Nameless

by Joe Conlan

  His clothes covered in blood and gore, the butcher’s cleaver in one hand and the pistol in the other, Daniel aimlessly wandered the halls of the Lido Deck. At the same time, Chief Cabin Steward, Co Chi Cuyengkeng was taking his nightly stroll, a part of his routine to tire himself to the point of collapse. He would have liked nothing more than to pass out on the spot. For the previous three nights, he had gotten a total of four hours sleep. Co Chi was an insomniac since he was a young child and didn’t usually get more than a few short hours of precious sleep per night. This particular night, he wouldn’t sleep at all.

  He was the supervisor of the cabin stewards who worked on the Lido Deck. Part of his nightly ritual was to patrol its corridors to be sure all common areas were neat and in order. Rarely, but at times, this work was monotonous enough that upon his return to his quarters, he would be rewarded with an hour or two of uninterrupted sleep. As he exited the elevator at Deck 14, and turned the corner to inspect the hallway leading to the owner’s suites, at first, he thought he was hallucinating from sleep deprivation. A tall, muscular man covered from the top of his shirt to the toe of his shoes in blood, bits of flesh and brain matter was approaching him carrying a gun and what seemed like a Michael Myers butcher’s knife from the Halloween movies. Frightened out of his wits, Co Chi ran back to the elevator area where there was a public phone attached to the wall. He dialed the number for security and reported what he saw to Security Officer Brett Gerhardt. Gerhardt asked Co Chi if he could keep an eye on the passenger but to be sure to maintain a safe distance from him. He promised to be there in less than 5 minutes.

  As Gerhardt rushed to the elevators from his office on Deck 5, he called Chief of Security, Ted Hauser, on his mobile phone. Hauser instructed him to notify the bridge of what had occurred and promised to join him on the Lido deck as soon as he could get there. When Hauser arrived at the scene, Gerhardt was trying to coax the passenger to hand him his weapons. Both men were making a concerted effort not to vomit. The nauseating stink of decomposing flesh and stagnating blood was diffusing throughout the hallway. Initially, Hauser wondered if the psycho didn’t understand English due to the blank look on his face in response to Gerhardt’s pleas. As he got closer, he realized the guy was as high as a kite. Daniel’s pupils were fully dilated, almost covering the iris to the point it was not possible to distinguish the color of his eyes. Standing motionless, spouting out incomprehensible gibberish was another pretty good indication he was under the influence of some type of major drug.

  Within minutes, the Captain of the ship, Lars Bjornson, arrived with one of his Lieutenants who was armed with a pistol. The passenger didn’t make any aggressive moves nor did he seem to have any plans to harm anyone at the moment. The Lieutenant took it upon himself to approach Daniel slowly with the goal of disarming him. Since Daniel made no move to threaten him, the Lieutenant gently removed the gun and cleaver from his possession giving it his best effort to touch as little of the surface of the weapons as possible. He requested that Co Chi run to the housekeeping supply room to fetch a plastic bag to preserve the evidence while he held the two weapons in a pinch-grip between his index finger and thumb of each hand. Captain Bjornson, who was carrying a pair of handcuffs, locked them on Daniel’s wrists. There was not the slightest attempt to resist, Daniel frozen in place in an apparent catatonic state. The Captain instructed Chief of Security Hauser and Gerhardt to escort the detainee to the brig located on Deck 4 while he and the Lieutenant attempted to determine what had occurred.

  Heading back in the direction from which Daniel had come according to Co Chi’s account, they happened upon the open door of Daniel’s suite minutes later. The stench penetrating the hallway just outside the cabin was more than both men’s stomachs could handle. They sprinted for the nearest bathroom, barely making it ten feet down the hall before they retched up that night’s dinner. Once they regained their composure, neither man was anxious to investigate what was causing the putrid stink. The Captain was not one to shirk his responsibilities. If someone was still alive in that suite, they could be in desperate need of immediate medical attention. He instructed the Lieutenant to call the physician on duty while he returned to the scene.

