Operation:UNITY (John Steel series Book 2)

by syron-jones, p s

  “So, Mr Black, you have been quiet all evening.” Albert Studebaker, had addressed Steel, who was aware that the large American was about to start a ‘friendly’ interrogation. “What exactly is it that you do?” His tone was as Steel expected: distrustful and insinuating. Jonathan Grant looked up instantly, his fork loaded with a piece of prawn cocktail, poised and waiting for whatever was going to be said next.

  Steel put down his fork and dabbed the side of his mouth with the linen napkin. Then he picked up the water glass in front of him and took a mouthful.

  “A bit of this and a bit of that really. I spent some time in the army and found after a while I needed a career change.” John watched their eyes as he spun some tales to quell their curiosity.

  “As for now I don’t really do much at all. My parents passed on a while back and left me some money, so I pretty much travel around and take an interest in the people I meet. Who knows, I may write a book one day.” Steel took another mouthful of water.

  “My life is really quite boring really—unlike yours, of course.”

  The large American sat back and grinned at the compliment.

  As the evening wore on Steel spent most of it examining the room, trying to catch a glimpse of someone suspicious, but so far the only odd people were the ones right in front of him. Jonathan Grant was also looking around, but most of his attention was focused on those at his table, especially John Steel.

  After listening to them for a while, Steel concluded that most, if not all, of them were not who they said they were, or had a hidden agenda for being there. Either way he felt as if he was at ‘the table of lies’. All through the night the captain told stories of his days in the navy and life aboard fishing vessels before that. He held his audience captive, as he had the knack of telling a good tale. Steel could not decide how much of what he said was actually true, but all the same it did not matter. John also noticed something was bothering the naval man; every now and then, he would stare into nothingness and his look seemed vacant and ‘lost’. Now Steel’s appetite was getting aroused: he was looking for something or someone on the ship, but for what reason he did not know. He was convinced that the people in front of him all had big secrets that they were running away from, and the investigator could not be happier. The only thing missing was a dead body, he thought to himself.

  The band’s music snapped John Steel back to reality as they started to play a slow dance. Steel stood up after dabbing his mouth with the napkin, and turned to Tia, saying:

  “May I have the pleasure of this dance?” Tia grinned as though she had waited all night for him to ask. He pulled out her chair slightly and she took his hand as she rose.

  As they danced close and slow the Englishman couldn’t help but notice how intoxicating her perfume was. He felt almost drunk as he breathed in her sweet scent, and felt it was exactly what he needed: some kind of ‘reboot’, for his brain had been bombarded for hours with mystery after mystery, and this little ‘get away’ was what he needed.

  The dance ended and he returned Tia May to her seat. While they’d been gone, he found that the conversation had continued as the captain had told another one of his fanciful tales.

  “So, Captain,” Jonathan Grant spoke enthusiastically.

  “The maiden voyage of a new ship must feel bloody marvellous.”

  As Steel returned to his seat he eyed the captain for his reaction. The large man put down his wineglass and smiled proudly and looked around.

  “Did you know, Mr. Grant, that this ship was designed to be a copy of how the Titanic would look if it had been built now instead of in 1912.”

  Grant shook his head as he took a small mouthful of the creamed dessert.

  “This ship is two thousand, seven hundred feet long and weighs over two hundred and forty-six thousand tons,” the captain continued.

  “It has twenty lifeboats, each of them designed to carry around three hundred and fifty passengers and the ship itself carries over seven thousand, five hundred passengers. This, sir, is the largest cruise ship ever designed. So, to answer your question, yes it feels bloody marvellous!” The captain grinned from ear to ear. Steel felt a little uneasy at the thought of the ship being referred to as ‘The Titanic of the modern age’.

  The Englishman felt the mood turn sour as everyone had the same maudlin thoughts as he had.

  “So, Captain Long, where are we off to next?” He knew the captain would not just stop at a simple explanation, but would go into a fully detailed description of the Spanish port of Vigo.

