Chapter 45
“That’s not a ship,” Lola muttered as they walked along the wooden wharf. “That’s a space station …”
Floatplanes—mostly De Havilland Beavers and Otters—came and went from the water behind The Polar Star like bees buzzing back and forth from a massive hive, carrying passengers out for flightseeing or bear-viewing excursions away from Ketchikan.
Crew members from all over the world lined the cordoned walkway along the wharf, handing wet face towels and offering squirts of hand sanitizer to those getting back on the ship. The line slowed as returning cruisers bottlenecked at the top of the ramp, waiting their turn to pass through screening.
Joellen scanned her key card, which brought up her photo on a screen for security personnel to visually compare with her face. Cutter and Lola badged the uniformed team working the X-ray.
Two minutes later, a tall dark man, with black glasses and a ramrod-straight bearing, appeared at the checkpoint.
He looked to be in his early forties, fit, with a neatly trimmed beard, jet-black to match a thick head of hair.
The tag on his white uniform shirt identified him as Ajit from India.
The epaulettes on his shoulders said he was the officer in charge of security.
Lola handed him her credential case first. “We spoke on the phone.”
“We did,” Ajit said. “United States Marshals. I’ve been expecting you.”
The security officer personally inspected both deputies’ credentials, paying special attention to Cutter’s.
“You have the same surname as the victim of Mr. Preston’s assault.”
“My ex-wife,” Cutter said. “It’s a long story.”
Ajit closed the black credential case and tapped it in his open hand for a moment before finally handing it back to Cutter with a wan half-smile. “I look forward to hearing this story.”
Seemingly satisfied they were who they said they were, Ajit shook their hands and formally welcomed them aboard the ship.
“Please,” he said. “We will be more comfortable in the security offices. Ms. Cutter, please join us. I need to get some information for my report before—”
“Are you kicking me off the ship?”
Ajit grimaced as if he’d been slapped. “Should I?” he asked. “Have you done something to warrant that?”
“No,” she said. “I just thought …”
“I need a report,” the security officer said. “After that you’re free to enjoy the remainder of your cruise.”
Ajit had a long stride, and he knew where he was going.
The others had to hustle to keep up. Dozens of cruisers were reboarding, crowding the elevators.
Rather than wait, Ajit bounded up three sets of stairs, crossed through an opulent lounge area toward the forward part of the ship, where a few dozen guests were playing a trivia game, and then ducked through a door marked CREW ONLY.
Miami deputies often served federal warrants or civil papers aboard cruise ships, but somehow, Cutter had escaped that duty.
This was his first time on one of the giants.
Ajit turned up what looked like the hallway of an expensive hotel. They passed several housekeeping trollies propping open doors as they cleaned. It made sense that ship’s officers would have cabins close to the control center.
Ajit narrated in clipped sentences as they went, noting that the plaques on each cabin showed the rank of its occupant rose the farther forward they went. The captain needed to be close to the bridge.
Cutter’s time in the Ranger Regiment gave him a nose for others who’d served in the military. As it turned out, Ajit spent fifteen years in the Indian Navy, doing something physical, judging from the way he carried himself.
“I worked with some Indian Navy guys,” Cutter said. “Out of Mumbai.”
Ajit kept walking but gave a slight nod. “I myself was based in Mumbai for much of my career.”
“Abhimanyu?”
The security officer stopped midstride in the passageway and turned around.
“You’re familiar with Abhimanyu?”
“The guys I worked with were stationed there.”
“I was stationed at Abhimanyu.”
“Small world,” Cutter said, knowing what Ajit meant. “The guys I worked with were MARCOS—Dadhiwala Fauj. Pretty high speed. Maybe you knew some of them.”
“I am quite sure I knew many,” Ajit said and left it at that.
Dadhiwala Fauj meant the Bearded Army, the nickname of the India’s Marine Commando Force, or MARCOS.
“75th Ranger Regiment,” Cutter said. They shook hands again—this time on an entirely different level—a brotherhood of fighting men.
It was as if Cutter had found Ajit’s On switch.
The security officer’s favorite movie turned out to be True Grit (there were outstanding portions in each version, he said) and he’d watched every episode of Justified with Timothy Olyphant, committing the most iconic lines to memory.
Whatever Cutter and Teariki were up to, Ajit Gupta was more than happy to assist.
Lola fished a silver US Marshals badge lapel pin out of her vest pocket and gave it to him. “We need to check out Bart Preston’s cabin,” Lola said.
Ajit held the miniature badge in his fist in a salute of thanks and then pinned it to the ID lanyard around his neck. “And you’re welcome to,” he said. “But I will warn you now, someone has cleaned it out. There’s nothing there.”
Cutter glanced at Joellen, who grimaced at the news. “I assume you have video surveillance of the passageways.”
“We do.” Ajit took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, the cameras on deck 10 went out of service for fifteen minutes approximately two and a half hours ago.”
