Chapter 2 - THE CAPTAIN IN THE DARKCaptain Elias Ward stood behind a stack of medical crates.
His uniform was torn.
His left sleeve was dark with dried blood.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Briggs slowly stepped forward.
“Captain?”
Ward raised one finger to his lips.
Then he pointed toward the ceiling.
I looked up.
A small black camera had been mounted between two fluorescent fixtures.
It blinked red.
Recording.
Ward crossed the warehouse quickly.
He grabbed my shoulder.
“Did Kane send you?”
“No.”
“Are you working for NCIS?”
My pulse jumped.
Briggs stared at me.
“You didn't tell him.”
“I didn't know I needed to.”
Ward's eyes narrowed.
“Then you don't understand how dangerous this ship is.”
I glanced around.
The warehouse was enormous.
Rows of supplies disappeared into darkness.
There were enough emergency provisions to sustain the entire crew for months.
Maybe longer.
“How long has this been here?”
Ward answered quietly.
“Four months.”
I turned toward him.
“You knew?”
“I discovered it.”
Briggs looked at the floor.
“That's not what you told me.”
Ward ignored him.
“Kane wasn't creating the shortages alone.”
That sentence landed harder than the water had.
“Who else?”
Ward pointed toward the far side of the warehouse.
“Follow me.”
We moved between pallets.
The farther we went, the stranger the room became.
The boxes weren't stacked randomly.
They formed corridors.
Almost like a maze.
At the center sat a large steel table.
On top of it was a laptop.
Beside the laptop were twelve folders.
Each had a sailor's name.
I recognized three.
“Those men are missing.”
Ward nodded.
“They weren't missing.”
I looked at the folders.
“What happened?”
Ward opened the first one.
Inside was a photograph.
Petty Officer Daniel Reese.
Then his final medical report.
Then a shipping manifest.
Then an authorization form.
I read the last page.
TRANSFERRED TO PRIVATE CONTRACTING FACILITY.
My stomach turned.
“They sold them?”
“Not exactly.”
Ward closed the folder.
“They used them.”
“Used them for what?”
He looked at Briggs.
Briggs answered.
“Testing.”
The word sat heavily in the cold air.
“Testing what?”
Ward opened another file.
This one contained a photograph of a medical oxygen canister.
A barcode was visible.
Then a handwritten number.
17-B.
Ward tapped the number.
“This isn't just theft.”
He pulled up a spreadsheet.
“Every shipment that disappears from our records is rerouted to a private contractor.”
“Which contractor?”
Ward looked at me.
“Black Meridian.”
I had heard of them.
A military logistics company with contracts around the world.
Officially, they specialized in emergency supply management.
Unofficially, they had been connected to procurement investigations.
But no charges had ever stuck.
“They're buying our supplies?”
“No.”
Ward shook his head.
“They're buying shortages.”
I frowned.
He explained.
“Every time the ship reports a critical shortage, emergency funding becomes available.”
“So?”
“So Black Meridian controls the emergency contracts.”
I stared at the spreadsheet.
The numbers suddenly made sense.
The shortages weren't a failure.
They were the product.
Kane wasn't simply stealing medicine.
He was manufacturing emergencies.
Briggs whispered:
“And people were getting sick.”
“Because water purification cartridges were removed.”
Ward nodded.
“People were collapsing because the supplies were intentionally withheld.”
The silence returned.
I looked toward the entrance.
“We need to get this evidence to NCIS.”
Ward's expression changed.
“You already tried.”
“What?”
“You sent a transmission last night.”
“Yes.”
“Your message never left the ship.”
My blood went cold.
“How do you know?”
Ward pointed to the laptop.
“Because I intercepted it.”
Briggs looked confused.
Ward continued.
“Someone has control of the communications system.”
I suddenly understood.
Kane didn't need to kill everyone.
He only needed to control what everyone believed.
The captain had disappeared.
The supplies had disappeared.
The reports had disappeared.
And now my distress signal had disappeared.
I stepped toward the computer.
“Then we'll transmit from here.”
Ward grabbed my wrist.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Deck Four is the trap.”
I stared at him.
He looked toward the hatch.
“Every person who discovers this room is allowed to find it.”
I didn't understand.
“Allowed?”
Ward nodded.
“They're watching.”
Briggs walked toward the nearest security panel.
The lights flickered.
Then a message appeared on the screen.
WELCOME, PETTY OFFICER COLE.
My blood ran cold.
A second line appeared.
WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU.
The warehouse doors slammed shut.
Briggs rushed forward.
“Get back!”
The locking mechanisms engaged one after another.
Metal doors sealed every exit.
Ward swore.
Then a voice came through the intercom.
Victor Kane.
“You always were curious, Hannah.”
My heart stopped.
He knew my first name.
Kane laughed softly.
“You should have stayed out of Deck Four.”
Then the ventilation system came alive.
A faint white mist began pouring from the ceiling.
Ward covered his mouth.
Briggs shouted:
“Gas!”
The three of us ran.
But there was nowhere to go.
May you like
And outside the sealed hatch, footsteps began approaching.
Dozens of them.
Related Stories
