Chapter 1
“FROM EVERY ANGLE, we’re extremely concerned.
But . . . we’re hoping that what we have is a lead.
Something is going on, and we believe that your investigation on this ship can fathom what it is and, perhaps even more importantly, why.
Dead people. Suicide. Murder and suicide.
Ridiculous and extreme coincidences? No.
Two cars at an intersection at the same time may be a coincidence.
But things happening like this? No. It’s gone too far.
So, what is happening? Simple greed, and a perpetrator with a personal agenda?
Or something far worse? We don’t know. And we’re hoping to God that the two of you can sneak in and find out.
All we do know is that every victim of this rash of suicides and murder-suicides has been associated with computers and IT in a big way. ”
Chloe McMurray stood quietly, listening as Assistant Director Alonzo spoke.
She wasn’t sure what she was doing there since Alonzo was federal and she was an agent with state law enforcement—and she’d received the message to pack for a cruise ship.
A cruise ship?
On the surface, it didn’t sound like a bad gig!
But she was savvy on cruise ships out of the Port of Miami—they usually sailed to other-country locations, ports in the Caribbean, perhaps Mexico and even South America.
Maybe they were just heading a wee bit to the north and east, heading for the Bahama Islands, Bermuda—still foreign countries—or maybe Puerto Rico, an American territory?
So, why was she, an agent of the state, involved?
Well, she might be local, but apparently, she was being joined by a federal agent who was with Central and South American bureau “legat” offices. He had a strangely coincidental name for his vocation in law enforcement—that being Wesley Law.
He wasn’t any kind of gigantic bruiser, but decent enough and probably very well trained. The man was tall enough—six-two or -three, she estimated—and yes, with what appeared to be a lean, wiry strength.
Having come into the federal office straight from work himself, she found him strangely dressed on a workday. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and a light blue windbreaker. His hair, a dirty blond or light brown, was barely brushed.
Then again, apparently, she was the one off-base in her pantsuit; they had said cruise.
Well, she had enough in her go-bag for a cruise.
Shorts, halter dresses, T-shirts. She just wished she had a slightly better bathing suit, but that could probably be obtained on the ship.
She did love sitting high above the water at the pool of a cruise ship. Generally, she loved cruising.
But she would be “cruising” with a strange federal operative—on an even stranger case.
Coming here, she’d been given brief information from her own supervising agent, but she still knew so little.
She had been told she’d been specifically requested for the case by higher echelons at the federal and local levels because of her knowledge of and affiliation with cruise ships in general, and she’d done research on the man—he had been born with the surname and his ancestors went way back to the Revolutionary War.
And as was often the case with those who came into law enforcement, his father had been a cop.
She didn’t know much more because many of the cases he had worked on had been classified as confidential.
And so . . .
There they were, she and the man she had just met in person, in Assistant Director Glen Alonzo’s office in Miami, learning about the strange and convoluted case they’d be working on.
Alonzo was right. In all his musings.
It was strange. Was it even really a case? Yes, in the minds of those above their pay grades, there was definitely a case, or they wouldn’t be there. From what she was learning, when things that were that strange happened, something was going on.
And it all had to do with computer systems, the internet, gaming, and, of course, AI. But the world grew savvier day by day when it came to such tech, so if someone was trying to eliminate all tech and brilliant techies, they had a long, long way to go.
“The ever-human hunt for more and more,” Alonzo said.
“Greed. Power. I’m not seeing any kind of personal vendetta.
Assuming, as our best minds seem to believe, people are dying because of what they do, not who they are.
But, when you put all the puzzle pieces together, they’ve all attended the same meetings, workshops or conventions around the country at one time or another. ”
“They might have met,” Wesley said. “But from what I’m hearing so far, I agree with our ‘best minds.’ This sounds like a power play—since it is unlikely that this kind of situation could simply occur in what appears to be exactly the same way in different places.”
“There have been many ways to look at this. While our best minds seem to agree on a course of action, an opportunity to filter into the community, we certainly can’t guarantee that we know what is going on.
The first few episodes initially went unnoticed because they occurred in different jurisdictions—in three different states—and then we were notified by a survivor who read about another death, got frustrated at the local level, and asked us in, and thus our current involvement while it remains a task force with many agencies involved.
As we started putting the events together, we saw that there appeared to be a pattern in which people had suddenly started committing suicide or killing others before committing suicide—in the same way.
And . . . and while it escaped national attention at first, it beats the odds of chance.
Naturally, before I spoke to the two of you and your supervising directors—and the director himself—we did the necessary deep dives and research on those involved.
It’s unbelievable. We know why it took a while.
When the suicides started, it appeared to be more than possible that some of those who died were in a state of depression or had a self-perceived reason, but . . .”
Assistant Director Glen Alonzo stared at Chloe and Wesley, shaking his head.
“Am I making any sense yet?” Alonso asked.
“Of course. Sadly,” Chloe said, “people do commit suicide. And I understand with the crime scenes they found, local law enforcement assumed that to be the case.”
“Well, we’re not sending you out blind. You’ve a few hours here to read everything that we’ve got. You must be on the ship by four-thirty. It’s just noon now,” he added.
“Um, sir, pardon me,” Chloe said. “I’m still a little blind. I don’t know what cruise we’re going on and why you’re convinced that going on a cruise can help solve—”
He smiled at that. “And you’re right to be curious, eh?
Right. Once you’ve studied the situation, I hope you’ll understand—and that our suspicions are on the money.
Though, honestly, in my younger days, I’d have just said, hell, yeah, a cruise, instead of a back alley behind a crack den. And we’ve all had a few of those.”
She smiled. “Trust me, sir, I’ve nothing against cruises—” Chloe began.
“Of course not!” Alonzo said. He managed to smile.
“Special Agent McMurray, I’ve naturally read your service files frontward and backward.
We’re well aware you and your last partner, Agent Rodriguez, played it all out and captured the boatyard killer.
You know this state. You know this city.
You’ve also been on cruise ships since you were a kid. ”
The man who would be her partner on the upcoming voyage was studying her.
Had he investigated her background, as well? Of course. Who wouldn’t have done so? When you were suddenly thrown on a case you knew nothing about with a partner who wasn’t even from the same agency, you did your homework.
“Nothing against a cruise,” she repeated.
“All right, then. We’ll start with the bad,” Alonzo said. He pointed across his desk to the large video screen in his office and hit keys on his computer, indicating to them that they needed to take the seats in front of his desk and watch.
They did so.
And Alonzo began, flicking keys on his computer to change the screen images as he spoke.