Chapter 18
Eighteen
Many people on board had already moved on from the chaos of the hospital being closed, crew running all over and lifeboats
being set down to find a killer.
The average person on board didn’t know about any of the events down in the garbage disposal area and the captain had yet
to make his speech.
He wanted the prisoners off his ship before he spoke.
Most probably hadn’t heard the shots.
The Feds taking the prisoners dragged Broderick McClintock onto the helicopter. One man, obviously the agent in charge, looked
at Captain Millbrook.
“We have everything under control here. Go, find the shooter!”
In another minute, the helicopter was gone.
The shot had been aimed at the helicopter, Wes knew. Well, it had struck the copter, he thought.
But someone had wanted to kill Broderick.
Who?
Someone who had figured out just what the man had been guilty of doing. Someone who had figured out that Broderick had planned out all the murders?
After a moment, Captain Millbrook said exactly that.
“I don’t think we need to be afraid anymore, but we sure as hell do need to find out who has that gun. Security was supposed
to be watching your belongings, right?” he asked.
“An officer said that he would and he told us that he had, yes,” Wes told him.
“How could I have been so careless,” Chloe murmured, distressed.
Wes took her by the shoulders. “My weapon was there, too, Chloe, just covered up by the pocket of the jacket it was in. You’re
not at fault here. We went in to stop a killer and we did.”
She nodded, but she was going to blame herself, he knew. Well, he was the one who had said that their things were safe where
they’d left them. The security officers on this ship tended to be good, really good.
But this man had evidently either not paid attention as he had said he would or . . .
Or worse. He was somehow in on something.
“We need to find the officer on duty on the lower deck, find out if—” Wes started to tell Captain Millbrook.
But Millbrook interrupted him. “No! No, no, no, trust me! I’ve been sailing for well over twenty years, young man, and I am no man’s fool!
I research every man and woman who works on a vessel when I’m the captain—even if we do have an almost equal number of crew to passengers on this kind of a cruise.
” He narrowed his eyes for a minute. “Nathan Samuels, that’s the young SSO who was on then.
Come, his break started thirty minutes ago.
He’s probably grabbing food in the crew’s mess—right behind the casual restaurant with the open deck seating! ”
Wes glanced at Chloe, and she shrugged. Millbrook was already walking.
They followed him.
They headed through the outer portion of the restaurant and through the kitchen to the rear where tables were set up separately
for the crew.
The security officer, Nathan Samuels, was seated at a table with a book, reading as he consumed his meal.
He either heard or sensed them coming and looked up as they approached his table. He offered them a smile.
He stood, nodding to the captain, saying, “Sir!” Then he turned to Chloe and Wes. “Hey. Good to see you and thank you, once
again, for saving the day on the ship! We think of ourselves as competent, but you two were really on top of everything!”
“They’re really agents, Nathan,” Captain Millbrook told him. “Chloe McMurray is FDLE and Wes Law is with the Feds.”
“Oh! Well, now it all makes sense!” Nathan said, nodding. “And you’re even more impressive.”
Chloe smiled and said, “Thank you for that, and now I have a question. Nathan, there was something missing from my bag. I
thought you indicated that you’d watched our belongings the entire time we were in the water.”
“I had my eye on them and made sure that no one made off with them. Why?” The young officer appeared to be truly disconcerted.
“Was something missing?”
“Yes,” Chloe told him.
“No! I’m so sorry, I saw people go by and I said please, just leave those things there where they are. I mean, I did see people walk around the pile . . . and brush by a bit, but there were clothes on top and . . .”
He stopped speaking, looking perplexed.
Unless Nathan had studied with the best of them, he wasn’t lying and he was understandably distraught because he believed
that he’d watched over their belongings.
“Oh! There was a gentleman who almost tripped over the pile. I saw him straighten it out before walking off,” Nathan said.
“What did he look like?” Wes asked the man.
Nathan winced. “I can’t tell you hair or eye color and I can’t even describe his face. He was wearing a baseball cap pulled
low and he had big sunglasses on. Yeah, I know, that could be half of the ship’s passengers. But I estimate his height at
about six-foot even. He was wearing Bermuda shorts and a short-sleeved cotton shirt, and um . . . someone called out to him.
I don’t know who, but it gave me the feeling that he wasn’t traveling alone. And, yes, I spoke to people—there was a fair
amount of concern among the passengers—but I did keep my eye on your things. That’s the only incident I can think of when
anyone might have gotten into a bag. What did they get?” he asked.