  It took every ounce of his mental fortitude and concentration not to pass out when he entered the suite. Unable to control his sick stomach, he turned quickly and vomited a second time in the door’s threshold. He continued to retch to the point of dry heaves, mule-like in his refusal to lose consciousness. He waited several minutes for his stomach to settle then reentered the cabin. Looking into the living room, he witnessed the aftermath of a horrific massacre that would forever be implanted in his darkest memories. It was obvious there were no survivors. He saw that one woman had been completely decapitated while the other’s head was hanging by a thread. The third individual, whose sex he couldn’t positively identify, had three quarters of his or her head blown off. Realizing the situation was way beyond his proficiency, he decided to leave the scene for the experts. He thought that if he explored any further, he could very possibly end up contaminating essential evidence. Before he left, he quickly searched each room and the courtyard to be sure there were no other victims. When he stepped back into the hallway, he called Ted Hauser on his mobile phone.

  “Ted, it’s Captain Bjornson. I need you to send someone up immediately to seal suite 124 on the Lido deck. Absolutely no one is to enter that room without my permission, understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I also want you to contact the federal authorities. There’s been a triple homicide on my ship, under my watch.” Bjornson could hear an audible gasp on the other side of the line. He continued, “I want this handled according to the book, no slip ups. We should be at Port Everglades by 6:00am. Please request they have their team on this ship as soon as possible. We don’t want to lose any evidence. At this point, we seem to have a pretty clear suspect.

  Tomorrow morning, I’ll be making an announcement to all passengers and crew that no one is to leave the ship until further notice. When we arrive at the port, we’ll need all gangways manned around the clock or until the ship’s cleared for disembarkation. I don’t want anyone slipping through the cracks. You’ll want to notify headquarters what’s happened and let them know, at least at this point, next week’s cruise is cancelled. They might want to bring in a new ship. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you but protocol dictates Annie Bryan must be notified of the murders immediately.”

  “Have you identified the suspect yet and can you look up the names of the passengers staying in Suite 14-124?” “No, sir, we haven’t identified him yet. He’s still not making any sense. There’s no doubt he’s on some type of hardcore drug. What I’d like to know is how he got it onboard along with the knife and gun. This was a major breach of security. Hold on a sec. I’ll check the suite number.... Holy Shit!”

  “What’s wrong, Ted?”

  “Sir, the passengers staying in that suite were guests of Annie Bryan. Their names are Daniel and Deborah Falcone.”

  Chapter 19

  Consecutive flashes of lightning created a strobe-like, eerie glow over the horizon of the Atlantic Ocean. The flickering light effect and winds gusting at near gale-force strength caused the ghostly coconut palms along Ft. Lauderdale Beach to bend over as if they were looking for seashells in the sand. As Annie looked out the picture window of her bedroom, she could barely see the search of the palm trees or the bolts of electric charge in the sky. A torrential downpour formed a solid curtain of water that nearly blinded her view of anything beyond the window ledge. She woke from a deep sleep a half hour before to a loud crash of thunder that seemed to rock the very foundation of her 10 story building. She hadn’t been able to sleep since.

  She poured herself a glass of warm milk, her mother’s tried and tested remedy for insomnia. It wasn’t going to work its magic this time. On the way to the kitchen, the telephone began to ring. Annie immediately knew nothing good was going to come of a ph
one call at two o’clock in the morning unless it was a wrong number. Her instinctual thoughts were for her mother. Annie prayed she was alright. When she looked at the caller ID, she saw it was coming from an unknown source. That usually meant she was getting an emergency call from one of King’s ships. For the moment, she relaxed erroneously assuming at least, the crisis didn’t involve any loved ones. She picked up the extension in the kitchen.

  “Hello, Annie Bryan.”

  “Good morning, Ms. Bryan. It’s Ted Hauser from the Joy of the Seas. I’m sorry to bother you at this hour but something tragic has happened. Three passengers were brutally murdered. You may want to sit down for the next part.”

