by Dave Barry
Seventeen
FAY WAS TRYING TO REMEMBER HER FIRST-AID training. She was kneeling next to Eddie. The bullet hole was just above his belt, a little to the right of center. Blood was starting to seep into Eddie’s white uniform.
Check the victim’s responses. That was the first thing Fay remembered. She bent over Eddie’s face. His eyes were open.
“Captain!” she shouted. “Can you hear me?”
Eddie moaned.
OK, he’s conscious. Now . . . OK, now check the victim’s pulse.
Fay felt his pulse.
OK, he has a pulse. Now what? NOW WHAT?
“Does anybody know first aid?” Fay said, over her shoulder.
Nobody responded except Mara, who said, “Oh my God.”
Wally thought, I wish I knew first aid.
“OK, listen,” said Fay. “We need to get him help right now. There has to be a doctor on this ship, or somebody who knows first aid. We need to get somebody up here.”
“You mean go outside?” said Johnny.
“Yes,” said Fay.
“But that guy said he’d shoot us,” said Johnny.
Fay shook her head. “He said that to scare us. They’re not gonna stand around up here. They’re gonna get the hell off this ship as fast as they can. This guy needs help now.”
Nobody moved.
“Look,” said Fay. “I’ll go out the door first, OK? You’ll see it’s safe. Then I want you guys”—she pointed to Wally, Ted, and Johnny—“to go find a doctor or anybody who knows first aid and get him up here fast. You”—she pointed to Mara—“go to the cashier’s cage. They must have a guard in there, somebody with a gun. They might have some kind of alarm or emergency radio. Tell them what’s going on. Tell them we need somebody up here right now who can run the ship. You two”—she pointed at Arnie and Phil—“stay here and help the captain.”
“Help him how?” said Arnie.
“Put something over the wound,” said Fay. “Don’t press it hard, though. Try to keep him conscious. We’ll get somebody up here to treat him and run the ship. But whatever you do, do NOT leave this man, you understand?”
“I got it,” said Arnie.
Fay was on her feet. “Let’s go,” she said.
“What about you?” said Wally.
“What do you mean?” said Fay.
“Where are you going?” said Wally.
“I’m going to the back of the ship,” said Fay.
“Oh my God,” said Mara.
“Why?” said Wally.
“Because that’s my job,” said Fay.
She went down the stairs, followed by Wally, Ted, Johnny, and Mara. She paused at the steel door, then turned the latch and shoved it open. She stuck her head out. Behind her, Wally winced.
Nothing happened.
“OK,” Fay said, stepping into the hallway.
“She has more balls than I do,” said Ted.
“Than all three of us,” said Johnny.
He’s right, thought Wally.
The three musicians followed Fay into the hallway. Behind them came Mara. As she left the stairwell, she let go of the steel door, which closed with a solid THUNK.
TARK STOOD WITH HIS BACK AGAINST THE SHIP, TEC-9 at the ready, waiting. He looked around at the scene of carnage he’d created: He had Bobby Kemp and Rebar on the ship, representing one side of the gunfight. Representing the other side were the six bodies sprawled on the platform, Hank Wilde, Manny Arquero and his crew of four, Manny and two of the others holding guns in their lifeless hands. It looked convincing to Tark.
He checked his watch. It had been almost ten minutes since the ship had started moving. Where were they?
. . . ROAR VROOM WHAM “FUCK!” “FASTER!” ROAR VROOM WHAM “FUCK!” “FASTER!” ROAR VROOM WHAM “FUCK!” “FASTER!” ROAR VROOM WHAM “FUCK!” “FASTER!” ROAR VROOM WHAM . . .
IN THE FIRST-DECK CASINO, A CUBAN LADY named Celia sat at a stool in front of a slot machine, one of six machines forming a little nook, three on each side. She reached into her plastic cup, took out yet another quarter, stuck it into the slot, and pushed the PLAY button. She watched the wheels spin and stop, one by one . . . a bell . . . a seven . . . a line.
“Ni agua,” she announced, to nobody, for probably the eightieth time that night. Not even water.
