Blood Cruise: A Deep Sea Thriller

by Jake Bible

  “Who are the marks?” Ben asked.

  “No marks, Benny Boy,” Nick said. “I already told you that. This will be a straight game.”

  “No scam, no hustle?” Ben laughed. “Nick, brother, I know you. You don’t play straight games. You’re a cheater and cheaters always cheat.”

  “I didn’t cheat that much,” Nick said. “Only when I absolutely had to. We all can’t be poker savants like you, Benny Boy.”

  “I savanted my way into almost getting killed,” Ben said. “Mostly because of my association with you.” Ben looked around the room. A bartender stood behind an ornate wooden bar and smiled at Ben. “All the crew in on the job?”

  “There is no job,” Nick almost snapped. He took a deep breath. “No job, no scam, no con, no marks. Straight poker. This will be a clean game, trust me.”

  Ben raised his eyebrows and Nick sighed.

  “I know, I know, you have zero reason to trust me after Mazatlan,” Nick said. “But, come on, Benny! That shit was way out of hand before we walked in that room! What went down wasn’t my fault!”

  Ben’s eyebrows remained raised.

  “Mostly,” Nick admitted. “It mostly wasn’t my fault.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of Mazatlan,” Ben said and the air between them dropped about twenty degrees.

  Nick held up a finger. “Don’t go there. Just don’t.”

  “Fine. I won’t.” Ben rubbed at his face and calmed down. “The only reason you are holding this game is because you want one of the players to buy this boat off you?” Ben asked. “That’s it. You’re throwing a poker party to do that? Why not just have a dinner party or bring in strippers?”

  “First, some of the guests would not respond to strippers,” Nick said.

  “Who doesn’t respond to strippers?” Ben asked.

  “What’s this about strippers?” Maggie asked as she walked into the game room. “It just took me thirty minutes to look like this. There is no way I’m stripping it off for anyone. Except for Benjamin. Later.”

  She was dressed in a sleeveless, black dress that fit her perfectly. The material had a shine to it when it caught the light just right. It hugged her hips nicely without being too provocative, allowing any admirers a chance to fill in the blanks with their own imaginations. Maggie smiled at the men, waited, then quickly frowned.

  “No compliments? Really?” she asked.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Ben responded as he crossed the room and kissed her. “You look stunning. Which is why I stood there like a slack-jawed moron.”

  “You’re always a slack-jawed moron,” Maggie joked. “So next time make sure you use your words.” She looked at Nick. “What’s this about strippers?”

  “No strippers,” Nick insisted. “And you do look stunning. My girl knows how to nail measurements. I knew she would. Been using her for years with my on again, off again lady friends. She hasn’t failed yet.”

  “You buy dresses for a lot of women without them trying them on first?” Maggie asked. “Big risk. One wrong fit on the butt and you can kiss the romance goodbye.”

  “I learned that mistake,” Nick said. “Like I said, my girl knows how to nail measurements.”

  “Nick was filling me in on why we’re actually here,” Ben said. “It looks like I’m supposed to play some poker so he can sell this boat.”

  “Dude, stop calling it a boat,” Nick said. “It’s a yacht. Boats don’t cost sixty-five million.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” Maggie gasped. “Did you say this cost sixty-five million? As in dollars? Sixty-five million dollars?”

  “Yeah,” Nick said, grinning. “Impressed?”

  “Sickened, actually,” Maggie said. “Do you know how many teachers that could pay? How many teaching assistants? How many new books and furniture for needy schools that could buy?”

  “Nope,” Nick said. “And why would that matter to you?”

  “Why wouldn’t it matter?” Ben asked. “She’s a teacher.”

  “Right, right,” Nick said. “Sorry. The whole public school morass isn’t exactly my thing. But if it’s totally your thing then you can buy all the books and new desks you want with your share. That’s up to you and Benny Boy here.”

  “My share?” Maggie asked Ben.

  “Our share,” Ben said. “We’re here to sell this boat.”

  “Yacht,” Nick corrected. “Yacht. The people that will be arriving soon don’t buy boats. They buy yachts. Yachts, yachts, yachts.”

