Read Online Sea of Terror by Stephen Coonts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephen Coonts
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Suspense, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Espionage, Intelligence Officers, Political, Government investigators, Undercover operations, Terrorists, Cyberterrorism, National security, Hijacking of ships, Nuclear terrorism
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will be down there soon."
"Yes, sir."
Several thoughts and emotions battled one another in Phillips' mind. One of his men murdered! Who was the killer? A member of the crew? Or someone ashore? Had anyone seen what had happened?
Phillips didn't know Darrow well. The man had only joined the Queen a month ago. Phillips would have to check with Personnel to see if the man had any family.
He would have to write a letter, at the very least. Oh, God. . . .
Other, more selfishly motivated thoughts crowded in, jostling with the others. Could the incident be kept from the passengers? And, even more critically, would the murder prevent the Atlantis Queen from sailing on schedule?
Like a hotel, a cruise ship depended on filling available vacancies with paying customers. If the Atlantis Queen was kept in port by a police investigation, people would start canceling their reservations, and passengers already aboard might begin making other plans for their tightly structured vacations--and demanding refunds.
With the economy the way it was right now, a company like Royal Sky Line could go under with the failure of a single cruise--the profit margin was that slim.
A small and unworthy part of him was already wondering if the death could be covered up, at least until the ship was out of port. . . but he shoved the thought viciously aside. No, they would play this by the book.
He began punching numbers into the handset. First he would call Sir Charles Mayhew, the member of the board of directors who was Operations Director for the Atlantis Queen and Phillips' boss.
And then he would call the police.
Atlantis Queen pier side Southampton, England Thursday, 1446 hours GMT
Ghailiani snapped his cell phone shut. "It's ... it's done," he managed. He felt weak, on the verge of falling over. His initial terror was being submerged in a paralyzing numbness that made it hard to think, hard to know what to think.
They were within the narrow, deep-shadowed corridor between the Dumpster and the wall of the warehouse.
Ghailiani was leaning against the wall, trying to keep from falling as his knees trembled. Yusef Khalid squatted in front of him, crouched over the body. Two of Khalid's men stood guard in the sunlight outside.
ft had happened so quickly! Khalid's men had materialized out of Allah-knew-where almost at once--members of the ship's deck gang, Ghailiani thought. Dock wallopers, tough, hard-looking men who'd been helping to shift stores on board the ship. Careful to stay in the shelter offered by the back of the truck, they'd dragged poor Darrow's body out and bundled it around into the narrow alley behind the Dumpster.
He'd also seen them produce a briefcase from inside the truck's cab, which they'd tossed into the Dumpster.
None of this was making sense.
"Are they sending someone down here?" Khalid demanded. He'd removed Darrow's wallet from his hip pocket. At first, Ghailiani assumed Khalid was robbing the dead man ... but no, apparently he was stuffing something inside.
Khalid was wearing nylon medical gloves.
"He .. . the captain just said to stay with the . . . with the body," Ghailiani managed to say. "He said the police would be here soon. Allah! The police! . .."
"Calm yourself, Ghailiani," Khalid told him. "You are doing well."
"You didn't tell me you were going to kill him!"
"That is correct. I did not."
"You're going to take the ship." Ghailiani was on the verge of tears. He felt like he was going to be terribly sick. "You're going to kill everyone on the ship!"
Khalid stood suddenly, turned, and grabbed Ghailiani's collar with one blue-gloved hand. "Listen to me, Mohamed! You have heard of al-Qaeda, yes?"
Ghailiani managed a jerky nod.
"Yes. We are going to take that ship. By arranging for the truck to get past security and onto the pier, you have helped us do so."
"You're going to blow up the ship--"
"No!" Khalid released him, then, shoving him back a foot. "No, we are not! I promise you, by the word of the
"Yes, sir."
Several thoughts and emotions battled one another in Phillips' mind. One of his men murdered! Who was the killer? A member of the crew? Or someone ashore? Had anyone seen what had happened?
Phillips didn't know Darrow well. The man had only joined the Queen a month ago. Phillips would have to check with Personnel to see if the man had any family.
He would have to write a letter, at the very least. Oh, God. . . .
Other, more selfishly motivated thoughts crowded in, jostling with the others. Could the incident be kept from the passengers? And, even more critically, would the murder prevent the Atlantis Queen from sailing on schedule?
Like a hotel, a cruise ship depended on filling available vacancies with paying customers. If the Atlantis Queen was kept in port by a police investigation, people would start canceling their reservations, and passengers already aboard might begin making other plans for their tightly structured vacations--and demanding refunds.
With the economy the way it was right now, a company like Royal Sky Line could go under with the failure of a single cruise--the profit margin was that slim.
A small and unworthy part of him was already wondering if the death could be covered up, at least until the ship was out of port. . . but he shoved the thought viciously aside. No, they would play this by the book.
He began punching numbers into the handset. First he would call Sir Charles Mayhew, the member of the board of directors who was Operations Director for the Atlantis Queen and Phillips' boss.
And then he would call the police.
Atlantis Queen pier side Southampton, England Thursday, 1446 hours GMT
Ghailiani snapped his cell phone shut. "It's ... it's done," he managed. He felt weak, on the verge of falling over. His initial terror was being submerged in a paralyzing numbness that made it hard to think, hard to know what to think.
They were within the narrow, deep-shadowed corridor between the Dumpster and the wall of the warehouse.
Ghailiani was leaning against the wall, trying to keep from falling as his knees trembled. Yusef Khalid squatted in front of him, crouched over the body. Two of Khalid's men stood guard in the sunlight outside.
ft had happened so quickly! Khalid's men had materialized out of Allah-knew-where almost at once--members of the ship's deck gang, Ghailiani thought. Dock wallopers, tough, hard-looking men who'd been helping to shift stores on board the ship. Careful to stay in the shelter offered by the back of the truck, they'd dragged poor Darrow's body out and bundled it around into the narrow alley behind the Dumpster.
He'd also seen them produce a briefcase from inside the truck's cab, which they'd tossed into the Dumpster.
None of this was making sense.
"Are they sending someone down here?" Khalid demanded. He'd removed Darrow's wallet from his hip pocket. At first, Ghailiani assumed Khalid was robbing the dead man ... but no, apparently he was stuffing something inside.
Khalid was wearing nylon medical gloves.
"He .. . the captain just said to stay with the . . . with the body," Ghailiani managed to say. "He said the police would be here soon. Allah! The police! . .."
"Calm yourself, Ghailiani," Khalid told him. "You are doing well."
"You didn't tell me you were going to kill him!"
"That is correct. I did not."
"You're going to take the ship." Ghailiani was on the verge of tears. He felt like he was going to be terribly sick. "You're going to kill everyone on the ship!"
Khalid stood suddenly, turned, and grabbed Ghailiani's collar with one blue-gloved hand. "Listen to me, Mohamed! You have heard of al-Qaeda, yes?"
Ghailiani managed a jerky nod.
"Yes. We are going to take that ship. By arranging for the truck to get past security and onto the pier, you have helped us do so."
"You're going to blow up the ship--"
"No!" Khalid released him, then, shoving him back a foot. "No, we are not! I promise you, by the word of the
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