  Making the connection that Daniel and Deborah were on the Joy of the Seas, Annie panicked.

  “Just tell me what happened, Ted, please.”

  “The three victims were members of the family you invited on the cruise.”

  Annie’s heart took a precipitous plunge into her stomach. Terrified, she managed to ask, “Oh my God, is Daniel dead?”

  “Actually, no, Ma’am. We found him wandering the halls covered head to toe in blood carrying the murder weapons. The victims were his wife and her parents.”

  Annie couldn’t believe her ears. Reflexively, she rejected Ted Hauser’s news, but instantly realized this couldn’t be some horrible and tasteless joke. She felt a constriction in her chest making it difficult to breathe. That was followed by a sensation of vertigo and lightheadedness which threatened a loss of consciousness. She finally took Ted’s advice and sat down at the kitchen, breakfast nook table. Tears poured down her face as violently as the deluge assaulting Ft. Lauderdale Beach.

  Ted Hauser said, “Are you alright, Ms. Bryan? I can call back in a few minutes, if you’d like.”

  Placing her head between her knees to catch her breath, Annie used those few seconds to compose herself. Her analytical mind miraculously switched into high gear. Immediately, she started to develop a plan of action. Thoughts of the serial murderer almost sent her into another tailspin. Finally, she replied, “No, I want to discuss this now. What are the ship’s coordinates?”

  “I can’t tell you the exact coordinates, but we’re about sixty nautical miles from Port Everglades. I can get them for you. We’re scheduled to arrive at 6:00am, but the Captain is trying to speed things up. He’s hoping to be there before five.”

  “It’s absolutely essential no one is permitted to leave that ship. I assume the Captain’s already made that decision?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Ted, Daniel is a special agent with the FBI. He’s been investigating a series of murders that seem to have some connection to me. We don’t have a name, but we have photos of the suspect. I’ll have a copy faxed to the ship ASAP. He was a former employee of King, using the false name Damien Drysdale. He's thirty-five-years-old, 6'2" tall, blond, blue eyes, supremely fit and extremely dangerous. He’s been linked to at least 2 horrendous murders, both of them involving mutilation.” Annie, not privy to the FBI’s investigation, was unaware of the other murders attributed to the same suspect.

  She didn’t know she really wanted to hear the answer to her next question. “How were the victims killed?”

  By that time, Captain Bjornson had decided it was imperative they identify the victims, if possible. He allowed his lieutenant to enter the room for a quick search for any item that might shed light on the issue. A wallet was found in Jack Tyler’s pocket with his identification and photographs of him, his wife and daughter. Deborah was also wearing a locket necklace with a picture of her, Daniel and the children.

  Ted Hauser responded, “It was incredibly gruesome, Ms. Bryan. Mrs. Falcone was decapitated. Her mother’s throat was sliced through to the spine. Mr. Tyler was shot in the head as far as the Captain and Lieutenant could tell.”

  “Unbelievable. It’s got to be him. Where is Daniel now? I want to talk to him.”

  “I don’t think that’s gonna be possible. He’s pretty much out of it. Definitely on some type of mind-altering drug. We can’t get him to respond to us. At least not anything that’s understandable. When he talks, it’s just nonsense.”

  “Daniel doesn’t take drugs. He’s totally against them. He’s never even smoked marijuana.”

  “Well, he did tonight.”

  “No way. It had to be Damien. He probably drugged him somehow. You guys need to search the ship from top to bottom and find that maniac. I’ll call the agent in charge of the investigation. He’s out of Miami. I’m sure he’ll want to be there at the port when the ship arrives, if not sooner. They may want to helicopter in. I assume you already contacted the authorities?”

  “Yes. I spoke with the agent on night duty. He told me he’d contact the agent in charge.”