Lola cursed. “Not long after we arrested Bart Preston. That clinches it. He’s working with someone. He hasn’t had a chance to make any calls.”
Joellen gave a resigned sigh. “They had to be watching the entire thing go down.”
“Did you see anyone else you recognized?” Ajit asked, looking at Joellen.
She shook her head. “Nope. Just that muscle guy in the polo shirt. I recognized him from the walking track last night.”
“Yes,” Ajit said. “About last night. Guest Services passed along your request to locate Mr. Steven Cruz.”
“That’s good to hear,” Joellen said. “I was under the impression they weren’t going to do anything. Where did he run off to?”
The security officer rolled his lips together, as if trying to contain the words. “That is the problem,” he said at length. “Last night’s footage from decks 17 through 14 is missing.”
“Missing?” Cutter said.
Lola’s face fell into angry Polynesian Warrior Princess mode. Her Kiwi accent boiled to the surface. “Are you telling me that the exact two bits of video we need are nowhere to be found?”
Cutter gave a slow, contemplative nod. “They’ve paid off someone in your shop.”
“Without a doubt,” Ajit said, frowning, as if this were his personal failure.
“Okay,” Joellen said. “So, the video is missing. I don’t care. Just tell me when Steve gets back on the boat from Ketchikan and I’ll give him back his jacket.”
“We have no record of Mr. Cruz disembarking the ship when we arrived in Ketchikan.”
“And you’ve checked his cabin?” Cutter said, already knowing the answer.
“His belongings, his passport, they are still there,” Ajit said. “His bed has not been slept in.”
“I knew it!” Joellen’s hand shot to her mouth. “They threw him overboard.”
“What about earlier footage?” Cutter asked. “Did Bart Preston board with anyone? Does he take his meals with other passengers? Who do we see him hanging out with at other times?”
Ajit started walking again. “I have someone working to find that video as we speak.”
“All due respect,” Cutter said, “but how do you know you can trust this person?”
“That is a reasonable question,” Ajit said. “And my answer is this: I know very well whom I can trust. What I do not know is whom I cannot.”
“And you trust the one looking for the video?” Lola asked.
“I do,” Ajit said. “He is my nephew.”
“I just don’t understand,” Joellen said, hollow, like she might throw up at any moment. “Why would this Preston guy be after me?”
“Maybe they aren’t after you at all,” Lola said. “You said Steve Cruz was … is in law enforcement.”
“That’s right,” Joellen said. “For the state of Minnesota.”
“Doing what?” Cutter asked.
Joellen shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “He probably told me, but …”
Cutter said nothing, but she smacked him in the chest anyway. “Stop judging me! Something to do with investigating fraud, I think.”
“That tracks,” Lola said. “Maybe they’re after Cruz and you just got caught in the crossfire.”
“I remember now,” Joellen said. “He said you’d hate him because he’s Internal Affairs.”
“He’d have a few enemies,” Lola said.
“I am a witness,” Joellen said. “Preston got furious as soon as I mentioned seeing him while Steve and I were walking last night.”
“That makes sense,” Cutter said.
They reached the door to the main security offices. It was unmarked and looked like any other cabin door in the passageway.
Ajit nodded at Cutter and Lola. “I’ll take a quick statement from Ms. Cutter for my report. Then I’ll show you to your suite.”
“Our suite?” Cutter said. “We came aboard to run down leads. We’re not prepared to stay.”
“I’ve cleared it with the captain,” Ajit said. “Unfortunately, the ship is almost full. I cannot give you each your own stateroom, but there is a vacant two-bedroom suite.”
Cutter gave a vehement shake of his head. Normally one to go with the flow, the idea of staying on the same boat with his ex-wife set on his stomach like week-old fish.
“That’s not something that we—”
“A suite?” Lola said. “With a balcony?”
“And a large Jacuzzi tub,” Ajit said.
“Suite or no suite,” Cutter said. “We’re not—”
Lola cut him off. “Hang on there, Boss,” she said. “He said we’d have two bedrooms. I reckon I can take one for the team and listen to you snore through the wall for a couple of nights. …”
“I have lockboxes here in Security for your handguns,” Ajit said.
Cutter had yet to stop shaking his head. “Nope.”
“But firearms may be a problem.”
“Not to us,” Teariki said. “Put it this way. You want us on the ship to look for Preston’s partner.”
“I do,” Ajit said.
“We find that person, we’ll have to arrest them, and for that, I’d just as soon hang on to my guns.”
“Guns?” Ajit said. “As in plural?”
“They’ll be out of sight,” Cutter said. “But keeping them on us is nonnegotiable.”
Lola rubbed her hands together. A smile perked the corners of her lips. “I love this job. A free two-bedroom suite with a balcony and a Jacuzzi. It’s almost enough to make you forget you’re hunting down assholes.”