Fish & Chips

Page 37

They pushed through the double doors into the industrial kitchen, garnering odd looks from employees inside as they hurried through the walkways, dodging wait staff, trays, and carts of dirty dishes. They"d reached a service door in the back when Zane glanced back across the kitchen to see Dolce and Gabbana thump through the doors and run straight into a passing busboy. All three of them crashed to the floor in a comic display.
Ty shouldered open the employee entrance and tumbled out into the corridor, only to put on the brakes and throw his arms out wide to prevent the rest of them from following. “Back, back!” he cried, right before a gunshot pinged off the top of the metal doorway. Norina let out a shrill yelp as she fell back against Zane, and he pulled her back into the kitchen. Ty and Bianchi were with them as Zane turned them down an aisle running along the back of the large kitchen, keeping the bulk of the cabinets, stoves, and prep area between them and Dolce and Gabbana. They didn"t have much time, though. Whoever was out in the hall would be behind them, and fast.
Zane almost ran past the elevator but caught the edge of the door to stop himself. He motioned to Bianchi and Norina. “Move!” he ordered, pushing them when they stopped just inside the threshold.
“There is not room!” Bianchi huffed as he tried to wedge himself between two large laundry carts. He pulled Norina as close as he could, barely getting her inside. Zane was able to edge just inside the wall next to the controls, but the rest of the service elevator was full.
Zane glanced out at Ty. “Get in here,” he urged as he reached up to grab the strap that would close the metal gate and heavy doors.
Ty reached up, grabbed the solid metal bar above the gate, and swung himself up over the service cart to drop into one of the laundry trolleys with an oomph. As soon as he let go of the bar, Zane had the gate shut and slammed his fist against the button, sending the elevator creaking slowly upward.
For a long minute, the only sound was the metal gears grinding as the elevator worked, and Zane craned his neck to look back at Ty. He had to snort; Ty had his feet kicked out, crossed at the ankles, and his hands laced casually behind his head as he lounged on top of the mess of laundry.
“You are not Corbin and Del Porter,” Bianchi said with an obvious certainty.
“Turns out that"s good for you, so don"t knock it,” Zane said shortly as he looked up through the grating above them into the dark elevator shaft. It wasn"t likely any of their pursuers would know where the elevator went, so he and Ty would have a legitimate chance to get the Bianchis to something resembling safety before tracking down ship"s security.
“You are not my good friend Del?” Norina said in a small voice.
“But you tango so well!”
“Yes, you tango so well,” Zane parroted, looking back at his partner. “How is that, by the way?”
“Don"t start with me, Garrett,” Ty mumbled. He turned a sincerely apologetic look on Norina. “It"s a long story. I"m sorry.”
She bit her lip, obviously upset, and then turned in what little room she had and whacked him in the head with her designer purse.
Zane laughed aloud, drawing a glare from his partner and a sniff from Norina.
The elevator creaked to a stop, and the lurch caused Ty to flail and lose his balance. He fell between the piles of dirty linens he"d been perched atop. As he cussed and struggled to climb out of the laundry bin, the doors cranked open noisily.
Zane grinned at Ty for a moment before carefully peering out of the elevator, checking both sides. The hallway was empty, and he didn"t hear any running footsteps. “Looks clear. Let"s go. We need to find security and get you two somewhere safe.”
“But what is going on?” Norina started demanding as they hurried down the passageway to a set of fire doors.
“A little help back here!” Ty called after them just as a crash sounded from within the elevator and Ty crawled out from between the doors, covered in towels and pillowcases. “I"m okay,” he muttered as he struggled to his feet and jogged to catch up with them. When he reached them, Norina rewarded him with another smack, just for good measure.
“Who are those men?” she demanded of them all.
“Two of them are Italian police, my gioia,” Bianchi said apologetically.
“Oh, Lorenzo, how did they find us?” Norina asked.
“I"m betting on Armen,” Zane said as they reached the doors.
“Not that we can ask, now, considering.”
“Why not?” Norina asked. She looked around at the three men who stood silently around her, and she paled.
