21 INTERROGATION

Suite 1722

The Emperor of the Seas

May 18

0100 hours

“I order you to untie me!” Alexander demanded. “Or your heads will roll once I have mutinied!”

“So,” I said to Mike. “He’s still looney?”

“Very much so.” Mike stuffed the sock he’d been keeping in Alexander’s mouth all night back into place. “He won’t shut up unless I gag him.”

Alexander writhed angrily on the bed, where he was still bound hand and foot, and did his best to shout for help, but the sock muffled his words.

Meanwhile, in the adjoining room of our suite, Erica and Catherine were having the opposite problem with Dane Brammage. While Mike and I couldn’t get Alexander to keep quiet, they couldn’t get Dane to speak. Not because Dane was refusing to talk out of loyalty to Murray. But because they couldn’t wake him. He was sprawled out across all three of our beds, snoring loud enough to shake the room.

“You gave him too much tranquilizer,” Erica observed.

“It was intended for rhinos,” Catherine replied. “There weren’t any instructions for how much to give a human. It appears I made a slight error in my calculations.”

We figured that, when Dane did wake up, he would be angry and dangerous, so we had taken precautions. Our original plan had been to bind his wrists, but the zip ties Catherine and Erica carried in their utility belts were only designed for human beings of normal size and strength. Instead, we had bound Dane with plastic cling wrap. The ship’s kitchen had industrial-size rolls of it several feet across, designed to preserve hundreds of pounds of leftovers at once, and we had swaddled Dane with it, wrapping him in thirty layers. His arms were pinned to his sides, and his legs were bound tightly together, so he now looked like a freshly swaddled mummy.

However, we couldn’t interrogate him in the kitchen; sooner or later, an employee would stumble upon us. So we had dragged him back to our room, which had been a challenge. Not only was Dane heavy, but he was bulky. We couldn’t even come close to getting our arms around him. So, once again, we had been forced to improvise. We had commandeered several gallons of discount olive oil (A natural product of New Jersey, according to the label), lubricated the floor with it, and then dragged Dane’s prone body through. Thankfully, due to the late hour, most of our fellow passengers were asleep, although we did run into a few people, most of whom were initially startled to see us lugging along a shrink-wrapped behemoth who reeked of cheap olive oil.

Each time, Catherine simply said, “My husband had one too many margaritas.”

And each time, the passengers’ concerns immediately went away. It helped that many of them had consumed one too many margaritas themselves. Several said things along the lines of, “Been there. Done that.” Or “If I pass out, can you drag me back to my place?”

Eventually, we made it back to the room. Since then, Catherine and Erica had tried rousing Dane with smelling salts and a variety of other noxious things, like Mike’s dirty socks and Alexander’s aftershave, but he remained stubbornly asleep.

“I have one more idea,” Catherine said, “but it’s probably a direct violation of prisoner rights.…”

“We’re in international waters, so I don’t think those laws apply out here,” Erica told her.

“Fine,” Catherine said, although she sounded slightly disappointed in herself for agreeing. Then she produced a bottle of hot sauce from her utility belt. “I pilfered this from the kitchen. I’ve never heard of this brand before, but it certainly appears to be potent.”

The hot sauce was called Bring the Pain, and the label showed a cartoon man who had apparently consumed the product and now had flames coming out of every orifice on his body. It looked like the sort of warning that should have been on industrial waste, but for some reason, hot sauce aficionados must have found it appealing.

Catherine uncapped the bottle, releasing peppery fumes that made my eyes water even from ten feet away. Then she cautiously edged toward Dane and tipped the bottle into his open mouth.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then there was an ominous gurgle from deep inside Dane’s body. His eyelids suddenly snapped open like window shades, and he let out a howl of pain. Sweat instantly beaded on his brow. I half expected to see steam venting from his ears. At first, he seemed confused by his location and the fact that he couldn’t move his limbs. Then he quickly pieced together what had happened and grew upset. “Water!” he gasped. “I need water!”

Erica said, “Tell us where Murray Hill is going and you can have all the water you want.”

