by Al K. Line
"Fine, let's sit down." Vicky huffed, then moved over to the harbor wall where she sat then fished out her laptop. In a few minutes she had the same video playing on the larger screen.
"How do you know it's them?" asked Steve.
"Watch." Vicky adjusted the angle so the overheard lights gave off less glare, and we all studied the screen.
"It's just two guys and a woman," said Steve.
"Yeah, but look how they're acting, and watch for the fuzziness," I said, wondering how Steve had managed to stay alive so long.
We focused, and as Vicky switched between cameras you could clearly see the shape of the men and woman. They were dressed in tight clothing, typical hipster style, casual but less conspicuous than normal. They all wore hats, the men in baseball caps, the woman with a wide-brimmed straw hat. Long brown hair tumbled down past her shoulders in loose curls.
Each carried a long canvas bag that was heavy although they tried to hold them casually like they weighed little. They knew where the cameras were, avoided putting their heads up or turning so you could see their faces, and they were walking too fast to be off on a nice jaunt.
Every so often, one would turn sharply away from the camera to talk to one of the others. The cameras would go fuzzy, the screen flickering, and I knew from experience this was when a slight shift in appearance would have happened. Shifters often showed a hint of the animal side when in each other's company, especially when emotions flared, and it played havoc with technical equipment like cameras. There was something built in to them that messed with it, and it was just as well as it kept them secret, never filmed, never outed.
They hurried down the jetty and got onto a large boat, something that must have cost a fortune, a huge thing with wide decks and a towering cabin.
Within minutes they were gone, ropes coiled professionally, unhitched and they were away.
"Now all we have to do is find them and we have our guys."
"And woman," said Vicky.
"Yeah. And woman." I didn't like this one bit. And it hadn't even started yet.
Go, Go, Go
"Come on," I said, marching along the water's edge, heading for the boats.
Steve and Vicky came chasing after me, whispering questions I didn't feel inclined to answer with people constantly walking past.
When we reached the moorings, I pulled Wand out of his cosy resting place and as the sigils sparked to life, I asked, "Which one?"
"I can't see," he complained.
"Muppet," I muttered, then spun him in my hand so he was "facing" a different way.
"That one," he said, tilting forward and aiming straight at a monster of a boat, almost a ship. It was a large, swanky vessel with a streamlined front like the wedge of a lemon and a fat midsection. Steel rails gleamed, the deck was huge, the cabin monstrous, and it was as clean as my kitchen, sparkling under the hardcore lights that lit up the quay and the water like it was daytime.
"Good choice." I turned to the others and said, "Get on, quick, and act like it's ours."
The pair of numpties glanced around looking about as casual as a camel in a pet store and then checked out the other boats for anyone watching.
"Just get on," I hissed, despairing. Had Vicky learned nothing after all these years? How did Steve get bodyguard work when he couldn't even step onto a boat without looking dodgy as fuck?
I led the way, moved aside the rope across the gangplank and strode onto the boat like I owned it, which I most certainly did not. I let Wand work his magic on the cabin door lock then entered a cool interior like something out of a spaceship. In fact, it was exactly how I'd imagined the command deck of a spaceship to be. Swivel chairs upholstered in white leather, dark wood paneling where hi-tech gadgetry and plenty of buttons had been expertly crafted into the curved, warm mahogany.
Wand angled down sharply and dragged me over to what looked like a push start button. He jabbed forward and the engine came to life, a low rumble beneath my feet like I was standing atop a snoring dragon.
Vicky and Steve came in behind.
"Wow, this is awesome," noted Steve.
"Look at all the buttons," shrieked Vicky with utter glee, then she dumped her bags to study them with unbridled curiosity.
"They've got everything. Satellite tracking, maps, all the routes to anywhere of interest for the whole of Europe. The thing even drives itself. Um, do you drive a boat?"
"Steer, I think you steer a boat," I said, unsure if that's what you called the, er, driving.
