Blood Cruise: A Deep Sea Thriller

by Jake Bible

  They wound their way around the superstructure then stopped as Niya held up her hand and pointed at the long, sleek shadow of the helicopter sitting on the deck before them.

  “I need you to go talk to the pilot,” Niya said.

  “Come again?” Nick laughed. “What happened to you needing me alive?”

  “He won’t shoot you,” Niya said. “He’ll point a gun at you and probably knock you to the deck so he can restrain you, but he won’t shoot you. This mission is about intelligence gathering, not assassination.”

  “How can you be so sure about that?” Nick asked, seriously thinking of making a break for it. Where he would go, he had no clue, but it was better than getting shot right then and there.

  “Because they would have blown the ship up by now,” Niya said. “And you heard the flash bang down below. That is nonlethal.”

  “Yeah, I’m not completely buying that,” Nick replied. “But you’re the one with the pistols, so I’m just going to go along and pray you are right.”

  “Are you really a praying man, Mr. Sheeran?” Niya asked.

  “I am now,” Nick said as he took a deep breath then stepped away from the cover the superstructure provided.

  Once he was fully out in the open, and knew he was within sight of the helicopter pilot, he waved his hands over his head. He was almost to the helicopter when he was finally noticed.

  “Down! Down now!” Tweety yelled as he jumped from his seat and aimed his M4 at Nick. “Get on your knees! Hands behind your goddamn head!”

  “Getting on my knees!” Nick responded, dropping to the deck slowly, his hands coming up even slower behind his head. “Hands are up! I’m unarmed!”

  Tweety, a lanky man with a heavy black helmet on his head and a scruff of grey beard on his chin, moved towards Nick, his M4 sweeping the area. He was five yards from Nick’s position when he stopped and swung the carbine to the left and started firing.

  There was a high-pitched scream and Nick hit the deck, pressing his belly against the wet metal as more shots were fired. He squeezed his eyes shut and his body jumped with every report. Even with the weather raging around him, the shots were incredibly loud and he gritted his teeth and held his breath until they were finally over.

  He waited a few seconds then lifted his head.

  Lying on the deck, his blood being washed away by the rain, lay Tweety. Half of the man’s face was gone, leaving a gaping, bloody hole below the visor of the helmet he still wore.

  “Shit,” Nick said as he pushed up to his feet.

  “He was good,” Niya said as she limped over to Nick. “Not as good as me.”

  “You’re hit,” Nick said, pointing to the wound on Niya’s right thigh.

  “Superficial,” Niya replied. “In and out, just hit flesh and muscle, no bone. I will live.”

  “Well, that’s good since you’re my ride,” Nick said. “Speaking of, can we go now?”

  “Get in,” Niya said, pointing to the helicopter with the .45 in her hand. “You will watch for the other men while I begin the startup procedure.”

  “Right. Watch for other men that now want to shoot us because we killed their buddy,” Nick said. “How long is the startup procedure?”

  “A minute or two,” Niya said. “This is not a BMW that you can turn a key in and it goes vroom.”

  “Beemers all have push buttons now,” Nick said then frowned and hurried to the helicopter. “But that’s not the point.”

  45.

  Maggie stared at the bullet holes in the bridge door and guessed that Manny was the recipient considering the man’s state the last time she saw him. She’d left him alive, but had no allusions that he was still breathing. Either his wounds finally got him or the creature did.

  She gripped her 9mm and lifted her foot to kick the door in.

  The door opened before she could nail it and Tony stood there, a knife to Ben’s throat, and a wide grin on his face.

  “The girlfriend,” Tony said. “It’s always the innocent-looking ones. My uncle taught me that, so the second I saw you I made note to keep my eye on you.”

  Maggie’s pistol was aimed directly at Tony’s head, but the man knew how to handle a hostage, making sure Ben was in the way enough to make her shot close to impossible. Maggie liked close to impossible. But she still needed Tony alive.

  “Let him go, Giraldi, and you get to walk away from this,” Maggie said. “Hurt him anymore and I drop you.”

