Lifeboat four, with Christie, Pam, and four other singers and dancers, pulled away swiftly after hitting the water. The smell of the diesel became apparent less than a hundred feet away from the ship. In fact, as soon as the engine had started, the smell became apparent. The pilot was not too worried, as they may have a leak, but diesel was hard to ignite and it would need more than a little spark to ignite the fuel. Murat, the Turkish seaman who was piloting lifeboat four, turned off the engine, following his training to the letter.
“Diesel leak on number four,” Murat said in English over the radio to the first mate on the bridge of the Classical Canta Libra.
“Don’t worry, people. We have a slight problem with a fuel leak. Crack open the exit to get rid of the fumes while I investigate the leak,” Murat relayed to the six entertainers.
Sebastian was on lifeboat one. Typically you could not see that much out of the small portholes, as the Perspex would be scratched by the salt water and become opaque with time. These were brand-new, so he had clear sight of the other lifeboats to the starboard. He could see one had stopped dead in the water and craned his neck to keep sight of the boat as his steered to the port.
Murat approached the hatch to the engine, which was located on the floor between the seats in the fourth row. The boat rocked in the slight swell without its power. Murat looked confused, and then alarmed. As he pulled up the hatch in the deck, he saw the end of a flare that had been attached to the catch. The active part of the flare dropped into the dark, dank liquid below. The flare at first struggled to ignite, but then the bright green and yellow of the intense heat source ignited.
“Abandon—” Murat’s screamed order was cut off in mid-sentence.
The flare acted as the ignition source, the diesel fuel and the oxygen from the boat and the flow from the open door combined to give the three necessary elements for a fire.
The large whoosh and explosion and violent swell that followed told Sebastian his plan had worked. He took no satisfaction in this, his most major kill to date. The slaying was a necessity and gave him none of the pleasure he got from a close-up kill.
Murat and the six entertainers died within five seconds of the fireball. The beauty of Christie and Pam that had been so admired the night before was now turned to blackened, charred, ghastly leather in a millisecond; they were dead, the screams frozen in their throats.
The inevitable inquiry that followed the explosion and sinking of lifeboat four was as flawed as it was useless. The Russians retrieved the lifeboat and the charred remains of the six cadavers. Most of the interior was burnt out; the heat had set off all the remaining flares, so the ignition source was not apparent.
It was several weeks before the inquiry findings were made public. The Russian marine investigators put it down to a leaking diesel pipe, probably a fault at the manufacturing stage due to the newness of the boat. The ignition source was probably the pilot or one of the entertainers having a cigarette, which was against all standing orders.
Sebastian attended the on-board wake, and played I Believe.
Chapter Eighteen
Fabienne Asper, the MIDAS technical expert, based in Geneva, had been an excellent addition to the company, Cutler congratulated himself. He was, however, bewildered at how Fabienne parked her large frame in the computer chair, ripples of muscle and fat spilling over through the apertures and gaps of the swivel chair.
“The database is now complete, Herr Cutler,” she said in excellent English, with just a slight Swiss twang.
“Fabienne, you are a genius,” Max replied honestly.
“Over the last six months I have input all the data from the past ten years; every cruise that has been undertaken has been recorded. I must admit, I have used several students from the local technology college to assist in inputting the necessary information while I have put in the more delicate details. You also know I had Ghislaine with me for several months, and she helped with the differing languages and interpretation,” Fabienne explained.
“How on earth did you get the missing persons and death at sea information? I can’t believe the cruise line operators offered these up to you freely,” Cutler said.
“They are not NASA or the FBI, and their firewalls and security systems for electronic information are no match for my talents. These companies record the ship’s logs, crew names, guests’ names and addresses, and abnormal events such as deaths, illness, and missing persons, all of which I have accessed,” Fabienne replied.
“That’s great work, Fabienne. When will you start adding the filters to start looking for trends of persons going missing or having died at sea?” Cutler asked impatiently.
“We have started already with the easiest filter; those who have died naturally. And let me clarify this; those who had heart attacks and the like, where post-mortems have been carried out independently and verified as natural causes. To explain what I mean, if there has been no post-mortem, or if the causes of death have been undetermined, they have been excluded from the filter,” Fabienne explained.
“That is very impressive, Fabienne. I’m a little concerned we’re only going back ten years, as we may miss some trends that go further back,” Cutler commented.
“Without a doubt, that will be true; however, your initial briefing stated that you wanted a working system up in six months, which I have delivered. We could go back another ten years if you give me another two quarters. Give me a couple of years and I will include all those who died on
