Tooms walked up to the adjoining desks and sat down, the phone still in his hand. Tony looked across. “What’s up?” he asked.
Tooms lifted the cell phone so that Tony could see it. “Does this guy attract trouble, or does he go looking for it?” Tony asked.
The other man just shrugged and pushed the remaining part of his snack into his mouth. Tony threw the file back on the pile and stretched out. “What is it with this case?” he yelled, feeling helpless.
Tooms put his phone away and leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “We wait for CSU, find out what they got. We know this guy was shot, that’s a cert.” Tooms pushed down on his left index finger as if he were counting. “What else we got?”
Tony shook his head “Nothing. We got no motive, no suspects. Nothing at all.” He looked tired and felt it.
His colleague picked up the beige file from his in-tray. Typed on top of a dotted line, the name ‘Bill Foster’ sat next to a case number. He opened it and read the report. It seemed a simple suicide but after the past few days he had the feeling that it was going to be less than simple.
Tony looked over at Tooms, who was engrossed in his case file. “Don’t tell me you got a weird one as well?”
Tooms shook his head. “No, this dude decided to go to work and remove the back of his head with a .45.”
Tony winced at the though.t “Ouch!” His face creased up. “Tell you what. I bet I’ll have finished mine before you’ve finished the paperwork on yours.”
Tooms laughed as he watched Tony type with his two index fingers. Without looking, he raised one of them as a signal to Tooms.
“Yeah, yeah. You know I am right, baby.” Tony’s thoughts were elsewhere. His thoughts were on the shooting of John Barr and whether this was the beginning of something terrible.
FOURTEEN
Steel had looked everywhere for Tia May without success. He had hoped she had made it away from the scene of the shooting and was at least on the way back from somewhere safe. Not everyone was back on board yet, it was too early. No, he would have to wait until the final boarding at six and check with the loadmaster to make sure everyone was aboard.
As he sat in the Irish Bar he watched the people wander past aimlessly, caught up in their own little worlds, innocent smiles of complete bliss chiselled across their faces. They were happy, and why shouldn’t they be? They were away from the chaos of normal life and were now lounging in luxury.
His eyes searched the bar. Strange, he thought: the waitress wasn’t there. The waitress who seemed to pop up at every place where he was eating or drinking. Sure, he reasoned, all the staff were working on the ship for the money, and she could have been taking on the extra jobs to earn more cash.
Then he remembered the other night, when the two gorillas had followed Tia and him to the elevator. No, Tia was definitely part of something and he promised himself next time they met that he would find out what it was. He looked up as the pretty young waitress brought him his coffee. She still wore that strange smile that made her eyes disappear into cute little slits as her broad smile crinkled up her rosy cheeks. He grinned warmly and thanked her. Steel lifted the coffee cup and inhaled the bitter aroma of cooked Jamaican beans.
The smell was intoxicating. This was his first coffee of the day and it was midday. Technically, it was his second cup, but he never got the first because some silly sod decided to redecorate the coffee shop with 7.62 mm ammunition.
He remembered the bodies lying in a mixture of plaster and broken glass, and the floor covered by the blood of the innocent, and he wondered why it had happened and who was the perpetrator? Sure, he recognised the uniform of one of the men. But why were they there? To kill him? Then Steel remembered what the shooter had said about ‘Being with her’. They were not there for him, but to get Tia and the other guy. She was the key and he had to find out where she fitted.
John Steel took the small aluminium spoon and placed it on the polished wooden surface. Holding the thin neck of the spoon between his thumb and index finger, he began to spin it slowly. His eyes stared forward but he was not really looking at anything, was just focused on a single point, his thoughts elsewhere. Suddenly he heard an unwelcome but familiar voice. His eyes focused back to reality as Jonathan Grant entered the bar. Steel looked up to see his grinning face approaching.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Grant, you look awfully pleased with something,” he greeted him.
Grant sat down on the cushioned seat opposite Steel. “This trip is turning out to be better than I expected.” His voice almost trembled with excitement.
