Killer Cruise (Project 26 Book 11)

by Mark Woods

  Wilfred knew who he was alright.

  He would have been surprised if many people on this ship didn’t.

  Bruce Anthony Clarkson, the third, was the son of a big newspaper tycoon; your typical spoilt little rich kid brat, living off his father’s money, who thought he was some kind of a bigshot, even though he’d probably never worked a hard day’s graft in his life. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, most likely he’d had everything all handed to him on a plate ever since the day he’d been born, and no doubt was not used to people saying no to him.

  He was the kind of guy who swanned through life thinking he was entitled to do anything he liked, without fear of repercussion, just because he was rich, and who had grown used to people doing anything he wanted just because he had money, even if it wasn’t his own.

  But he was about to get a very rude awakening, Wilfred thought. It was way past time someone taught him a lesson – and Wilfred was just the man to do it.

  “Yeah,” Wilfred said. “I know you. I know who you are. I know exactly who you are. Remind me again, what was it you did exactly during the war?”

  “I served my country,” Bruce said. “I helped boost morale on the front line, both here and over in Europe, by helping bring people the news – the real news. I did my bit by helping to expose all the Nazi propaganda and Japanese lies for the falsehoods that they were, and by keeping the public informed of what was really going on.”

  “But you didn’t actually fight…” Wilfred said, trying to goad him into a reaction. “You never actually…say…served on the real front line for example?”

  They were drawing attention now, Wilfred noted.

  Good, he thought. The more people that witnessed this, the better.

  “No,” Bruce said. “I didn’t actually fight. I was dismissed from the army on medical grounds – asthma. I was told I couldn’t sign up because of my medical history. So what? I still did my bit,” he insisted. “What are you trying to say?”

  “You mean daddy had you excused?” Wilfred said, goading the man in front of him even more. “That’s what you’re really saying, isn’t it? You didn’t want to fight so daddy came up with a bullshit excuse for you and pulled a few strings, greased a few palms, right? I mean, let’s be honest here - that’s what really happened, right?” He looked around at the bar, noting they had started to attract a bit of an audience.

  “You know where I was?” Wilfred continued, playing the crowd. There was nothing he hated more than a bully, and especially one who thought he could make women do whatever he wanted, just by clicking his fingers, just because he thought he was someone. “I was out there fighting. Fighting for the likes of you. Fighting for your freedom; yours and the freedom of everybody else here around you on this ship right now – it even cost me my hand - so at the very least, maybe you should try treating this lady here with a little more respect, what do you say? Her and all the other fellow passengers on this ship. You think you can do that, Mr. Bigshot?”

  “Fuck you,” Bruce spat, rising up out of his seat again; his fist clenched as though getting ready to punch Wilfred, to smack him right in the face, in front of everybody, right here in the bar.

  “Think carefully before you make your next move,” Wilfred told him, putting his hand – his good hand – back on him and moving closer to whisper in his ear. “Think carefully and think about it long and hard – because if you hit me, right here, right now, in front of everybody, you better make sure that I go down, and go down hard, because if I get back up again, I’m going to make you look like a fool. An even bigger fool than you look already. I’m going to hit you right back, twice as hard and believe me when I say this, I have an absolutely killer right hook.”

  He held up his silver prosthetic hand and saw Bruce visibly starting to turn pale as he suddenly realised he might well have just bitten off a lot more than he could chew. The other man got up, pushed his seat away, and then turned and walked straight out of the bar.

  “This isn’t over,” he fired back in a parting shot, attempting to try and save some face. “I’m not done with you yet, Soldier boy; I won’t forget this, and before this cruise is over, you’re going to get what you’ve got coming for you – you just see if you don’t.”

  Wilfred turned back towards the woman standing in front of him, as everyone else went back to minding their own business, sensing the drama and excitement was finally over, at least for now.

  “Sorry about that,” Wilfred said, apologising. “I didn’t mean for that to get so out of hand, but I couldn’t just stand by idly and let him get away with talking to you like that. I hope I wasn’t stepping out of line?”

  “Not at all,” Jaqueline said in reply. “And thank-you, but it’s okay; I’ve kind of gotten used to people like that working in this business. You know, a bit pushy and thinking that they own you just because they paid you a compliment. Thank you for stepping in anyway. You really didn’t have to, but I’m kind of glad you did if I’m being honest. It didn’t exactly look like anyone else around here was going to bother to step in, so once again, thank you for being a gentleman.

  “Could I maybe buy you a drink? You know, just to say thank you properly?”

  “I wouldn’t say no,” Wilfred said. “It’s been a long time since I very nearly got in a bar fight. I’ll have a Scotch, if you don’t mind, on the rocks. Please, I should say…sorry, I’m forgetting my manners.”

  “It’s fine, honestly,” Jaqueline said and laughed.

  She had a nice laugh, Wilfred thought. Warm and welcoming – the kind of laugh a man could almost fall in love with.

  Wilfred shook his head.

  He had a mission to attend to and shouldn’t really allow himself to be distracted.