"There's satellite internet, same for phones if we need it, for if we lose our signal, and there's radar and there's—"
"So it's a nice boat," I said, cutting her off. "Get ready, because we're going right now."
"But we can't go now," protested Vicky. "We aren't ready."
"What do you mean?" I snapped, keen to get going.
"We haven't got stuff, you know, to take down the bad guys."
"And what would you like to have?"
"Guns, big ones."
"No, guns are bad. We have all we need right here. We need to get a move on and get these bastards as soon as we can. So let's go."
"Yeah, let's go get them," said Steve. "I can't believe we've found them. Um, but we haven't, have we?"
"No, we haven't. We know they went in a boat but we don't know where they went. So, Vicky, while we sail out of here, I want you to see if you can track them."
"Will do." Vicky pulled out her laptop, took the bench seat that ran along the wall, and Steve sat in the captain's chair which I thought was rather cheeky, and I went to unhitch the moorings.
With the ropes wound up tightly then secured on the boat, I checked the perimeter to see if there was anything else I needed to do. Would the anchor be down? I had no idea. I couldn't see anything, so with a shrug of the shoulders I returned inside, told Steve to move aside while I got us out of here, and got funny looks from the pair of them.
"What?"
"Do you know how to handle one of these things?" asked Steve.
"Arthur, you don't even know how to drive a car properly."
"I do. But no, never driven a boat. It's just forward or backward, and, um, sideways, right?" I said, affronted.
"Mate, there's a lot more to it than that. It's tough, you need to be very precise and know exactly what you're doing."
"And you know, do you?"
"Yeah, I do. Been on loads of them. Worked on one for a year, sailed all over the place. To South Africa, all around the Med. I was a deckhand, ended up steering for months, controlling something even bigger than this. Man, you wouldn't believe how much these things cost, and then you have to pay staff, never mind the fuel, and the mooring charges are astronomical.
"Okay, okay, you drive, steer, whatever."
Steve grinned at me then resumed his seat. He spun in the chair then pulled back on a large handle. The motor roared as we eased back out of the harbor. He performed flawlessly, and it was clear he did know what he was doing. Maybe sometimes I take too much for granted, that I'm the only one who can handle situations, when truth is, others are more capable than me at certain things. I know, hard to imagine, right?
Within minutes, we were clear of the harbor, the other vessels were left undisturbed thanks to Steve's expert boatmanship, Vicky's head remained deep in her laptop as she searched for the other boat, and I felt like a third spoke, unsure what to do to help. I did not like that feeling.
Yay
While Steve took us out to sea with no destination in mind—it's always better to keep moving than sit around procrastinating—I explored.
Damn but this was one hell of a vehicle. The deck was large but it still felt a little cramped with only a few feet between me and the sea. So I went below to see what I could see. Oh, how the other half live. I always thought I had plenty of money, but this was on a whole other level. Or maybe the owner was ostentatious, whereas I was rather conservative in my spending habits, born of many years of deprivation, and the understand
ing it could be taken away from you at any time, which it had been on many an occasion.
That isn't to say it wasn't bloody lovely, because it was. The lounge area was white leather seating built into the walls, with a large table fixed to the floor made of the same dark mahogany as the rest of the interior trim. It was carpeted in a thick cream pile, all edges were rounded, many sheathed in brushed steel, and the kitchen was like my idea of paradise but in miniature. Expensive taps, full-sized cooker, the shelves neat and orderly with bars running across the front to stop anything falling out. Even the fridge was stocked with expensive food; the owners were clearly planning on taking a trip the following day.
And there was a coffee machine, hip, hip, hooray, so I wasted no time making a delicious brew for us all while we headed out into the unknown.