As Celia prepared to put in another quarter, she felt somebody brush close behind her, into the nook. She turned, and at first saw nobody; then she looked down, and saw a man crouched next to her stool, hiding. He was naked. He was also, Celia could not help but note, good-looking, in a Brad Pitt kind of way, although Celia’s heart belonged to Julio Iglesias.
Celia heard shouting, and turned around to see a tall blonde woman, wearing a casino uniform, running along the banks of slot machines, waving a knife. Celia, a smart lady, understood instantly who the woman was looking for. She turned and looked down at the naked man. He looked at her and held a finger to his lips, shhhh.
Celia turned back and watched the blonde woman run past. She was shouting, but Celia could not make out any words except “understand.” As soon as the woman was past, the naked man jumped and began running in the opposite direction, toward the stern of the ship. Celia could not help but notice that he had a nice butt.
The naked man’s path took him right next to one of Celia’s friends, Luba, who, already freaked by the lady with the knife, screamed. The scream got the attention of the knife woman, who turned, saw the naked man fleeing, and took off after him, still shouting.
Celia and Luba watched her sprint past. When they had disappeared astern, Luba turned to Celia.
“Vistes eso?” she said. Did you see that?
Celia nodded. “Tremendo cuerpo,” she said. Nice body.
Eighteen
“IS THERE A DOCTOR HERE?” WALLY SHOUTED. “IS ANYBODY HERE A DOCTOR?” He looked frantically around the second-deck casino. A few gamblers glanced up from their slot machines or gaming tables; some even took the time to shake their heads at him. The rest continued to concentrate on losing money. If somebody was sick, that wasn’t their problem.
Wally was about to shout again when he saw Johnny trotting toward him, pulling, by the hand, a fifty-ish woman. Ted trotted behind them.
“She’s a nurse,” said Johnny.
“Ma’am, can you help us?” said Wally.
“I’ll try,” she said.
“Great,” said Wally. “Show her where the captain is, OK?”
“OK,” said Johnny, heading toward the stairwell, nurse in tow.
“Go with him, Ted,” said Wally. “I’m gonna go see if Fay needs help.”
“You’re gonna what?” said Ted. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“Ted,” said Wally. “She’s down there alone.”
“You heard her,” said Ted. “That’s her job.”
“I know,” said Wally. “But what if she needs help?”
“How’re you gonna help her, Wally?” said Ted. “You think she’s gonna need a guitar solo?”
“Ted, listen,” said Wally. “This is like on nine-eleven, on that one plane, the one they were gonna crash into the White House, where those passengers, regular people, they didn’t let it happen. They stood up to the hijackers, Ted. They showed some balls. They said, hey, fuck you, hijackers, you’re not gonna get away with this.”
Ted stared at him. “Wally,” he said. “All those people died.”
Wally was quiet for a moment. “I gotta go,” he said.
THE CASHIER’S CAGE WAS AT THE FAR AFT END of the second deck. It was staffed by three people: two cashiers, named Judi and Jennifer, who handled the cash transactions, selling rolls of quarters, turning loose quarters back into cash, and so forth; and a guard named Karl, who wore a revolver on his hip and sat on a chair behind them, watching a small battery-operated TV. All three had been recruited and trained by Manny Arquero, and they answered only to him. If Manny told them to do something—and there had been some highly unusual transactions
aboard the Extravaganza—they did it, and they did not ask questions.
One of the things Manny had been most emphatic about was what to do in case of an emergency. The procedure was simple: The instant that any of the cashier’s-cage personnel had even the slightest reason to think that something suspicious was happening, he or she was to hit one of the two panic buttons, one under the counter and one on the back wall. This would cause a motorized steel shutter to roll down quickly and seal off the cage.
The shutter had a small bulletproof Plexiglas window. If the cashiers saw Manny Arquero in that window, and he made an “OK” sign, they were to push the button that rolled up the shutter. If they didn’t see Manny, or if they saw Manny, but he made some other gesture—even a thumbs-up—they were to leave the shutter down. They were not to open the shutter for anybody but Manny. He was very explicit on that point.
