Sheila Conrd hoped that what was happening would last forever — or even longer! This was passion, passion that she had never experienced before, a rising all-consuming tide of pleasure that did not stop, a wave that rose up and up and threatened to break and never did. Jesus, it was wonderful… wonderful! She was moaning, then shrieking aloud with the unbearable gorgeousness of it all, wrapping her legs around his back and pressing, squeezing, her arms tight around his back as well, her fingernails digging into his flesh.
Her screams blended with the scream of the siren, a not unpleasant combination that Hendrik enjoyed. But even the best things had to end sometime and with a final slow and powerful thrust of his hips he succeeded in effecting a simultaneous climax. Sheila’s voice cracked and” she went limp, sobbing, all passion spent, unable to talk. He liked that and he caressed her generous breasts until her quivering stopped.
“Hendrik….” she said, and stopped for breath. “Hendrik, you are something else again. I swear, if I had come one more time I would have exploded. Jesus…!”
“That’s fery nice. It is good you haf pleasure, that way is my pleasure too.”
“Pleasure! Baby, you got a touch that is worth diamonds.”
“It is funny you should say that. By profession I am a diamond expert.”
“How I envy the diamonds your very lovely fingers gently touch! I could write a book about you — in fact, damn it, I will write a book about you. What research!”
“It is my pleasure. A woman like you, so ample of body, mature and appreciative….”
“That’s the right word, Hendrik-baby, appreciative is what I am. In fact, why don’t you join me in New York for an all-expenses-paid holiday? Research. I hope I live.”
“Most kind. But my vork in Amsterdam…. “
“So we’ll research in Amsterdam. A bed’s a bed anywhere… say, did you hear that, like a siren?”
“Yes. It is the call to the lifeboats. It has been sounding some minutes now.”
“And I didn’t hear it! Out of this world.”
“We must leaf.”
“Only if you promise to come back. This cruise has finally gotten good.”
They dressed quickly and Hendrik De Groot fastened her life jacket for her; her fingers were shaking so. The sirens were sounding even louder now and when he opened the door they could smell pungent smoke. He took her hand in his and led her out, carefully guiding her through the crowded corridors, filled with stumbling, coughing figures. Two stewards were trying to keep them going in the right direction.
“This way, if you please. I’m sorry, do not attempt to use the elevators. The stairway is ahead. That’s good, thank you kindly, keep moving, ladies and gentlemen, if you please.”
The sirens sounded steadily and the Captain’s voice spoke again from the PA system.
“Please do not panic. I know that the smoke is disconcerting, but it presents no danger, none at all. Just proceed to your assigned boat stations and await further instructions. This is Captain Rapley speaking and I will report to you again in a few minutes…. “
“… in a few minutes,” the hotel manager said into the microphone. Josep leaned over and switched it off.
The hotel manager had the same four stripes on his coat sleeve that the Captain did, though his were gold on white instead of gold on blue. He was in charge of all the functions of the ship that did not have to deal with the operation of the QE2. He was Captain Rapley’s age, he had responsibilities commensurate with the Captain’s. His voice was educated and somewhat resembled Captain Rapley’s. But he was not the Captain.
He had only said that into the microphone because a man stood next to him with a gun pressed to his side. While the Captain lay unconscious on the deck at his feet — struck down by the barrel of this same gun when he refused to make this announcement. The hotel manager had seen this happen and reckoned that discretion was the better part of valor. He had pretended to be the Captain and had read out the prepared message that the Captain had refused to read.
“Very good,” Josep said, straddling the Captain’s unconscious body. “The crew may realize that it was not the Captain speaking, but there is nothing they can do. We are under control. Is that right, Diaz?”
Diaz stood on the other side of the bridge, leaning tiredly against the window. He nodded. “All taken care of. We hit them sudden and hard. Everyone cleaned out of the engine room even before they could shut the engines down, much less sabotage them. Radio room, the Bureau, everything. Doors locked and one of our people inside and well armed.”
“Perfect. You, hotel manager, call someone and get a report. I want to know the instant that all of the passengers are at their stations.” He handed over the phone and stood close while the manager dialled.
Diaz pulled himself awake, suddenly, realizing that he had fallen asleep on his feet and was slumping down the wall. He had a sharp feeling of nausea at drifting off, then waking up like that. And he was dizzy. And why shouldn’t he be? He forgot the last time that he had slept. The past days and nights blended into a haze of fatigue and he had the depressed feeling that he would die before it was all over.
“It appears that all of the passengers are at their boat stations, but crewmen are checking the cabins to make absolutely sure,” the hotel manager said.
“Good.” Josep signalled to Diaz. “Get on the other phone and pass the word to our people to use the fire extinguishers on the smudge-fires we lit on each deck. I want the air cleared before we make our own checks, just to make sure that no one is preparing any surprises.”
The lifeboat drill was well-organized and the crew had had years of experience in herding passengers to their correct stations. Short minutes later the call came through that all passengers and crew were standing by at their positions.
“That is just the news I have been waiting to hear,” Josep said, taking a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handing it to the hotel manager. Josep was proud of it; he had originated the idea and explained it to Hank Greenstein who had written it up in the form of a command. The hotel manager read it with growing alarm and he was trembling with despair when he had finished it.
“I can’t possibly read this out, no! I refuse. You cannot make me….” He quailed back as Josep pumped the slide on the sub-machine gun and a bullet was ejected onto the floor. He picked it up and held it before the hotel manager’s face. A shiny brass case with a dull, grease-coated, leaden bullet at its tip.
“Look at that,” Josep said. “See that slug? It tears through flesh and through bone and makes a big exit hole when it goes out because it has a hollow nose. Now if I put this gun to your eye — like this — and pulled the trigger, you would be dead before you heard the shot. A brave man might make the sacrifice. But____”
He pulled the gun muzzle away from the man’s horrified face and used the toe of his boot to roll over the Captain’s unconscious body. Then placed the gun against his head.
“I’m not going to shoot you if you refuse,” he said. “I’m going to kill the Captain instead. Then bring his officers in here and shoot them, one by one, until you agree to make the broadcast. So, how many men must die to convince you that you must do it? You will agree in the end. But how many deaths do you wish to have on your conscience first?”
The hotel manager drew himself up, trying to decide, weighing one evil against another. Diaz’s low voice cut through the silence.
“Don’t be a fool. He means to do it. He has done it before, right on this ship. Do you want to see the bodies to prove it? Captain David Rapley will be dead meat in ten seconds if you don’t do as you have been told.”