Jon Merz - Raider X

“I want the woman who was in this cabin found. Turn the ship upside down. Two-man parties only. No one alone. Take guns and search everywhere.”

The men dispersed and Thatcher felt his gut twinge. If they searched everywhere then there was a good chance that they would find the shell in his cabin even though it was hidden. If they found the high explosive then they would naturally want to know why Thatcher had stolen one.

That wasn’t good.

Schwarzwalder eyed Thatcher. “You seem fully dressed.”

Thatcher nodded. “I couldn’t sleep again. Despite the best efforts of that wonderful schnapps.”

Schwarzwalder grunted. “The same fate befell me. I don’t know that I’ll have any degree of rest while that woman remains aboard the Loki. The sooner we find her, the better.”

“Where could she be?”

The Captain shrugged. “It’s a big ship. If she finds a crevice or a nook, she could hold out for a while until we finish searching.”

Thatcher eyed the pistol the Captain still held. “At least you all have weapons. I feel naked without one, frankly.”

Schwarzwalder chuckled. “Are you in any danger?”

“I might be.”

“You slept with her,” said Schwarzwalder. “Isn’t that what you told me?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should have nothing to fear,” said Schwarzwalder with a sly grin. “Unless, perhaps, you weren’t up to her expectations. In that case, you might have more to fear than any of the rest of us.”

Thatcher frowned. “Oh, that’s quite amusing, Captain. Thank you.”

“Maybe even now she waits for you in your cabin.”

“In which case, I’m a dead man,” said Thatcher.

“My men will find her,” said Schwarzwalder. “They will be methodical about how they search the ship. They will leave no place unchecked. If she is still aboard the ship, they will find her no matter where she chooses to hide.”

Thatcher took a breath and let it out slowly. That was exactly what he was afraid of.

“How many men do you have aboard?” asked Thatcher a moment later.

“We had 340,” said Schwarzwalder. “We seem to be down six currently.”

It was a sizable crew, thought Thatcher. The Loki was long enough and big enough that Cyra could presumably hide in any number of locations. But why was she hiding at all? Had she actually killed those crew members? Had she killed the guard outside of her cabin? Thatcher wanted to put his own plan into motion but was seriously hamstrung by the fact that Cyra was off creating her own chaos.

Was there a way for Thatcher to take advantage of the chaos to make his own plan work? More importantly at the moment, was there a way for him to safeguard the shell he’d stolen from the gun emplacement? As soon as his cabin was searched, he knew they would find it. Schwarzwalder’s men weren’t lazy; they were professional sailors who would carry out his orders to the best of their ability.

That didn’t leave Thatcher much time. It was still the middle of the night. Could he secrete the shell to the engine room now? Thatcher dismissed the idea immediately. The damned thing weighed fifty pounds and was eighteen inches long. It was not the sort of thing he could waltz through the corridors carrying. He’d be stopped as soon as he stepped out of his cabin.

Gunfire sounded just as he was about to broach the idea of being free to walk around with Schwarzwalder. But the Captain pushed past him. “Come on!”

Thatcher ran to catch up with him and they raced down to the lower deck. There was commotion by the stern and then as they rushed closer, the sea plane that was strapped down to the Loki’s deck blew up, flames jetting away from it as the fuel burned. A second later, a massive fireball went up and the machine gun rounds exploded spraying everywhere.

Thatcher tackled Schwarzwalder to the deck as the blast went off and the bullets exploded. Thatcher kept their heads down until the chaos died down and there were no more bullets ricocheting anywhere.

They got to their feet slowly seeing the devastation before them. All around the deck were the bodies of the men who had been caught in the hail of bullets that had gone off. Thatcher counted at least two dozen bodies unmoving on the deck while scores more moaned and bled about the place.

Schwarzwalder grabbed the closest sailor. “What the hell happened?”

“One of the men thought he saw someone by the plane and fired at it. It must have blown it up.”

Schwarzwalder let the man go and shook his head. “Of course it blew up, the fuel in the wings would have caught as soon as the bullets touched it.”

“So it wasn’t Cyra?”

Schwarzwalder shrugged. “I have no idea if it was. She could have been there, but the sailor who shot should not have fired knowing what could happen.”

Medical teams raced to help those who could be saved. Schwarzwalder moved among the injured and dying, taking his time to tend to them. Thatcher glanced around and knew he wouldn’t get a better opportunity than this. He turned and ran back toward his cabin, ducking inside as more sailors rushed past him, seemingly oblivious or uncaring what Thatcher was up too.

As other armed parties moved past, Thatcher told them that there were tons of injured on deck. He wasn’t lying. The explosion of the plane had effectively whittled down the Loki’s crew considerably. And if Cyra was on the prowl, then there was a chance she was going to have her fill as well.

At his cabin, Thatcher grabbed the shell and headed toward the engine room. As he descended toward it, he had to stop once and shove the shell into a crevice while more sailors pushed past him. They eyed Thatcher but no one asked him what he was doing. Thatcher retrieved the shell and moved deeper into the bowels of the ship while more alarms blared around him. He had no idea if the plane was still the issue or if some new chaos had erupted. He wondered if Schwarzwalder even realized he was gone yet.

Probably. The Captain was astute. Although he was also preoccupied with tending to his men.

Thatcher took another set of steps that were steeper and he had to juggle the shell carefully as he did so. The sooner he got the damned thing into the engine room, the better he would feel. He just didn’t want to be seen carrying it. That would pretty much end his chances of sinking the damned boat if someone did see him. There was no way ammunition like this would ever be housed near the engine room. It didn’t take a scientist to realize that Thatcher intended to sabotage the ship.

He had almost reached the engine room when he heard voices up ahead. They were speaking rapidly but Thatcher by now was accustomed to hearing German and knew they were worried about what was happening on the ship. He looked around for a place to hide the shell or himself. But the length of the corridor he was in afforded him no chances to hide.

There were two sailors walking toward him, so Thatcher decided his best course of action was to bluff and be confident. He’d used it any number of times in the past. The fact was, if you acted like you were doing something proper, most people wouldn’t even think twice. Act guilty and you radiated vibes that attracted inquisition.

So as they approached one another, Thatcher merely nodded. “ Ein verrucht nacht .”

“ Ja ,” said the first sailor with a grim laugh. The other chuckled as well and then they passed Thatcher. Thatcher was about to breathe a sigh of relief. It had worked.

“ Halt! ”

He turned, still cradling the artillery shell in his hands. Both of the men eyed him as if realizing for the first time that the American had spoken German to them. Then their eyes went down to the shell that Thatcher carried. They exchanged a glance with the other and one of them nodded at Thatcher. “Why are you carrying that shell?”