Part 8 (1/2)

Jack didn't recognise the voice coming from behind him, but it was thick with menace. Jack turned around to see a man standing behind him: medium height, average looking, and rather dumb-sounding when he had spoken despite the threatening intent of his words. His accent was American. He sounded like one of those drawling cowboys from a grainy western. And just like a cowboy, he was pointing a revolver at them.

”Who are you?” Tally asked, not seeming to notice the firearm in the man's left hand. ”What are you doing down here?”

”I'll ask the questions, lady. Why you snooping around other people's property?”

”I am an employee of the s.h.i.+p. I am allowed to be here.”

”Not here, sweetheart. You need to back away and leave this area well alone.”

”This is a staff area,” Tally told him. ”You are the one who must leave.”

The man waggled his gun at her. ”D'you realise I have a gun pointed at your pretty little face, lady? I'm not kidding around.”

”Shoot me,” she said bluntly. ”Believe me when I tell you I'll get over it.”

The man seemed confused by the comment and the revolver lowered slightly. Jack decided to try and take control of the conversation while the man was unsure of himself. ”Why do you have a gun, sir?”

The man's smile was crooked. He repeated the word, ”Sir? I like the sound of that. Makes me feel all respectable-like.” He pointed the gun closer to Jack's face. ”But I'm afraid I'm still going to have to insist you both mosey on out of here. This is my cargo and you're trespa.s.sing, so could you kindly f.u.c.k off?”

Jack didn't appreciate being sworn at. He still had questions.”What the h.e.l.l are you guarding, anyway?”

”None of your business. Now get!”

Tally started backing away and Jack decided to follow her. They could force the issue and see where it led, but it would probably be better to take a step back and re-strategize. It was clear that the cargo of the s.h.i.+p was being used to transport something that they weren't supposed to know about.

You don't post a short-tempered cowboy to protect your goods unless they're pretty valuable.

”Where are we going now?” Jack asked Tally as they headed back to the elevator.

”We're going to see the Captain,” she said. ”To let him know that there's an armed man aboard his s.h.i.+p.”

Tally used her limited credentials to get herself and Jack inside the s.h.i.+p's Bridge. It was clear by the reaction of the technical staff that a waitress was not welcome in that particular area of the s.h.i.+p, but her insistence and possibly her beauty eventually got her through. After convincing a young radioman that there was an urgent matter that needed to be brought to the Captain's attention, she and Jack were finally led inside a small office. It was set up like a meeting room with an oblong table and leather-backed chairs arranged at its centre. Both Tally and Jack took a seat.

After a short wait, a white-uniformed man entered the room and observed them suspiciously. Each arm of his jacket was emblazoned by four horizontal stripes and an executive loop, while his white peaked cap featured a small emblem of an anchor on a blue oval background, which itself was encircled by a golden wreath of oak leaves. Jack knew from his days in the forces that this man was the s.h.i.+p's commanding officer.

”I am Captain Marangakis,” he said, addressing them with the stern tone of a man who had little time to be wasted. ”I understand you wish to inform me of something.”

”Yes, sir,” said Tally respectfully.

The captain remained standing, his back straight, looking down at them. ”Well? What is it?”

”There's a man with a gun in the cargo area,” said Jack.

The captain nodded very slowly and stared into Jack's eyes curiously. He pulled up a chair and sat down opposite them both. Before he said anything, he removed his cap and placed it carefully down on the desk in front of him. His head was balding. ”May I ask what exactly you were doing in my cargo area?”

Jack didn't have an answer that would suffice, so he decided to ignore the question. ”Did you hear what we said? There is a man with a gun down there. Does that not concern you?”

”That man is allowed to be there.” The captain sounded utterly calm about it all.”He is a member of BR s.h.i.+pping's maritime security force. He is here to protect their a.s.sets.”

Jack spluttered. ”What? You're telling me that you know that this cruise liner, full of children and families, is being used to transport dangerous cargo?”

”Who said it was dangerous?”

Jack sighed. ”You don't pay an armed guard to protect something benign.”