  “I don’t think so,” Tony said. “I have no idea what organization you are with, but if you had wanted me dead then you would have killed me before this mess even got started. So I think I will ask you to put down your pistol or I slit your boyfriend’s throat.”

  Ben only stared at her. With his one eye. The other was gone, replaced by a bloody rag that was packed in the empty socket. A quick glance and Maggie saw that Tony had also taken more than a couple of Ben’s fingers.

  “Why?” Maggie asked.

  “You will need to be more specific,” Tony replied. “I have many motivations to do many things, Ms… What do I call you?”

  “You don’t,” Maggie said. “Why did you torture Benjamin?”

  “I wanted to see who would show up,” Tony said. “I wasn’t exactly surprised it was you. Perfect placement, really. Put the handler in a romantic relationship with the asset so she can watch over him day and night. Was it hard? Faking your feelings for this man? Sleeping with him like a common whore? Pretending to like his children and care for them?”

  “I didn’t have to pretend anything,” Maggie said. “Benjamin is not my asset.”

  Tony’s grin faltered and a surge of joy rushed through Maggie as she watched the man try to puzzle out what she’d said.

  “I don’t believe you,” Tony said. He fished something out of his pocket, making sure the hand with the knife stayed in place. He held up a small disc and shook his head. “This is a subcutaneous bug. You were monitoring Blogger Boy.”

  “Big word for such a small brain,” Maggie said. “That doesn’t make Benjamin my asset.”

  “Then why would you put fifty thousand dollars worth of tech under his skin?” Tony shouted.

  “Because I love him,” Maggie said. “Have since the day I met him. You see, Giraldi, here is your problem. You don’t know how to trust. I understand that. I’m in a line of work where trust can get you killed. We have that in common. Except sometimes life slaps you in the face, kicks you in the ass, and shoves your nose in the deepest, darkest horrors all so you can be ready for the good that waits on the other side.”

  “You’ve lost me,” Tony admitted. He tossed the bug at her. “This doesn’t make sense.”

  “I met Benjamin because of my cover,” Maggie said. “His youngest daughter was a student of mine. I liked him. We talked way too long for a parent/teacher conference and neither of us wanted to stop talking. That is why we are together. Everything else came out of this. But not because I wanted it to. He had that bug on him so I could keep him safe from the dangers out there he has no idea exist. I just didn’t know I’d be the one forcing him into the danger.”

  “No,” Tony said. “Still doesn’t make sense. You are black ops for some organization. Government? Deep government? Coalition? Corporate? I am guessing very deep government. So far off the books that even those that are in the know don’t know about you. It would explain the Guillotine.”

  Maggie snorted at the name. “Hal? Please,” she laughed. “It cracks us up how the underworld is so scared of him. Did you know he collects Christmas stamps each year? He also raises racing pigeons.”

  “Many killers have hobbies,” Tony said. “Don’t try to tell me a man with hobbies can’t be a stone cold butcher.”

  “Oh, Hal is a lethal killer,” Maggie said. “So good that his victims are rarely ever found. Just a lot of blood, a severed appendage left behind, perhaps an ear, maybe some pieces of scalp with hair still attached. Any normal investigator would assume the victim was dead.”
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  Tony narrowed his eyes. “More assets. Rats and snitches that have served their purpose and are brought in. Deaths faked.”

  “You catch on fast for being such an imbecile,” Maggie said. “Hal is an expert at asset retrieval and obfuscation. He can fool the best of us, if he wants.”

  “Tanni…?” Ben whispered.

  “She’s quite possibly the safest teenage girl on this planet,” Maggie said. “All threats have already been removed from the equation. She will get to Bobbi’s house safe and sound and not even an Israeli strike force could get in there and harm her.”

  “Hoedown? Hoedown, come in!” Tumbler yelled into her earpiece. “We have a problem! Tweety is not responding and we’re hearing chopper rotors starting up! Can you get eyes on our bird? We need to know what is going down up on deck!”

  “Copy that, Tumbler,” Maggie said. “In the middle of a situation, but it’s about to be resolved. I will get you those eyes in two seconds.”

