A Trace of Revenge

by Lyle Howard

  “WARNING!”

  OUTER DOORS AUTOMATICALLY LOCK AT CRUISING SPEED.

  RISK OF HIGH WINDS AND DANGEROUS CONDITIONS ON DECK.

  IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, DOORS MAY BE OPENED BY PRESSING THE RED OVERRIDE BUTTON LOCATED NEXT TO THE EXIT.

  Simms debated the advice in his head for about three seconds before pressing the red button. The force of the wind was staggering. He had never had the misfortune of being on an airliner when the cabin decompressed, but he imagined that this was what it must have felt like.

  While it didn’t lift Simms him off his feet, the wind still hit him like a ton of bricks. He never realized how fast the ship was actually moving! Compared to a Coast Guard cutter running at full speed, this was like standing on top of a bullet train! If drug runners ever got hold of one of these ships, no naval vessel would ever be able to stop them. Peter Mason could make a killing building them for the military. Armed and equipped with stealth capabilities, a ship like this could usher in a new era of warfare.

  Simm’s brand new suit was soaked in seconds. His jacket was flapping like a sail during a hurricane, so one arm at a time, he slipped out of it. He tried to toss the coat inside, but the wind grabbed it, and he watched it blow overboard into the darkness. He wondered if the police department would make him pay for it himself.

  Simm’s inexpensive loafers, with their smooth soles, couldn’t gain traction on the wet deck. He was fighting to keep the automatic door from closing on his fists while at the same time trying to slide off his shoes. One at a time, they cartwheeled down the deck toward the stern. On the bulkhead to his left was a teakwood handrail running the length of the ship. With his upper body struggling to keep his grip, he lifted his left leg and slipped his foot between the railing and the outer bulkhead. If his shoes were terrible, his nylon socks were worse. One he thought his foot was secure enough, he let the doors slide shut. He managed to grab the handrail and stayed poised like a ballerina for more than a minute while he caught his breath.

  Once Simms managed to remove his socks, his footing became more stable. He was soaked to the bone, hanging on to the railing by his left arm. He had braved hurricanes both large and small while carrying out search and rescue missions, but no one was ever allowed out on deck during a storm unless it was absolutely necessary. These conditions validated that rule.

  What amazed Simms the most was that it was a crystal clear night. He could see that the ocean was calm, but the Hydra was traveling so fast she was literally creating her own squalls. The Petty Officer wasn’t sure if she was running at top speed, but he had never experienced anything like this before.

  The ladder Simms needed was straight ahead. He would have to pull himself forward along the railing for at least another fifty feet and then ascend the metal stairs fully exposed to the wind and stinging ocean spray. What a delightful evening this was turning out to be!

  It took the Petty Officer ten minutes to cover the distance, with his necktie slapping him in the face every other step. Once he reached the stairs, Simms tore off the tie and let the wind take it. He kept his head down as he climbed the stairs. Each metal step had perforations for traction, but he almost lost his footing twice.

  When the Petty Officer reached the landing, he held on for dear life and tried to regain his composure. The hatch to the bridge opened with a lever, but Simms knew it would be locked from the inside. He looked up and saw a security camera pointed down at the landing. If first impressions were lasting impressions, then he was screwed. He pounded on the hatch. A red light blinked on above the camera. Simms wiped the water out of his eyes and stared up at the lens. The lever moved, and the door opened.

  “Petty Officer Scott Simms of the Cutter Intrepid, as I live and breathe,” Roy Sowell declared, swiveling to see the waterlogged trespasser. “They sent you? I have to admit, I didn’t see that coming.”

  Simms looked over at the two other technicians manning the bridge. They were both pointing handguns in his direction. Sowell looked almost unrecognizable. He was gaunt, patches of his hair were missing, and his face bore dark spots that were the third telltale sign of a degenerative illness.