The captain bored a hole into Jack with his narrow brown eyes. ”I a.s.sure you that the cargo in this s.h.i.+p is of no danger to anyone. It is merely BR policy to protect their possessions.”

”Okay,” said Jack. ”Then tell me what is being stored down there?”

”Who are you to demand anything of me? This is my s.h.i.+p, may I remind you.”

”I'm a police officer. Sergeant Jack Wardsley.”

”Well, Mr Wardsley,” the captain seemed to make a point not to use the word Sergeant. ”We are currently one-hundred and sixty miles off the coast of France, so I regret to inform you that your authority is null and void aboard my s.h.i.+p and equally so when we land in a country that is not your own. In fact, right now, I find you guilty of trespa.s.sing. What do you think I should do about that?”

”Look,” said Jack, trying to calm things down before they turned acrimonious. ”I respect your authority as Captain of this s.h.i.+p, but something is very wrong here. People are sick and getting worse speak to your doctor. I have concerns that it may all be a result of what is being held down in the cargo bay. Black Remedy owns this s.h.i.+p, and they are also one of the world's leading investors in medical research. It worries me that they use their own cruise liners as transporters for pharmaceuticals and G.o.d knows what else. It's unethical.”

”That may be,” the captain surprisingly agreed. ”But it is their s.h.i.+p and I am their employee. You, sir, are the only danger here. I'm afraid I must insist that you disembark at Cannes. Until then you will accompany me down to the holding cells. I cannot have you running around my s.h.i.+p spreading your paranoid delusions. You too, young lady.” He nodded to Tally. ”Your duties aboard this vessel have been grossly neglected.”

Jack and Tally both sighed in unison, but neither of them resisted. They could try, all over again, tomorrow.

Day 200.

Jack met Tally by the elevators on C Deck. They discussed what to do and both decided that this time they would forget the subtle approach. It seemed the armed guard in the cargo area had free reign to be there and probably even license to kill if he deemed it necessary, so they would only be wasting time trying the gentle approach.

”So we have a plan then,” Tally stated.

Jack nodded. ”It should work. Not like we have anything to fear, is it? If we get shot then we'll try something else tomorrow or today, or...whatever, you know what I mean.”

They took the elevator back down to the Orlap Deck. When they stepped out onto the walkway, Jack stayed back while Tally headed off towards the cargo area. She made a big show of being there, clomping her feet down on the metal walkway and whistling loudly. Jack crouched down and hugged the walls of the hull, dipping behind various machinery and boxes that littered the metal flooring.

When Tally reached the s.h.i.+pment pallets in the cargo area, she made a B-line for the blue, plastic crates. Immediately she started tugging at one, trying to get it free from the pallet. It was only seconds before the cowboy appeared behind her.

Jack put his half of the plan into action and crept up behind the gunman while Tally distracted him by crying and begging for him not to shoot. As the man tried to rea.s.sure Tally that he didn't intend to shoot her unless she refused to leave, Jack ran up behind him and struck him in the back of the head with his fist. Years of combat training meant that the attack was a guaranteed knockout blow. The man hit the floor face-first and his gun skittered across the metal walkway. The plan had gone flawlessly. Now it was time to get some answers.

The first question Jack asked the cowboy once he'd regained consciousness was what his name was. When the man did not answer, Jack pointed the gun and asked the question again. ”Don't make me lose my temper,” he growled. ”What's your name?”

”Caleb Donovan.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. ”You s.h.i.+tting me? What kind of fruity name is that?” Jack was doing his best bad cop impression, hoping that he could use intimidation whilst Tally used a softer tactic more befitting to her age and beauty.

”My name is Caleb Donovan, and that is all you are getting from me.”

Jack slapped the man with the back of his hand, feeling no remorse. Any bruises he caused would only be temporary. He knelt down and looked the man in the eyes. ”Look, Caleb. My friend here can happily go and turn your cargo upside down right now, or you can just tell us what's inside. It seems a lot less messy if you go with the latter option.”

”Why do you care anyway? Are you here to steal it?”