Steel stopped spinning the spoon and placed it inside the empty cup. “Do tell,” Steel asked, intrigued but also anxious at what the man may have discovered.
Grant leaned forwards, dropping his voice to a whisper: “At some point an engineer was found hung, then today two men shot up a restaurant in the town.” He sat back almost laughing with joy.
“Tell me more about the shooting.” Of course Steel knew all that was to know, but he wanted to get another viewpoint of the story.
The two men looked up as the waitress came up to them and smiled. “Hi, can I get you anything?”
Steel pushed his cup forwards, returning her smile. As she looked at him her expression changed to a dreamy-eyed look.
“Another coffee would be great, thank you.” As he looked at her he saw her knees buckle slightly.
“Can I get one as well?” Grant asked.
She nodded but her gaze was fixed on Steel, even as she walked away.
“Unbelievable.” Grant’s words were bitter with jealousy.
“Anyway, you were saying?” Steel replied, sitting back in the booth, his arm resting along the cushioned backrest.
“Yes, well it appears that some sort of terrorists decided to shoot up a restaurant in the town. Nobody knows why or who, just that the police took out one of the gunmen and the other got away.”
Steel noted the obvious lie that the police had told the press. Sure, they may have taken him down eventually but he would have taken a lot of them with him. “Wow, it sounds like you’ve been enjoying yourself.”
Grant nodded happily as he flicked through his notes.
“And what was that about an engineer?”
Grant looked up from his notebook as the waitress brought their orders. She place the cups onto the wooden surface and left, still gazing at Steel. Grant grabbed the sugar dispenser and measured out two teaspoons into the dark liquid. “Oh yeah, so it turns out that one of the crew tripped or something and ended up hanging himself with the cable he was carrying.”
Steel just sipped his coffee and pretended to seem interested in the story. “Sounds like you’re having the cruise of a lifetime, Jonathan.”
Grant nodded enthusiastically as he looked down at his cup, stirring in the sugar. He looked up, the smile disappearing from his face as he felt Steel’s questioning eyes upon him.
“Now wait a minute,” Grant blustered. “You don’t think for one minute I had anything to do with any of this, do you?”
John placed his cup on the saucer. “Do I think you orchestrated a shoot-up in a restaurant and threw a man to his death just to get a good story that you would be able to report?” Steel mockingly stared upwards as if he was pondering the question, then leant back in his seat. “Okay, I have heard of reporters doing anything for a story but that goes a little too far, don’t you think?”
Grant looked relieved as he took a sip from the hot coffee.
“So tell me, Jonathan. Where is all this information coming from?”
The reporter sat back, a smug look on his face. “I have got my contacts here and there.”
Steel nodded. Thoughts ran through his head as to who the snitch could be. “I suppose it must be useful to have one of the crew in your back pocket.”
Grant looked up over his cup as he took another sip. At that moment Steel knew one of the crew had to have been present at both places. They had to have been.
It was the only thing that made any sense. How else would they have known about both incidences? Just unlucky or at the right place at the right time? The captain had told all those present at the engineer’s crime scene to tell no one. And as for the shooting, that wouldn’t be common knowledge for some time.
Grant looked at him, puzzled for a moment. “So you didn’t know anything about either occurrence?”
The other man shrugged. “Things have been a little slow.”
Jonathan Grant look at Steel and his mouth dropped as he saw the side of his mouth raise slightly. “You were there, weren’t you? And what about the boy’s murder?”
The investigator scowled at Grant for even suggesting he had something to do with the boy’s death.
“Sorry.” Grant’s eyes fell away from Steel’s hard gaze, ashamed. “But the restaurant. Were you nearby? Did you see anything?”
Steel’s eyebrows rose up as he shot Grant a look that could only mean one thing.
“So you were there when the shooting took place. How the hell did you get out?” Grant thought for a moment then looked up again at Steel. “I’ve got it! The gunman. It wasn’t the police that got him, was it? It was you?” Suddenly Grant didn’t know whether to feel afraid or safe. “What happened?”
