Jacqueline stood uneasily at the casino cash desk, while the employees behind the desk huddled. The Russians stood a pace behind her, silently. One hand remained perched in their jackets at the ready. No one wanted to alert the gambling guests to the risk, or add any unpredictability to the situation. In hushed tones, they discussed how to bag and hand over the cash.

After a moment, the employee leaned forward to Jacqueline. His tone was hushed. "We've found a few duffel bags. The cash is kept on hand as a compliance measure. Most guests use the credit card tied to their room key, but gaming regulations require us to keep a certain amount on hand to back up the chips on the floor. Our casino is fairly small, but it's still a lot of money. A few employees will have to go to their rooms to give up their gym bags."

He paused for a moment and leaned as far forward as he could over the highly polished wood counter. He looked pained. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. "This is going to take some time. They required no trackers or ink packs on the cash, right? Well, we have both of those. We have to sort through the bundles and remove them. We also have to get the bags assembled. I'm thinking 30 minutes."

"Jesus. Ok. I'll keep things on ice as long as I can." She slipped a hand to the back of her neck and started to rub below her hair. An old tic, when things got hard.

—----------

On the bridge, Laura and Rodriguez stood in a huddle of officers with Helen. Through the panorama of windows, the sky was gray. The water was choppy, and Laura could see the little cups of an anemometer spinning in the wind.

Helen scanned the group, her face set and cold. "Sitrep. Laura, what have we learned?"

Laura took a purposeful breath. She set her shoulders and straightened her posture. She had a long-set muscle memory for providing updates on cases. It had always been in FBI conference rooms, filled with serious people in navy blue suits. In big cases there had always been the smell of stewed coffee, and dark eye circles from days without sleep. This was a radically different setting, but the feeling was familiar. There was electricity in the room. Everyone was leaning forward, keenly aware that seconds mattered. Laura loved it. She fed from it. In the tense crush she could breathe deeper. She could feel the blood coursing through her body.

"There are two suspects. We haven't seen any change in their posture or seen additional suspects. They are currently armed, and have taken Jacqueline to the casino cash desk to retrieve the reserves. We reviewed the security tapes from their arrival, and have findings." She nodded at Rodriguez.

Rodriguez stepped forward. He was medium height and dark, with close cropped hair. He was standing at attention, and looked nervous. "Sure. We rolled back the tapes camera by camera, to trace them from the helicopter to the main dining room. We noted that the shorter suspect was carrying a black duffel bag. By one of the service elevators, he..." Rodriguez turned away from the group and cleared his throat. "He appeared to drop the bag."

Helen's eyes betrayed little, but Laura knew that she was running a hundred calculations. Possibilities, threats, variables, responses. After a beat, she focused back on Laura. "How did we not know sooner?"

Rodriguez raised his hand. "It looked like they rehearsed it. They looked for the best position between fields of view for the cameras, and stashed it where we'd have the least visibility. It was quick, too. If you weren't looking closely, it looked like he was just shifting the bag strap on his shoulder. We think he traded it for an empty decoy."

"Ok. What size was the bag? What could have been in it?"

Laura inclined her head. "About gym bag size. Black, and generic. It could be anything, really. We haven't seen any other actors so far, so we think this bag is probably the contingency they are talking about."

Helen nodded. "Sure. But what could fit in a gym bag that would threaten the entire ship? Is it a bomb?"

Laura raised her hand to her chin, pensively. "It could be. There are a lot of possibilities, but that might be the likeliest. They would be able to remotely detonate it."

"Sure, but how powerful could a bomb the size of a gym bag be?"

"It won't have a large volume of explosives, but that's not always necessary. In the Boston marathon bombing in 2013, the two bombs were made out of disassembled fireworks and stashed in pressure cookers in backpacks. They were filled with ball bearings and nails, and detonated by a remote device. Three dead, fourteen amputees, three hundred wounded."

Helen swallowed hard. "Ok. Is that our working theory? A bomb stashed somewhere with a remote detonator?"

"I think it has to be." Laura scanned the group. "But, we need to consider how it left the elevator bay. I think there are two possibilities." She held up her index finger. "One, a crew member without prior knowledge grabbed the bag, thinking it was forgotten. It may be en route to a lost and found or an employee area." She held up a second finger. "Two, an accomplice we haven't yet seen picked it up. It was a dead drop. In that case, they could be staging it. If I had to guess, it would be filled with shrapnel and placed in a public area of the ship. That would maximize the panic and bodily harm."

Rodriguez let out an involuntary scoff. "Jesus, that's bleak."

Laura shrugged. "Just historical precedence. In this case, it wouldn't take a lot of technology or space to cause a pretty significant loss of life and terror." She paused. "In the past, groups with experience have also placed multiple charges. Often, the second or third would detonate ten or fifteen minutes after the first, when emergency crews and more bystanders arrive to render aid."

Helen crossed her arms. "So, now we may have multiple bombs and an unknown accomplice?"