  “Put your weapons away!” Sowell commanded. “The Petty Officer isn’t a threat. “Hassan, get the poor man a towel, he’s dripping like a coffee brewer.”

  Simms took the towel he was handed and began to dry himself down. “I knew it. I told them you were still alive, but no one would believe me.”

  “Ah,” Sowell smiled. “I’m in the presence of a budding detective. I’m curious, what gave me away?”

  The Petty Officer gazed around the control room in awe that not one piece of equipment looked vaguely familiar. “The gasmask.”

  “Hmm…they recovered the gasmask. Stupid of me to have tossed it overboard.”

  Simms began to stroll slowly around the bridge, examining each monitor and control panel. “My Captain and a fellow officer were killed retrieving that mask.”

  Sowell sighed regretfully. “I heard about it on the news. I was very close with Rich Fitzpatrick; he was a good man, and he loved the service. I never had the honor of meeting C.P.O. Parker though.”

  “And what about your own crew? Are you as remorseful about their deaths?”

  “I can assure you, Petty Officer, that a second doesn’t go by that I don’t mourn the brave men and women that served under my command.”

  Simms stood still. “So what is this all about then? Explain it to me so that I can understand exactly what would turn a dedicated American soldier into a traitor and a murderer.”

  Sowell leaned back in his seat. “If you’d like, I could place my hand on the bible and honestly testify that I am neither of those things.”

  “I don’t think I’d bring God into this conversation if I were you, Captain.”

  Sowell laughed under his breath. “God has already sentenced me to a quick and painful death, Mr. Simms.”

  “Divine retribution?” The Petty Officer suggested.

  Sowell tried to sit up straight, but the advanced atrophy in his spine denied him. “I understand that if our roles were reversed, I would probably feel the same anger and revulsion you’re feeling for me right now. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice, but you couldn’t be more wrong. I am not sitting in this chair fearing God, Mr. Simms. I am sitting in this chair as his avenging angel.”

  63

  “BANG! You’re dead!”

  The Detective turned slowly, not wanting to make any sudden moves. “Toby, you son of a bitch! I thought I was going to die!” She berated the Doctor.

  “With this?” He asked, wiggling his index finger in her face.

  Lauren lowered her gun, and her left hand came up open palmed and struck the Doctor squarely across his face. Not even his beard could cushion the force of the blow.

  “Okay, I probably deserved that,” he said, rubbing his face. “But in my own defense, you could have been anybody. I didn’t know it was you until you stepped into the light.”

  The Detective holstered her weapon and drew in a deep sigh of relief. “I could have shot you, Toby!”

  The Doctor smiled. “Not if my finger got you first!”

  “Seriously, Toby! Stop making jokes! I could have actually shot you!”

  Bilston reached out and took her hand. “Relax, take a deep breath. We’re both fine.”

  Then it occurred to the Detective. “What are you doing here, Toby? I thought you were going back to the station? How did you get back on the ship?”

  “Three questions?” The Doctor asked. “That’s it?”

  Lauren looked genuinely perplexed. It was a feeling, as a Detective, she hated more than Brussel sprouts. “No, I’ve got about a million more, but you can start with the basics.”

  Matt Walker stuck his head into the doorway. “Detective King, is everything alright?”

  Toby star
ed at the teen and then glared at the Detective. “What is he doing here?”

  Lauren waved Matt inside and gestured for him to close the door and hit the light switch. The opulence of Mason’s suite was on a caliber with any five-star hotel anywhere in the world. It was four times more spacious than an average passenger’s cabin and was decorated with only the most expensive furnishings and décor.

  “He told me that Peter Mason was dead.”

  Toby looked at Matt. “Like a confession?”

  “Is Mason dead?” The Detective asked.

  The doctor shrugged his head toward an adjacent room. “Check out the bathroom, but don’t touch anything.”

  The bathroom was nearly the size of the Detective’s downtown apartment. Gold faucets, Italian marble, and a tub that any Roman would have been jealous of…except for the dead body lying in it.