  “Make it one,” Tumbler responded. “Sheeran’s boat was lost when we landed. There’s no way off this ship without that bird. You copy?”

  “I copy,” Maggie said. “Tell me one thing, T. How pissed will brass be if Giraldi catches friendly fire?” Tony’s eyes went wide.

  “Pissed as hell, you know that,” Tumbler replied. “But people die. It’s a fact of life.”

  “Yes, people do die,” Maggie said. “Getting you eyes now.”

  She cleared her throat and her finger tensed on the 9mm’s trigger.

  “Knife gets dropped now,” Maggie said. “No countdown. Now.”

  “You can’t just—” Tony started, but never finished as the bullet from Maggie’s pistol entered his right eye and blew out the back of his skull.

  Maggie rushed forward and kicked Ben in the stomach, moving his body back just enough so as Tony’s corpse fell, the knife in his hand didn’t slice a gash through Ben’s throat.

  “Sit down,” Maggie ordered, taking Ben by the arm and shoving him onto the bloody bench. She nearly jumped as she saw Captain Staggs standing at the wheel, his hands bone white around the grip. “What the hell? You were in here the entire time and did nothing?”

  She brought her 9mm up.

  “I should put you down for that,” Maggie snarled.

  “My duty is to the ship and everyone on it,” Captain Staggs said. “I let go of this wheel and we are lost. Put me down or whatever it is you do, but I am keeping you, me, and Mr. Clow alive by doing exactly what it is I am doing.”

  Maggie hesitated then lowered her pistol. She hurried to the bridge’s windows and stared out at the water, her eyes searching for the NCDC ship.

  “Where is it?” she barked. “Where is the other ship?”

  “Behind us,” Captain Staggs said. “I could not stay close to it any longer.”

  “Shit,” Maggie growled as she hurried to the outside door. She yanked it open and wind and rain blew in at her, ripping at her clothes. “Shit.”

  She rushed into the storm, yanking the door closed behind her. The world was nothing but water. Water coming down in sheets from the sky, water rushing up in waves from the ocean. Water was everywhere. She squinted into the deluge and hunted for a sign of the NCDC ship. But she couldn’t see it. Without running lights, or a visible horizon to frame it against, the ship was a shadow on a black canvass.

  “Tumbler? This is Hoedown, come in,” Maggie called.

  “What do you have for me Hoedown?” Tumbler asked.

  “I do not have eyes,” Maggie said. “Not on the bird or on the ship. I can’t see you anywhere.”

  “Great,” Tumbler said. “We’ll figure it out. If the bird is gone then I need your authorization to call in another ride.”

  “I’ll do it,” Maggie said. “I think we’ll need it anyway. The creature is a lot larger than we thought and our containment equipment will not hold it, dead or alive.”

  “This won’t go over well,” Tumbler said.

  “Calling in a second bird is the least of my worries right now,” Maggie said. “Giraldi accidentally caught a bullet to the head. Couldn’t be helped.”

  “It probably could have, but I understand,” Tumbler said. “Call that bird so we can get the hell out of here.”

  “Roger that,” Maggie said. “Stay put and I’ll…”

  “Hoedown? You there? I think I lost you,” Tumbler said.

  “Can’t talk,” Maggie whispered and cut the com connection.

  She couldn’t see the other ship, but she could see something else. Something very large as it crawled its way across the main deck below, its tentacles acting as legs. Maggie lifted her pistol and the creature stopped. What little illumination came from the yacht’s running lights glinted off the thing’s eye as it rolled to stare up at Maggie.

  She took aim and fired, her finger squeezing the trigger six times. Before her finger was done with the last shot, the thing was rushing at her. Maggie couldn’t tell if she hit it or not, but if she did, the thing didn’t care.

  Maggie scrambled back to the bridge door and yanked it open as a tentacle shot out and wrapped itself around her thigh. She didn’t even think as she pressed her pistol to the tentacle and fired. The pain was intense as the bullet ripped through the soft tissue of the creature and tore into her quadriceps. Maggie angled her body so she fell inside the bridge. As her back slammed onto the floor, she emptied her magazine and was grateful to see the creature’s tentacle withdraw.

