The Viking Throne: The Cursed Seas Collection Page 6

  “We have some Irish crème here if you like a drink? Or the typical port wine and Caribbean rum? Or is it whiskey that tickles your fancy? What’ll ya’ have, me son?” McBain waved his hand over the drink selection behind his desk.

  I salivated at the chance for a good drink. I hadn’t had a drop since that horrible night. I knew I shouldn’t. I knew Imogen would be livid with me, but I couldn’t refuse the captain.

  “The wine will do for now. Then perhaps some whiskey later.”

  “Great. Great.” McBain poured some wine into a cup.

  “Thank you, Captain.” I grabbed the cup from him.

  “So, tell me, how did you force her to the surface?” McBain asked.

  “She swallowed me. I was able to force an explosive down her throat then swim out. I didn’t really do anything to force her up. She did that all on her own.”

  The wine tasted extremely good. It wasn’t enough though. I wanted the whiskey.

  “That poor whale. Henihan! Why didn’t you just fucking lie and take all the credit?” McBain laughed and slapped my back.

  I laughed. He didn’t even care that I got swallowed. Did he even believe me?

  “What was the inside of the whale like? Do sirens get swallowed frequently?”

  “It smelled horrendous. She ate a squid before I was there and while I was in her mouth. So that made it even more pleasant.”

  McBain let out another laugh. The cook came in with salmon and lemons and a loaf of bread and butter. My stomach growled with delight, my appetite returned. It looked fantastic. We sat at the desk and began to eat.

  “Henihan, what can I do for ya’? I can’t help but feel for any poor bastard captured by Montgomery. I feel me and my crew owe ya’ one.” McBain took a sip of his drink, washing down a piece of salmon.

  I hesitated and sat back in my chair. The manifest… Now was the time to ask for it. “Aboard Monty’s ship were there any records, a manifest of any kind?”

  “There was nothing of the sort, but I know Monty’s routine pretty well. We were scouting that bastard for some time. He had regular routes and stops. He works for the New East India Company, they call it. The smarmy rich who survived The Great Calamity still try to control the trade routes of the surface.”

  “Do you know where he brings women and children? That bastard took everything from me—my wife and young daughter. My whole world he destroyed so I could fetch treasure for him.” I sucked down the rest of the wine.

  “I had no idea ya’ had a family, Henihan. There is only one place he would bring a woman. The waters above the French Riviera have a cruise ship where people like Monty go to engage in vices of all sorts. I can take you to the perimeter of submerged Monte Carlo in return for savin’ me crew. Per your wee girl, I dunno where or what use he would have for her.”

  My blood boiled at the prospect of McBain’s implication—Imogen forced into sex slavery of some kind. My face heated. “We can start there. I would greatly appreciate the help.”

  McBain poured some whiskey into my cup. “Now, I have no way of knowing what they are doing with her. Most of the time, that is what happens to captured siren women. I can take you so far as the perimeter, but that’s it. You will be on yer own after that.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I took a swig of the freshly poured whiskey, my courage aided by the warm liquid soothing my thirsty throat. “I will need my partner to assist me.”

  “You mean that English fish ya’ had with ya’? Fine. You will have to return to the ship of course.” McBain leaned back on his chair and pulled a piece of bread from the loaf.

  “I thought you owed me one?”

  “Aye, I said one, Henihan. I can drop you at the perimeter to seek yer wife on the cruise ship. That’s yer one. Ya’ have to come back.”

  “The emerald. Is that what this is about? I can take you there now.”

  “No rush for the emerald. Yer family’s more important. Ya’ can take me there after Monte Carlo. What is so important about the English fish?” McBain asked.

  Pierce popped up from behind McBain. He held a dagger to his throat. McBain held his hands up.

  “It would be wise if you gave us the shock remote.” Pierce spoke with a cool, no-frills tone.

  My eyes went wide. I actually spit out a little whiskey, which pissed me off. “Pierce, what the fuck are you doing, mate?”

