Chapter 33
Ship of Fools
Tommy led them down a narrow hallway and into a large room paneled in dark walnut and furnished with heavy, dark wood furniture. Paintings and bookshelves filled with leather volumes lined the walls; strands of gold wire running across the front of the shelves to hold the books in place in rough seas were the only evidence that they were on a boat. There were no windows; the only light came from small spotlights recessed into the ceiling that shone on the paintings.
Tommy paused in the middle of the room, fighting the urge to stop and look at the books. Lash moved to his side.
"See that?" Lash asked. He nodded toward a large painting - bright colors and bold shapes, squiggles and lines - that hung between two doors at the far end of the room.
Tommy said, "Looks like it should be hung on a fridge with ladybug magnets."
"It's a Miro," Lash said. "It must be worth millions."
"How do you know it's an original?"
"Tommy, look at this yacht; if you can afford a boat like this, you don't hang fakes." Lash pointed to another, smaller painting of a woman reclining on a pile of satin cushions. "That's a Goya. Probably priceless."
"So what's your point?" Tommy asked.
"Would you leave something like that unguarded? And I don't think that you can run a boat this size without a crew."
"Swell," Tommy said. "Jeff, let me have that shotgun."
Jeff, still shivering from his dunk, handed over the gun.
"Shell in the chamber," Jeff said.
Tommy took the gun, checked the safety, and started forward. "Keep your eyes open, guys."
They went through the door to the right of the Miro into another hallway, this one paneled in teak. Paintings hung along the walls between louvered teak doors.
Tommy paused at the first door and signaled for Barry to back him up with a speargun as he opened it. Inside, row upon row of suits and jackets hung on motorized tracks. Above the tracks, shelves were filled with hats and expensive shoes.
Tommy pushed aside some of the suits and peered between them, looking for a set of legs and feet. "No one here," he said. "Did anyone bring a flashlight?"
"Didn't think about it," Barry said.
Tommy backed out of the closet and moved to the next door. "It's a bathroom."
"A head," Barry corrected, looking around Tommy's shoulder into the room. "There's no toilet."
"Vampires don't go," Tommy said. "I'd say this guy had this boat built for him."
They moved down the hall checking each room. There were rooms full of paintings and sculpture, crated, labeled, and stacked in rows; another with oriental carpets rolled and stacked; a room that looked like an office, with computers, a copy machine, fax machines, and filing cabinets; and another head.
They followed the hallway around a gentle curve to the left, where it traced the line of the bow of the boat. At the apex there was a teak spiral staircase that led to a deck above and one below. Light spilled down from above. The hallway curved around the bow and back to the stern.
"The hallway must go back to that other door in that big room." Tommy said. "Lash, you, Clint, Troy, and Jeff check the rooms on that side. Your Majesty, Barry, Drew, come with me. Meet us back here."
"I thought we were going to stay together," Jeff said.
"I don't think you're going to find anything down there. If you do, yell like hell."
The Emperor patted Lazarus's head. "Stay here, good fellow. We shan't be long."
Tommy pointed upward with the shotgun and mounted the stairs. He emerged onto the bridge and squinted against the light coming through the windows. He stepped aside and looked around the bridge while the others came up the stairs behind him.
"It looks more like the bridge of a starship," Tommy said to the Emperor as he came up.
Low consoles filled with switches and screens ran along the front of the bridge under wide, streamlined windows. There were five different radar screens blipping away. At least a dozen other screens were scrolling figures and text; red, green, and amber lights glowed along the rows of toggle switches over three computer keyboards. The only thing that looked remotely nautical to Tommy was the chrome wheel at the front of the bridge.
"Anybody know what any of this stuff is?" Tommy asked.
Barry said, "I'd say that this is the crew that we were wondering about. This whole thing is automated."
Barry stepped up to one of the consoles and all the screens and lights winked out.
"I didn't touch anything," Barry said.
The foghorn on Alcatraz sounded and they looked out the window toward the abandoned prison. The fog was making its way across the bay toward shore.
"How's our time?" Tommy asked.
Drew checked his watch. "About two hours."
"Okay, let's check that lower deck."
As they came down the steps, Lash said, "Nothing. More art, more electronics. There's no galley, and I can't figure out where the crew sleeps."
"There is no crew," Tommy said as he started down the steps to the lower deck. "It's all run by machines."
The floor of the lower deck was made of diamond-plate steel; there were no carpets and no wood: pipes and wires ran around the steel bulkheads. A steel pressure hatch opened into a narrow passageway. Light from the bridge two decks above spilled a few feet into the passageway, then it was dark.
"Drew," Tommy said, "you got a lighter?"
"Always," Drew said, handing him a disposable butane lighter.
Tommy crouched and went through the hatch, took a few steps, and clicked the lighter.
"This must lead to the engines," Lash said. "But it should be bigger." He knocked on the steel wall, making a dull thud. "I think this is all fuel around us. This thing must have an incredible range."
Tommy looked at the lighter, then back at Lash, whose black face was just highlights in the flame. "Fuel?"
"It's sealed."
"Oh," Tommy said. He moved a few more feet and barked his elbow on the metal ring of a pressure hatch. "Ouch!"
"Open it," Drew said.
Tommy handed him the shotgun and lighter and grabbed the heavy metal ring. He strained against it but it didn't budge. "Help."
Lash snaked past Drew and joined Tommy on the ring. They put their weight on it and pushed. The wheel screeched in protest, then broke loose. Tommy pulled the hatch open and was hit with the smell of urine and decay.
"Christ." He turned away coughing. "Lash, give me the lighter."
Lash handed him the lighter. Tommy reached through the hatch and lit it. There were bars just inside the hatch, beyond that a rotting mattress, some empty food cans, and a bucket. Red-brown splotches smeared the gray walls, one in the shape of a handprint.
"Is it the fiend?" the Emperor asked.
Tommy moved back from the hatch and handed back the lighter. "No, it's a cage."
Lash looked in. "A prison cell? I don't get it."
Tommy slid down the bulkhead and sat on the steel floor, trying to catch his breath. "You said this thing had an incredible range. Could stay out to sea for months, probably?"
"Yeah," Lash said.
"He has to store his food somewhere."
Inside the vampire's vault, just above his face, a computer screen was scrolling information. A schematic of the Sanguine II lit up one side of the screen with nine red dots representing the vampire hunters and Lazarus. Green dotted lines traced the patterns of their movements since they had boarded the ship. Another area of the screen recorded the time they had boarded and another showed exterior views of the yacht: the raft tied up at the rear, the dock, fog sweeping over the Saint Francis clubhouse. Radar readouts showed the surrounding watercraft, the shoreline, Alcatraz, and the Golden Gate in the distance. Optical disk drives recorded all the information so the vampire could replay it upon awakening.
Motion detectors had, upon sensing Barry's presence near the console on the bridge, activated switches that rerouted all of the ship's control to the vault. The Sanguine II was wide awake and awaiting its master.
"How's our time, Lash?" Tommy asked.
"About an hour."
They were gathered at the stern of the yacht, watching the fog roll into shore. They had searched the entire ship, then gone back through it again, opening every closet, cupboard, and access panel.
"He's got to be here."