"It's possible, yes. We should know soon enough, if an unrelated employee found it. I'd advise you to send a bulletin to all staff to see if anyone has located a lost bag, urging caution."

Helen nodded in approval, and looked at three men in the circle. Rohit, the Staff Captain, nodded. next to Rohit. One, Ahmad Tan, was wearing a name label listing him as the Chief Engineer. He nodded and said "on it."

Beside him, Liam Jones was the Hotel Director. "Will do, immediately."

Helen smiled slightly and crossed her arms. "Perfect. Some small progress at least. We need to be crystal clear with this group on one point, as we proceed. Our cruise line, Blue Peter, has insurance for theft and loss. We will recover from the theft of a few bags of cash, as scary as that prospect is. We will not recover from a bombing on board. The ship is already fodder for enough media attention. We have a very exacting, very wealthy clientele. We will be finished if we are the only cruise line to suffer loss of life from terrorists, hijackers, pirates, or whatever else we want to call them. Are we clear here?"

Murmured agreements and nods spread through the circle. Laura pressed her hand against her chin, pensively.

"You look less sure, Laura. What's on your mind?"

"You're completely correct. But, I believe we should notify the Coast Guard and the FBI so they can begin their response. Piracy and theft on a United Stated vessel in international waters is within their jurisdiction. We need to inform them that there has been an armed boarding, and there may be a bomb or other weapon in play."

Rohit put his hand up in protest. "This was on the list! The Russians told us explicitly not to notify law enforcement. We could trigger their contingency."

Laura put both hands out, placatingly. "I understand, Rohit. But, look: every criminal would tell you not to contact law enforcement. We can follow their list in spirit, and allow them to leave the ship with the money. But, we have a duty to report. The investigation can start now, hands off. They can help us find the contingency on the ship once the Russians leave."

Liam crossed his arms. "But, we just talked about this. The contingency could be sitting with a hidden third person. They could be waiting until agents with FBI windbreakers board the ship. Then, bang!"

There was a pause. Helen scanned the group, then spoke. "I understand. It is a risk. But as the captain, I believe we should report to the Coast Guard and FBI immediately. Rohit, can you work with Laura to open communications with them?"

"Of course. But there is a complication."

"What?"

Rohit turned to the console behind him. "We've been tracking a low pressure system. It's no problem for the ship itself. But, I don't know what it means for any response from a smaller ship or a helicopter."

Helen bowed her head and massaged her forehead. "Shit. Will it keep the Russians from leaving, in Rusty's helicopter?"

"No. It's a few hours out. They may get out in time."

"Ok. Let's monitor. We can flag it to both of the agencies when we get in contact."

—-------------

The last few passengers had now left the main dining room, which was in complete disarray. In the thrashing exit, plates had been overturned and broken. Food was dashed across the floor. Chairs were laying across walkways.

Dave Stevens was walking at the head of the unruly throng. They made their way to the widening hallway and fanned out. Passengers were shouting. A woman was screaming. "They can't do this! No pirates can take over our ship! We have to fight!" She was pointing toward the crowd, and her bracelets were shaking with rage.

Another guest yelled, "We need to call 911!" He pulled out his phone. A small circle formed. He tapped the screen urgently. "Shit. I didn't buy the wifi package. Does anyone have data?"

A gray haired man pulled a phone from his inside sport coat pocket. He dialed with his thumbs and switched the phone to speaker. The huddle heard the sound of a shrill dial tone and leaned in closer. They were shoulder to shoulder. After a moment, a series of tones sounded. A robotic female voice announced, "Your call could not be completed as dialed. Please hang up and try again."

A middle aged woman yelled. "What the hell is happening? Why does 911 not work?"

A woman next to her raised her voice. "We are in international waters. 911 doesn't work the same way it does on land."

A man yelled back. "Then what the hell are we going to do?"

She replied. "We can call from our rooms."

He shook his head. "It just connects to the security team."

The gray haired man yelled, "pull the fire alarm!"

A woman swatted him in the arm. "Don't be ridiculous. It all just connects to the security team. Nothing leaves the ship."

"Well, we have to do something!"

—----------

At the Casino, Jacqueline stood watch as the cash cage team passed heavy duffel bags to the waiting Russians. Bogdan and Aleksandr each took a heavy duffel, and an employee tried to hand them a third. Bodgan pointed to him. "You, carry the third. Follow us."

They made their way out of the casino, up the open stairway, and into the main hallway. A throng of guests was gathering further down the hall. Some were shouting at each other about pirates. The two Russians looked at each other, and shrugged.

On the deck, they loaded the duffel bags into Rusty's helicopter. Rusty was sitting in the helicopter with the doors open. He closed his door without a word, and put his headset on. Aleksandr and Bogdan climbed aboard, and faced Jacqueline.

Bogdan fixed her in a scowl. "Remember, any deviation from our conditions will have a swift and violent response." Without waiting, he slid the door closed with a loud swish and clunk. Rusty started the engine with a progressively louder whine.