Deep Devil (The Deep Book 4)

by Nick Sullivan

  Angler had been thinking about that for the last half hour. Stallion was dead and all they had to show for this op were the down payments. All of the plans that “Palantir” had laid out for them—specifically, anything beyond boarding the helicopter—had to be considered worthless. Fortunately, he had done a little planning of his own. All three of them had ditched their tactical gear over the side and were now dressed as typical tourists from a stash of clothes Angler had stowed in the hold. Their larger weapons had also been gifted to the fishes, though they each retained a sidearm.

  “Tolstoy, take us north around the coast. There are marinas in the bay on the north side. We’ll pull in somewhere and pretend to gas up… then just ditch the boat and head into town. Lay low until we can arrange passage out.”

  “Ooh! I want to go to Hell!” Tolstoy crowed.

  “What the hell are you talking about, Boris?” Potluck asked.

  “Is little place on island. It has own post office! I want to get postcard with postmark for to send to Wagner Group bastards. Greetings from Hell!”

  Angler laughed. He was going to miss his band of lunatics.

  “The helicopter was right where the waypoint was,” Stavros told them. “In a construction site. The bomb squad is there now. No sign of Nicholas.”

  They were waiting outside the med bay at the doctor’s request. Karras had suffered a heart attack, and although the old man was stabilized, he had not yet regained consciousness. Lyra kept looking through the small windows in the double doors. Footsteps sounded from a neighboring corridor and a familiar pair of faces turned the corner.

  “Keith!” Em called out. “Are you all right?”

  The young man smiled broadly. “You’re asking me? I’m glad to see you two are alive and well! You missed out on some Billy Joel. I had a truly ‘captive’ audience in that hall, and I made the best of it. Were you looking for this young lady?”

  “Hey Chloe, good to see you,” Boone said. The redhead looked a little shell-shocked, but none the worse for wear. “We could use your skills. Remember that little vulnerability you mentioned? I have a feeling it was put in there on purpose. By Nicholas Othonos.”

  Chloe’s face lit up. “That would explain a lot. It was so minor, and so buried… you’d almost have to know it was there to exploit it.”

  “So, what do we do?” Achilles asked.

  “The bank branch,” Chloe began. “It probably has servers I can access. Contact the bank staff and have them meet us down there.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” Keith said, taking out a radio.

  “And I’ll stay here,” Lyra said. “In case Father wakes up.”

  Achilles kissed her forehead. “He is a fighter. He will be all right.” He turned and strode away, gesturing back to the group. “Come on!”

  “Almost…” Chloe said.

  Emily watched in awe as the redhead’s fingers flew across the keys. The bank manager, William, had aided her in gaining access. He now stood nearby, looking nervous.

  “He said he was patching a vulnerability… and not to tell anyone,” William said.

  “No surprise there,” Chloe said, continuing to scroll through what looked to Emily to be a wall of digital gibberish. Suddenly, Chloe leaned back in the office chair, shaking her head. “There you are,” she said reverently. “He actually did patch it… closed the trapdoor behind him, if you will. I must admit, I’m impressed. I almost missed it, but the devil’s in the details… and he didn’t completely clean up after himself.”

  “What did you find?” Emily asked.

  “Well… all the people who have assets invested in these Croesid units—your family, half the guests on this ship, people all over the globe… heck, even me—all of our units—our ‘shares,’ you could call them? We still have them.”

  Boone frowned. “I don’t follow. What’s he stealing?”

  “Well, he’s not stealing units… he’s stealing value.” She tapped a line of code on the screen, then drew her finger across to another line of code. “What he’s done… he’s taken the original Croesids—I’ll call them Croesid-As—and created a mirror group of exactly the same number of units. Let’s call them Croesid-Bs. When he created this ‘split,’ the new group had practically no value, just a tiny fraction of a cent. And I’m guessing he’s got those in multiple accounts he’s planning on accessing.”

