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Brady saw knives and lengths of wood or pipe in their hands. He put out his hands to show that he wasn’t armed, then put his finger to his mouth in the universal signal to be quiet.
He said, “I’m Jackson Brady. I’m a passenger, also a cop. We’re getting you guys out of here.”
Men exhaled, sheathed their knives, and broke into tears. Some rushed forward to shake his hand.
Brady told Lyle to get the lantern and then waved him and Lazaroff through the hatch door. He followed them in and introduced them to the ship’s officers.
One of the officers, a balding older guy in his sixties, had on glasses and grubby whites with captain’s stripes on the shoulders. He held a pistol loosely in one hand and shook Brady’s hand with the other.
“I’m Captain Berlinghoff,” he said. “George. Thanks very much…,” he said, choking back tears. “Mr. Brady. We haven’t seen light. We haven’t spoken with anyone. What’s happening to the ship?”
Brady said, “The terrorists are in charge and executing passengers on the hour.”
He briefed the captain on the terrorists’ demand for payment.
“They’ve killed a lot of people,” Brady said. “I don’t see that they’ve got a viable exit plan whether they’re paid or not. At some point, they might realize that. There’s no telling what they’ll do.”
“What are your thoughts?” the captain asked Brady.
“Got to get control away from them. And that means arming as many people as possible. Are your guys trained on the weapons in your citadel?”
“Who said we had a citadel?” the captain asked.
“I did, sir,” Lyle said.
“And who are you?”
Brady put his arm around Lyle’s shoulders.
“Lyle Davis. Our cabin steward and a very brave young man.”
The captain said, “I don’t know what you’ve heard, Mr. Davis, but there’s no citadel. There’s a lockbox on the Sun Deck marked OPEN IN CASE OF FIRE.
“We have a few handguns in there, some flares, and fire extinguishers. That’s it for our weaponry except for this thing,” he said, lifting his revolver by the trigger guard with a finger. It looked like a souvenir from the Korean War.
“There’s one bullet in it. I’m saving it for Jackhammer. I’ve been waiting by this door since he took over my ship.”
Brady nodded his head, then asked, “These stairs go to the Sun Deck?”
He was thinking of the lockbox with some make-do weapons, the blond kid with the assault rifle sitting on the top landing, and then the pirates up on the track.
They’d have to go past all of them.
Berlinghoff said, “Mr. Brady. Tell us your plan.”
CHAPTER 92
BRADY CLIMBED THE crew’s stairs alone, catching his breath between flights. When he reached the veranda level, he called up to the gunman at the top landing.
“Hey. Buddy. I need you to take a look at something for me.”
Distract. Disarm.
The ploy had worked before. Would it work again?
He heard Kid Commando getting to his feet, the scraping of boots on metal stairs echoing up and down the dimly lit stairwell.
The kid called down, “What’s the matter? What happened?”