Aware that he’d learn nothing from the reporter, Steel decided to humour him. “Well, I heard about this nice square and the excellent restaurant so I decided to go and get some fresh air and culture.”
Grant watched him closely, his ears picking up the details of Steel’s ordeal. “Went inside and enjoyed the view until some silly sod decided to redecorate with a heavy machine gun. I and a few others managed to get out in time.” Steel paused for a second. His mood turned sombre. “Others were not as lucky.”
The other man nodded, imagining what had happened. “I can understand why you killed the gunman.”
Steel looked back at Grant and shook his head. “I wanted him alive. However, someone else disagreed with that decision.”
The reporter put more sugar into his coffee and stirred. “Did you see who it was?”
Steel shook his head. “No, but I have the feeling that if I had I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”
Jonathan Grant nodded with understanding. “Have you noticed how things are beginning to happen and they all revolve around this ship? There is a story here and I intend to find it.”
Steel sat up straight and leant forwards, his elbows rested on the table. “Mr Grant—Jonathan. As a friend, I’d suggest that you don’t go investigating anything. Leave it to me and I’ll tell you everything when the time is right.”
Grant looked both puzzled and worried, “Tell me, Mr Black. Is there a particular reason why you don’t want me looking into things?” Steel sat for a moment saying nothing, and Grant could see that he was thinking.
“Look, I just think that things may become, let’s say troublesome.”
The reporter played with his cup, then he looked across at Steel. “Tell me, Mr Black, do you look for trouble or does it find you?”
Steel looked over at Grant and smiled. “Maybe a little of both.”
Grant stood up and downed the rest of his coffee, then he smiled back and threw down a five-dollar bill onto the table next to his cup. “Look, Tony, I appreciate the concern but I do have a job to do, plus I have been in sticky situations before. I’ll be fine, really.”
Steel envisaged things getting a lot more intense and he thought it would be best if Grant wasn’t part of the damage count. Grant had grown on Steel even though he didn’t usually like reporters. And he had to admit that Grant had been right, there was definitely something going on and it did indeed revolve around the ship and Tia. Steel’s eyes fixed onto a shop window as his mind began to wander.
Why did Tia have to meet the contact there at that particular restaurant? As he looked out of the window he couldn’t help but notice the fresh faces, faces that had new excitement written on them, which meant new passengers and ultimately new suspects. Once everyone was aboard, the ship would be at full passenger capacity, over seven thousand people on a floating city. Steel and Grant looked up as they heard the loud blast of the ship’s horn signalling to all get on board in the next hour or swim.
John Steel looked across at the other man. “Look, Grant, you may be right, but please don’t do any reports just yet, okay?”
The reporter considered for a moment then nodded. “Okay, we do it your way for now. But first chance you have, you’ve got to tell me everything. Deal?”
Steel smiled. “Okay, deal.”
With that, Grant turned and headed for the door. Steel sat alone for a while, his thoughts racing round in his head like a hamster on a wheel. He stood up and headed for the door. As he walked past the bar, he placed down a ten-dollar bill without stopping. The bartender yelled an appreciative farewell as he watched Steel disappear into the crowds.
That morning, as the crowds of people hurried their way around the small town of Vigo, others decided to remain to watch a film in one of the five theatres, or just lazed around by the pools. The hallways and corridors of the ship seemed peaceful, allowing the cleaning staff the opportunity to make the most of the emptiness.
Outside the temperature was rising. Even though it was around eleven o’clock it was in the high teens. Inside it was a comfortable twelve degrees for those who felt that the baking sun was a little too much.
A woman looked out of the large glass panelled windows and surveyed the view of the port and the town beyond. She smiled confidently as she turned and walked down the corridor behind her. She was tall and in her late thirties. Her maroon leather one-piece cat suit hugged her supermodel figure. Her long black leather boots had flat rubber bottoms, which fell silently with each step. Her shoulder-length black hair glistened like the pelt of a panther. The blue of her deep-set eyes reflected the overhead lamps, making them sparkle.
