by Dayle, Harry
“Congratulations,” the blond said. “You just committed double murder. Catch!”
He threw the gun at Jake. Instinct kicked in and he caught the weapon in both hands. The man opened the door, released a catch on the lock, exited the room, and pulled the door closed behind him. Jake stood for a second, stunned into silence. He had no idea what had just happened.
It was then that he became aware of the noise coming from the window behind him. There had been screaming since the first gunshot, but the commotion had changed. It was less screaming and more shouting. He turned to look.
“Watch out! He’s got a gun!” he heard someone near the window scream out.
Jake looked down. He was still holding the weapon. He looked up. The election moderator was headed his way at a charge, followed by two burly men.
• • •
Flynn reached the window. The glass had been shattered by the bullets, leaving a carpet of tiny sparkling granules covering the floor.
“Son, don’t do anything stupid. Give me the gun.” Flynn reached out a hand tentatively.
Jake looked at the gun in his hands as if he couldn’t believe it was real. He dropped it like a hot potato and jumped backwards, away from the window.
“Get in there and pin him down!” Flynn shouted at the two men who had followed him. They scrambled up through the opening and across the lighting control desk. Jake didn’t move, didn’t fight back as the men grabbed an arm each.
Back in the theatre the panic was subsiding. The gunman had been stopped, there was no longer a danger. Now the people were migrating towards the back. Everyone wanted a glimpse of the madman who had just killed the two candidates in cold blood.
“Jake? Is that you?”
The voice came from behind Flynn.
“You know this man?” Flynn turned and asked him.
The man stepped forwards to better see through the window. Jake recognised him at once.
“Know him? That’s Jake Noah. He is, was, the captain,” the man said.
“Martin! No! This isn’t what it looks like!” Jake cried out. Seeing his chief engineer had snapped him out of his state of shock.
“This is Noah?” Flynn asked. “This is the man who walked away from the captain’s chair? The man who left us without a leader in our time of greatest need?”
“No, that’s not true and you know it,” Jake protested. “Melvin came to depose me. You were there, one of his heavy mob, I saw you!”
“I’ve never set eyes on you in my life.” Flynn all but spat the words out. “And now what? You’ve decided that you want your old job back? Decided to wipe out anyone who could stand against you? You think that with Melvin and…the other candidate whose name we never even found out, you think that now they’re dead you can just reclaim your position on the bridge?”
“What? No! No of course not. I didn’t do this! There was another man, a German!”
Flynn raised an eyebrow. “Is there anyone else in there?” he asked the two men who were still restraining Jake.
They looked around the tiny room, as if someone could somehow have hidden away, and shook their heads.
“Mr Noah, you are a murderer. Your fate is not for me to decide though. Men, hold onto him.”
Flynn walked back down the aisle, still with one hand pressed against his shoulder. It was soaked with blood, but he didn’t seem to be letting the wound stop him. He reached the front of the auditorium and took the small flight of steps at the side of the stage. All eyes were on him as he stopped in front of the two bodies.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as if we were not already in dark times, we have experienced a true atrocity here. But we must not let these actions stand in the way of democracy. We need a leader now more than ever before.” A thousand people were hanging on Flynn’s every word. “Clearly the position is not without risk. There will always be elements who are opposed to the democratic process. So, I urge you again, would anyone who thinks they could lead us please come up to the stage. Time is short; we have to act decisively and act now.”
Silence.
Of the thousand or so passengers and former crew packed into the theatre, not one moved.
“Anyone? Please?” Flynn pleaded from the stage.
“Why don’t you do it?” someone called out.
“Yeah! You’re already up there!” another voice shrilled.
There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd.
“I wouldn’t consider myself the man for the job,” Flynn said modestly.
Several people shouted in response to that.
“You’re a bloody hero, mate!”
“You’re clearly a born leader!”
“You’ve been in charge all evening, why not keep going?”
“Captain Flynn!” somebody screamed from one of the balconies. “He’s our saviour!”
That prompted cries of encouragement. The mood in the room was changing. The sense of panic and fear had been replaced by a feeling of anticipation, almost excitement. There were more cries of “Captain Flynn”. The cries united and became a chant.
“Captain Flynn! Captain Flynn! Captain Flynn!”
They reached fever pitch. Flynn’s name reverberated around the huge auditorium. People were stamping their feet, clapping their hands in unison.
Flynn looked on from his position on the stage. He let the chants continue for a few minutes. Finally he bowed his head, raised his free hand slowly and waved it from side to side. The chanting subsided, the stamping died out, the clapping stopped. Gradually the theatre fell silent, the sense of anticipation greater than ever. Flynn lowered his hand and looked up. He scanned the room slowly, from left to right.
“Well, I don’t know what to say right now.”
“Say yes!” someone called out from near the front. There was nervous laughter, but the silence quickly re-established itself.
