the problem wasn't with the cruise? What if it had to do with the Titanic? After all, Felicity was English. Maybe some long-lost ancestor of hers had been on board and was trying to communicate with her.

  Fliss would have laughed at the idea, Maria thought.

  Feeling more foolish with each passing second, she swung her long legs over the edge of the bed again, sat up, and stepped back into her slippers. She got a glass of water from the kitchen and sat down at the computer desk in the living room. It was as good a way of wasting time as any.

  Apparently there had been seven Carters on the Titanic: a family of four in first class, all of whom survived; a couple in second who, the story went, died when the woman refused her place in one of the lifeboats in order to stay with her husband; and a fireman who worked in one of the ship's six massive boiler rooms and who had, inexplicably, signed on board under the name W. Ball. He, too, had gone down with the ship.

  Maria rubbed her eyes. It didn't have to be a Carter, of course, but she had to start somewhere and she was damned if she was going to spend all night on the task.

  Of the seven, only the crewman "Ball" held the slightest interest for her. Why the phony name? Was there some long-dormant skeleton in the Carter family closet, reactivated by the upcoming memorial trip? It wasn't impossible, but Maria didn't think "Ball" was the answer. She was close, though. She recognized the signs, and knew that the answer was there or thereabouts.

  Satisfied, she closed down the browser, drank the last of her water, and stood up and stretched. The clock on the wall behind the monitor showed half past two. Maria felt like she could sleep now, and there was still time to get in a good five hours. On her way down the hall, she looked in on her friend. Felicity's breathing sounded normal, and in the soft glow of light from Maria's cell phone, the expression on her face seemed untroubled.

  In her room, Maria kicked off her slippers again and crawled back under the covers, where she wriggled comfortably into position. Her eyes closed and her face relaxed.

  She felt sure of her ground. It wasn't much, she thought, but at least now she could give the hypnotist something to work with. After that, it would be up to him...and Fliss.