“Goddammit,” said Eagleberg. “The SEAL. The goddamn SEAL. I knew that man was trouble.”
Arthur wasn’t listening; he was calculating. They had approximately seventy masters-at-arms on board the Lincoln. With more than thirty out sick that still left nearly forty, all small-arms qualified, most of them carrying. Which sounded like a big number—but there were more than four thousand different compartments and spaces on the ship. That was a lot of space to cover. And the SEAL was smart. When it came to evading capture, probably the best there was.
“Artie. Have all mess facilities shut down, PDQ. And put me on the PA. I need to make an announcement.”
“Sir?”
The entire time they’d been at sea the captain had addressed the ship on their PA system exactly once, and from Arthur’s perspective it had been a mild disaster. Ye gods, he hoped the man didn’t cock this up.
“The 1MC,” Eagleberg repeated. “Now.”
Arthur switched on the hand mike to the 1MC system and handed it over.
Eagleberg put his mouth up against the mike and began to speak.
“THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING. THIS IS NOT A DRILL…”
Don’t say anything about the escaped prisoner, thought Arthur. Not to the general population. Don’t create a panic.
“THERE IS AN ESCAPED PRISONER ON BOARD,” the captain continued. “HE MAY BE ARMED AND DANGEROUS…”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“ALL MESS HALLS ARE TEMPORARILY CLOSED. ALL NONESSENTIAL PERSONNEL ARE CONFINED TO QUARTERS UNTIL I GIVE THE ALL CLEAR. REPEAT: ALL NONESSENTIAL PERSONNEL ARE CONFINED TO QUARTERS UNTIL I GIVE THE ALL CLEAR.”
Eagleberg handed the mike to Arthur. “Artie,” he growled, “stay on top of this mess. I’m trusting you.”
He turned abruptly, leaving his XO in charge of the bridge as the ship skirted the edge of the gathering storm, and went to fetch his sidearm and go below himself.