Blood Cruise: A Deep Sea Thriller (16 page)

31.

“Where the hell are the Carls?” Nick snapped as he and Ben stepped off the platform and onto the speedboat. “They hid their asses fast.”

“This is crap, man,” Ben said as Nick readied the speedboat. “You have no idea what you’re getting in to.”

“I have no idea what I’m already in,” Nick replied. “None of us do.”

He looked over his shoulder at the two men standing a few feet away, their hands occupied with automatic rifles, not semi-auto pistols.

“Sorry I got you and Maggie involved, Benny Boy,” Nick said. “I thought this was a simple sting operation. INTERPOL was going to handle it all.”

“But we haven’t exactly been dealing with INTERPOL, have we?” Ben sighed. “This is why we split up, Nicky. You never did your research. Every new game was going to be the Big One, the game that set us up for life and made us legends. But that never happened.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nick said. “But this is different. You gotta believe me.”

“Do I?” Ben asked. “Why would I?”

Nick looked at Tony’s men again. “I’m sorry, man. I truly am.”

“My daughter’s life is at stake, Nicky,” Ben said. “Sorry will not cut it.”

“Let’s get a move on!” one of the men shouted.

“You better go,” Nick said. “It’s going to get dicey when I open the side door. The water is rough and getting rougher.”

“Do you know what you’re looking for?” Ben asked.

“He doesn’t need to know,” the other man snapped. “He just needs to drive the boat.”

“Chill, dickhead,” Nick said. “Same with you, dickhead junior.”

“Mikey,” the first man said. “You call me Mikey or I jam my hand down your throat and pull your asshole out your mouth.”

“Mikey it is,” Nick replied. “And this is…?”

“Chip,” the other man said.

“Chip,” Nick echoed. “Well, Chip and Mikey, you want to give me an idea of what we’ll be doing on that ship?”

“No,” Mikey said.

“I’m dying to know as well,” Niya said as she hopped onto the speedboat. She was dressed in thick jeans and a heavy sweater with a knit cap pulled down over her hair. She had two shoulder holsters and the .45s were tucked securely in them. “That’s why I’m coming with.”

“Mr. Giraldi said you were only coming down here to see us off,” Mikey said.

“Change of plans,” Niya said, her arms folded across her chest. To an average observer, the simple gesture would look like she was just impatient. To a trained eye, it was obvious she was half a second from drawing her pistols. “Care to argue with me?”

“I’ll make sure Mr. Giraldi knows,” Ben said as he jumped off the boat and back onto the platform. He gave Nick a brief smile. “Try not to die.”

“That’s always my plan,” Nick said as he started up the boat and the engines roared to life.

Ben hurried out of the hold and watched the hull slide open from behind the protection of a very thick door and heavy duty porthole. Nick gave a brief wave as water poured into the yacht and slammed against the speedboat. The boat was quickly lowered into the rising water. Once it was free of its lift, Nick took it out into the open ocean and the large waves that were pounding the ship.

As soon as the speedboat was out, the hull closed and the bilge pump went to work on the water in the hold. Ben started to turn away, but something caught his eye. A movement in the water. Something more substantial than just a heavy wave. He stared through the porthole until the water was completely pumped out then shook his head. Nothing there.

“Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. “Don’t start seeing things.”

32.

The towel was dark red with blood, the color continuing to deepen as the flow refused to stop.

“He’s going to bleed out,” Lane said as the last of Giraldi’s men looked on from the game room doorway. Lane’s hand was pressed against Manny’s belly as the wounded man lay on the poker table. “Bar towels can only do so much, mate. How about you go find us a first aid kit? Or better yet, how about a doctor?”

“If he dies, he dies,” the man replied.

“What’s your name?” Carlos asked from behind the bar. He poured a healthy amount of vodka over ice and tossed in a single olive. “I like to know who’s pointing a gun at me.”

“None of your business,” the guard replied.

“You know what, None Of Your Business?” Carlos smirked as he took a sip of his drink. “I’m not sure I like your attitude.”

“I don’t care,” the guard said.

“But does your boss?” Carlos asked. “This is all happening pretty damn fast and I have a gut feeling it wasn’t supposed to go down this way.” He took another sip. “In fact, my gut is also telling me that maybe this was a rush job. None of you seemed quite prepared to handle the difficulties of pulling off a heist at high seas.”

