OP-DEC: Operation Deceit

Chapter 13

The cabin light still burned brightly when Claire woke in the early morning. The last thing she remembered was trying to figure a way out of the dire predicament. They must have fallen asleep, exhausted by the affair. Claire lifted her head and focused on the room. The yacht rolled on the waves in an eerie silence. She guessed they'd stopped.

"Aunt Noreen," Claire whispered. "Aunt Noreen."

Aunt startled awake, drawing a deep, long breath through her nose. She touched her forehead, disoriented before settling her sleepy eyes on Claire.

"Oh, good Lord, I was hoping it was only a nightmare," Aunt grumbled. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. The engines have stopped."

Claire and her aunt rose from the bed, surveying their room. All was quiet on board. Claire went to one of the portholes and saw the dark gray sky beyond. She climbed back onto her perch from the night before. The ship dipped and a black ocean stretched on forever.

"What do you see?"

"Nothing," Claire shook her head. "Empty as Eddie's charm."

Aunt chuckled quietly. "At least you're keeping your sense of humor."

Claire flashed her aunt a bright smile.

The door vibrated with several hard raps, which startled both women. Claire climbed down when she heard the lock slide. She sat on the edge of the bed and waited while Aunt backed away.

When the door opened, they thought they would surely see Carsten or his handler. Instead, their friends from the night before stood there. From their grubby faces they glared at the women. Brandishing the rifles again, they shouted something indecipherable.

Claire rose to her feet while her aunt stepped in front of her protectively. The men shouted again and pointed up the passage.

"I think they want us to leave," Claire said.

"Oh, well-it can't be any worse up there than it is in here," Aunt said tentatively.

The women exited the cabin, keeping watch on the crewmen's weapons. One of the men stepped ahead while the other followed. The tailing crewman kept the muzzle of his rifle pressed into Claire's back. They moved down the hall like herded cattle.

"Hey, take it easy, would ya?" Claire rounded on the man harrying her.

"That will be enough, Matrose." Carsten appeared on the ladder. He ducked below the deck from above to observe their approach. The man with the rifle backed away under his icy glare. "Good morning, ladies. I trust you slept well." Carsten switched moods, flashing a startlingly sincere smile and sparkling eyes.

"You don't look like you did," Claire said. His smile couldn't hide his weariness.

"Someone had to keep an eye on things," Carsten replied. "But don't get any ideas. I am still quite fit. Now, please come join us on deck. It's a lovely morning."

Aunt led the way, not speaking a word. She set her mouth in a tight line, probably biting her tongue.

Carsten led the group onto the deck in the dusky light of predawn. The yacht lights blazed and the ship bucked on the choppy seas. A biting wind blew in from the west.

Claire hugged herself; she wasn't dressed to be out on the spring ocean. She rubbed some warmth into her arms, scanning the nothingness that surrounded them. She turned. Off the starboard side loomed a hulking nightmare that nearly dwarfed the yacht. Aunt gasped and Claire leapt to her side. The women clasped hands and gawked at the iron leviathan.