Hidden Steel

Chapter 4

FOUR

Steel snapped back to reality as a Tannoy message announced they were about to enter international waters. Steel looked around – seeing what had changed since his daydreaming had interrupted his observations. To his left sat two elderly gentlemen, playing chess, Steel smiled and headed off towards one of the restaurants. Finding a spot in the corner of the room by the long glass window, he settled himself, picking up the menu card he perused its contents, but studied the outside world with more interest. There were over nine thousand people on the ship or, to be more precise, over nine thousand needles in one hell of a big haystack. Steel needed something, anything that would give a clue as to what he was doing on the ship. He didn’t have a plan as such; he never did – plans go wrong, but sometimes they help. There had been a reason this ship was so important but for why? Whatever the reason, he had to find it and fast. A smiling Asian woman came over and took his order.

“Just a coffee thanks”, Steel could feel her eyes on him. She was attractive with long black hair that had been pinned up to hold at the back; she had a slim figure and curves in the right places.

“Maybe something later then, sir?” Her voice was sultry.

“Yes, maybe later,” his reply was equally apparent as her question, as she turned and walked away. Steel smiled to himself, thinking about Darius’s remarks about him and women.

The restaurant was half-empty, except for families with screaming children - too excited to eat or take a nap, couples who looked happy to be away from their everyday life. Outside the restaurant, people moved about slowly – almost without purpose, the excitement of being on the ship had finally subsided, and they had come to realise there was no place to rush too. Steel looked over at the doorway just as a couple entered the restaurant. The woman was mid-twenties with only her man’s cash in mind. Her long legs put her at around six-foot-tall, and her long blonde hair was styled – possibly by some guy with a fake French accent who charges too much for too much hairspray and calls it the latest fashion. She wore a red and white checked dress that hugged every curve of her body – purposely leaving little to the imagination. The woman’s peach-shaped ass seemed to balance out her large breasts. Steel chuckled to himself, the man was around five foot six with thick-rimmed glasses, and a pensile moustache, his face was round and held a nervous look. As a waitress seated them not far from his table, Steel could not help but smile at the massive difference between them.

“Ah, L’amour,” Steel said, with a smile. In the far corner of the room, Steel noticed a man sitting alone at the bar, he usually would not stick out as lots of people were sitting unaccompanied, but something made Steel nervous, something about him was off. Steel watched the man as he made out he was watching the football on the large television on the wall, Steel couldn’t make out the man’s height due to the fact that he was slumped at the bar – as if he was trying to make himself smaller or not visible. He had shoulder-length brown hair which nearly hid his square-jawed face. He was in his mid-thirties and had the start of a tan which Steel thought may have been from Middle Eastern or African sun. Steel watched intently as the man scribbled in his small notebook, only looking up to take note of his surroundings. Steel broke his gaze; he emptied the contents of his coffee cup, and stood up, this trip was fourteen days long, and he needed to find why this ship's name was so essential, the problem was that Steel didn’t even know if this was the right place, all he knew was that the name NEPTUNE was important.

At the 11th precinct New York City, everything seemed like a typical day. The phones never stopped ringing, and uniforms brought in suspects for questioning, or people cued to speak to a detective or the desk sergeant. The crime rate that year had been strangely low – possibly due to the constant rain showers. Captain Brant of the Homicide Department had a theory that the warm weather made everyone nuts, so the cold, wet weather was a blessing. Unfortunately, some of the criminals didn’t share the same view and broke his law of criminality far too often. He sat in his office, going over the latest directives from 1PP – the Mount Olympus of the Police Department in New York, where the commissioner and the rest of the powerful suits sat and made decisions before a round of eighteen holes. A place he never fitted into – and would possibly never see as a workplace and that suited him just fine. Brant was a big man – broad shoulders filled out a white shirt with thin blue stripes. The first black man in his part of town to make it through college, served in the military in the Marines and after twelve years of service, joined the police department.

He had seen most of his friends end up in gangs, then later making the front page because of a gang shooting. He had decided to make something of himself. He had served in Grenade and the first gulf war. He’d seen enough death to last him a lifetime, or so he’d thought, then he got posted to Homicide.

Brant slammed down the paperwork and rocked back and forth in his chair. The government wanted to make more cutbacks and budget cuts. How were they supposed to keep order with fewer police and solve murders with fewer detectives? Overtime had gone out of the window last month, and at least ten good detectives had been asked to take early retirement. Brant had the feeling with any more cuts they might be looking at closing precincts next. Budget cuts, ha, they had plenty of cash when it comes to paying for a presidential visit. Brant stood up and looked out through his window and out onto the bullpen. He smiled as he saw McCall sitting at her desk. She was a good cop – captain material if she’d pull her finger out. She’d already done her sergeants exam and was waiting for confirmation. Probably wouldn’t get it with these cuts, shame he thought, waste of a good cop, a good detective. With her was her best friend and also the police pathologist – Tina Franks. Brant walked back to his desk and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair. He was going home. No reason to stay, bad guys would still be there in the morning; besides, there was no overtime.

“Good evening doctor,” Brant said, with a smiled greeting.

“Captain,” she responded, returning the expressional greeting.

“Sammy, don’t leave it too late, remember you’ll be working for free if you do,” he joked, but his voice held a bitter tone.

“Goodnight Captain, don’t worry, I’ll be off soon, just need to finish off the paperwork for the Collins case,” she replied, pointing to the computer monitor.

“OK, see you in the morning,” he said, slipping on his jacket, and headed towards the elevator. As he stepped into the elevator, he heard his phone ring. He was tempted to go back and answer it – but he knew it would be someone from downtown asking him what he was doing about the cuts. He let the doors slide shut. As they did so, he gave a wink to McCall and put his finger to his lips. She smiled and shook her head. He was out, at a meeting or something, was the only thing she could think of if her phone rang and the people Brant was avoiding called her. Try again tomorrow, dickhead; she continued to think. She smiled and shook her head. Possibly not those exact words, she thought with a wicked smile.

McCall sat at her desk, sipping her coffee and looking out of the window at the far side of the room as the rain came down in sheets. The Cascades of water streamed down the misty panes, obscuring the view out of the window. Flashes of light clung to the rivers of rainwater and distant rumbles of thunder became lost in the melody of the New York traffic below.

Mountains of files filled the corner of her desk, but she had no lust for the hours of paperwork, the adventure with Steel had given her insight into a darker but more exciting side of the job, and she wanted that, now. She looked over to the empty chair next to her desk and smiled softly; she almost jumped out of her seat when the phone on her desk rang with the electronic bell tone.

“Detective McCall, Homicide” she listened while grabbing a pen and noting down an address on a pad of post-its that lay next to the phone. As she stood up, Tina Franks looked over towards her.

“What’s up?” Tina asked, with a disappointed look on her face.

“We got a fresh one,” McCall said, with a broken smile. “No fun tonight I’m afraid Tina, better grab your stuff,” McCall said, handing her a copy of the address. As Tina left, McCall spotted Detective Jenny Thompson coming from the coffee room “Jenny, get your coat, your riding with me.” The fresh-faced detective nodded eagerly. Jenny walked over to McCall just as she had opened her desk drawer.

“Have you heard anything from Detective Steel?” Jenny asked, with a concerned look on her face. McCall looked up and shot the young woman a look that left her cold.

“He is on vacation, on a cruise ship,” McCall said, slamming the drawer, and shoved the small notebook into her jacket. A post-it sailed gently down to the floor. As Jenny quickly turned, she knocked the piece of paper under the desk, as it flew under the words STEEL. CHECK CALLAN INDUSTRIES, disappeared from view.