“Ain’t a heist,” the guard replied. “It’s a… Good try. I ain’t saying nothing.”

“It was a good try,” Lane said. “Now, if this isn’t a heist then what is it? Not exactly a hostage situation when you let your hostages die.”

“Lane’s right. That guy is dying,” Carlos agreed. “Look at him.”

“He’s INTERPOL,” the guard responded. “Let him die. No one cares about some corrupt cop.”

“Corrupt?” Lane asked. “Interesting.”

Manny convulsed and fresh blood flowed from under the bar towel, staining the poker felt around him almost black. Carlos grabbed a couple of fresh towels and tossed them at Lane who caught them easily.

“You know you’re missing someone, right?” Carlos asked the guard. “Haven’t seen Niya in a while.”

“She went with Sheeran,” the guard said.

“Did she?” Carlos asked. “Huh. From what I overheard, that isn’t part of the plan either. You want to tell us why your boss seems to be making this up as he goes along?”

“All I’m going to tell you is to be quiet,” the guard said.

“No need to get hostile, mate,” Lane said. “But my friend here may have miscounted.”

“I did?” Carlos asked.

“You did, mate,” Lane said “There was another woman playing here. A different woman than Niya. Remember her? Jessica Holstein?”

“Don’t forget the blogger’s girl,” Carlos said. “Who miscounted now?”

“True, true, but she wasn’t playing,” Lane said.

“Good call,” Carlos responded, sipping again at his drink. He smiled at the guard. “Now, the girlfriend was pretty wasted, so she’s probably not a problem. But what about Ms. Holstein? You’ve heard of her, yes? You know she’s a tough cookie and could present quite the problem to your boss if she’s loose on this ship.”

“Tough cookie?” Lane laughed. “You sound like a twenties gangster.”

“Cool,” Carlos said. “That’s what I was going for. I should probably be drinking rot gut gin, though.” He raised his glass. “But as long as we have the good stuff then I’m drinking the good stuff.”

The guard looked from Lane to Carlos to the bleeding and dying Manny. His grip on his rifle tightened and he shifted from foot to foot.

“Our babysitter looks nervous, Carlos,” Lane said. “I think you may have confused him.”

“Did I confuse you, None Of Your Business?” Carlos asked.

“Stop calling me None Of Your Business,” the guard replied. “It’s Joey. My name is Joey.”

“Was that so hard, Joey?” Carlos asked. “That didn’t seem hard to me.”

“Me neither,” Lane said.

“You know what else wouldn’t be hard?” Carlos asked. “Getting on that radio of yours and seeing if your boss wants you to track down the stray player.”

“Jessica,” Lane said.

“Jessica,” Carlos agreed. “I know from personal experience that she is wicked good with a pistol in her hand.”

“Not bad with a knife, either, mate,” Lane added.

“Is she?” Carlos asked.

“She is,” Lane said. “I’d show you the scar, but it’s in a personal place.”

“Ouch,” Carlos chuckled.

“Ouch, indeed,” Lane said.

The two men watched Joey as the guard’s confusion grew.

“Jesus,” Carlos muttered. “We’ve got a bright one here.”

“The radio,” Lane said to Joey. “Get on the radio and report to your boss that you have one person not accounted for.”

Joey hesitated then started to reach for the radio on his belt. His rifle dipped and Carlos’s eyes shifted to the weapon. Joey instantly lifted the rifle and put it to his shoulder, taking aim at Carlos.

“I’m going to call Mr. Giraldi,” Joey said. “From out in the hall. Don’t try a damn thing.”

“What can we try?” Carlos asked. “We’re in a poker room with a bar. It’s where we’d planned to be all night anyway, just with more poker going on.”

“I try anything and this bloke is dead,” Lane said, nodding his chin at the bone white Manny. “Not that he isn’t heading that direction anyway.”

“Poor guy,” Carlos said, topping off his glass and throwing another olive in.

“You ever eat those olives?” Lane asked.

“I let them soak,” Carlos said. “Save them for last.”

“I’m not an olive fan,” Lane said.

“Stay put,” Joey said as he reached back and opened the game room doors. “I’ll be back as soon as I speak to Mr. Giraldi.”