Zane shook his head and opened one of the doors carefully. It opened into one of the smaller lobbies off the gaily decorated promenade. He didn"t see anyone but passengers, and he gestured for the others to follow him out. “Stay close,” he warned them. “We don"t know where those guys will pop up, and we have no idea who the second set of shooters is.”
“I would rather deal with Dolce and Gabbana than the guys with guns,” Ty claimed.
“It is not Dolce and Gabbana!” Norina cried as she waved her purse threateningly. “White ostrich leather hobo, it is the only one of its kind, and look! Ruined because of your face!”
“I"m sorry!” Ty cried helplessly, holding up his hands to ward off more attacks.
“Not helping!” Zane hissed at them, and Bianchi managed to calm Norina enough to save Ty another whack over the head with the ostrich leather.
They filed out, trying to act casual. Zane led the way back into the promenade, though they stayed to the far side against the wall, moving toward the main staircase and elevator that would take them up toward the bridge. That was the only place Zane could think of where they"d be sure to find real security with firearms. They couldn"t just grab any random crewmember to get effective help, and a frantic phone call wouldn"t help either.
By the time they made it to the central entry to the promenade, Zane had calmed enough to be able to start thinking further ahead.
They"d have to get on a satellite phone to call in. They"d need to get jurisdictional approval, and as much as he hated it, what passed for the local officials would have to be involved, at least to shut down their attackers.
As they stopped at the foot of the staircase, Zane glanced around them and turned to look right at a man raising his arm to point a gun at him.
“Down!” Zane exclaimed, grabbing Bianchi and Norina"s heads and dropping to the floor just as the gunshot rang out and ricocheted behind them. Screams rang out through the gallery, and Zane chanced a look at their attacker, only to have to duck immediately as the man shot at him again. This time the bullet clanged off the metal embedded in the staircase wall.
“Out, out, out!” Zane urged, pushing Bianchi toward the door that would let them out onto the open-air deck.
Zane could hear Ty complaining as he brought up the rear. “If that bastard shoots at me one more time I"m gonna shove that gun up his—”
“Right!” Bianchi called out as he grabbed Norina"s arm and pulled her in the direction Zane pointed, heading for the bridge just as Zane wanted. What Zane didn"t want was for the man to barrel right into a group of vacationers who squawked and hollered, slowing their progress as Norina tried to apologize and help people up.
“Take her and go,” Zane said as Ty stopped at his side. Ty grabbed Norina by the hand and began jogging on ahead. As they hurried off, Zane yanked a profusely apologetic Bianchi away from the women now laughing the accident off. “Not the time!” he insisted, pushing the Italian ahead of him. Bianchi followed Ty and Norina around the corner to a deck walkway that ran along the length of the ship, and Zane paused to look behind them. He saw three men run out of the promenade and start searching the crowd, and Zane let out a slow breath. They might have dodged a bullet again… until the group of ladies Bianchi had steamrollered pointed in his direction. One of the men yelled at him, but Zane turned on his heel and ran after the others.
After a half minute"s hard run, he was close on Bianchi"s heels and chanced a glance over his shoulder as they ran along the deck on the port side of the ship, still in the public areas. The thugs chasing them hadn"t pulled their guns and shot at them again, probably because of the mass of people enjoying the music and nighttime activities along the open decks. But every time Zane checked, they were losing ground, and he wasn"t sure just how far they"d be able to run.
Norina yelled something in Italian, and Zane turned his attention back to where he was going: inside and up a flight of stairs, rather than the wide, open-air staircase that would skyline them by the large swimming pool, now open to the moon in the warmer Caribbean weather. Good thinking on Ty"s part, leading them into some kind of shelter. Zane just hoped it didn"t dead-end them.
They pounded up the stairs, climbing two decks before the next exit. When Zane skidded through the fire door, Ty, Bianchi, and Norina were waiting for him.