  “Don’t trust this bloodthirsty pirate, James. We can find Imogen ourselves. Just not without that shock remote. He will lord over us with it just like Montgomery.” Pierce moved the dagger closer to McBain’s jugular.

  “All right. All right. Lay your dagger down, English. The remote is in the left drawer,” McBain said.

  “James.” Pierce nodded toward the desk.

  I crossed toward it and opened the drawer. There it was. The shock remote just like the captain had said.

  “Destroy it, James.”

  I put the remote on the floor and smashed it with the leg of the chair I’d sat in.

  “All right, English. Ya’ had yer way. The remote is fucking done.” McBain’s brow furrowed and his eyes widened with a steadily growing intensity.

  “Pierce let him go.” I leaned forward with my hands up as if to grab the dagger.

  Pierce’s muscular arm relaxed. He dropped the dagger.

  “How in the hell did ya’ get in here, boy?” McBain relaxed. He looked more amused than upset.

  “That is why I needed him. He is trained in espionage and stealth tactics.” I made eye contact with Pierce in the hope that he would trust me. I needed both of these men to find my family.

  “Mighty impressive. I will let Piercey live here if he agrees to help me in Monte Carlo. Doyle!” McBain called.

  The ugly scarred bastard entered with a pistol in hand aimed at Pierce’s chest.

  “Whoa now. Whoa now. Let’s strike an accord, Captain. What do you need?” I crossed toward Doyle, blocking any shot at Pierce.

  “I want a man dead who is aboard the cruise ship in Monte Carlo. His name be Cornwallis. Do that and I let ya’ live. I trust your stealth training came with a license to kill.”

  I turned back to look at Pierce. He was ready to kill everyone in the room, possibly even myself. I nodded my head.

  “We have an accord.” Pierce put his hands up.

  “Wonderful!” I grabbed my whiskey and downed it.

  “Doyle, you can go,” McBain said.

  Doyle left and closed the door behind him. McBain stood up and offered Pierce his chair. Pierce didn’t take the offer, and McBain sat back down.

  “Who is Cornwallis?” Pierce moved to the side of the desk between McBain and me.

  “He is the New East India Company’s pirate hunter. He takes residence in a luxury cabin.

  I can only bring you boys to the perimeter. There are warships around the cruise ship. We get in range of their guns, and we are done for. I can wait for you outside the danger zone and provide you with your means of escape,” McBain said.

  “You will not just take our word for it. What do I need to bring back? His head?” Pierce asked.

  “You will figure out what to bring back. Trust me.” McBain took a deep breath and a big swig of his rum.

  “It would be better to be specific,” Pierce pushed.

  “You heard the captain, Pierce. We will figure it out.” Clearly, McBain may have some deeper, personal issues with Cornwallis than just an enemy of his way of life.

  “When you return, take me to the emerald as compensation for sailing so close to those who would do us pirates harm, and you sirens can go live your lives. Now get some rest. Will set our course southeast in the mornin’.” McBain took another drink. His cheerfulness had muted by the conversation and the drink.

  I felt good and poured another cup of whiskey before we left. I would sleep soundly this evening for many reasons. At least, I hoped.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Imogen’s light brown eyes had put a smile of contentment on my f
ace every day for the last ten years. Her wavy red—hell, even almost orange—hair framed her strong, narrow jawline. Her nose turned up ever so slightly. Her crooked smile. She looked as if she truly was borne of magic. The love I felt for my wife ran deep. From the moment I met her in Submerged Dublin on campus at Trinity College to now, my love grew stronger every day. I could feel her warmth, her passionate embrace, and the steady rhythm of lasting love. She was my person. The balance of my life, and a sarcastic, yet calming presence. I missed her terribly. I hoped she would forgive me for failing to protect Maggie.

  It was only at night in the quiet that I could focus on my family. For every memory, every thought, no matter how comforting, also drove deeper my disdain for Montgomery and even myself. I couldn’t believe I’d allowed it to happen.

  While I lay in my hammock below deck, I threw my cup of whiskey on the ground, mad that I couldn’t help myself. I drank even though that was what got me into this bleeding mess to start with.