  “I don’t get it,” Achilles said. “If those units are practically worthless, then…”

  “They were practically worthless. But the value of cryptocurrencies fluctuates with supply and demand, market forces… even manipulation. And in this case…”

  “Bugger me, he flipped their value, didn’t he?” Emily leaned in, looking at the screen full of code. “Now the As are next to worthless, and the Bs…?”

  “Billions,” Chloe said simply.

  “What do we do?” Achilles asked.

  Chloe shrugged. “Flip them back.”

  “It can’t be that easy,” Em said.

  “It can, if you’re the one who designed the cryptocurrency from the ground up. But since I know how he did it… I can undo it.”

  “How long will it take?” Boone asked.

  “About an hour. Pantheon is the caretaker of Croesus Coin, and they are headquartered in the Cayman Islands, right?”

  “Yes,” Achilles confirmed.

  “Then I’m guessing he’s planning to go into a linked Cayman bank branch when they open tomorrow morning at nine, and transfer the funds from multiple personal accounts into Swiss bank accounts that are not tied to the Pantheon system.”

  “Will we be able to see where he’s making the transfer?” Boone asked.

  Chloe smiled. “We can, if I code it.” She started typing furiously.

  “Wait!” Achilles said, grabbing a stack of Post-it Notes and scrawling something on them. “While you’re in there… can you make one other change?”

  “Missed you too, buddy!” Boone exclaimed, as the overeager potlicker pranced around their feet. The sitter had just departed, and the dog was looking for some playtime and affection. “Easy, Brix. It’s been a long day.”

  “Yeah… I am right knackered,” Emily said, beginning to slip out of her dress.

  Boone placed a hand on her waist. “How knackered…?”

  “Mmm…middling…” Emily grabbed his tie and pulled him down for a kiss, then laughed. “I’m having a little déjà vu.” She looked down at Brixton. “Where’s your squeak toy?”

  The potlicker looked up with adoring eyes, wagging his tail.

  “Y’know what… let’s just crash,” Boone said. “We can always play dress-up another day.”

  “Fine by me. Besides, I don’t know about you… but I want to be well rested, up early, and caffeinated by the time Nicholas tries to access the money.”

  Boone chuckled. “Good point. I’ll set the alarm. C’mon Brix!”

  Sleep time! The dog bounded past them and jumped up onto the bed. All three were asleep in minutes.

  Nicholas Othonos strolled into the bank he had selected in downtown George Town, on a street situated midway between the ocean and the airport. Having ditched the black suit and tie he’d worn to Achilles’s birthday dinner, Nicholas now wore a lightweight summer suit that looked more at home in the Caymans. Over the last six months, Nicholas had traveled to Grand Cayman five times, and had made sure to establish a rapport with this bank, moving a little money from here to there and making very sure they knew just how wealthy his family was.

  An attendant spotted him and quickly brought him to a small, glass-walled office. “Mr. Othonos, so good to see you again.”

  Nicholas smiled, noting the man’s name tag. “Thank you, Cedric.” Nicholas set his briefcase on the man’s desk and extracted a sheet of paper.

  “What can I do for you today, sir?”

 
“Just a little housekeeping. A major transfer from Pantheon occurred a few minutes ago, into four of our accounts here. I need to move all of the Croesid units from these four accounts”—he indicated four account numbers up top—“into these four accounts.”

  Cedric’s smile slipped when he saw the bottom numbers were for a bank in Switzerland, his face becoming crestfallen. “So many units. I hope we have not done anything to offend you, Mr. Othonos.”

  “Oh, no, no, no… far from it! This is sort of a… a cryptocurrency ‘stock split,’ if you will. A new feature we’re trying out. We’ll still be throwing plenty of business your way, not to worry.”

  Cedric nodded, reassured. “I’ll be right back, sir.”

  Nicholas closed his briefcase and peered through the outer glass windows at the blue skies of a tropical morning. He would soon be looking at a different tropical sky, half a world away in the Pacific. And I’ll own the whole damn island when I’m through.

  Cedric returned, looking equal parts confused and relieved. “As you say, sir. The new units were deposited at nine a.m. and I’ve made the transfers to the destination accounts you requested.” He handed Nicholas a printout. “Will there be anything else?”