  “I thought you said you were here to play poker?” Maggie asked, her eyes narrowing.

  “May I fix you a drink, ma’am?” the bartender asked.

  “Pimm’s Cup,” Maggie said. “Don’t skimp on the Pimm’s.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the bartender said and smiled as he got to work.

  “Nick wants me to entertain his guest with a game of poker,” Ben said. “While he butters them up and tries to unload this yacht on one of them.”

  “With any luck, there might be a bidding war and I’ll get full asking price,” Nick said.

  “How’s your luck lately?” Maggie asked.

  “It stuck me with this thing,” Nick said. “So, it sucks.”

  “Why poker? Why Ben?” Maggie asked.

  “Yes, Nick, why poker? Why me?” Ben asked, sipping his bourbon. Maggie took the glass from him and took a drink. She frowned and coughed. Ben laughed and took the glass back. “Bourbon, babe, you should have asked first.”

  “I hate bourbon,” Maggie said when her coughing fit was over.

  “This should help,” the bartender said as he brought her a highball glass of amber liquid over ice with a slice of cucumber floating on top. “Please let me know if that is to your liking.”

  She took a sip and smiled. “It is to my liking. I didn’t catch your name. I’m Maggie.”

  “Manny Ruiz,” the bartender replied.

  “Reece?” Maggie asked.

  “Ruiz,” Manny clarified. “But it is pronounced like Reece, yes. My family has been in Seattle for eight generations, so the pronunciation has become anglicized.”

  “Haven’t we all,” Nick said. “I don’t know what that means. Thanks, Manny.”

  There was a slight vibration and a far-off noise. Nick stiffened and shot a worried look at Ben.

  “I need to know if you are in,” Nick said. “And I kind of need to know now. That’s the chopper.”

  “Chopper?” Ben asked. “You can land a chopper on this thing?”

  “For sixty-five million this yacht should transform into a chopper,” Maggie said. “And fly itself.”

  “Benny Boy? Come on. Don’t leave me hanging here,” Nick said. “Thirty percent of sixty-five million is a sweet, sweet cut.”

  Maggie choked on a swallow of her Pimm’s Cup. She grabbed Ben’s arm in an iron grip.

  “Ow,” he said as he pulled her hand away.

  “I’m sorry, did he say we get thirty percent of sixty-five million?” Maggie asked. “Is that what he meant by me buying all the desks and supplies I wanted for school?”

  “That’s what he meant,” Ben said.

  “Yeah, he’s in. I’m making the call for him,” Maggie said. “As long as nothing illegal is happening.”

  “Nothing illegal,” Nick said. “I promise.”

  “Then why are we out in international waters?” Ben asked.

  There was a soft tone and Captain Staggs’s voice came out of a speaker set into the ceiling.

  “Mr. Sheeran? The guests have arrived,” Captain Staggs said. “I will go greet them myself. Will you be joining me?”

  “Yeah, Staggs, I’ll be right there,” Nick said. He looked at Ben. “Come on, man. Please?”

  “Answer my question first,” Ben said.

  “We’re in international waters because some of the guests may or may not be on certain lists that may or may not make US law enforcement nervous,” Nick said, holding up his hands before the protests could begin. “Not terrorists. Maybe a drug lord an
d possibly a multi-national crime boss. Or two. They do legit stuff, though, too. That I know of. I try not to pry. Also, if I make the sale here in international waters then I don’t get hit with US taxes.”

  “You’ll still have to declare the money,” Maggie said.

  “You have no idea the circles I run in,” Nick said and smiled. “I have an army of people that I can call in a moment’s notice that can make sixty-five million disappear. Like that.”

  “It’s true,” Ben said. “And it’s legal. It’s why there’s no middle class in America anymore.”

  “Boo hoo,” Nick said. “Benny Boy?”

  “Nothing illegal,” Ben said.

  “Nothing illegal,” Nick said. “I even made a no guns policy. There isn’t a firearm on this yacht, so things can’t get out of hand if the game gets heated.”

  “Again, why me?” Ben asked. “You know plenty of pros that would play this game for less than thirty percent.”