“A gun,” Millbrook said flatly.
“A gun?”
“Made of 3D-printed plastic, carried by our agents. Keep your eyes open and do excuse me, I’m putting the private warning
through to all security,” Millbrook told him, stepping away.
“Oh, God, I am so ashamed and sorry!” Nathan told them.
Chloe shook her head. “No, no, please, you didn’t know, and it sounds as if this man thought maybe there was something that he could find.
Please, don’t worry. You’re not at fault.
But if you see this man, stop him, chat with him, tell him that .
. . that the captain is looking for him with some kind of an invitation and then inform us immediately! ”
Wes dug deep into his pocket and found one of the cards that bore the number to his burner cell and the name Wesley Douglas.
“Please,” he said, handing it to Nathan.
“Right, absolutely.”
Millbrook had made his call to have security on the lookout for the man, warning those who didn’t know already that a gun
was missing.
“Thank you, Nathan,” Chloe told him, and Wes nodded, as well.
“Where do we go from here?” Captain Millbrook asked Wes as they left the crew’s dining quarters. “Other than that, as far
as I go, I need to get back to the bridge and, as I’ve said, our security people are good. It’s hard on a ship like this—you
need people who are vigilant, tough and still capable of making the passengers feel safe and that they’re there to give directions
rather than police the place. But is all that going to be enough—”
“We’ll find whoever has the gun,” Wes assured him. He still wasn’t sure how the hell they were going to do it, but they wouldn’t
give up. Of course, before they went any further with anything, he wanted to talk to Alonzo.
Millbrook gave them a nod and left them.
Wes called him back and reminded him, “Sir, not to tell you how to run things, but you need some of your best people—”
“With me, watching over the ship. Got it,” Millbrook said.
“Take care, sir,” Chloe added.
He gave them a nod and disappeared.
As he did so, they stepped out to the casual dining area on the deck. To his surprise, Wes saw that Edward, Sally and George were at one of the tables.
“Time flies when you make a wild leap into the ocean to try and stop a serial killer?” Chloe murmured.
He looked at her and grimaced. “Might as well make sure they’re okay!”
“Well, we know none of them took the gun. They were laid out with medical help on the way down below,” Chloe reminded him.
“True. We won’t stay long—”
“Long enough for a hot dog, wings, a sandwich . . .”
“Yeah, we should grab some food. I’m surprised to see them—I had no idea that they could shake that drug in a matter of hours,”
Wes said. “Then again, I’m not a medical man. And now I’m wondering how the hell Amelia learned so much. If she’d had any
formal training with medicine or drugs, our people would have caught it.”
“I can only say this—if you’re determined, you can learn almost anything on the internet. It used to be books, but these days . . .
Hot dog! I’ll get food, you check in with Edward and company.”
He walked toward the table where the three of them stood quickly as he arrived, each giving him a fierce hug in return.
“Again!” Edward said. “You and Chloe . . . you’re so amazing.”
“Well, as you know by now, we were just doing our jobs,” Wes told him. “Not that they aren’t jobs that make you really happy
when there’s a good outcome for a man like you, Edward. But I’m so surprised! I thought you guys would be in your beds, sound
asleep and getting over the stuff that was shot into you!”
“We were all in the hospital . . . Doc Kilbride and his people and a few medical folks who happened to be on the cruise were down there, helping, getting everyone all flushed out. I’m not speaking today or anymore on this voyage, but .
. . well, we wanted to come out and feel how beautiful life is, how the sun can shine, how one can feel out on the water in the breeze! ”
“We’re just being grateful for life!” Sally echoed.
Wes smiled and took a seat. Chloe, bearing a tray with hot dogs, fries and a couple of sodas, joined them, only to go through
the hugging and thanking phase again.
“Oh!” Sally said suddenly. “I heard that a shot was fired! Or, someone said, it must have just been an engine backfiring,
or even a noise from another vessel. Do you know anything about that?” she asked them.
He looked at Chloe. She nodded.
“All right, I’m going to tell you the truth and despite the beauty of the day, I’m going to recommend you all head to a cabin
and stay there. Yes, there was a shot,” Wes told them. “You know that Chloe and I are agents with two different agencies—”
“They know about me, too,” George said quietly. “I told them so that they didn’t need to worry about being accosted again.