  “No, thank you, Cedric.” Nicholas took the sheet and started to rise… then abruptly dropped back into the chair. The total U.S. dollar amount that had been transferred stared up at him: $1,066.11.

  And the currency unit designation wasn’t “Croesids.” Nicholas crumpled the paper in his trembling hands.

  “Sir, is something wrong?”

  “Midas Bucks…” he rasped.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Cedric suddenly exclaimed, as flashing red and blue lights illuminated the glass office, multiple police cars pulling up on the street outside.

  Numb, Nicholas stood and shuffled out of the office.

  “Sir… your briefcase! Sir…?”

  “They got him,” Achilles said after he ended the call and laid the phone beside him. He and Lyra sat at the long table in the Owner’s Suite, with Chloe, Boone, and Emily seated across from them. Achilles looked over at Chloe. “You’re good. You want a job?”

  Chloe laughed. “I’m a guest who could afford this cruise… I don’t work for anyone anymore.”

  “Well, then how about dinner?”

  “Flattered, but… I don’t think Lisa would approve.”

  “She can come, too!”

  “Achilles…” Lyra warned.

  “Actually, I should get back to her. Maybe we can get a little time poolside before this ship is swarmed with police.” Chloe rose and went to the door, then turned. “I can permanently patch the vulnerability for you. In exchange for another cruise. Preferably one without so much drama.”

  “Done,” Achilles said. “And thank you again.”

  As Chloe left, a rumble sounded from the helipad over their heads as the visiting United States Coast Guard helicopter took flight. The orange-red Dauphin briefly appeared as it became visible outside the suite’s floor-to-ceiling windows before banking away, headed to an approaching cutter that lay a hundred miles to the south. There had been some question of jurisdiction between Mexico and the Cayman Islands, as the assault on the ship had occurred at the midpoint between Cozumel and Grand Cayman. When it was learned that one of the bridge crew fatalities was an American citizen, the United States offered to step in, taking Calypso Othonos into custody.

  “It’s okay, Brix!” Emily reassured the dog when the helicopter shook the windows, eliciting a whine from the potlicker. Wearing a casual sundress, Em gently clamped Brixton’s flanks in her bare legs, comforting the dog even as she prevented him from crawling under the table.

  “Thanks for letting him come with us,” Boone said. He had retired the suit and felt more at ease, now back in his customary T-shirt and shorts. He had gone the extra mile and chosen a new Bubble Chasers shirt without any holes or sun fading.

  Lyra smiled. “Of course. After all, he is family to you.”

  Achilles’s phone rang and he looked down, snatching it up when he saw the number. “It’s the med bay!” He tapped the screen. “How is he?” he asked without preamble, then looked to Lyra. “It’s the doctor. Father is awake and asking for us.” He hesitated, then continued. “And he’s asking for Nicholas and Calypso, too. What do I say?”

  Lyra gently took the phone, saying “Doctor, please tell our father that Achilles and Lyra are on their way. He can speak to Nicholas and Calypso later. Don’t tell him why.” She hung up, placing a hand on her brother’s arm. “Another day. When he is stronger.” She looked across the table at Boone and Emily. “Will you come with us?”

  After a tearful reunion and many questions—not all of them answered—Karras gestured for Boone and Emily to approach. “You have saved the lives of my children… again. I can never sufficiently repay you.”

  Boone shook his head. “Sir, there’s no n—”

  “But,” Karras interrupted in a surprisingly robust voice, “I will repay you. In some small fashion.”

  “It’s really not necessary, sir,” Emily said.

  “Paidi mou… my child… to me, it is. I will say no more.” He reached out for his eldest son’s hand. “Well, Achilles… I’m afraid the company is not yours yet!”

  “Father, I have been thinking… perhaps we should reconsider whether we should put everything under my control. I’m not the businessman that Nicholas was. Is!” he quickly corrected himself.