  But what harm can one little drink possibly do? He asked himself.

  Jaqueline waved over to the barman in a bid to attract his attention, and held up two fingers.

  “One drink, coming right up,” she said with a smile, and in that very moment, that was when Wilfred first realised he was already starting to fall head over heels in love with her.

  ***

  Jaqueline Rose had always been destined to end up in show business.

  Growing up, her mother had been an actress on the stage and her father a stage manager and so, having spent most of her younger years hanging around theatres, in hindsight it was almost inevitable that, at some point, she might end up following in their footsteps.

  Most of Jaqueline’s formative years were spent in dressing rooms - watching as her mother put her face on, applying the mask she always wore when she was up there on stage, and that allowed her to so convincingly become somebody else, if only for a short while. Sometimes, if Jaqueline were good, her father would even allow her to watch her mother perform from a little spot somewhere back stage.

  On those nights, Jaqueline would often find herself watching her mother and wishing it were her up there in front of the audience instead. At first, her mother and her father tried to talk her out of it – tried to convince her that there was very little money in the theatre and that she should probably try and do something else instead, rather than attempt to follow in her mother’s footsteps. But by then though, it was already far too late; the stage – and show business – was already in her blood.

  When her mother died, her father did his best again to try and discourage her, but Jaqueline would not be dissuaded; she already knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted to be an actress like her mother, but more than that, much more, she wanted to be a singer, and perform in musicals all up and down the West End.

  She wanted to be famous, she wanted to be somebody, and though her father was loath to admit it, deep down, a part of him thought she had enough just talent to do it.

  He just didn’t want to see his little girl getting hurt was all.

  As he’d tried to explain to her on numerous other occasions, it wasn’t all glitter and glamour working the stage. At times, show business could also be cruel - somet
hing he knew only too well from his own previous experience.

  When Jaqueline began putting herself out there, at first she started small – singing in local pubs and clubs, and doing her best to try and get herself noticed. In time, however, her efforts started to pay off.

  She got herself a part in the chorus line of a major performance, but as she soon discovered, that wasn’t enough for her, that wasn’t what she wanted.

  Jaqueline wanted more than that, much more – she wanted to be the star.

  One night, Jaqueline finally got the opportunity that she had been waiting for when one of the main actresses in the show she was in fell ill. The understudy was also out, having previously broken her leg falling down some steps, and so Jaqueline, as the next best thing, was asked to step forward and take the lead in the performance with very little notice or forewarning.

  As it turned out, she did a sterling job and the audience absolutely loved her, but more than that, apparently the critics did too. The next morning, in the papers, the critics all unanimously raved about her performance, describing her as having the voice of an angel, with many of them even suggesting she was better than the actress she’d replaced and with reviews like that, it wasn’t long before Jaqueline began drawing more and more attention.

  Soon, she began taking centre stage more regularly.

  And that’s when she got what she thought at the time was her big break.

  An American theatre director, touring the U.K and looking for undiscovered talent to take back with him to the States, had come to one of her shows where she was singing the lead. After her performance, he had come to the back door of the stage and quietly asked if he could speak with her.

  He was, he told her, in the process of putting together a cast for a brand new Broadway show that had the potential to be absolutely huge. Not only was he looking for a fresh, new, up and coming talent who was quintessentially British, he continued, but also he wanted her for his lead.

  Jaqueline was everything he was looking for, he said, and would absolutely be perfect in the role. The only problem was, he was leaving to head back to America in just a few more days and needed an answer straight away.

  Jaqueline, of course, said yes.

  Her father warned her to be careful, and tried to persuade her not to get too excited. Having been in the business all his life, he knew only too well how often these things did not always work out quite as planned. He tried to explain to her that very often, many of these so-called big ‘Theatre Directors’ often turned out to be full of hot air and empty promises - but Jaqueline would hear nothing of it and steadfastly refused to listen to his advice.

  This was her big moment, she told her father.

  Her big break.

  She was going to be a star.

  And no-one, no-one was going to stand in her way.

  Not even him.

  And so it was that Jaqueline packed up her bags, said her goodbyes to everything in her old life, including her father, and moved halfway across the world to New York, New York – the city so big that apparently, according to the song, they’d named it twice.

  Unfortunately, as it turned out, it wasn’t long before her father was soon proved right, and once there, in the States, Jaqueline’s dreams had very quickly fallen apart.

  The big part she had been promised turned out to be a much smaller role than the director had originally made out and not only that, the show itself had been very poorly received – pretty much right from the start. Supposedly a musical parody of America’s involvement in the Second World War, on the opening night, the performance had sadly died on its arse and fallen flat on its face when unfortunately, half the audience failed to get the joke and things didn’t get much better from there.

  The critics unanimously hated it, and in the performances that followed, audiences did too until, as the days and weeks continued to pass, they both began to stay away in droves.