She stopped at a door and leant against the coolness of the wood panelling. Then she looked around and slipped the fake key card into the slot. The click as the bolt was disengaged cheered her. She opened the door and slipped inside. The cabin was dimly lit apart from the columns of light streaming from the porthole windows. Inside the captain’s room she stopped to get her bearings. Moving round slowly in the middle, she scanned the room for possible hiding places.
The safe was worth looking at, she thought to herself. Then she shook her head, rejecting the safe as being too obvious. The woman moved with the grace of a ballerina as she glided across the wooden flooring towards his desk. Pulling out the drawers she reached inside the empty compartment to check for any foreign bodies. She frowned as her search failed. For ten minutes she searched high and low for secret compartments and drawers, only to be disappointed again. Distraught, she sat in the captain’s chair and swivelled round towards the desk.
“Where the hell have you put it, old man?” she whispered, her voice almost sounding impressed with his ingenuity. As she moved round her foot snagged a board under the antique desk. She froze and looked down, careful not to move her foot. Slowly she half got up and pushed the chair away, her foot remaining in place. She knelt down onto the other knee then moved her hand forwards to her foot. Using her gloved hand, she swept the floor, looking for any anomaly in the floor.
As her hand moved over one board it seemed to be slightly raised up, as if it didn’t sit quite right. She searched the desk for a letter opener or something with an edge. She felt the excitement build as she found the silver-plated opener on an antique office set. Finding the edge of the board, she used the point to prise it upwards. The sound of wood against wood filled her ears as the board came up with ease. Below it, the hole was deep, as though purpose-made to hide something. She reached down carefully until the tips of her fingers nudged against something, she moved in deeper and retrieved the box that young Walter had given the captain before his untimely end.
Raising it up, she smiled, the image of her prize reflected in her eyes. Repl
acing the board and the letter opener, she stood up with her back to the doorway. She made a quick check that nothing was out of place, then slipped the box into a small bag hanging from her back. Her smug expression turned to a look of surprise as someone stood before her in the shadows.
“You! What are you doing here?”
She was astounded to see the figure in front of her. “I got it. I was just about to—” Her body convulsed as the taser bit through her uniform as the attacker pressed the device against her chest. As her body hit the floor hard, she began twitching as the nerves in her body were sent into neural chaos.
The Neptune was taking on fresh food and passengers. She was also taking on fuel and cargo. This was the last stop before the six-day ocean voyage docked in New York for the presentation to commemorate its maiden voyage. The company had wanted to name the ship Titanic 2, but superstition and respect for the original Titanic’s victims had forgotten the idea.
Steel had checked with the loadmaster, Mr. Sing, who had confirmed that everyone was on board. Steel sighed with relief that Tia had made it. As he looked out of one of the large plated windows, he watched as the evening sun was about to kiss the horizon. The sky bled a fiery orange with wisps of purple clouds. Behind him weary passengers made their way back to their cabins after an eventful day ashore, laden with bags full of souvenirs they had bought for friends and relatives.
He felt a sense of contentment as he watched them in the reflection. The ship seemed to be alive again. All around him was loud conversation and children’s complaints of tiredness. He closed his eyes and let the moment wash over him.
Thoughts about being back in the city filled his mind. He smiled fondly as he remembered Samantha McCall’s lovely face.
Distant music snapped him out of his trance. It was oriental music—Chinese. His eyes scanned the balcony and he noticed that down below, in a glass-fronted room, a man was teaching Tai Chi. Steel leaned on the balcony and looked down at the group of around twenty people, young and old, following the man’s every move. Steel guessed that the Chinese man was in his late fifties, yet he moved with grace and concentration. Steel’s gaze was blurred by memory, a memory of pain, death and rebirth.
Operation:UNITY (John Steel series Book 2) Page 17