“I’m just a regular guy who believes in doing the right thing. I came here this evening to help facilitate a democratic process. It seems that fate, in some very strange and twisted way, has seen to it that the people have been able to have their say. Not in the way any of us expected, and not in the way any of us would have wanted. But if the last three days have taught us anything, it is to expect the unexpected. If nobody else is willing to stand, and if this truly is the will of the people gathered here, then I must accept that the hand of destiny has touched me tonight. So it is my humble duty to accept your wishes. I will take the captain’s chair, and I will do my best, with the advice of those who are willing to give it, and with the Lord’s help, to lead us all to safety.”
His last word hung in the air for a second. And then, explosive, rapturous applause. Anyone who was seated, stood. The chant started up once more.
“Captain Flynn! Captain Flynn! Captain Flynn!”
On the stage, Flynn smiled and waved his good arm, signalling for silence. It took a while, but the crowd slowly calmed down.
“Now, let’s get these doors open. Someone get through that back window and unlock the doors from the outside. If there’s a doctor or nurse present, I could really use some help with my shoulder here.” He pulled his hand away and blood dripped from it onto the stage. “And you two heroes who stopped ex-Captain Noah, bring him to the bridge so we can decide his fate. I believe it is located on deck ten. The crew member who recognised him can show you the way.”
Forty-Eight
THE TWO MEN hustled Jake out of the room and towards a staircase. He felt immensely grateful that the other doors to the theatre were still locked, meaning there was no risk of being mobbed by an angry crowd. Martin had climbed through the window, and he exited the control room and took the lead without looking once at Jake.
“Martin, listen to me. I didn’t do this, you have to believe me. Why would I? I willingly gave up the captain’s seat. You were there! You saw me go, freely. It makes no sense for me to kill Melvin!”
“Shut it,” one of the heavies grunted.
“I’ve bee
n set up, Martin! They’ve taken Lucya!”
At the mention of her name, Martin paused, looking round.
“Where is she? Where’s Lucya?”
“I don’t know, that’s what I’m telling you. They took her. She left my cabin, someone took her, and then they came for me.”
“I said shut it, or I will shut it for you.”
Martin considered Jake’s plea. “She was in your cabin? What was she doing there? Were you plotting this together?”
“No! We were…I mean, she came to see me and… They took her, Martin, to set me up!”
The man restraining his left arm turned towards Jake.
“I said it twice, you must be a bit thick.” He swung a huge fist into the side of Jake’s face. The blow knocked him off balance and he tumbled to the floor.
The heavy bent down, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him back to his feet.
“You.” He pointed at Martin. “You’re done with the questions, now piss off back to wherever you come from.”
“What about the bridge?” Martin looked affronted.
“We’ll manage.”
The two men set off up the stairs, leaving Martin somewhat confused at the bottom. Jake remained silent the whole way; he didn’t want to feel the force of either man’s fists again.
They reached the bridge without getting lost or making any mistakes in direction, which Jake found odd. The route was not obvious, a deliberate design to discourage passengers from trotting up there and making a nuisance of themselves. One of the men knocked on the door. It swung open and the three of them went inside.
The captain’s chair was empty, as were the other posts. There were people present, though. Four men. Jake recognised them. Two had been on the bridge with Flynn when Melvin had come to call for the election. Of the other two, one looked Chinese and the other was tall, blond, and, Jake thought, probably German. Jake was marched to a chair near the map table. One of the men holding Jake pulled out a couple of cable ties from his pocket and secured him to the chair in exactly the same way he had been back in the theatre. He was sitting in front of the weapons cabinet, which he could see was empty. The door was open, and covered in blood. In the middle was a dent, about the size and shape one would expect to see if a head had been slammed into it with great force. The key in the lock wasn’t Jake’s; it looked, from the keyring it was attached to, like it had been Max’s.
• • •
It was nearly half an hour later when Flynn arrived on the bridge. In the intervening time the six other men present conversed infrequently, and always in voices too low for Jake to be able to make out what they were saying. When Flynn entered, letting himself in with his own key, the men fell silent instantly.
“Mr Noah, congratulations.” Flynn spoke — and strode — with authority and none of the humility he had shown in the theatre. He had the air of a man very much in charge and in control. “You played your role better than I could have hoped. I was afraid you would drop the gun as soon as Gunter put it in your hands. But no! You stood there in the window, for hundreds of people to witness. And then you put up no fight when I sent Jonas and Aki here to restrain you, perfect!”
Jake’s head was reeling, trying to process what Flynn had just said, the implications of his words.
“Gunter? He tried to shoot you…I don’t understand. Why…how…” He couldn’t articulate everything he was thinking.
“Gunter didn’t try and shoot me, he actually shot me. Perfectly, I might add.” He nodded an acknowledgement at the blond man, who smiled in response. “Not easy to hit a moving target in exactly the right spot, but Gunter is a bit of a sharp shooter. He avoided any major blood vessels, and the bone. Just took a nick out of my shoulder. Like I said, it all went better than I had hoped.”
“You set this whole thing up?” Jake asked, still not sure he understood.
“Hey, boys? I think he’s getting it! Yes, Jakey, I set it up.”
“But why? Melvin would have won that election hands down. He was a pain in the arse, but he meant well and he gave a reasonable speech. The other guy looked like a loser.”