  Peter Mason’s face was contorted in a painful death mask. There were visible ligature marks around his neck and contusions to both sides of his face. If Matthew was right, Nicky the Knife not only strangled Peter Mason but also decided to take out his aggression on his face. Lauren walked out of the bathroom and nodded. “He’s dead alright.”

  “The body was moved into the tub. I’m guessing to hide it until it could be disposed of later. No one would leave Mason there to be found.” The Doctor surmised.

  Lauren stood in front of the full-length mirror which Matt had told her about in his vision. She could visualize Coltello pulling the tie taut around Mason’s throat. “Mason’s C.F.O. told the crowd in the dining room that Mason was feeling under the weather. Talk about an understatement.”

  “So you think he has something to do with this?”

  The Detective shook off her hallucination. “Could be another piece of the puzzle,” she said, turning her attention back to the conversation.

  Toby turned to Matt and began signing. “You didn’t come here knowing anything about Peter Mason. What are you doing here?”

  “The man that killed my father is on this ship,” Matt signed angrily.

  The Doctor pointed a thick finger at Matt. “Why didn’t you come to us with this information about your father? Why did you take matters into your own hands?”

  “I found out by catching a foul ball! Who would have believed me? Either of you?” Matt irately signed back.

  The Doctor pointed toward the bathroom. “Is it the same man that killed Peter Mason?”

  Matt was a bit disconcerted that the Doctor wasn’t as troubled about his father’s case as he was about the dead body in the bathroom. He tapped his thumb and first two fingers together. “No, not the same man.”

  “So now you’re telling me, there are two killers on this ship?”

  Matt signed furiously. “Peter Mason was murdered and I told the Detective where she could find his body. I was just trying to help.”

  “Please don’t leave me out of this conversation, Toby,” Lauren interjected. “I want to know what you’re saying to him.”

  “I want to know how he knew that Mason was dead.”

  “He says he saw it,” she answered.

  “So he was a witness.”

  Lauren twisted her mouth. “In a manner of speaking.”

  Toby’s chin dropped to his chest. “Oh no,” he groaned. “Not another vision.”

  Matt patted the Doctor on the arm to get his attention. “I know what I saw!” He said, aloud.

  Lauren walked over and stood next to Matt. “When he first told me that Mason was dead, I didn’t believe him. He insisted I follow him, and he led me here.”

  Toby signed as he spoke. “He saw the murder in his mind? I thought he had to touch something to have one of his visions?”

  Matt’s hands slapped at the air. “I did touch something. I touched the killer’s hand!”

  The Doctor massaged his throbbing temples. “So tell me, who strangled Peter Mason?”

  Matt made the stabbing gesture.

  “What the hell, does that mean?” Toby asked, mimicking the gesture. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say! Is that even a sign?”

  “Nicholas Coltello killed him,” Lauren jumped in.

  Toby was stunned, and his sudden change of expression showed it. “You’re telling me that Nicky the Knife is on this boat?”

  The Detective nodded. “Sitting in the dining room with Jimmy Diaz as we speak.”

  Toby continued to sign as he ranted aloud. “Did I miss the part of the invitation that said, ‘if you’re a cold-blooded murderer, please join us for an evening of fun and excitement aboard the Hydra’? How many killers are running around this damned boat?”

  Lauren knew Toby’s off-handed effort at humor was just his way of hiding his anger. “Two that I know of,” she answered.

  The Doctor looked at Matt curiously. “So you just sashayed up to one of the most notorious mobsters in Florida, and just like that, said glad to meet you?”

  “I introduced him,” Lauren admitted.

  Toby’s puffed out his cheeks. “Of course you did. Why wouldn’t you?”

  “He was acting suspiciously, and I wanted to know if Matt could see what he was up to.”

  Toby needed an entire bottle of Tylenol, and quickly. “I realize that I’m just a Doctor and I never went through the police academy, but when exactly did they teach you to involve innocent civilians in your investigations?”

