Blood Cruise: A Deep Sea Thriller

by Jake Bible

  “I said what a bloody stereotype,” Lane replied, his voice loud and abrasive. “Friggin’ Cosa Nostra saying capisce. It’s like a bad Coppola movie.”

  “Are there good Coppola movies?” Jessica asked. “I’m not a fan. Never did get the Godfather thing. Thugs and morons in that movie.”

  Tony eyed the two then smiled. “You have a problem with the Godfather?”

  “She does, mate,” Lane said. “I enjoyed them. Even the third one.”

  “Of course you did,” Jessica said, punching Lane on the shoulder.

  “Must we?” Niya asked.

  “Yeah, come on,” Carlos said as he stood there tapping his four thousand dollar loafers. He nodded his chin skyward. “Gonna get nasty soon and I’m already freezing my butt off. Can we go inside and meet this blogger or what? I’m here to play cards and laugh at Nick as he tries to sell me a yacht.”

  “Thank you, Carlos,” Nick said. “And it is a very nice yacht. As you’ll all see.” He turned back to Tony. “Tell you what. Have your guys bring in everyone’s luggage and then they can sweep the yacht. Might as well be useful for something. The second they are done sweeping then they are back on the chopper and out of here. You cool with that, Mr. Giraldi?”

  Tony kind of shrugged. “That might work. But I’m trusting my men. Any of them feel like you’re going to pull something and I’m on that chopper with them.”

  “That’s cool by me,” Nick said. “I don’t want anyone here that doesn’t want to be here. Now, can we go inside? I want you all to meet Ben and get comfortable. I have an amazing dinner planned, top shelf drinks, and then some quality card playing.”

  “I can show them below,” Captain Staggs said. “If you would like, Mr. Sheeran.”

  “Thanks, Staggs,” Nick said.

  “Will you be playing with us, Mr. Sheeran?” Niya asked.

  “No, no, not me,” Nick said. “I’m off the cards. Just think of me as your humble host for the week.”

  “Humble,” Lane snorted as he walked past Nick and slapped him on the back. “That is never a word I’d use to describe you, mate.”

  “You can say that twice,” Jessica said, following closely behind Lane.

  Nick just smiled as everyone filtered in through the hatch that led to the decks below. He stepped out of the way of the large men that trailed Tony, giving them all his best and most welcoming smile. The second they were gone the smile fell away and he turned to look at the thickening cloud bank that grew ever closer. He walked quickly over to the chopper and pulled open the pilot’s door.

  “This weather going to be a problem?” he asked.

  “Not if I can take off in the next fifteen minutes,” the pilot said. “I can’t get stuck here. I have another job tonight and two tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay. Great,” Nick said. “I’ll hurry the lugs along and get them back on your chopper before that.”

  “I’m not waiting,” the pilot said and pointed to a digital clock on his instrument panel. “Fifteen minutes and I’m gone. No warning.”

  “Right, sure, I get it,” Nick said. “Fifteen minutes.”

  Nick gave him a thumbs up then shut the door. He hurried to the hatch and yanked it open, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cold wind that blew off the water.

  15.

  Wagner didn’t know what was worse, the deafening bark of automatic gunfire confined to the enclosed passageway or the screams of the men dying. When he rounded a corner and saw what waited for him, he knew his answer.

  “Mother of God…” he said as he watched a man get snagged from the passageway and yanked towards the vault.

  Towards the vault. Not inside it. The man’s legs caught the edge of the opening, one continuing to go inside while the other bent at an angle it wasn’t supposed to until it ripped from his pelvis with a popping sound that overrode the gunfire. More than a couple of battle-hardened veterans turned and threw up as the man’s leg tumbled across the floor while the rest of him was lost from sight.

  The vomit only added to the gore and mess that coated almost every inch of the passageway. Wagner had to swallow a few times to keep his own gorge down and he’d spent a year in the Congo trailing the ravages of one of the area’s most ruthless warlords. The sense memories from that horrid time came rushing back to him and he had to fight to regain his composure.