“Of course Melvin would have won. That’s why he had to die. And the other guy, well, obviously he had to go. And now you’re out of the picture too.”
“This was all about getting the captain’s chair?”
“You’re not very bright, are you, son? Yes, this was about getting the chair.”
“Why didn’t you just stand against Melvin?”
“Do I really have to lay it out for you?”
“Not really,” Jake said, wondering if he would regret his next words. “I mean, you’re going to kill me, aren’t you? So you don’t have to explain anything.”
“Wow, son of a bitch, you really don’t get it, do you? I can’t kill you! You made me a hero. Take yourself out of your own tiny little head for just a second, and put yourself in the seat of one of those sorry ass passengers back in that theatre. I know this might be difficult for you, you being a bit dumb and all, but just try, okay? So, sorry ass passenger sees some innocent old guy get shot. Then the shooter tries to get Melvin but misses. I dive in to try and save him, and take the bullet. Tragically, Melvin still dies. Loose end, see? Can’t have loose ends. So now I’m a hero for taking the bullet. And then, to cap it off, I catch the gunman. That’s you, dumbo. And to show I’m a caring human being, I don’t execute you on the spot, even though you deserve it. Instead I will arrange a suitable punishment.”
“Great, so you’re a hero, you get elected captain, and two people are dead. I still don’t understand why you didn’t just stand for election. You could have won without killing anyone.”
“Elected captain? I wasn’t just elected captain. I’ve been given the biggest mandate to run this ship in any way I see fit. I was given a standing ovation. They chanted my name. I’m the people’s hero! And the only two people who could have challenged me are out of the picture. One is dead, and the other is guilty of a double homicide. Now there’s nobody to question the orders I give. Apart from these guys and a few more of my disciples. But they understand that I am on a God-given mission. They are faithful to the cause.”
“Where’s Lucya?” Jake didn’t want to listen to any more of this.
“Your girlfriend is safe. I won’t be harming a hair on her pretty little head, don’t you worry. I need her for the next phase.”
“What phase? What are you going to do to her?” Jake began to struggle in his seat, trying to wriggle free. He couldn’t move an inch.
“The next phase is the breeding,” Flynn said, and walked away.
Forty-Nine
LUCYA OPENED HER eyes. It made no difference, she couldn’t see a thing. She could have been anywhere, could even have been dead. The pain throbbing in the side of her head made her think otherwise, though. She had no idea what had happened to her. One minute she was leaving Jake’s cabin, the next, here she was.
She shook her head from side to side, as if doing so might shake out the fog of unconsciousness that lingered within, clouding her senses. Instead it just sent an explosion of pain through her skull. She screamed, but no sound came out. Something was holding her mouth closed. Duct tape? Whatever it was, it held fast. She breathed deeply through her nose and waited for the pain to subside a little. Collecting her thoughts, she tried to gauge her position. She was sitting, that much she could tell, but that was about all. Tentatively, she tried to move her hands. They were behind her back, and wouldn’t budge. Something was digging into her wrists. The more she tried to pull free, the tighter it got. She tried to move her feet. Exactly the same thing happened. She attempted to stand, but discovered that her legs had been bound to whatever it was she was sitting on.
Realising that moving was not an option, Lucya changed tack. Any attempt at movement only served to tighten her bindings, cause pain, and waste energy. She had to use her head. Her first task was to try and figure out where she was on the ship. Remaining perfectly still and silent, she liste
ned hard for anything that might give her a clue. There were no sounds from the immediate surroundings. There could have been other people around, but they would have to be breathing very quietly not to be heard. The only noise wasn’t so much a noise, more a vibration. The throbbing of the engines idling at the bottom of the ship. Spending so long at sea, Lucya never normally noticed these vibrations or the noise as the ship cruised the world. It was always there in the background, like wallpaper. Too familiar to be remarkable. But that didn’t mean she didn’t hear or feel it. Unconsciously, those tiny pulsations were always being picked up by her senses, all the time. Everywhere she went, her brain was recording all sensory inputs. And so it was without any effort at all that Lucya instinctively knew from the intensity of the engine vibration that she was on deck nine. Deck nine comprised almost entirely staterooms. Mostly the larger, plusher suites, for those with substantial financial means. Aside from these cabins there were a few cleaning stores, and some technical rooms for accessing systems such as plumbing and heating. She had seen inside the cleaning stores and they were tiny, packed full of linen and cleaning products, so she deduced that she had to be in a cabin. All of the cabins on this deck had balconies. Even the inside cabins had balconies, overlooking Palm Plaza. Lucya smiled inwardly. Balconies were potential escape routes. There was hope.
Fifty
FLYNN HAD TAKEN up residence in the captain’s chair. He was looking out to sea.
“Get me someone who can drive this thing,” he yelled.
Jonas and Aki, the two heavies who had escorted Jake to the bridge, headed for the door.
“And a navigator. We need a navigator,” Flynn called after them before they were through it.
“You need a lookout, too,” Jake said. “I mean, unless you’re planning on crashing this ship.”