  I couldn’t bring myself to think about Maggie much. I was too cowardly to face the pain. I just ignored it and kept thinking she was still alive somewhere on these cursed seas or maybe even in Monte Carlo. I hoped to hell McBain wasn’t playing us. That there would be some answers on that gambling cruise ship.

  The more time lost, the more desperate I became. There was only so much I could take. My choice of liquid therapy did eventually do me in, and I mercifully drifted off to sleep.

  I appreciated the next morning’s hectic nature. The busier, the harder the work, the better I felt. The closer I was to finding my family. Pierce and I swabbed the deck. The sea air was refreshing. The sun shined but didn’t cause any discomfort. I didn’t expect to enjoy sailing on The Relentless as much I did. I felt a strong connection to this nautical way of life as if my ancestors had done the same thing. I felt it in my blood.

  McBain set our course. Southeast to the French Riviera we sailed. A few hours passed. It was well into the afternoon when McBain signaled for us to enter his quarters.

  “We have much to prepare.” McBain patted a map on his desk.

  “We aren’t looking for treasure.” Pierce jabbed at McBain.

  “On the contrary, James’s treasure could be found here. The Riviera was quickly covered by the sea in The Great Calamity, but of course, being a Mediterranean port, there were cruise ships. One ship survived and became the haven for the gamblers and humans seeking to escape their new reality. The Princess of Monaco is as about as upscale and fancy as you can get in the world we currently live,” McBain said.

  “Upscale means a great deal of security, in addition to the perimeter of warships you mentioned last night. We should swim in under cover of night,” Pierce added.

  “We can’t board the ship in our wetsuits. We will need a change of clothes,” I said.

  “I have clothes for you gentlemen, sealed in a bag. I have a tuxedo for Piercey here and a vest, shirt, and pair of pants for ya’, Irish.” McBain pulled the bag off his bed and handed it to Pierce.

  “Though we appreciate the change in attire, we will need more than just clothes, McBain.” Pierce opened the bag.

  “Oh, don’t worry. There is a Walther PPK inside with a silencer attachment. There is also a knife in there for you, James. Up to you how you want to smuggle them through security.” McBain laughed.

  “Why does he get the fuckin’ gun?” I half joked.

  “He has a very specific objective that requires a gun. There be also enough cash in there to make you both seem like ya’ belong.”

  “All this because I forced the whale to the surface. Thank you, Captain,” I said.

  “Now I have skin in the game, boys. With Cornwallis dead, my life will be much easier. If you run into trouble, we will be hiding out beyond the perimeter. There is a flare gun in the bag too. Only use it in an emergency, or otherwise the three warships surrounding the cruise ship will flood the area with spotlights and be on high alert. This old pirate may have a few tricks up his sleeve. Only use it if you need to. Please. I am not your damn ferry service.”

  “This will suffice. I suppose thanks are in order, Captain, or should I say quartermaster as well?” Pierce put his hand out to shake McBain’s.

  McBain just looked at his hand, obviously not quite ready to accept the English Fish.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sunset cast a purple and pink glow on the sails. The southern European waters were calmer than our sojourn over the old English Channel. Monte Carlo would have been in our sight if this were the age before The Great Calamity. As far as I knew, the humans had forced out any and all siren communities in the area. I knew of no submerged settlements in the South of France. Sirens were not allowed. I hoped McBain’s clothes would help us blend in.

  ‘Twas nearly time for us to dive in and infiltrate the Princess of Monaco.

  A crewmember called out from the crow’s nest high atop the mast, “Warship perimeter ahead, Cap’n. The Princess is in sight!”

  “Aye, Smitty. Thank ya’ kindly. Strike the colors and trim the sails, boys. Time to slow down,” McBain ordered from the helm.

  There were three out of four ships visible on the horizon. The massive Princess of Monaco floated in the middle of a triangle of warships, two of which were visible in the dimming light. There was another destroyer similar to Monty’s and then a Spanish man ‘o war. The warships were not uniform. One was modern and steely, and the other was the most powerful wooden ship a few centuries ago, but still packed enough firepower to sink ships three times the size as The Relentless.