  As the night drew on, Steel could feel that the day’s travel and the effects of the magnificent meal had taken their toll on him. He rose from his seat and excused himself for the evening, and as he ventured out onto one of the decks he looked out onto the vast expanse of water. The cold breeze felt good against his skin. He needed fresh air and quiet, so that his brain could sort through the events of the evening, and contemplate the questions. Who was who? Was anyone at that table truly who they said they were? Tomorrow he’d be able to find out. On checking out the ship he had noticed it had an internet lounge, so perhaps he could find the answers there. The night was black apart from a half moon that shone just as brightly as if it had been full, casting light upon the gentle waves below. The view was breathtaking and the silence more so.

  Venturing back to his cabin Steel reflected on the evening and also thought about the waitress; maybe the things that had happened were coincidental, but something deep down told him otherwise; however, he was still none the wiser. What was so special about the ship? And were the ‘Stewarts’ from the email on Teresa’s computer the same Stewarts he had just met? A good night’s rest would help clear some of the fogged thinking, he reckoned as he walked towards his door. Stopping, he noticed there was a light on, and shadows moving from side to side indicated that he had a visitor. He thought about putting the card key in slowly but he knew the click would alert whoever it was anyway, so he decided to play it casual. Sure enough there was a loud click as the door-lock was released.

  He deliberately walked in as though he had no idea someone was there. Lying on his bed with only a sheet to cover her lay Tia May. Steel stood in the doorway for a moment, completely dumbstruck by what he had stumbled onto. As he looked around he saw her dress was lying upon a chair in the corner.

  John made a show of looking again at the room number on the door, saying,

  “Well, one of us is in the wrong room.” His words were playful and betrayed his confusion.

  As she got up she glided towards him with the sheet that hid her nakedness clasped in both hands.

  “You’d better shut the door, there’s a draught coming in,” she said, her voice soft and sensuous.

  Closing the door behind him Steel walked towards her, his eyes drinking in her perfect body. In turn her eyes were lustful and longing, and her mouth, lips glistening with red lipstick was partially open, showing her white teeth.

  “Well, Mr Black, whatever shall we do now?”

  He moved towards her and took her into his powerful arms.

  “Yes, what indeed!” he muttered as their mouths joined in a passionate kiss. She let the sheet fall to the ground, and it was clear that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Moving slowly towards the bed he flicked off the lights, stripped off the tuxedo, and as the illumination in his cabin dimmed into darkness the liner effortlessly cruised on through the ocean.

  The next morning Steel awoke to find Tia had gone. His vision was still blurred from the long sleep, and as he sat up and stretched he noticed a note on the dresser. Slipping out of the warm comfortable bed, his muscular naked body swayed as he walked in his semi-conscious state. He smiled as he read the short handwritten note: Thank you for a wonderful night, hope to see you at breakfast. He refolded the note and laid it back onto the dresser.

  As he headed for the bathroom, he stopped as instinct kicked in. Reaching into the front pocket of his suitcase, John produced a small torch. Switching it on
, the blue light it emitted showed up the grease particles on his hand. He closed the shades on the balcony door and searched the room, knowing the key places he would look, starting with the safe. This would be easy, he thought, as every time he touched something in the room that was of importance he made a point of wiping it clean of prints, meaning that the only visible prints could be from someone else. He smiled as the buttons on the wall safe lit up, smudges on the raised buttons indicating that the intruder knew the safe’s combination numbers, but not the order in which they had to be keyed in. He opened the safe and checked everything was there. Steel locked it up, satisfied; all his luggage had clip locks, which also lit up, indicating they had been tampered with. Switching on the light he checked his wardrobe: the clothes remained on the hangers but were out of place, as though someone had been rummaging through his clothes. It was clear someone had been searching for something, but for what? Had someone figured out who he was?

  Putting down the torch, he moved to the bathroom to shower and freshen up. Today would be another long day but he had things to do. The passengers at the captain’s table last night had struck a note of discord with him: something didn’t sit right and he wanted to know what it was.