  Looking back now, Jaqueline thought, it was easy to see the reason why the show had failed - it was because it was still too soon. The war was barely over, and the memories of all those who had lost their lives were still fresh in people’s minds. At the time, Jaqueline, poor, sweet, innocent and naive young Jaqueline, simply had not known any better.

  She had believed everything the director had told her back in England, believed all his promises and false assurances, and had allowed herself to be seduced by all his lies and blatant untruths. She had been blinded by the thought of performing under the big city lights of New York, and of finally achieving her dreams of becoming a big star and instead, Jaqueline had been manipulated and betrayed by someone she thought that she could trust, but who ultimately, it turned out, had only ever wanted to exploit her.

  When the show closed after only a month without even managing to draw even, Jaqueline found herself stranded in New York without a penny to her name. Destitute and penniless, without a job, she hadn’t even enough money to pay her rent, let alone be able to afford passage back home to England.

  Somehow, through sheer, dumb luck, she was finally able to snag herself a job as a waitress, but this barely paid her a pittance and so, by night, Jaqueline began singing in seedy bars and nightclubs all up and down the city for extra cash, just so that she could afford to eat.

  It was not what she had wanted, nor what she had dreamed of, and the men who frequented the kind of bars in which she was forced to sing would often try to touch her and grope her all the while whilst she was performing, but Jaqueline had little other choice but to put up with it unless she wanted to find herself on the streets, trapped in a strange city, thousands of miles away from home so reluctantly, she did what she needed to in order to survive.

  Too embarrassed to admit the truth, when Jaqueline wrote letters home to her father – which wasn’t as often as she liked for postage was expensive – she lied and told him of how well she was doing. She didn’t want him to worry, for there was nothing he could do to help her in any case with him stuck all the way over there back in England.

  But there were many nights when she found herself crying herself to sleep - and that was just on the nights when she actually could sleep.

  Finally, a couple of months ago, Jaqueline had been approached by someone interested in offering her a job, doing what she loved, but in a much nicer environment. Some man approached her on the street one day, after eating in the restaurant she waitressed in and told her he had seen her singing at one of the bars that she often frequented, and had been so impressed by her voice and performance that he wanted to offer her a gig.

  There was an opening for a singer and all-round entertainer coming up on a brand new, luxury cruise ship called The Bellastaria, he told her. It would be sailing back to England on its maiden voyage in the next few weeks or so and having watched her perform several times these past few weeks, he wondered if she might be interested in joining the ship as their singer.

  Jaqueline hadn’t even needed to stop and think about it. Right away, as soon as the man had finished speaking to her, Jaqueline had immediately said yes and that was how she had ended up here, sailing back to England on-board The Bellastaria.

  A decision that later, she would have cause to regret…

  ***

  Now, as Jaqueline sat here together with Wilfred at the bar, telling him her story, she asked him, “So what about you? How did you end up here? And is it true? Did you really lose your hand in the war?”

  Suddenly realising what she’d just said, Jaqueline blushed.

  “I’m sorry, forgive me. You probably don’t want to talk about it…”

  “No, it’s fine,” Wilfred said. “It’s all in the past now, I don’t mind talking about it.”

  He told her his usual lie, the one he always told people to explain away his missing hand – about how he had lost it to a grenade after pushing one of his fellow soldiers out of the way and throwing him to the ground to try and save him from the explosion.

  “And your new hand…is it…is it
really made out of silver?” She asked him. “I mean…real silver? It looks expensive.”

  “It is,” Wilfred said, and again, told her other lie he always told – of how the father of the soldier whose life he’d saved had had it custom made for him as a sign of his eternal gratitude for saving his son’s life.

  “That’s actually why I’m here now, on this ship,” Wilfred confessed. “After the war, the father and his son came over to New York to try and make a fresh start and I’ve just been over here visiting them. The son found it difficult to go back to his old life in England, after everything he’d seen and experienced during the war. So, his father came over here thinking upping sticks and moving them both over here to start again might just help his son regain something of what he’d lost, and help him go back to being even half the man he was before he left. Not many people realise sometimes, just how much of an effect something like going to war can have on a man – watching people you’ve fought beside, slept beside and shared secrets with die alongside you, even while you, somehow, manage to survive – and it’s something that no-one who hasn’t been out there in that situation can ever hope to understand.

  “It’s what they call ‘survivor’s guilt.’

  “It’s one of the main reasons why I decided to come over here to the States – both to thank the man’s father for the new hand, but also to try and explain to him that his son is still the same man he remembers. He just needs something his father can’t give him – not even by moving him half-way across the world in an attempt to provide him a fresh start. He just needs time.”

  “You sound like a good man,” Jaqueline told him. “An honourable man, and that is something that is all too rare these days.”

  Wilfred blushed.

  Though they had only just met, Wilfred already felt like he was forming a special connection with this woman, some kind of bond, and didn’t like lying to her. But from previous experience however, he knew only too well that funnily enough, people pretty much started looking at you like you were crazy and acting differently towards you when you began talking about the existence of vampires and werewolves, and besides, he had a mission to complete and could hardly exactly tell her the truth could he?