  “Would you believe me if I said the guests are fans of your blog?” Nick asked.

  “No,” Ben said.

  “Then you are selling yourself short, because they are,” Nick said. “You’d be surprised by the fan base you have in the underworld. Mazatlan was a cluster, but it also kind of made you a legend, dude. I’m just cashing in on that.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Ben sighed. “Okay, I’m in.”

  “Thirty percent of sixty-five million is almost twenty million dollars,” Maggie said. “Twenty million! There is no way you are passing that up.”

  “You know nothing about this world, Mags,” Ben said sharply. “Do not even assume you do. Assumptions are very dangerous.”

  Maggie looked at Ben for a second then cocked a hip and smiled.

  “Not a fan of the condescending tone, but this badass attitude is pretty sexy,” Maggie said as she took Ben’s hand. “Let’s go get you dressed so you can wow your new fans and we can get rich.”

  “Thanks, Maggie,” Nick said. “And thank you, Ben.”

  “Screw me on this and drug lords will be the least of your worries,” Ben said. “I still know how to use a knife.”

  “I know, I know,” Nick said.

  “You know how to use a knife?” Maggie asked. “Who is this man of mystery next to me?”

  The two left and Nick looked over at Manny.

  “You ready?” Nick asked.

  “Everything is set, Sheeran,” Manny said. “We’ll make a great impression. Don’t you worry.”

  “Mr. Sheeran?” Captain Staggs called over the intercom.

  “I’m on my way!” Nick shouted. “I’m on my way!”

  13.

  Claxons rang out and Wagner slammed his fist against his desk. He pressed his finger to his ear and switched on his com. He instantly heard the voices of panicked men. Then gunfire and screaming.

  “That son of a bitch,” Wagner snarled as he jumped up from his desk and ran to the door of his quarters.

  He threw open the door and was immediately greeted by six men, one of them holding out an HK MP7A1 submachine gun. Wagner looked at the weapon and frowned.

  “That bad?” he asked the man that handed him the gun.

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied. The man pressed his finger to his own ear. “The creature is still contained in the vault, but it sounds like we have multiple casualties. The doctor may be one of them.”

  “I can hear the reports,” Wagner snapped. He pointed at two of the men. “You make sure the bridge and engine rooms are locked down. This ship does not stop for any reason.” He pointed at two more. “You also make sure every single hatch is sealed. This thing does not get above decks, understood? If that means we are trapped down here with it then that means we are trapped down here with it.”

  “Sir, lockdown is automated,” one of the men said. “You can activate it with your—”

  “Did I say for you to argue with me?” Wagner roared at the man. “I know I can activate it! I already have! I want the two of you to verify that all hatches are sealed! With your own two eyes! Do you think I’ve made it this far in this business because I have put my trust in automated systems? GO!”

  The two men took off one way while the other two took off another way. Wagner stared hard at the last two men standing before him.

  “You two are with me,” he said. “Watch our six. Watch the side passages. Watch the vents. Watch everything. If the creature gets loose on this ship it’s not going to attack head on, but from our blindsides. I do not want to have a blindside, so eyes open!”

  “Yes, sir!” the men replied.

  “On me,” Wagner ordered as he started running down the passageway to the stairs that led deeper into the ship.

  14.

  Two things caught Nick’s attention as he stepped out onto the what was normally a sun deck, but had been converted to a helipad by the previous owner: the clouds in the night sky hung heavy and black, and many of the people that stepped off the huge Eurocopter EC 175 had not been invited and were for sure armed.

  “Welcome!” Nick called out as the rotors on the chopper powered down. “Thank you all for coming! I know most of you, but for those that I don’t, I’m Nick Sheeran and this is my humble home!”

  “Your home?” a tall, skinny woman asked. “You live here? How cute.”

  Her voice had a heavy Russian accent that explained the thick blonde hair that framed her sharp angled face. Gorgeous in an off putting way, the woman carried herself like she was used to working hard and being rewarded generously for that hard work.

  “Ms. Romanski,” Nick bowed. “It is an honor to have you here.”

  “The honor is mine, Mr. Sheeran,” Evgeniya Romanski said. “And I was only playing about this being your home.”