  “Report!” Wagner shouted into the com once he knew he wasn’t going to add his sick to the mess. “Who has eyes on this thing?”

  “It is out of its tank, sir!” someone responded.

  “No shit!” Wagner yelled. “I guessed that! Give me details, asshead!”

  “Fifteen dead! Twenty wounded!” the voice yelled. “Every tech that was working in there is shredded, sir! SHREDDED!”

  “Calm the hell down!” Wagner yelled as he pointed for one of his men to get close to the vault and put eyes on the situation.

  The man stared at Wagner for a few seconds then took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Who is this?” Wagner asked.

  “Nunez, sir!” the man on the com replied. “I’m with ten others two decks above! We’re keeping it from crawling up into the rest of the ship!”

  “Keeping it? How?” Wagner asked.

  The man he’d sent ahead got to the edge of the vault, pointed at four others that were busy firing wildly into the vault to stop, then peeked his head around as fast as possible to get a view of inside the vault. His body slumped to the floor in an instant. The head was no longer attached.

  “Sir, you need to pull everyone back!” Nunez yelled. “It’s feeding off the blood and I swear to God it’s getting bigger!”

  “Bullshit!” Wagner shouted. “I know this project and rapid growth was not part of it!”

  “It is now!” Nunez cried. “Oh, crap! Crap, crap, crap!”

  The sound of gunfire filled Wagner’s ear and he cut his com. He yanked a small tablet from his belt and began tapping at it, bringing up the security systems for the ship.

  “Why do they have the hatches open?” he snarled. “They shouldn’t have been opened yet.”

  He kept tapping and realized he was frozen out of the vault’s controls, including the hatches above it on each deck. He almost threw the tablet against the wall, but tucked it back into his belt instead, checked his MP7, then pointed at the last man with him.

  “Stay by my side,” Wagner ordered. “We’ll get to the vault and distract it long enough so I can get a look inside.”

  “Distract it? How?” the man asked, his face white with fear.

  “Throw food at it,” Wagner said, a psychotic light filling his eyes.

  Wagner rushed down the passageway, got to the edge of the vault, and kept going. He fell to the floor, sliding feet first in the blood and gore, and cleared the vault opening in a split second. In that split second, he caught a glimpse of what was inside the vault.

  Death.

  Blood-coated death.

  Wagner slowed his slide and got to his feet. Just before a tentacle shot out from the vault and slapped the floor where he’d been only a moment before. He jumped back, tripping over a severed arm, and fell hard on his ass. He then realized that the man that was supposed to be following right behind him was no longer in the passageway.

  “Stupid coward,” Wagner said. He looked around at the couple of men that were still there, the men that had been fighting the whole time, and he gave them a nod. “Grab up all the body parts you can.”

  The men’s eyes went wide.

  “You want us to what, sir?” one asked.

  “Start grabbing up body parts,” Wagner said. “We’re going to toss them into the vault as fast as possible and hope the thing goes for them instead of us.”

  “Instead of us?” another man asked. “You mean we’re going in there?”

  “No way,” a third man said.

  Wagner shot him in the face.

  “You’re useless if you can’t follow orders,” Wagner said. “Anyone else want
to be useless?”

  They shook their heads back and forth quickly.

  “Didn’t think so,” Wagner said. “Now grab up body parts. As much as you can hold while still maintaining control of your weapons. We throw and go. No hesitating.”

  Then men nodded and looked about the passageway. Finding body parts would not be a problem.

  16.

  Beads of condensation rolled down the side of the glass and Nick rubbed at them with his finger while he leaned against the bar and watched as his guests chatted and laughed. The bar wasn’t the same one in the game room, but a different one a deck higher. It was the Irish pub bar, yet Manny was still the bartender, having moved as the party moved. Nick looked up from his glass and across the bar. Manny gave him a quick nod.

  “They are working their way back up,” Manny informed Nick. “Ashley just said they cleared the lower deck and are on the main deck. They’ll be here on the upper deck in minutes.”

  Nick checked his watch and shook his head.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. Almost on cue there was the far-off sound of an engine revving and the distinct whump whump whump of helicopter rotors.