“Good plan,” Lane said.

“Best plan I’ve heard all night,” Carlos said.

They watched the man move slowly out of the room and both sighed as the door closed behind him and the distinct sound of the lock being engaged clicked loudly.

“Is it that hard to hire men that aren’t functionally retarded?” Lane asked.

“Tsk tsk,” Carlos replied. “That is not a nice word.”

“What word?” Lane asked.

“Retarded,” Carlos said.

“Don’t care,” Lane said. “Fix me a drink.”

“What would you like?” Carlos asked.

“I think I’m actually in the mood for gin,” Lane said. “Make it a triple, neat.”

“Certainly,” Carlos said.

Lane let go of Manny’s belly and the man moaned.

“Hush,” Lane said as he climbed off the table and stretched.

“Giving up?” Carlos asked as he handed Lane his drink.

“Never really cared,” Lane said. “Just playing the part.” He sipped his drink and glanced at the doors. “You think he’ll go after Jessie?”

“I think so,” Carlos said. “We’re locked in and I doubt Giraldi wants Ms. Holstein wandering around the ship.”

“Are we locked in?” Lane asked.

“I heard it lock,” Carlos said.

“Either of us could pick it and get us out of here,” Lane said.

“True, true,” Carlos agreed. “But good booze.”

“Right,” Lane said and nodded. “Good booze.”

“Let everyone else sort it all out?” Carlos suggested and raised his glass.

“Let everyone else sort it all out,” Lane agreed and clinked his glass against Carlos’s. “Don’t need Giraldi calling his people to hurt our families, do we?”

“We do not,” Carlos said then nodded at the stack of unopened decks of cards at the end of the bar. “You want to play a few hands of gin? Penny a point?”

“I’d love to, mate,” Lane said. “Better than standing here and watching Agent Bartender slowly die.”

33.

“I thought you had them all in there?” Tony snarled into his radio. “You and Mikey were supposed to make sure they were secured before he left with Chip on that speedboat. Was I not clear on that?”

“Yes, Mr. Giraldi, you were clear,” Joey replied over the radio as Ben stepped onto the bridge.

Tony gestured with his pistol for Ben to take a seat on the long leather bench against the back wall. Ben didn’t even hesitate. He made his way to the bench and sat down, his hands on his thighs in plain sight.

“Are the doors locked?” Tony asked.

“Yes, sir,” Joey responded. “I have a trip charge I can put outside them, if you want.”

“Explosives? That would not be wise,” Captain Staggs said.

“Not powerful enough to put a hole in your boat, Cap,” Tony said then returned his attention to the radio. “Forget the charge and go find Ms. Holstein. I want her and the blogger’s girlfriend locked up in that game room ASAP. Either of them give you any trouble and you have my permission to do whatever you need to convince them.”

“Maggie is probably still passed out,” Ben said, but shut up as Tony shot him a harsh glare.

“I want to hear from you in ten minutes,” Tony said. “You got that, Joey? Ten minutes whether you have the women or not. We clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Joey replied. “Ten minutes.”

Tony tossed the radio onto the instrument panel in front of him and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. He took a deep breath, let it out, picked up a different radio and double clicked the transmitter button.

“Mikey? Where you at?” Tony asked.

There was a squeal of static before a crackling voice responded.

“Getting the speedboat tied up to the ship,” Mikey replied, his voice sounding muffled and far off.

“They’ll need to watch that speedboat closely,” Captain Staggs said. “That ship is still shifting around a lot. Won’t take much for it to crush the speedboat.”

“Mikey? Make sure Sheeran knows how to tie up that speedboat, okay? That’s your way back,” Tony said. “And keep an eye on Ms. Romanski.”

Mikey started to respond then cried out.

“Don’t worry about me, Tony,” Niya said, having obviously taken the radio from Mikey. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tony said. “And give the radio back to my guy, will ya?”

There was some muffled scuffling and Ben could hear Nick in the background snapping at someone.

“We’re tied up and Sheeran is bitching about the waves,” Mikey said. “I’ll radio back as soon as we have confirmation of the cargo.”

“You do that,” Tony said. The second radio was tossed onto the instrument panel and Tony turned his full attention to the darkness outside the bridge’s windows. “This thing have any floodlights? Shine them over at the other ship, Cap.”