  “Maybe it’ll become your home?” Nick grinned.

  “Do not push it, Mr. Sheeran,” she replied. “And call me Niya, please.”

  “I’m Nick, Niya,” Nick said as he took her hand and kissed it. He turned to the other guests. “Oh, I know these three! Carlos, Jessica, Lane. It is great to see you.”

  A short man with dark, pockmarked skin flipped Nick off then laughed.

  “I’m only here because of your friend, Nicky,” Carlos Whittier said. “I do not need another yacht.”

  “You’re right,” Nick said. “You don’t. But, you do need this yacht. You can get rid of those pieces of crap you have docked in Baja. They are nothing compared to the Lucky Sucker.”

  “Horrible name,” Jessica Holstein said.

  Short, with close-cut brown hair and fine, delicate features, Jessica was almost the opposite of Niya. She moved with the grace of a dancer, and would have looked completely at ease in any ballet company in the world, except for the long scar that went from one side of her jaw, down across her neck, and back up to the other side of her jaw.

  “If I buy this thing, I’ll be changing the name instantly,” Jessica said, giving Nick a quick hug and a kiss on both cheeks. “How does Naughty Nicholas sound?”

  “Like I should be honored and insulted at the same time,” Nick chuckled. “Lane!”

  “No,” Lane Garfield said and pushed past Nick. “I’m here to play cards and meet Ben Clow. He is here, right Sheeran? This isn’t another one of your bloody bait and switch capers, is it?”

  “Dude, one bad condo deal and you still give me shit?” Nick asked, looking offended. “Come on, man, we both know that wasn’t my fault.”

  “Wasn’t mine, either, mate,” Lane said. “So there we stand.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Nick said. “I should have researched that Zeus guy better.”

  “Zeus? You did business with a guy named Zeus?” Jessica laughed. “You two deserved to get screwed.”

  “Bite me, Jessie,” Lane said. Average height with thinning brown hair and bright gold eyes, Lane Garfield spoke with a refined British accent that was obviously an artificial cultivation hiding his obvious working class history. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the man stand
ing behind him. And the armed men behind the man. “Thought you said no bodyguards and no firearms? Grumpy here brought both.”

  “Yes, I did say that,” Nick said as he turned to the last of the guests and the man’s entourage. “Mr. Giraldi, I am pleased you could make it. But I am afraid I do not have room for your men here. Perhaps they could return to shore with the helicopter? I’d feel a lot better if they did.”

  “No,” Tony Giraldi replied. “Not until they have swept this boat to my satisfaction. I don’t know you, Sheeran, which means I don’t trust you. No offense, but putting my life in the hands of a stranger isn’t exactly how I have become the successful man I am.”

  “I do not know him yet I did not arrive with a small army,” Niya said. “I thought the Italians had more balls than this, Giraldi.”

  “You want to see my balls, Romanski?” Tony snapped.

  “You two know each other,” Nick said cautiously. “Great.”

  “We have had dealings,” Niya said. “They have been pleasant in the past. I am sure Giraldi would like to keep our dealings that way.”

  “Pleasant dealings?” Tony laughed as he licked his lips. “I guess you can call them that.”

  The man was tall and large. Not fat, but certainly heavy and muscular. His accent was a mix of many European countries, but heavier on the Italian side. His black hair was surprisingly long and hung down to his shoulders. The man’s eyes were black pinpricks behind prominent cheekbones and skin that was a healthy tan.

  “Mr. Giraldi, I’m not trying to be rude, but when you accepted my invitation you did agree to my terms,” Nick said. “Again, no offense, but I have had one too many run-ins with hired guns. I am going to have to insist that your men return with the helicopter.”

  “Tell you what, Sheeran,” Tony said. “You let my guys sweep this boat—”

  “It’s a yacht,” Nick muttered.

  “—and if they find it’s safe then I’ll send them back with your rented chopper,” Tony continued, ignoring the interruption. “Capisce?”

  “Did he really say capisce?” Lane asked. “Christ. What a bloody stereotype.”

  “What was that?” Tony asked. “You say something?”