  Nick could tell the others heard the helicopter as well. Some of them shifted uncomfortably as they glanced at Tony Giraldi while others shot looks in his direction. One of those looks was from Ben, but Nick gave him a quick smile to say things were in hand. Ben rolled his eyes in obvious disbelief.

  “What’s gone wrong already?” Ben asked, when he was able to slip away from a conversation he was having with Jessica and Maggie. The two women seemed to hit it off, so they barely noticed as he made his way over to the bar. “You have that look you get when you eat too much dairy.”

  “Yeah, I bet I do,” Nick said. “I feel like I’m going to shit my pants.”

  “Spill it,” Ben said.

  “Not now,” Nick said. “And not here. After dinner before the game starts.”

  “Mr. Sheeran?” Manny said. “Dinner is ready in the main dining room.”

  “Good,” Nick said. “Thanks, Manny.”

  Nick clapped his hands.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, a huge smile on his face. “Dinner’s ready. If you’ll follow me, we’ll head up to the fly deck. Feel free to bring your drinks with, but I can assure you there is a fully stocked bar in the dining room. And Manny will be along shortly to fix new cocktails as needed.”

  “Shortly?” Lane asked. “Shouldn’t he be there already? When I sit down, I better have a very dry martini waiting for me.”

  “Once he cleans up in here, he’ll join us,” Nick says. “Not to worry though, I’ve had the chef open two bottles of 2006 Screaming Eagle Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon and three bottles of 2003 Jean-Louis Chave Cuvée Cathelin Hermitage.”

  “Two reds?” Carlos asked. “No white?”

  “I believe four bottles of Krug Private Cuvée champagne will do,” Nick said.

  “Couldn’t splurge for the Moet, Mr. Sheeran?” Niya asked. “How unfortunate.”

  “We’ll break out the Dom Perignon later,” Nick said. “If you will all follow me?”

  “I would prefer to wait for my men,” Tony said. “No offense, but I don’t eat a stranger’s food without it being tasted first.”

  “Jesus,” Ben said quietly. “Medici, much?”

  “Excuse me?” Tony asked. “What do you mean by that?”

  “The Medici family was a well known—” Ben began.

  “I know who the damn Medicis are,” Tony growled. “But why did you say it? Because I’m Italian? Is that it? I’m just a stereotype that wears gold chains and tracksuits when I hang around my house waiting for my goomah to call while my wife makes pasta and gravy?”

  “Uh, no, I said it because the Medicis were famous for losing food tasters due to attempted poisonings by their rivals,” Ben said. “But if you’d rather be a stereotype then who am I to stop you,Tony?”

  “Guys, come on, chill,” Nick said, getting between the two men. “We’re all friends here.”

  “No, we are not,” Tony said, tapping Nick in the chest. “You, I know, but barely. I don’t consider you a friend on any level, Sheeran. An acquaintance, yes, but not a friend. The poker blogger? Please. He’s an amusement. A sideshow freak you trotted out to wow us while you try to unload this money pit.”

  Maggie snickered. Everyone looked at her and the small smile on her face slipped away. Jessica took the drink from her hand and flipped the men off.

  “We’re going to dinner,” Jessica said. “You guys need a ruler to measure your pencil dicks or will a cocktail toothpick be enough?” She glared at them all. “More than enough, is my guess.”

  “Yep,” Lane said. “Dinner sounds bloody great. Niya?”

  “Thank you,” Niya said as she took Lane’s arm.

  Carlos sat at the bar and tipped his glass. “I want to see how this plays out.”

  “It plays out with some delicious lobster bisque,” Nick said. “Let’s eat.”

  “Let’s,” Tony said, glaring at Ben. “Can’t wait to tear into some fresh meat.”

  He stalked off and Carlos sighed then followed behind.

  “The first course is bisque! That’s a soup!” Ben called after Tony. “What are you going to tear into? The spoon?”

  “Dude,” Nick hissed, taking the glass of bourbon from Ben’s hand and setting it on the bar. “How many have you had?”

  “I don’t know,” Ben said. “Three?”

