Breacher (Tom Keeler Book 2) by Jack Lively (reading well TXT) 📕

eye. Beside it was a bowl full of sealed capsules. Not a chance. Far as I’m concerned that stuff doesn’t count as coffee.

Out of the office, down the hall. I nodded to Dave and rapped my knuckles on his desk as I passed. He was buried in his book. Out again to the corridor, down past the North Pacific Travel Industry Risk Assessment office. They were opening now. As I came through the hallway, a trim guy in a shirt and tie was pulling up the shutters. Behind him, I glimpsed a reception area. Sofas, coffee table, brochures stacked up and fanned out for the taking.

In the center of the town hall green, a bearded skinny guy with large hoop earrings had parked his coffee cart. The guy made excellent coffee. Cost more than a couple of bucks but it hit the spot. I put a small one down right there and then, short and bitter. Then I asked him for another. There were no customers competing for his attention, so the guy got right to it. He pulled the levers, machinery hissing and puffing as the pressure valves adjusted. After a small eternity, the pungent brown liquid emerged from the chrome spouts, collected by a fresh little paper cup.

The cup was hot, precious and fragrant in my hand as I came back up to Ellie’s office. It was also precarious, filled to the brim and ready to spill right out. I carried the coffee carefully up the stairs, then down the corridor. I paused in front of the North Pacific Travel Industry Risk Assessment office. Someone had set out a brochure rack, right next to the door. The brochures were neatly stacked in purpose-built plastic cubbies. They stood upright, five or ten deep. Behind the cubbies, a sign read Emerald Allure: Legendary Memories. Behind the text was a photograph of the ocean, blue and green and perfect. Beyond that, a glacier and a white-capped mountain range. In the foreground, the white cruise ship. Like a floating mobile city, serene and geometrically refined. The photograph had been taken at a perfect three-quarter angle from high up, probably by a remotely controlled drone. The boat was supposed to look noble and refined.

I picked up a brochure and brought it into the Tribal Authority offices.

Ellie wasn’t back yet. I put my feet up on her desk and flipped through the brochure while I nursed the coffee. I looked at the pictures, which were plentiful. Photos of bears catching salmon in rushing, sweet water swells. Well dressed older people with white teeth photographing whales. Dolphins playfully leaping in the Emerald Allure’s wake. Fancy dimly lit restaurants with well dressed waiters. A roulette wheel surrounded by tuxedoed geriatrics holding fruity drinks with umbrellas and orange peels.

Then there were hero pictures of the Emerald Allure herself, overlaid with info-graphics, and data visualizations. The photos burst with statistics. The boat could house 3,329 passengers and 1,446 crew. It had seven restaurants and eight bars, including several karaoke salons. There were multiple spas, and various sporting facilities. A full-sized swimming pool, and five gyms. They had a helicopter landing pad just in case, which doubled as a dance floor when the weather was good.

Toward the back of the brochure was a two-page spread: Meet the Crew. A grid of photos with titles and names on the side. The captain came first. A grim-looking middle-aged woman, smiling desperately in an ill-fitting captain’s hat and jacket with gold braiding on her shoulders. Then there were the department heads and their deputies. All of the important positions plus their backup, like Head of Entertainment, and the Head Chef. The Head of Customer Satisfaction was further down, alongside the Head of Excursions and her deputy. Competent-looking people in early middle age with a slightly younger second in command.

At the bottom of the spread was a photo of Deckart. He looked different. As if someone had taken his picture, put it into a computer, and worked hard on it, trying to make him respectable, strong, and kindly at the same time. Tough job, but they had done good work. Deckart was smiling broadly. He looked tough and confident, wearing a white crew hat and a white crew uniform with some gold braiding laced into it.

The bio read: Deputy Head of Security, Walter M. Deckart.

By the time I finished the espresso, I had already decided that the Emerald Allure deserved a visit. It wasn’t far, and Ellie had not returned. Her police badge was gathering dust underneath her computer screen. I picked it up. Heavy and reassuring in the hand. Like a special object.

Twenty-Two

I came down the hill to the dock. The Emerald Allure was about a hundred yards away, towering over the adjacent buildings. The boat had two gangways. One closer to me, the other toward the stern. A fancy German mini-bus was parked up near the bow side gangway. It was the same one I had seen back at the airport. Green with the white logo that read, ‘Green Gremlin Tours’, with a smiling gremlin sitting on top of the word ‘Green’.

A special lift delivered two wheelchair-bound passengers from the bus to the pavement. As I came up to the ship, the hydraulic platform was returning from the road back up to the door. More wheelchairs on their way down. The first set of chairs was already being pushed up the gangway by attendants, past a white-uniformed security guy at a podium with a clipboard.

I walked straight up and showed Ellie’s badge. I had it clipped to my jeans, lifted my shirt just like I’d seen her do up at the fire tower. Flashing the badge gave me a little taste of cop power. The guard’s attitude flipped instantly when he saw it.

I said, “I need to talk to the head of security.”

“Give me a sec.” The guy spoke into a handheld radio. “Gretchen?” Gretchen was a crackle and a hiss. A human voice was hidden in there somewhere, riding