“Block it,” Ty ordered, winded but not gasping for breath like the poor Italians. He was already moving to a heavy teak lounge chair to try and block the door, but he cursed creatively when he discovered the chairs were bolted to the deck. Zane checked the door and heard the thuds of heavy treads on the stairs. “We"ve got to move now,” he said as he tried to recall the layout of the ship"s decks. “Go left and outside, we should be able to cut through a passenger deck to get back to the promenade and up to the bridge.”
Ty reached for him and pushed him on to take the lead. Then he turned to the woman. “Norina, give me your shoes,” he demanded.
“They are not your size!” Norina protested as she stepped away from Ty.
“I"m not going to wear them!” Ty shouted at her in frustration.
“They are alligator skin Manolo—”
“Give him your shoes!” Bianchi urged as he reached down to yank them off her feet.
Ty took them and shoved one of them under his jacket. Zane knew his partner was dying for a weapon, but he"d have to settle for alligator skin stilettos and taking up the rear guard. Zane took off for the door and ran back out into the night and took the left turn, cutting through the open-air sitting area of a closed coffee shop, heading for another door set into the bulkhead. He stopped in front of this, catching his momentum and weight on one hand, and pulled at the door handle.
Locked.
“Oh come on,” Zane growled. He starting digging in his pockets for his key card. Norina and Bianchi stopped beside him.
“That is a fire hazard,” Bianchi commented after pulling on the handle himself.
Zane snorted, found his card, and skimmed it through the reader next to the door. The little box blinked red.
A series of crashes and bangs followed them, accompanied by the odd melody of off-tune Christmas carols being played by a mechanical decoration. Soon Ty rounded the corner, skidding in his expensive Italian leather dress shoes. He had managed to keep his tuxedo shirt tucked in, but it was no longer buttoned. Zane snorted. Just like Ty to find a way to show off his chest as they were being chased by armed men across a cruise ship. He glanced over his shoulder, laughing under his breath at whatever blockade he had managed to devise.
“Did you buy us a little time?” Zane asked. “We need it. Can"t get in the door. Come on,” he said, taking Norina"s elbow and turning her back to the deck. “We need to find another way in.”
“I am wishing I joined the aerobics class now, my gioia,” Bianchi huffed as they took off again. Norina"s tinkling laughter was lighter than Zane expected to hear, considering they were pretty much running for their lives.
They came upon a maintenance door, which was also locked, but before Zane could try the key card, Ty barked at him to move aside.
Zane had barely managed to sidestep out of the way before Ty threw himself, shoulder first, against the edge of the door. The door was heavy, solid metal, but the doorjamb was not. Norina screamed and clapped her hands over her mouth, and Bianchi shouted wordlessly in surprise as the doorjamb splintered under the assault. Ty gave the door a hard kick, but it wasn"t quite enough. He took a step back and then kicked the door again.
It fell open with a groan of protest.
“Go,” Zane said, pushing Bianchi and Norina toward the doorway. “It"s got to lead to an inner hallway.” As they moved, he looked Ty over quickly. “Okay?”
Ty grunted at him, rubbing at his upper arm as he followed the Bianchis upward. Zane pushed the door shut behind them, but it wouldn"t latch. They were in some sort of mechanical room. Lights blinked all over the walls, and wires threaded everywhere.
Norina was already at the far end of the room, opening a door that led back out onto the deck.
“No, we want to be inside. We have to get to the bridge,” Zane called out, turning in a circle, looking for another door. But there wasn"t one.
“Out"s better than trapped,” Ty argued, pointing at the door and moving toward it. He scanned the room as he went. “Anybody know enough about electronics to do damage with any of this stuff?”
Zane shook his head. There wasn"t time. Bianchi shrugged and looked around the room.
“Let us go!” Norina whispered urgently, and she opened the door to peer out. Bianchi and Ty were close on her heels.
They exited back on deck, now a little farther down the side of the ship. They weren"t but fifty yards from the stern now, and doors were getting scarce.
“You ever watch horror movies and bitch at the girl for running upstairs instead of out?” Ty was saying to no one in particular as they edged cautiously along the outer deck. Zane knew what he meant, because they were doing the equivalent: heading up where they"d be easily trapped if they couldn"t find another way down.