“This thing does not have floodlights like that,” Captain Staggs said. “Not accessible from the bridge. There are some auxiliary lights down on the main deck, but they are small and meant to illuminate approaching vessels, not a ship as far off as the one we are following.”

“Sixty-five million dollars and this stupid boat don’t have floodlights,” Tony said. “What a gyp.”

“You know that’s a racist saying,” Ben said. “Gyp. It’s short for gypsy and comes from…” He trailed off as he saw the look Tony was giving him. “Never mind.”

“You know why I want you up here, Blogger Boy?” Tony asked as he walked over and sat down right next to Ben so their hips were touching. “You know why I want you on the bridge with me instead of locked in that game room with the others?”

“Others minus Jessica and Maggie, you mean,” Ben said.

“You want to get shot?” Tony asked.

“No, sorry,” Ben said.

“I have you up here because I respect you,” Tony said. “May not seem like it, but I do. I watched you play cards and you are as good as they say. But I know you’ve been around, seen some things, know some people, and you aren’t exactly a virgin to this life.”

“You want me up here because you’re worried I’ll pull something and figure out how to take you down,” Ben said.

“What?” Tony laughed. “No. Not even close. Don’t make me second guess my choice, Blogger Boy.”

“Then why do you want me here with you?” Ben asked. “I’m too tired and stressed to figure it out on my own.”

“Because I know the others below will try something,” Tony said. “I need you to convince them not to when the time comes. To remind them that they have family members that are far from safe. You are persuasive with words.” Tony waved his pistol back and forth. “I’m persuasive with this. I’d like to get through the next few hours without using this. I know I got some corrupt part of INTERPOL up my butt already. I don’t need any of our poker friends’ associates deciding a vendetta needs paying if harm comes to them.”

“But you don’t mind harming their families? Or mine?” Ben asked.

“I mind,” Tony said. “I honestly do. I have family of my own.”

“Then why not let us go?” Ben asked. “We could take the speedboats and get out of here.”

“I wouldn’t advise that in this weather,” Captain Staggs said.

“He wouldn’t advise that,” Tony said and rolled his eyes. “But I don’t care about the weather. Let’s just say I’m keeping all of you around as insurance. I have some associates I recently met coming to take the ship off my hands once I confirm it holds what it is supposed to.”

“But you trust those associates less than you trust me or the others below,” Ben said. “Things go wrong and we’re all forced to help you because of our family members. We’re your back up.”

“Something like that,” Tony said.

“Answer me one question,” Ben said. “Why did you need to do any of this? You come from a pretty big organization. Why not just keep it all in house and handle this on your own? I’m calculating the variables and you have increased your risk potential by infinity when you decided to use Nick and this poker game to make your play.”

“You get along with everyone in your family, Blogger Boy?” Tony asked.

“Is that a serious question?” Ben responded.

“That’s what I thought,” Tony said and smiled. “Yeah, my organization is pretty damn big. It’s also just like a family. More so than Garfield’s organization or Whittier’s or Holstein’s. Closer to Romanski’s, but even the Russians don’t do family business like we do.”

“You aren’t supposed to be doing any of this, are you?” Ben laughed. “If this goes wrong then you’ll have your whole family on your ass.”

“Again, something like that,” Tony said. “Did things get out of hand tonight? Yes. I’ll admit that. But as long as the outcome ends up the way I want then you and the others have nothing to worry about. In fact, I may compensate you all for your troubles. My new associates may not be handing me a blank check, but it’s pretty damn close, Blogger Boy. Pretty damn close.”

“Boss? You there?” Mikey called out from the radio.

“Showtime,” Tony said then frowned. He looked at Ben. “That too much? I’ve been reading some business blogs and they say you need to build a brand to be successful, no matter what your business is. Catch phrases and slogans are one way to do that. You think ‘It’s showtime’ is good or too cliché?”

“If your brand is as an eighties movie villain then it’s perfect,” Ben said.

Tony laughed and shook a finger at him. “You do have balls, Blogger Boy. I’d cut them off and shove them in your smart mouth, but I did ask for your opinion.”

“I like my balls where they are,” Ben said.

“Don’t we all,” Tony said as he picked up the radio. “What you got, Mikey?”