  Karras didn’t seem to notice. “My boy, you are my eldest… and as such—”

  “Father, we live in a very different world than the one you grew up in. I believe the company will be stronger if you make use of all of our talents.”

  “That is a very mature, very wise way of looking at things, my son. Precisely why you should lead the company!”

  Achilles looked over at Boone and Emily. “Well, I tried.”

  Later that afternoon, Boone and Emily sat at a waterside bar in downtown George Town, just in view of the cruise ship terminal docks where tenders from the ships discharged their passengers. In the bay, the Apollo and two other cruise ships lay at anchor. Far out on the horizon, another cruise ship was making its way in. Relaxing beside the water at a table Emily had selected, the two divemasters contentedly sipped their beers, their potlicker pup enjoying a bowl of cold water beneath the table.

  The Royal Cayman Islands Police Service was questioning guests and crew from the Apollo, and Boone and Emily had come ashore after an hour-long interview with a pair of inspectors. With inquiries likely to continue into the following day, Boone had asked Keith where to go for a bite and a beer and he’d suggested Rackam’s. After letting the ship know where they’d be, the two divemasters had made their way the short distance to the local watering hole.

  The restaurant and bar was popular with divers and locals—at least, when it wasn’t overrun with cruisies. Situated right on the water, Rackam’s had a sizeable outdoor dining area; blue and tan awnings and numerous colorful umbrellas provided plenty of shade from the tropical sun, and the U-shaped outdoor bar boasted plenty of stools for imbibers who liked to be closer to the liquor source.

  “Ah, man that’s good,” Boone said after taking a drink of his draft beer, setting the perspiring pint glass down on the waterside table. It wasn’t often that you could find a good dark beer in the islands, but Boone had been pleased to see that Cayman Islands Brewing had one. He took another sip of the Ironshore Bock. “How’s yours?”

  Em had gone lighter, choosing a bottle of the local craft brewery’s flagship beer, Caybrew. “Refreshing! Nothing better than a cold beer and a hot sun. And it plays nice with this jerk mayo!” She dipped another conch fritter into the spicy sauce. “Y’know, Maine lobster and prime rib paired with a wine that’s worth more than your savings is all well and good… but nothing beats a conch fritter and a beer a stone’s throw from the
Caribbean.”

  Boone reached over and clinked her bottle. “You speak truth.” He took another swallow, then set it down. “Although… we can afford that highfalutin wine, if you want it. And another pair of those funky shoes you lost.”

  Em held up a finger while she finished chewing the remainder of the fritter she’d crammed into her mouth. “If you’ll remember… those magic cards stopped working once we reached the Caymans.”

  “I’m not talking about the cards. Karras Othonos said he would repay us, and… well… I guess he did.”

  Emily cocked her head. “Go on…” she prompted, before taking a sip from her bottle.

  Boone took out his phone, hopping onto the bar’s Wi-Fi and pulling up his banking app. “Not sure how they got hold of the routing and account number for Bubble Chasers, but…” He slid the phone over. Seconds later he was wiping Caybrew from his face.

  Emily managed to clear her windpipe of lager and grabbed the phone, goggling at the screen at point-blank range. “Whoa. We… we can’t accept this. Can we? I mean… maybe we can?”

  Boone shrugged, sipping his bock. “I was thinking of refusing it, but it’s a drop in the bucket to them. And if we wake up in a cold sweat, racked with guilt, we can donate it somewhere.”

  Emily nodded. “Okay… fair ’nuff.”

  “Hey, uh…” Boone squirmed a bit in his seat. “With everything that happened… especially on the Apollo bridge… do you need to…uh…”

  “Spit it out, Boone.”

  “Well, if you need to call that therapist in Costa Rica…” Boone trailed off.

  Emily looked out to sea. She tapped the neck of her beer bottle with a fingernail, making a series of soft pings. “I thought I might… but y’know what? I’m good.”

  “Boone, Emily?” a figure approached their table, setting something down as they looked up.

  “Keith!” Boone rose from the table. “Have a seat, I’ll get you a beer.”