So this is what happened:
Karl had his TV tuned to the news. He had just told Judi and Jennifer how, apparently, from what he understood, a TV news truck had rammed head-on into an ambulance carrying some TV news people who got hurt when another TV news truck crashed, and it looked like everybody involved was dead, and the male and female co-anchors were now on camera holding each other and bawling like babies.
Jennifer had just gotten up to see this for herself, when Mara came running up to the counter, looking frantic.
“There’s been a shooting!” she shouted. “The captain was shot. Hurry!”
“What?” said Judi and Jennifer, simultaneously.
“The captain,” said Mara. “He was shot. And some men at the back. The conch shot them.”
“The conch did?” said Judi, but at this point, the steel shutter was already descending, Jennifer and Karl having simultaneously pressed panic buttons.
“Wait!” said Mara. “You need to . . .”
BANG. The cashier’s cage was sealed.
“Oh my God,” said Mara.
THE THING WAS, KAZ WAS NOT AS STUPID AS Tark thought he was. Kaz was smart enough to consider the possibility that Tark would try to screw his partners. The original deal was that Tark would get half the money, since it was his plan and his boat; Kaz, Holman, and Rebar would get the other half, which was a sixth apiece. But it was a sixth of a huge pie. Plenty for everybody, especially Tark, who’d have more money than he could ever spend. But Kaz understood that Tark was capable of trying to take the whole pie, crazy as that was. Because, as Kaz had come to understand, Tark was one crazy motherfucker.
This was why, for safety’s sake, Kaz had made a slight alteration to Tark’s plan. The plan called for him and Holman to return to the stern with their guns hidden in their gym bags, so they wouldn’t attract attention going through the ship. But Kaz had decided, just in case, that before he and Holman emerged at the stern, they’d stop and get their guns back out, just in case.
Kaz had also worked it out so that Holman would be the first man through the door to the stern platform. Holman was not as smart as Kaz.
. . . ROAR VROOM WHAM “FUCK!” “FASTER!” ROAR VROOM WHAM “FUCK!” “FASTER!” ROAR VROOM WHAM “FUCK!” “FASTER!” ROAR VROOM WHAM “FUCK!” “FASTER!” ROAR VROOM WHAM . . .
UP ON THE BRIDGE, ARNIE HAD GOTTEN DOWN ON his knees—this took him almost thirty seconds—and was peering into the very pale face of Eddie Smith, whose eyes were now closed. Phil hovered behind Arnie.
“Is he conscious?” said Phil. “She said keep him conscious.”
“What am I, Florence Nightingale?” said Arnie. “CAPTAIN? CAN YOU HEAR ME? CAPTAIN?”
Eddie opened his eyes, focused on Arnie’s face, three inches away.
“It hurts,” he said.
“He says it hurts,” said Phil.
“I HEARD HIM,” said Arnie. “I’m the one down here. We need something for the wound. Get me something.”
“Like a bandage?” said Phil.
“No, like a pastrami sandwich, you idiot. Of course like a bandage!”
“I got a handkerchief,” said Phil.
“Let me take a look at it,” said Arnie.
Phil pulled a handkerchief out of his pants pocket, unfolded it, and displayed it for Arnie.
“You blow your nose in that tonight?” said Arnie.
Phil thought about it.
“Twice,” he said.
“It’ll have to do,” said Arnie, grabbing it.
Nineteen
HOLMAN APPROACHED THE DOORWAY TO THE platform, TEC-9 in hand. Kaz was right behind him. Holman could see most of the platform now, and it troubled him somewhat that neither Rebar nor Tark was visible. He stopped at the doorway, looked back at Kaz, then stuck his head out.
“Come ON, man,” said Tark, his voice causing Holman to jerk his head to the left, where Tark was standing, his back against the ship, his gun at his side.
Holman hesitated, not liking this.
“Come ON,” repeated Tark. “Let’s get the fuck outta here. Where’s Kaz?”
“Where’s Rebar?” said Holman.
“In the Zodiac,” said Tark, pointing to the left.