Once ready, I returned reluctantly to the pair of degenerates I had been lumbered with, only to find them silent, and hugging. Vicky was facing me and she shook her head; Steve wasn't doing too well. Poor guy, he knew the score, knew the chances were high Sunshine would be killed if she wasn't dead already, and that the people who took her would be on their guard, expecting the unexpected. He shook, sobbing quietly while Vicky held him and whispered soothing words in his ear.
I put the drinks down on coasters and left them to it.
I returned to the lounge and relaxed for a while, centering myself, steeling my nerve for the ordeal sure to come. It wasn't just that we would be fighting bad guys, if we found them, it was that it may well all be for naught and Sunshine would be a lost cause, dead when we finally found her.
If we tried anything too confrontational with her kidnappers they could use her as a shield, threaten to harm her if we didn't leave or pay up, so this would be tricky and then some.
How did you go about rescuing someone from a situation like this? Not that I even knew what the situation was. They could be anywhere, they could have sailed to Europe by now, or merely nabbed her then set ashore and had a hideout all lined up. Guess we'd find out soon enough. Maybe.
After finishing my coffee, I headed back up onto the deck and peered through the window to see if the coast was clear. It was. Steve was back at the controls, Vicky was on her laptop.
Closing the door behind me as the wind was chilly, I entered the warm interior. Wow, they even had heating on these things. Awesome.
I began to ask where we were at, but Vicky held up a hand. Steve winked at me—men in this together. Minutes later, and it must have been a record for Vicky, she sighed, then closed the laptop.
"We know where they went," she said. "All the large vessels, and the small ones, um, all vessels, have to have trackers, and they have to check in with the authorities. Not that these idiots did, but I found their boat, found out what system they had, and I traced their route via their signals from their um, whatever you call it, the map thing on the screen."
"Whatever," I said, waving away unimportant details. "You know where they went? They didn't tell anyone?"
"Yes, and yes."
"And we're heading there now?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Do you know where they are now? Shouldn't we go get 'em?"
"I lost track of them, something changed, but at least we know where they went. Maybe they're still there."
"It's a good start. But look, guys, we have to prepare ourselves. Steve, when we get to where they headed, you stay behind at first, you too, Vicky."
"No way," they both protested.
"If they stopped for hours somewhere in the middle of nowhere that means it was to nab Sunshine from a boat, and that means if the boat's still there it will be very, and I mean very, unpleasant. So you both stay behind."
"I've seen plenty of dead bodies," protested Steve.
"Me too," said Vicky.
"I know, but this is different. So you wait."
Nobody argued, but I knew this pair. They would ignore my wishes, and I didn't blame them. For better or worse, we were in this together. I just hoped Steve could handle what we found. "Wake me when we're close. How long do you think?"
"A few hours," said Vicky.
"You said this thing can drive itself?"
"Sure can," said Steve.
"Then set that up and go get some rest. Once we find the boat, there won't be much time for resting after that." I left out the bit about the reason, mainly because it was sure to be so horrific none of us would want to close our eyes.
I went below decks and took one of the small bedrooms. I flopped onto the bed and lay there with my hands behind my head. Plotting the downfall of those who would steal little girls.
Ghost Ship
I knew before Vicky knocked on the bedroom door that we'd arrived. The slow rumble of the engine, the tense atmosphere, and the magical emanations growing stronger by the minute told me all I needed to know.
But when Vicky came in and said, "We're here," her face grim, I gave her my thanks and got off the bed, my bones creaking more than the frame.
I followed her up the narrow stairs and into the control room where Steve was pacing and looking all kinds of rough. I think it was the first time I'd ever seen him with his hair looking mussed. When he saw me, he went to the controls and maneuvered the boat a little so we were facing the other vessel side on. He flicked a switch and strong searchlights lit up the boat still a distance away but close enough for it to be unmistakable as a veritable fortress on water.
"Guess that's it," I said.
"Sure is," agreed Vicky.
"Let's go." Steve rubbed at his face like he was crawling with ants.
"Remember what I said. You two wait here. I'm not going to argue about it, I want you to wait. If I need your help, I'll call. Okay?" I stared hard at each of them until they relented, nodding their acquiescence.