  FIVE

  McCall sat patiently in the ME’s (Medical Examiner’s) office awaiting the arrival of Tina. She looked at the wall clock, seeing that it was around quarter to eight and she knew Tina was always in at half past. As she lifted the coffee cup to her lips the doors burst open and Tina danced in. Sam McCall watched intently as her friend fluttered about getting her stuff together as per normal but it looked as if she was on cloud nine.

  Tina did not notice McCall sitting on the edge of her desk watching her display, and then to her friend’s surprise, Tina began to sing, which was when McCall knew that last night’s date had been a good one. Tina spun round as if she was giving a music concert and looked up, straight into the eyes of McCall; Tina froze in position as her friend walked forwards holding two coffees.

  “Morning, Tina.” McCall held her composure, trying not to laugh and make Tina feel even more embarrassed; at least she wouldn’t laugh right now.

  Tina took the cup from Sam, and after taking a small sip, she got ready for the day’s work. “So?” McCall started to ask, only to be interrupted by a guilty-looking Tina.

  “I know, I know, it was only the first date but he was soooo...”

  Tina saw McCall’s eyes widen with confusion and excitement.

  “Oh, sure, I guess you want to know about the case?”

  McCall gave a friendly shrug, but would much rather have heard about Tina’s date.

  “Well, our Jane has no tattoos, no marks, or moles.” McCall looked disappointed. “But what she does have is contacts to change her eye colour, and her hair has had at least three different shades changes in the last six months.” Tina lifted up a small piece of microscope glass, inside which was a hair.

  “She has gone from black to red and is now finally blonde.”

  Now McCall had a bad feeling. “Did you get prints?”

  Tina held up the inkpad and fingerprint paper.

  “I was just about to do it, want to help?” McCall walked round and lifted Jane’s left hand, but as Tina used the ink roller on her thumb she stopped and shouted,

  “What the hell!” Tina looked up as McCall leaned forwards to get a better look.

  “See here? Her skin’s coming off!”

  Now McCall had a really bad feeling. Tina put the woman’s hand down along with the ink and paper. “Pity John Steel’s not here, he would love this.” Her smile instantly froze.

  “Sorry, have you still not heard anything?” McCall picked up her coffee and drank. “Oh, sure I have. He’s on a cruise.” Tina’s jaw dropped.

  “The lousy bastard goes off to England on a wild goose chase, doesn’t phone for weeks and then he goes on a cruise.” Tina felt her pain.

  “Forget him, girl. Tell you what I have got a friend whose brother is perfect for you, trust me.”

  McCall scowled at the thought of a blind date, then relented.

  “Ah, what the hell.” Tina grinned and, taking off her gloves, went into her office to make the call.

  Using a key card, Alan Metcalf entered a darkened room on the second deck, and a shard of light cut through the thick curtains displaying a chair just in front of him. “Hello, are you there?” he whispered.

  “Close the door, you idiot, and sit down.” The voice was that of a woman, her tone was soft and extremely attractive. Closing the door, he edged his way to the chair, making sure he did not fall over anything on the way.

  “How did it go, did you find anything?” Alan asked as he sat in the beige fabric chair. His words tumbled out in nervous excitement.

  “No, he is not the one, he did not have it.” She spoke slowly as if she was thinking of something else. Alan felt disappointed with her conclusion, but he savoured every word nevertheless. The room was in darkness, which inspired him to imagine what she must look like: as she spoke his mind conjured up images of a tall long-legged woman with black hair that reached down to her pert pear-shaped backside.

  “What now?” His words were a whisper but he seemed distracted and the woman picked up on this.

  “Don’t worry, I will find it,” she reassured him. “Besides we are on a ship, where can it go?” Alan’s mood lightened slightly.

  Suddenly the silence was broken by the muffled sound of a vibrating cell phone; he knew it was not his, as he had not brought it with him.

  “You must leave now,” she told him. “If I need you I will inform you.”