  “Actually, Daniel is the Special Agent in Charge. But, someone must’ve taken his place while he was on vacation. I assume it’s the Assistant Special Agent in Charge. Anyway, there’s no need for me to catch a helicopter out to the ship at this point. You guys are just a few hours out. By the time I get to the airport and hire a pilot, you’ll be here. I’ll just meet you guys at the port. Please tell the Captain about Damien Drysdale and be extremely careful.”

  “Sure thing, Ms. Bryan. I’ll keep you posted.”

  When the call was disconnected, she stood to hang up the phone, collapsed on the hard, marble floor, then sat with her back against the refrigerator and wept. She wondered what she did to deserve such heartache. The maniac struck again and was destroying the people she loved one by one. She cringed at the thought of who could be next, fearing for her mother and Daniel. There was only one way to be sure they were safe. The bastard must be caught and she would do everything in her power to make sure that happened. She picked herself up off the floor and made her way quickly to the bedroom to dress. There would be no one working at the office at this hour. She needed to get there as soon as possible to fax a picture of the monster to the Joy of the Seas.

  The rumors were flying the next morning when Captain Bjornson announced the ship was under quarantine and no one was permitted to disembark. At the buffet, people were reluctant to eat as one passenger heard the food was contaminated with the legionnaire’s disease virus. Others were saying a major South American drug kingpin had been on the cruise all week and a sting operation was in progress to arrest him. In the piazza, where many people were gathering in hopes of collecting some information, a rumor was being spread that the ship was taken over by terrorists. When the Captain addressed the passengers, he assured everyone with the white lie that there was no need to be frightened and no one was in danger. Evidently, it wasn’t enough to stop the gossip mongers from converting conjecture into fact.

  Special Agent Robert Leland arrived at the port with Special Agent Christopher Frye, the North Miami field office co-lead on the serial murder investigation, a half hour before the ship had docked. Leland received the call about the murders from the field office after two in the morning. Initially, he planned to have a helicopter fly him out to the ship. When Leland talked to the ship’s First Lieutenant, he learned the Captain had increased the speed full throttle and planned to be at the port two hours ahead of schedule. Going through the same thought processes as Annie concerning the time it would take to get a pilot, he decided to be at the port waiting for the ship.

  Procedure dictated that Homeland Security be notified any time a violent crime was committed on a cruise ship bound for an American port. It was their responsibility to ensure no terrorists or dangerous criminals entered United States’ territory. They would help man the gangways after the ship docked to guarantee no one disembarked before they were authorized to do so. Together with Leland and his team, the agents from Homeland Security boarded the ship at exactly 4:14am.

  Captain Bjornson was waiting for Agent Leland at the main entrance to the cruise liner’s gangway. After Leland introduced himself as the FBI investigator in charge, he asked to be taken directly to the crime scene. The Captain and a group o
f ship officers led Leland, Frye and their team of crime scene analysts to the center of the ship where they crammed into both glass elevators to ascend to the Lido deck. Looking out into the throng gathered in the ship’s atrium was a glaring confirmation of the work Leland and his team had cut out for them.

  When they exited at Deck 14, Leland’s senses were assaulted with the familiar stench of death. The stomach-twisting stink intensified with each step he advanced toward the Falcone suite. Before he entered the cabin, he instructed the ERT to wait outside while he and Frye conducted the initial inspection of the crime scene. Covering their noses and mouths with handkerchiefs, they passed through the threshold.

  The death odor in the hallway didn’t prepare the two FBI agents for the chamber of horrors the Falcone suite had become. Leland prided himself for never getting sick at a murder scene. Christopher Frye, who was almost as experienced as Leland, hadn’t vomited at the sight of murdered corpses since he was a rookie. After they moved into the living area of the suite, both men made a mad dash for the hallway to extricate whatever half digested food was left from the previous night’s meal. When there was nothing left in their stomachs to throw up, they covered their noses with towels provided by a steward and re-entered the cabin. It hardly gave a scintilla of relief without totally plugging their nasal passages.