  Lauren put her hands on her hips. “Matt jumped at the chance, as long as I agreed to check out the man he believes killed his father.”

  Toby took a deep breath to ward off what he was sure to be an impending stroke. “I just want to get all my facts straight,” he said, feigning composure for everyone’s sake. “So you, a decorated Police Detective, decided to introduce our young friend here to Nicholas Coltello, mob boss, in the hopes that he would fall into one of his trances and unlock Nicky’s crime vault for you? How am I doing so far?”

  Lauren stared down at her high heels.

  Toby continued to sign, but his gestures were growing grander, and full of flourish and exaggeration. “And lo and behold, our young visionary sees Nicky choking Peter Mason to death. That about sum it up?”

  Matt shook his head. “And then he put his body in the bathtub.”

  Toby smiled at him. “Of course, how silly of me! Then he put his body in the bathtub!”

  Matt was defiant. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

  The Doctor glared at the Detective. “What does Nicky the Knife have to do with Peter Mason? Why would he kill him?”

  Matt got Toby’s attention and placed the letter “D” next to his ear. “I can’t hear, remember? I don’t know what they were talking about.”

  Lauren stepped in between Toby and Matt. “Hold up a second, before you come off all high and mighty, Doctor Bilston, we explained why we’re here, but what are you doing here? How did you know that Peter Mason was dead?”

  Toby stood quietly for a long moment and then signed to Matt calmly. “The Detective and I have to discuss police business. I need you to go back to the dining room and wait for us. Don’t go anywhere near Nicholas Coltello, or the man you think killed your father. Do not interact with either of them. Do you understand me?”

  Lauren agreed with Toby. “Do what the Doctor says, Matt. Let us handle it from here. I promise we’ll finally bring you some closure. You did good, really good.”

  Matt suddenly felt excluded, but it wasn’t a new emotion for him. “I need to check on Simone anyway,” he signed, belligerently. “I don’t want to leave her alone for too long.”

  Lauren waited for Matt to close the door before she went into full rampage mode. She began backing Toby up by poking him in the chest as she reamed him out. “Now are you going to tell me what’s really going on here, or do I have to pound it out of you?”

  The Doctor put up his hands in submis
sion. “Okay, okay! Do you want the full story,” he asked, “or the Reader’s Digest version?”

  64

  “How do you consider yourself an avenging angel if you allowed your entire crew of the Truman to perish without mercy?” Simms growled. “That’s just cowardice and greed.”

  Sowell swiveled in his chair. “Hassan, where is the Dobrinski now?”

  The technician moved to another monitor that was tracking the supertanker. “Heading is eight-six-oh degrees at fourteen knots, Captain. She’s picking up speed.”

  “Thank you, Hassan. Keep me informed of her course and speed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sowell turned his attention back to the Petty Officer who was standing with the towel draped over his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, Mr. Simms. Please continue.”

  Simms walked over to check out the radar that showed a large blip just off its center.

  “What is going on here?” He asked.

  The Captain drew in a painful breath as he crossed his legs. “You called me a coward and accused me of treason for monetary gain. Since it seems like you are ready to convict me, I’d like you to finish making your case.”

  “You knew what was going to happen to your crew.”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “The original captain of this ship was killed so that you could take his place.”

  Sowell shook his head. “A misdirection so that I could take his place. Captain Hitchcock is alive and well and enjoying a much-needed vacation in Europe with his entire family.”

  “You knew that Peter Mason was stealing the technology to be sold to a foreign government to infuse capital into his overextended company.”

  “Well, I didn’t know his exact rationale, but that sounds as plausible as any other.”

  Simms was shivering, but he never let on. “I can understand Mason’s motivations, as heinous as they were, but what about you? Why did you go along with his scheme?”

  “Mr. Hassan, the speed and bearing of the Dobrinski, please.”