Tidal Rage by David Evans (best big ereader .TXT) 📗

drink napkin is my phone number. I am not that crass to be trying to pick you up when you are obviously in a deeply worried state, but if you ever want to talk, my name is Cathy Lavine. I live in Seattle when I am not flying. No strings; phone me, use me as a sounding board, any time, night or day.”

“You’re a very special lady, Cathy. Thank you for your kindness. You might be sorry you gave me the number, as I might be phoning you sooner than you think,” Cutler replied, already thinking she may be a good contact for information should he need it. Somewhere deep down within him it registered that she was beautiful, and it would be nice to spend time with her, but his brain would not allow him to process the thought amidst his trauma.

 

 

Chapter Nine

Sebastian had been away from the American hub for several years, and lately had spent two years in the Antipodes circumnavigating Australia and New Zealand several times.

His tally of murders was now at twenty-five; twenty-three since he had first signed on the cruise ships all those fourteen years ago. This equated to one killing every eight months. Sebastian knew he had hit on a vein of gold when he had cemented the idea and plan of his killing spree.

Sebastian was not stupid; he knew if there were too many deaths, sooner or later someone would work it out, and his way of life would have to change. Eight months was about the maximum length of time he could go without killing. He had once got to nine months, but, on the other hand, had also killed three women in a one-year period in 2004, two years previous.

The ship was called the Oyster, a nine-decked, three-year-old cruise liner owned and run by the Wave Runner Cruise Company, and they were undertaking the Caribbean circular route.

Guests that night sitting around his piano had been a mix of Canadians and Americans, with a single middle-aged Japanese woman. The tip jar was full, as was the request docket sitting atop the white mini grand piano. The requests varied from country and western to Phantom of the Opera, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, and Piano Man. He would certainly do the music, but he would not be singing the lyrics to Stand by your Man, as the Japanese guest had requested.

It had been a laborious night, made worse because everyone spoke English, and this meant he had to converse with them at a level, something he profoundly did not want to do. He had enjoyed cruising out of Hong Kong several years earlier on the Red Star Cruise Line, as most of the guests did not speak English, so there was no need for any chit-chat.

Sebastian had perfected his killing, but although quick, he had never quite reached the peak of enjoyment, he knew there was more to come.

He had noticed a young couple sitting at the back of the bar the previous two nights. She was petite, with a slim figure and very light hair; maybe dyed, but Sebastian thought it looked too perfect to have come out of a bottle. Her companion was of medium height, medium build, cropped hair, liked his beer, nothing special. He did have a tattoo on his forearm, which had an eagle on a crest, so Sebastian hazarded a guess that he was either English or German; he later confirmed German. What was apparent was that the couple argued most of the time.

Having open access to the ship and its records meant Sebastian could quite easily discover who was staying in what cabin; all he needed was a name. Sebastian had access to the ship’s computer and had previously heard a bartender call the man Herr Shultz. From there on in, it was just a matter of time for both Herr and Frau Shultz.

Over the next week of the cruise he kept a close eye on the couple from a distance and waited patiently for his opportunity.

On the Tuesday—Sebastian knew it was Tuesday as the cleaners changed the carpets in the glass elevators that had the day of the week on them—the Oyster anchored off the port of Samana in the Dominican Republic. The port did not have sufficient depth for the Oyster to berth in the port so she anchored off in deep water, a half-mile from the harbor.

The tenders were small boats from the island, which came across on the starboard side, and there they picked up all the guests going on shore.

Sebastian noticed that the young German man was without his young, fair, beautiful Germanic frau as he boarded a tender in an ungainly fashion, due to the swells beneath the small boat. He noticed because he had duties on many occasions to wave off the guests on their various excursions, as did a lot of the entertainers. It was excellent customer service, as far as the cruise captain was concerned.

As soon as his duties had been discharged and all the excursions had departed, Sebastian headed for the Pearl Deck, which was the name given to deck four. This deck was an accommodation deck only. The deck had long corridors running down the port and starboard sides of the ship, with breaks every forty-five yards or so to enter the open area where the stairs and elevators were sited. On the outer side of the corridor the cabins had ocean-view windows; opposite them were the interior cabins, with pictures instead of windows or portholes. The cabins had a bathroom immediately as you walked to the left or right, depending on what side of the corridor the cabin was situated on. A small desk and chair under a television hung on the wall. Opposite this were two single beds with a little night table in between. Under the window of the porthole or