“What do you think they’re plotting?” Danielle whispered.
“Making a list of attorneys they plan to contact claiming emotional distress,” Millie sighed.
“I fear you may be right.” Suharto’s radio blared. Dave Patterson called him to his office.
“I must go.”
“We’ll keep an eye on these guys.”
After he left, Millie and Danielle circled the corridor, a square configuration consisting of the Blue Seas dining room, the art gallery, a bank of elevators and the Kickstart Comedy Den.
“Whoever it is found a way to get into the main booth,” Danielle said. “The previous pranks were bad enough, but this took it to a whole new level.”
It was true. During the past several days, the person or persons had pulled several stunts, including stealing liquor from behind the bars and draining the hot tubs.
Tink.Millie’s cell phone chimed. It was Felix, her close friend and a member of the entertainment staff, asking her to call him.
Millie promptly dialed his number.
“Hey, Millie. Where are you?”
“Danielle and I are circling deck six trying to convince passengers to return to their cabins.”
“Same up here on the lido.” Felix’s voice faded before growing louder. “I’m sending you a photo.”
Tink.
Millie clicked on the panoramic shot of the pool area, swarming with passengers all wearing their life jackets, sprawled out on deck chairs, sitting at the tables, standing near the railings.
“Did you get it?”
“Yep. The passengers are scared, thinking we’re not telling the truth.” Millie briefly closed her eyes.
“They’re not going anywhere until they see the Miami skyline for themselves.”
While they talked, Millie slipped outside, noticing a similar scene—the deck chairs all occupied by passengers wearing life vests. “I hope Patterson caught this person.”
“It won’t be because he hasn’t tried.”
“There’s nothing we can say to convince them,” Danielle said. “Let’s go find out if they finally nailed this guy.”
Returning inside, Millie and Danielle made their way to the main PA sound booth where they found a cluster of ship’s security staff had congregated. Standing nearby was a crew member she didn’t recognize, being handcuffed and escorted to the bank of elevators.
Another crew member who, based on his appearance, could have been his twin brother, stood arguing with Oscar Horvuth, the ship’s director of security.
“Thank the Good Lord they caught someone,” Millie said.
“Too bad it wasn’t before they got the entire ship in an uproar.”
The women crept closer. “…has a mental imbalance without proper medication. I assure you he meant no harm.”
“Meant no harm?” Oscar frowned. “He has been causing disruptions for days and will be escorted off the ship the minute we arrive in port.”
“And sent home? I was told if an employee is fired, the cruise line pays for their trip home.”
“Because of the severity of the circumstances, he will be turned over to the authorities.”
“But you don’t understand.”