  He got up slowly and made his way back to the door that had a chemical stick glowing brightly to light his way. As Alan opened the door, he heard the woman answer the phone. “Yes, sir, I am aware of the deadline, no, we don’t have it.” He listened, realising there was a pause as she heard the caller’s words. “Not yet but it’s close, I can feel it. Yes, sir. Understood.”

  Alan closed the door quietly, rivers of perspiration ran down his forehead and back. He smiled to himself as he thought of his plan: if he found the device first HE would be the one in the shadows, HE would be the one in charge. Not some sultry-sounding bitch.

  After a small continental breakfast at one of the smaller restaurants, John Steel decided it was time to try to find his acquaintances from the table the previous night. The ship was massive, so tracking them down would be a feat in itself. As the sun rose further in the blue cloudless sky, hordes of passengers gathered in their droves to find that perfect spot on one of the many plastic loungers that lined the sundecks, packing themselves in and lying like great seals on ocean-side rocks. Others chose to find coolness in one of the many pools, but that did not interest Albert and Missy Studebaker. Sitting on the high velvet-cushioned stools, they put coin after coin into the slot machines in front of them, bathed in the bright flashing lights and to the sound of the never-ending electronic chimes. Beads of sweat had accumulated on the top of Albert’s forehead.

  “We need to lay low, we can’t afford...” Missy’s voice trembled with fear.

  “Now calm yourself,” he tried to reassure her. “Nobody knows us, besides like it or not we have to be here so enjoy it.” His face appeared from the other side of her machine as he leant over on his chair and gave her a childish grin.

  “Sure I know, but what if somebody?”

  His grin melted away and he scowled at her. “Nobody is going to find out nothing. Besides, even if they do it will be too late.” He disappeared back round to face his own machine and said nothing more.

  In the corridor next to the games room Steel stood with his back against the wall pretending to listen to his MP3 player which he had positioned in the doorway; the player held a small microphone which picked up Albert and Missy’s conversation. Satisfied, he put the device into his pocket and left. He had heard enough—for now.

  McCall crashed down exhausted into her chair, looking at the pile of folders on th
e edge of her desk—she knew it was not going to get easier. Stacked up there were hosts of homicides that the uniform guys had written up quickly, and which required investigation. The four files contained details of deaths associated with a robbery gone wrong, to electrocution. All these were recent and the crime scenes were still taped up. She leant back in her chair and looked for enlightenment, but none came.

  Sam McCall forced herself out of the chair and headed for the coffee room. As she marched in she saw Tony and Tooms sitting at the small table sipping on their fresh ones and discussing what Steel might be doing on the cruise: “I am telling you, man, he is probably got all the ladies—” Tony’s words were cut short at the sight of McCall at the doorway.

  “Oops!” Tooms grinned. “Oh, hey, Sam, didn’t see you there.”

  Tony just wanted to disappear into a deep hole somewhere.

  “No, it’s fine,” she told them. “I hope he is enjoying himself while we do all the work.” She was bitter, but they could tell it was not because of the workload. She walked in and poured herself a coffee from one of the half-full jugs, she lifted the jug offering a fresh top up to her colleagues, and the two men put their hands over the mouth of their cups to signify that they were good.

  Back at her desk, Sam spread out the files, hoping to be able to choose which one to examine first. She shook her head, thinking it was unprofessional to do so. Picking up the first file she read the cover name: it belonged to a Donald Major, fifty-two years old and he had been an electrical expert who had accidently plugged himself into the mains. Her face winced as she read the report of how apparent faulty wiring in the ceiling lights may have caused his death.

  The next case was Karen Greene, a thirty-four-year-old woman who was involved in a mugging gone wrong. McCall exhaled a deep breath to try to wake herself up. She looked up at the two detectives and smiled. Walking over to them, she held up two files. One was that of Bill Foster, a possible suicide. Bill had been an import and export dealer for a large company, until one day the pressure had been too much and he had shot himself.