“I’ll pay you,” Ruby said, but Dylan shook his head.
“We’ve been through this before. No thanks are necessary. Truly.”
“It puts everything in perspective, doesn’t it?” Jackson said. “Until yesterday, my biggest worry was that I’d be declared bankrupt. That’s no big deal, is it?”
“No.”
“I still can’t believe—”
“Shush,” Ruby silenced him. “We’re leaving the ship and flying home first thing in the morning, Dylan. Meanwhile, we may as well enjoy the lights. We can worry about everything tomorrow.”
The two left him alone and Dylan gazed up at the sky. The lights swirled above him, teasing him. Just when he thought they were dying away and the show was over, they’d swirl across the black sky and dance even more brightly.
Luke came to join him. “You must owe me about twenty quid, Dad.”
“What? How come?”
“You said the F-word at least forty times.”
“Yes, well.” He owed Luke more than twenty pounds. Without his quick thinking, they could all have been dead.
If Dylan had known exactly what he was dealing with, he would have said and done a lot worse. He’d assumed Lloyd had somehow tampered with the electrics in their cabin. When he’d told Luke and Bev to get the hell out, he’d worried about electrocution or a fire. The idea of a bomb had crossed his mind too, but only briefly. He had completely underestimated Lloyd.
“That stuff he put in our cabin,” Luke said. “What would it have done to us?”
“It would have made us feel a bit sick.” As soon as that shower had been switched on, they would have inhaled the toxic fumes and been dead within minutes. He gave Luke’s shoulder a squeeze and thanked every god known that the kid had had the sense to alert him. “And it might have made us cough.”
“I knew there was something odd about him.”
Odd didn’t even begin to sum up the evil that was Mike Lloyd. If Dylan had suspected for one moment—but he hadn’t. It was the police who’d unearthed reports on Lloyd that told of his experimenting with chemicals. But sarin—Christ! That was chemical warfare at its most deadly.
Lloyd was insane. He’d been kicked out of the army on the strength of psychiatric reports and had vowed vengeance on the world. He’d got involved with Muslim terrorists, not because of their beliefs but because he had a thirst for killing.
Dylan’s one regret was that he hadn’t killed the bloke. He would never forget him though. Lloyd would end up in a mental institution, hopefully one that kept its inmates dressed in straitjackets behind good solid bars, but if the day came when Lloyd was released, Dylan would be waiting for him.
“Hey, champagne,” Luke said. “Can I have some?”
The passengers were in party mood thanks to the appearance of the northern lights. Waiters moved among them with champagne-laden trays. People laughed and cheered. It was a time for celebration.
“I expect so.” Dylan slipped his arm round Luke’s shoulder. “Come on.”
They rejoined Bev, Freya and Dylan’s mother to drink champagne and watch the greatest light show on earth.
And later Dylan would return to his bed to be used and abused by those Norwegian nymphs. Life wasn’t all bad.
* * * * *
For further adventures with our stalwart sleuth, check out the first three Dylan Scott mysteries, available now.
Presumed Dead
Dead Silent
Silent Witness
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About the Author
Shirley was born and raised in the Cotswolds, where her headmaster wrote on her school report—Shirley is content to dream her life away.
Years later—as an adult living in Cyprus—it dawned on her that this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing and that fellow dreamers, in the guise of fiction writers, had been getting away with it for centuries.
A move to the Orkney island of Hoy followed and, during the twelve years she spent there, she wrote short stories as well as full-length romantic fiction for UK women’s magazines.
She’s now settled in Lancashire, where the Pennines provide the inspiration and setting for her popular mystery novels. She and her husband share their home with an ever-changing selection of deranged pets, who often insist on cameo roles in Shirley’s novels.
When she isn’t writing, Shirley loves reading (anything and everything), listening to live music, watching TV, eating chocolate and drinking whisky—though not necessarily at the same time. She’s also a season ticket holder at Burnley Football Club and can often be seen in the biting wind and pouring rain cheering on her favourite team.
And she’s still content to dream her life away.
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ISBN: 978-14268-9388-9
Copyright © 2012 by Shirley Wells
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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Dead Calm (A Dylan Scott Mystery) Page 13