  “Six,” Manny said as he wiped down the bar and tossed the rag in the small sink underneath. “That I know of.”

  “Shit,” Nick said. “Are you stress drinking? I’m bankrolling you, man. You can’t lose even if you lose. So relax.”

  Ben gave Nick a crooked smile then the smile straightened out and Ben cleared his throat.

  “I’ve been dumping them while no one was looking,” Ben said. “I’ve had maybe a shot’s worth all evening. Just sizing up the competition and giving them a little false confidence.”

  “These aren’t marks, Ben,” Nick said. “I thought I was clear on that. I just need you to play a straight game. Tonight isn’t about the cards, it’s about selling this damn thing. And I won’t be able to sell it if you piss off my potential buyers.”

  “Really?” Ben asked. “How about if I piss off your main potential buyer, start beating his ass at cards, then let him take me down so he celebrates by buying your boat? How does that sound? Or would you rather I play it straight?”

  Nick started to answer, but only laughed.

  “I’m heading to the dining room,” Manny said, a smirk on his face as he looked at Ben. “Would you care for me to fix you another bourbon, Mr. Clow? Perhaps of the apple juice variety?”

  “The what variety?” Ben asked.

  “Apple juice is the same color as bourbon,” Manny said. “If I add a dot of vegetable oil to it then the liquid will stick to the sides and look just like real bourbon. Since you plan on letting the man win at cards, keeping up the illusion that you are drinking wouldn’t exactly be conning him. Just makes the ruse more believable.”

  “Uh…yeah, sure,” Ben said. “That would be great. But, um, how does apple juice with vegetable oil taste?”

  “Like apple juice with vegetable oil,” Manny said. “That is the downside to the plan.”

  “How about no plan? No ruse, no illusion, just cards,” Nick said. “I have enough bullshit to deal with considering…”

  He trailed off, sighed, took a deep breath, grabbed his own drink, downed it, and slapped Ben on the shoulder.

  “You know what? Screw it,” Nick said. “Take the asshole for everything he has.”

  “You sure?” Ben asked. “He’s going to be pissed.”

  “He’s also going to want to win at something,” Nick said. “So when the others start making offers on this yacht, Giraldi’s going to top them each time. I may actually get more than asking price if you piss him off enough.”

  “But not so
much that he kills you,” Manny said as he walked from the bar. “I’ll be mixing drinks in the dining room then move on to make sure all is set in the game room.” He glanced over his shoulder at Nick. “Don’t forget your timetable, Mr. Sheeran. The guests do have some place to be tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, yeah, thanks, Manny,” Nick said. “Go fix some drinks, will ya? Let me handle the guests.”

  “That was weird,” Ben said after Manny had gone.

  “Huh, what?” Nick asked as he rubbed at his face and started to leave the barroom. “What was weird?”

  “You not chewing him a new one,” Ben said. “The Nick I know would have made a bartender swim home for talking like that.”

  “Like what?” Ben asked.

  “Like he can tell you what to do,” Ben said. “Not that I’m taking your side.” He studied Nick for a moment. “Are you okay? How many drinks haveyou had?”

  “Not enough,” Nick said and patted Ben on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s make nice at dinner then play some cards.”

  “You’re playing?” Ben asked.

  “I think I might,” Nick said. “It’ll help settle my mind.”

  “Really?” Ben asked. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing,” Nick replied quickly. “I just have to make this all work. It’s a lot of pressure. Can you do me a favor and take it easy? I like your thinking, but try not to be hard-case Benny tonight, alright?”

  “Works for me,” Ben said.

  17.

  “We have one hatch closed, sir,” Nunez called over the com. “We had to do it manually since we’re locked out of the systems.”

  “Good,” Wagner said as he inched closer to the vault. The passageway was almost clear of body parts after he and his men had thrown them inside, desperate to keep the creature occupied long enough so he could get a look at the thing and what he was up against.

  He got a look. It did not make him happy. It made him decide that going in full bore was not the best strategy.

  “Where’s my fire crew?” Wagner asked. “I need flames down here now so we can keep this thing inside the vault.”