  “What is the ship behind the cruise ship?” I asked.

  “An old aircraft carrier. McBain thought this side of the triangle a bit more navigable,” Doyle answered.

  “There aren’t any aircraft on the carrier, are there?”

  “They repurposed it for firepower. They do have a couple helicopters, but that is about it. Pilots are at a premium. Just be sure to keep under the water. The choppers are only called out if there’s trouble.”

  “Pierce, ya’ hear that, mate?” I looked towards Pierce who secured his bag around his chest and zipped up his wetsuit. I imitated McBain for some reason.

  He nodded.

  “Time to go, boys. You will have some time with the sun still out for a few minutes. After that, they put on the floodlights over the entire perimeter.” Doyle gave me my bag of goodies.

  “Well then, we better start swimming.” I slung the bag over my back.

  Pierce and I walked to the aft deck of the ship.

  “Good luck, boys. Remember if ya’ need us, shoot that flare,” McBain said.

  “Aye aye, Captain.” I saluted before jumping into the Mediterranean Sea.

  The water felt good, comfortable, and calm. Pierce and I shot through the water at siren speed at a depth of fifteen meters. Our conditioning and overall health had improved aboard The Relentless, and we were able to rebuild to our proper swimming speed. Steady meals and good treatment did wonders.

  Pierce cut through the water a few lengths ahead of me. My age showed a little, and, well, I wasn’t Special Forces. Pierce’s training had been more intense. He also demonstrated more speed the more motivated he was. He had a mark. Cornwallis. I had a mark too. My family. We were on a mission.

  My nerves were calm as we penetrated the perimeter. We passed between the destroyer and man o’ war. The waning sunlight gave us little light. I looked ahead toward the bottom of the Princess. Lights turned on all around the bottom of the ship. The bright beams showed Submerged Monte Carlo below. It was quite a sight. The underwater cliffsides were adorned with the orange, yellow, red, and pink buildings, resorts, apartments. Ironically, the most expensive cabins on the cruise ship had to be the bottom deck. The view was incredible.

  Pierce put his hand up for me to stop. “We should stay out of range of those floodlamps.”

  “Agreed, mate. There are many eyes lookin’ out the portholes to the Riviera.”

  “The bow anchor i
s how we will enter. Are you prepped, James?” Pierce asked.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s get aboard the ship.”

  A giant chain lay ahead. The horizontal force of it and the ship kept it from floating away. We wouldn’t be invisible behind the chain, but the view from the portholes would certainly be obstructed. We approached near the middle of the chain. The anchor itself was implanted into a white cathedral. Rather befitting of a cruise ship full of vice.

  We ascended close to the chain. The light increased the farther we rose from the depths. I could see the surface. Pierce increased his speed. I did the same. The faster we could get into the hawsepipe, or the hole the chain that held the anchor was in, the better.

  Pierce charged ahead, ignoring the bottom bow portholes. He swam with a purpose. I did the same, hoping we weren’t seen. We were dressed in black wetsuits and moving quite fast. Hopefully no one noticed.

  Pierce broke through to the surface first. I followed. The daylight had vanished. The deck lights sprayed above us. We climbed the chain and entered the hawespipe. We made it about halfway up. There wasn’t much room in the pipe, and it wasn’t very long. Big cargo ships probably had much longer hawsepipes.

  Dance music played on the top deck. Pierce held the chain with one hand and knocked on the walls while he rested his legs on a link of the anchor chain. The wall sounded hollow. He unzipped his bag and brought out a blowtorch.

  “Where the hell did you get that? How come I don’t have that?” I asked. First the pistol, now another useful tool McBain had delegated to Pierce and not me.

  “Shush. This is my specialty, remember? McBain likes me best.” Pierce began to cut through the pipe.

  “Ha! We know that to be false. What if that leads into someone’s room?” I asked as I shielded my face from the sparks.

  “It will lead into a bathroom most likely. You can take care of them if there is someone in the cabin. With your knife.” Pierce cut a hole big enough for us to enter. There was no light in the room he’d cut into.