With a grunt, I grabbed my jacket and got ready for the horror.
Steve remained at the controls and slowly pulled up alongside a vessel the antithesis of the usual pleasure boats. This was a squat oblong box more than anything else. Gunmetal gray, no easy sign of access, and the sides were high with slits for the occupiers to see out of, and no doubt shoot the shit out of anyone trying to get aboard.
The cabin loomed large, and appeared just as secure as everything else. There was little in the way of glass, just beefed-up security consisting of a lot of welding and other modifications done by skilled people but not professionals or anyone who cared about the finish. No way would this ever moor where it could be seen, it would have been used in secret locations and the work carried out away from prying eyes.
It was like a ghost ship with the dark panels and the air of abandonment, but we all knew this wasn't the case. Inside, bodies were only now cooling, rigor mortis setting in. And there would be blood. Lots and lots of blood.
Nothing new for The Hat, but it still made me balk because seeing dead bodies, especially when you weren't there when they died, is always an experience verging on surreal. It doesn't quite compute, and however many times it happens you never really get to grips with it. Were these lumps of eviscerated meat really once people with hopes and dreams, with lives lived and a future lost? Too much for the brain to process, to accept that it could be you next.
There were several small boats high on the sides in cradles, probably used to go ashore and not arouse suspicion, decent-sized vessels in their own right, only seeming small because of the monstrous size of the main boat. The true scale became apparent as we bumped gently against the hull and Steve cut the engine.
"It's bloody massive," noted Vicky.
"Sure is," I agreed. "Like something from Mad Max."
"This must definitely be where Sunshine spent a lot of time. It's big enough to have everything you'd need." Steve cupped his hands and squinted through the glass, as if mesmerized by the sight because it brought us one step closer to finding his little girl.
"I'll be back soon. Steve, come out and help me hitch us up so you don't drift away. And, er, how am I going to get across?"
/> "I have the perfect thing for that." Steve smiled wickedly. I got the impression I wouldn't like this.
Eek
I was right. In short order, I found myself clipped onto a length of rope tied to our boat and hooked over the steel sides of the other one by means of a grappling hook. I was now sliding through space with only a flimsy piece of metal stopping me falling into the freezing water. It wasn't merely plummeting that had me concerned, I'd certainly taken a dive from higher, it was that I'd be in the water and it wouldn't be easy to get out again.
So I may have squeaked a little as I jerkily slid down the rope and then came to rest with my feet on the sides of the boat. I grabbed hold of the sides, eventually managed to release the carabiners with fingers numb from fear rather than cold, although it was bloody freezing, and I dropped onto the deck with relief. The Hat was still alive.
Everything was cast in deep shadow as our lights couldn't reach down over the high walls, so I did as instructed and went straight to the cabin. The door was ajar and blocked by a large lump I knew was a body. I fumbled my way to the control panel and searched for the switches Steve told me to find, then flicked them on.
The room lit up in all its stark, uncompromising glory, and so did the rest of the boat once I finished with the switches. There was no key to start the engine but the backup generator seemed to be working fine, more's the pity.
Blood was everywhere, on a staggering scale, although, again, you'd think I was used to it by now. But the five liters or so inside every adult human is a vast quantity of liquid to be sprayed over walls and floors, and it had certainly been spread creatively inside the cabin. A large, once strong man was lying on the floor, still clutching a heavy duty assault weapon.
He'd been ripped to shreds. Not only were his carotid arteries exposed, there were numerous wounds all over the corpse. Combat gear was in tatters, and by the look on his face, he hadn't enjoyed his death one bit. He'd definitely come up against a shifter or two who wasn't impressed by the unwanted entrance and had gone to town. The blood spray from his neck had decorated the walls and glass, covering everything in a dark reddish brown coating now it was drying. There was no sign of the people who made this fortress a home.