Chapter 7 - The Bridge of Broken Kings
"Where is Drake?" I demanded, grabbing Sterling by the lapels of his white jacket, ignoring the four gold stripes of his rank.
The Captain blinked, his gaze unfocused, his spirit completely shattered by the realization that his thirty-year career had ended in a watery graveyard. "He... he went to the forward boat deck. He took his personal security detail. He ordered Lifeboat Number One launched with his private luggage."
"Lifeboat One is designated for emergency crew operations and seventy-five passengers from Deck D!" Leo shouted, rage turning his young voice into a snarl.
"He doesn't care," Sterling whispered, leaning heavily against the tilted wall as the ship groaned beneath another deep structural spasm. "He said the company would settle the lawsuits out of court. He has an unlisted satellite phone. He’s already speaking to his PR firm in New York."
"Snap out of it, Arthur!" I yelled, shaking the old man until his teeth clicked. "The ship has thirty-five minutes before the list exceeds twenty-two degrees. If that happens, the port davits will lock and six hundred people will be trapped on the upper decks. You are still the master of this vessel! Get on the emergency wireless and broadcast the Mayday!"
Sterling swallowed hard, something resembling a professional officer finally flickering back to life behind his haunted eyes. "The primary radio is underwater, Nathan. The batteries in the secondary bridge are dry, but the antenna lead was severed by the funnel cables."
"Maya Lin is in the auxiliary navigation room," I said. "She has a portable satellite transceiver linked to the marine emergency frequency. Get up there, authenticate the distress call with your master encryption key, and guide the Canadian Coast Guard cutters in. Can you do that, Captain?"
Sterling straightened his shoulders, pulling his ruined jacket straight. "I can do that, Mr. Mercer."
"Leo, go with him," I commanded. "Make sure he reaches the auxiliary bridge. If Drake’s guards try to interfere, put a wrench through their skulls."
"What about you, Nathan?" Leo asked, grabbing my arm.
I looked down the tilted, red-lit corridor toward the grand atrium. Screams were echoing down the marble stairwells. The sound of children crying, luggage tumbling down the incline, and the dull, terrifying roar of water rushing through the lower ventilation shafts filled the air.
"Drake is going to steal Lifeboat One," I said, pulling the twelve-inch steel spanner from my waistband. "And I'm not letting that bastard leave this ship until every single child is in a harness."
I sprinted down the tilted corridor toward the grand staircase, using the handrails to pull myself against the twelve-degree starboard list.
The Grand Salon was a landscape of apocalyptic luxury.
The crystal chandeliers were hanging at grotesque, sideways angles, three of them having snapped from their ceiling mounts and shattered across the dance floor in an explosion of million-dollar glass shards. The champagne fountain had tipped over, pooling vintage wine with brown bilge water that had begun bubbling up through the floor drains.
Hundreds of passengers were huddled along the port promenade windows, clutching orange lifejackets, weeping, praying, shouting for lost family members.
And out on the starboard boat deck, illuminated by the harsh glare of an emergency floodlight, Julian Drake was standing at the threshold of Lifeboat Number One.
He had discarded his tuxedo jacket, wearing a thick down parka over his silk shirt. Beside him stood his remaining private security guard, holding an automatic shotgun across his chest, keeping a crowd of twenty terrified kitchen workers and elderly passengers back at gunpoint.
Two large aluminum cases containing Drake’s personal financial servers and luxury luggage were already strapped into the center seats of the boat.
"Lower the damn falls!" Drake was screaming at the deck technician operating the mechanical winch. "I don't care about the muster protocol! The ship is going over! Lower it now!"
"Mr. Drake, the boat isn't full!" the young technician protested, his hands trembling on the hydraulic release lever. "There are women and children coming up from Deck Seven—"
"I paid fifty million dollars for the keel of this boat, you ignorant peasant!" Drake shrieked, stepping forward and shoving the technician away from the controls. "My life is worth more than this entire floating slum! Lower the boat!"
"Step away from the winch, Julian."
My voice cut through the howling wind and the hiss of escaping steam.
Drake froze, turning his head slowly toward the doorway.
May you like
I stepped out onto the open boat deck. The freezing nor'easter whipped my wet hair across my face, the rain stinging my eyes like needles. Behind me, forty passengers fell silent, watching the grease-stained chief engineer walk toward the billionaire and his armed guard.
In my right hand, swinging loose at my side, was twelve inches of forged American steel.