Dane obviously needed a drink; his face had flushed as red as a beefsteak tomato. But he wasn’t about to crack that easily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Erica held up the bottle of hot sauce. “If you think this stuff is painful when you drink it, imagine what it’ll be like when I rub it in your eyes.”

“Erica,” Catherine said sharply. “We do not torture witnesses in this family.”

“He just tried to kill Ben!” Erica replied. “He deserves a lot more than hot sauce in his eyes.”

Catherine said, “You are letting your emotions get the better of you. Studies have repeatedly shown that torture is not effective at eliciting accurate information. If anything, kindness is a much better way to do that.” She filled a glass with water from our tiny sink and held it to Dane’s lips.

Dane greedily guzzled it down.

“Mother,” Erica said angrily. “You’re undermining my authority here.”

It looked like the two of them might start arguing, so I said quickly, “I know how to get Dane to talk.” Then I turned to Dane and told him, “If you don’t tell us where Murray Hill is going, you’re going to die.”

“Benjamin!” Catherine exclaimed. “What did I just say about coercing witnesses?”

“I’m not coercing him,” I explained. “I’m merely telling him the facts. None of us are going to kill Dane. Murray Hill is.”

Thanks to the water, Dane had recovered slightly from his infusion of hot sauce. But now he looked as though he’d had another gulp of Bring the Pain, growing red and sweaty once again.

“I know what Murray’s plan is,” I said. This was a bit of a bluff; I wasn’t completely sure, but I had learned that faking confidence was pretty much the same thing as being confident. “He’s not going to steal the nuclear reactor from this ship to use as a bomb. The entire ship is a bomb.”

Dane gulped, and I saw in his eyes that I was right.

This revelation was news to the others as well; there hadn’t been time for me to explain my theory yet.

“What?” Mike exclaimed. “I thought there were all sorts of fail-safes to prevent that from happening.”

“Murray seems to have devised a way around them,” I said. “One of those radiation detectors we saw on the housing for the reactor wasn’t really a radiation detector at all. That’s what the blueprints Murray had were for. It’s a detonator. Back in his room tonight, Murray said the deed was done and they had thirteen hours to get very far away from here. I think he started the countdown. And now he’s fleeing before this ship explodes.”

“But what’s the point of blowing up a cruise ship?” Mike asked. “All it’s going to do is kill a couple thousand innocent people and maybe freak out some dolphins. We’re way too far offshore to cause any real damage.”

“Oh my,” Catherine said. From the look on her face, I could tell she had figured out the next step in Murray’s plan, just as I had.

So had Erica. “At noon tomorrow, this ship isn’t going to be far offshore. It’s going to be in the middle of the Panama Canal.”

Dane sweated a bit more profusely, indicating that we were definitely on the right track.

“An explosion that large would destroy the canal and throw worldwide trade into chaos,” Catherine said. “A third of the planet’s goods pass through Panama. A severe disruption could send shock waves through the world economy.”

“Why would Murray want to do that?” Mike asked.

“Because he’s a jerk.” I looked back to Dane, who was now sweating so profusely that he looked as though he’d just stepped out of the shower. “You knew this was the plan all along. But one thing has gone wrong: Instead of taking you with him, Murray left you behind. You came to his rescue when I was chasing him and helped him escape—and he repaid your loyalty by ditching you.”

“No,” Dane said weakly, like he was trying to convince himself this wasn’t true. “Murray wouldn’t do that to me. We are friends.”

“Murray let me think he was my friend too,” I said. “When I first met him. And then he double-crossed me. Since then, he has claimed to be my friend many other times. But obviously, he was never being honest. All Murray cares about is Murray. Face it: He abandoned you. And if we don’t catch him, this ship is going to blow up with you on it.”

Dane made a small whimper, which was unsettling coming from such an intimidating person. It was like hearing a hippopotamus squeak. “Maybe you only think he left. Maybe he’s still on the ship somewhere, waiting for me.”

“He’s not,” Erica said. “We saw him leave. He stole one of the speedboats and took off. He already has a big head start on us because it took forever to wake you up. So if you want to live, we have to move fast. We need to know where he’s going. Now.”