  “A little help,” Maggie grunted as she dragged herself into the bridge. She looked back at Captain Staggs and he just stared at her. “Asshole.”

  The wind and rain whipped about the bridge as Maggie ejected her magazine and put in a new one. White hot pain burned through her leg as she crawled over and grabbed the door’s handle, nearly collapsing from the effort as she yanked it shut and closed off the bridge to the maelstrom that brewed outside.

  “We’re going to have a talk when this is done,” Maggie said to Captain Staggs. She crawled over to the bench where Ben was laid out and leaned her back against the leather cushions that stuck out. “You’ll get points for keeping us alive, but I don’t think you’ll have much future as a ship’s captain.”

  “I feared that was my fate the day Mr. Sheeran took possession of the Lucky Sucker,” Captain Staggs replied. “I have a backup plan.”

  “So do I,” Maggie said. “You have a first aid kit?”

  Captain Staggs pointed at a blue and red box hanging from the wall a few feet away.

  “Really?” Maggie said.

  “I let go, we die,” Captain Staggs replied.

  Maggie painfully made her way over to the wall and pulled herself upright. She yanked the first aid kit off the wall and threw it onto the dash next to her. She found what she needed inside, tore open her pants, and got to work.

  Blood spilled everywhere as she sliced into her leg and extracted the bullet. Pain filled her mind as she did a hatchet job of suturing the wound. Even with the stitches, the gunshot still leaked more blood than Maggie was happy with.

  “Flare gun?” Maggie asked.

  That time Captain Staggs reached out and popped open a small drawer. He pulled out a bright red flare gun and tossed it to her. Maggie cracked it open and extracted the flare. She sliced through the plastic shell and poured a very small amount of the calcium phosphide into the wound. As soon as the powder hit the moisture of her blood, it began to burn, searing her skin and cauterizing the wound in less than a second.

  Maggie was not too proud to scream as the wound flared white hot, matching the pain that ripped through her. She almost collapsed, but kept it together enough to hobble back to the bench and plop down next to a dazed and traumatized Ben. She still held the flare shell and wiggled it in front of Ben’s face.

  “Your turn,” she said. “We need to stop those nubs from bleeding.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said, his eye barely focusing on Maggie. “I guess we do.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Maggie said an
d kissed him on the cheek. “For all of this.”

  “Me too,” Ben whispered and then closed his one eye. “Do it.”

  Maggie did it. Ben screamed then passed out.

  “I really hope you’ve turned this thing around and we are heading back in to shore,” Maggie said to Captain Staggs.

  “This isn’t a Mazda Miata,” Captain Staggs replied. “I can’t pull a u-turn and just head the other direction. But, yes, I have been in the process of reversing course for the past three hours.”

  “Keep on doing that,” Maggie said as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

  There was a scream from below and Maggie’s eyes shot back open.

  “The chef,” Maggie said. “Shit. I forgot about my plan.”

  She heaved herself up to her feet and walked over to Captain Staggs, handing him back his flare gun and flares.

  “You’ll need this,” Maggie said. “If anything tries to come through one of the vents, shoot it with a flare.”

  “That could set the entire ship on fire,” Captain Staggs exclaimed.

  “Fires can be put out,” Maggie shrugged. “Heads can’t be reattached. Think on that.”

  Captain Staggs gave her a look like that was the very last thing he wanted to think on.

  Maggie double checked her pistol, looked at the door, and limped her way off the bridge.

  “Tumbler? I’m going to engage the package,” Maggie called over the com. “Wish me luck.”

  There was no response, but she didn’t necessarily expect one.

  46.

  Tumbler heard Maggie’s words in his ear, but he was too busy at that moment to respond.

  “That side!” he shouted at Balls. “Get around the cockpit!”

  “I have a bead on her, T!” Dipstick shouted from his position on the deck. “Want me to take it?”

  “Hold!” Tumbler yelled, as much over the roaring wind as the helicopter’s whirring rotors. “Let’s try to salvage something from this mess! She may have the files!”