Holman hesitated, then slipped his finger inside the trigger guard, then took a step forward, which was what he needed in order to see over the platform to where the inflatable was tied. It took him only a half second to see that Rebar wasn’t in the inflatable, and to start his turn toward Tark. But that was a quarter-second too long. Tark’s three shots caught him—pop belly pop chest pop chest—before he could squeeze his trigger, and in another second Holman had joined the growing population of dead thugs on the stern platform.
Tark didn’t watch the body fall. His eyes were riveted on the doorway. Ten seconds passed, twenty. Nothing.
“OK,” Tark shouted. “WE CAN SPLIT IT, FIFTY-FIFTY.”
Nothing.
Tark knew Kaz was in there. “I DID YOU A FAVOR, GETTING RID OF THEM,” he shouted. “DON’ T TELL ME YOU NEVER THOUGHT OF IT.”
Inside the doorway, Kaz almost smiled. He had thought of it. Half of the pie. But he’d seen enough of Tark to know there was no chance of a deal.
“OK,” he shouted. “YOU GOT A DEAL.”
“OK,” shouted Tark. He moved quietly to his left, to the body of Manny Arquero. He took the AK-47 out of Manny’s stiffening hands and moved back to the side of the doorway. He shouted, “I’M GONNA PUT MY GUN DOWN WHERE YOU CAN SEE IT, OK?”
Tark put his TEC-9 on the platform and shoved it with his foot. It slid in front of the doorway.
“OK,” he shouted. “NOW COME ON AND LET’S GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE.”
Thirty seconds passed.
“WE CAN’T STAY HERE ALL NIGHT, MAN,” said Tark.
Twenty seconds passed.
OK, Tark decided, Kaz was smarter than the other two. He glanced over at the Zodiac. Four steps and a jump, he’d be in it. If he was quiet, Kaz wouldn’t know he’d left the doorway until he had the boat untied and drifting away. Then he’d make some noise, bring Kaz out. Kaz would have to come out, because he’d know Tark was getting away with all the money. But Tark would have the advantage then, because he knew where Kaz would be, and Kaz would have to find him, in the dark. He’d shoot Kaz, start the Zodiac outboard, come back and untie his boat, sink it. It could still work.
And it probably would have worked, exactly as Tark had figured it, except that when he shoved off from the wall, he slipped on the wet platform. And though he caught himself before he went down, the barrel of his gun thumped loudly against the platform. Tark was up again and running in an instant, but Kaz, who had anticipated that Tark would make a run for the Zodiac—What else could he do?—heard the thump, and was out of the doorway in an instant. It was an easy shot, close range, Tark with his back to him and no way to fire back. Kaz, not wanting to shoot the inflatable, took the time to bring his TEC-9 up and aim carefully.
Which is what he was doing when Jock, still naked, still moving fast, came barreling out of the doorway, directly into Kaz, who lurched violently sideways, off the edge o
f the platform and into the Atlantic Ocean.
JOHNNY YANKED ON THE STEEL DOOR TO THE bridge. “It’s locked,” he said.
Ted pounded on the door. “OPEN UP,” he shouted. “WE GOT A NURSE.”
Nothing.
Ted pounded some more, then Johnny took over, then Ted again. They pounded for a full minute.
Nothing.
“What do we do now?” said Johnny.
Ted thought. “We go ask that Coast Guard lady,” he said. “She’s the one with the plan.”
“I dunno, man,” said Johnny. “She went back where the gun guys are.”
“I know,” said Ted. “So did Wally.”
“Wally’s down there?” said Johnny.
“Yup,” said Ted.
“Oh, man,” said Johnny.
WALLY TROTTED THE LENGTH OF THE FIRST-DECK casino, looking for Fay. He reached the bar at the stern, where he found Joe Sarmino, for probably the tenth time, turning off and then turning on his cell phone, in hopes that this time it would say something besides NO SERVICE.
“Hey,” said Wally. “Have you seen Fay? The barmaid?”
“Yes,” said Joe. “She go running through here a minute ago, that way, after all those other people.”
“What other people?” said Wally.
Joe rolled his eyes.
“You wouldn’t believe,” he said. “Couple big guys holding bags, then a guy with no clothes on, then a lady with a knife. Then your friend Fay.”
“That way?” said Wally, pointing toward the stairwell.