Dane still didn’t answer, but I could tell that he was worried. Between his fear of dying and his pained reaction to the hot sauce, he wasn’t looking very good.

Mike came to his side. “I don’t know why you’re even considering being loyal to that snake. If you think about it, Murray has never looked out for you. He left you for dead in Colorado. And Mexico. And Paris. Each time, you were in bad shape, and he just abandoned you. Real friends don’t treat people like that. You don’t owe him anything.”

Dane still held out another ten seconds, quivering nervously as he pondered what to do—and then cracked like an egg. “You’re right!” he exclaimed. “Murray has never been a good friend! He says he is, but he always sticks me with the dirty work. He never returns my calls unless he needs something from me. And he forgets my birthday every single year—even though it’s the exact same day as his! Plus—”

Catherine interrupted him before he could go on. “I’m sure this epiphany you’re having is very cathartic, but what we really need to know is: Where has Murray gone?”

“Oh,” Dane said sheepishly. “Right. The plan was to head to a little town called Nueva Gorgona. There’s a beach with a public pier to dock at and a small airport nearby. Murray has a jet waiting for us. Or, I guess it’s really just for him. Seeing as he left me to die because he’s the worst person ever.”

“Er,” I said uncomfortably. “You did try to kill me tonight.”

“Only because Murray told me to!” Dane protested. “He’s the real bad guy here! Not mmmmthmmptthh.” He didn’t quite get to finish his defense, as I crammed a sock in his mouth. As pathetic as he seemed at the moment, I didn’t really feel bad for him after how he had treated me.

“Wait,” Mike said. He stood over Dane and asked, “Is there any chance that you know how to defuse this bomb?”

Dane shook his head, then began desperately trying to speak, despite the sock in his mouth. I reluctantly removed it again.

“You can’t even try to defuse this!” Dane explained. “Murray had the detonator custom made with all sorts of hair triggers. If you make the slightest mistake, we’re all dead! Murray is the only one who knows how to shut it off! He didn’t want anyone else to be able to do it. Because he’s a big jerk who doesn’t even know the meaning of the word ‘loyalty.’ Or ‘friendship.’ Or mmmthmmptthh.” I shoved the sock right back into his mouth.

Now that we had the information we needed, there was no time to lose. Catherine and Erica began quickly packing their bags for an emergency mission.

“Looks like our only call is to go after Murray,” Catherine said, “then drag him back here and force him to shut that bomb off. It’s been approximately an hour and a half since he set the timer, which gives us eleven hours to do all that. It will be a close call, but it’s still possible.” She checked her watch, then added, “I think.”

“We can do it,” Erica said supportively. “Murray might have a big lead on us, but now that we know where he’s headed, perhaps we can make up the time.”

Dane began writhing wildly on the bed and struggling against his bonds, although the thirty layers of industrial-strength plastic wrap were too strong for him to break. He also shouted desperately. We couldn’t understand him, given the sock in his mouth, but the gist was clear; he really wanted to be set free.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Catherine told him. “You can wait right here until we get back. Use this time to think about the choices you have made in your life and how they have put you in this position.”

Dane stopped shouting and looked rather ashamed.

“Hold on,” I said. “Are we sure that we can even trust Murray to do this? He’s not that competent where bombs are concerned. Back in school, he flunked bomb defusion. Twice. Maybe we ought to just tell the captain to steer this ship out to sea so that it won’t blow up near land. And then evacuate all the passengers with the lifeboats.”

Catherine shook her head sadly. “I had considered that, but it still wouldn’t cancel out all the risks. A nuclear explosion of such size at sea might not damage the canal, but it would still affect people on land—as well as everyone in the lifeboats and anyone on another ship coming to their rescue. We simply can’t let this explosion occur. We must go after Murray.”

Erica finished packing her bag. “We’ll need the other speedboat to do that,” she observed. “Although it’ll be a bit risky to steal it.”

“I know just the person for that job,” Mike said confidently, then turned to Alexander Hale and asked him, “How’d you like to have a little mutiny?”