The FACEBOOK KILLER: Part 2 (10 page)

I knew that in order to gain their total devotion and trust, I had to start flashing the cash. So, that night, after dinner, Meena accompanied Albert to the casino. Ahmed wasn’t allowed to come as he lacked what they called “guest area privileges” unless he was working.

Albert bought twenty thousand dollars worth of chips and took a seat at one of the roulette tables. Aksana from the Ukraine was his dealer. Meena headed off to the bar to get him a double vodka and orange.

Albert had never played roulette before, come to think of it, neither had I. He watched a couple of rounds hoping to get a grasp of the game but he was no further forward. He decided to dive in blindly. He placed $50 dollar chips on an assortment of numbers and a pile on the “red” section. Aksana spun the wheel, “no more bets”; Meena returned with the drink, the ball landed on red, number seven. We didn’t know how much we’d won. It didn’t matter. Aksana added a lot more chips on top of ours and slid them across the table to Albert. And so this continued into the early hours of the morning. By 2:00am only Albert, Meena and Aksana remained in the casino. The other tables had closed and the manager was waiting patiently in his office, no doubt wanting to close for the night.

“
Is the bar still open?” He asked Meena.

“
Yes Sir.”

“
Can you fetch me one more drink please. This’ll be my last.”

“
Of course sir.”

“
Aksana?”

“
Yes sir?”

“
Can you count my chips please, tell me how much I have.”

“
Of course Sir. Do you wish to cash them in?”

“
Not yet. Soon.”

Albert had won just short of thirty five thousand. He was sitting with almost $50,000. Meena returned with his umpteenth drink.

“
Aksana, tell me something.”

“
Yes sir?”

“
How much does an apartment cost to buy in the Ukraine?”

“
In my town, around one hundred and seventy thousand Hryvnia sir.”

“
What’s that in dollars?”

“
Around twenty thousand sir.”

Albert managed to add up the chips. He slid the 20,000 across the baize Aksana looked shocked.

“
Buy some nice furniture,” he said, tossing another 5,000 onto the table. Turning to Meena, Albert smiled like a grandfather would to a jealous child, “Don’t worry Meena. You’ll get
yours
before the end of the cruise.”

Meena’s face lit up, “Thank you sir.”

Chapter 18
.

Albert slept like a pig that night. We were awoken by Debbie, the cruise director’s, announcement, like an electric shock to the heart. We were due to arrive in Cozumel, Mexico within an hour.

The cabin phone rang. It was Ahmed. He and Meena were waiting up on the Lido deck. Albert was late for breakfast. Within ten minutes he was showered and ready to change. The problem was, what to wear? Albert had to wear long sleeves to disguise his hands. He had been warned the temperatures could over one hundred degrees out there. Latex and heat just don’t go together. We threw on a cotton shirt that I vaguely remember being Kalif’s. We had packed one pair of Bermuda shorts, but they didn’t look right. Albert was in his seventies. His hair was white, and so for the first time in my life, I shaved my legs.

Albert’s personal staff saved him the trouble of standing in line with the small planets, each of whom proceeded to pile enough food for a week on their plates. Albert settled for some fruit, croissants and a coffee. Each of which tasted equally unpleasant. After Meena fetched him a glass of iced water, he told them both to go and get changed out of uniform. He was taking them ashore. He had booked an excursion to the Mayan Temple ruins.

As the apples scurried off excitedly, they were stopped by a large man wearing a sleeveless white shirt, the epaulettes bearing four bars of gold. He spoke to them quietly, there was nodding and shaking of heads, before they continued on their way. The man with the gold epaulettes approached Albert.

“
Do you mind if I join you Sir?” He asked.

“
Not at all. Please, take a seat.”

“
My name is Stephen Robertson, I’m the Hotel Director here on board,” he said extending his hand. Albert shook it. No further forward as to what the fuck a hotel director was.

The ensuing conversation left him in little doubt. Had we been to the gift shop yet? They had a remarkable array of fine watches and jewellery. The art auction? That would be taking place this evening, we were informed. How about the spa? And so it went on. This man sitting opposite knew exactly how much money we had on our card and if he could have cut it and let it bleed out into a glass, he would have. We took it as a warning that, unless we started spending, our preferential treatment might stop and that was something I could not let happen, under any circumstances.

*

It was half an hour before Meena called the cabin to tell Albert that they were waiting by the gangway. A half hour, in which, I had desperately tried to conjure up a plan but to no avail. Security was tight, we had nothing with us to assist in the apple picking and we had around thirty-six hours to get rid of our new best friends. Fucking blood-sucking leeches. As far as I could see there were only two options. Either do it today, now, in Mexico or wait until we got back onboard. That would give us tonight and all day tomorrow to come up with something.

The San Gervasio ruins were exactly as described. Ruins. By the end of the twenty-minute bumpy bus ride I was in no mood. I told the apples to go in themselves, I was too tired, and so I waited by the gate for two hours. Thinking.

This place was out of the question; there were far too many people around. I counted four other cruise ships as we walked down the pier. Not to mention the Mexican soldiers who kept appearing out of nowhere. No, this was definitely out. It had to be done on the ship. Bloody shame, I was fairly sure that if I could have gotten rid of them in Mexico, I could go back to the ship claiming that they had robbed me. It would have been the perfect excuse for them not to show up.

I was beginning to get frustrated. For the first time since all of this began, I didn’t know what to do. Jesus Christ, we had killed people in prison but we couldn’t get rid of two fucking kids on a ship? We needed more information. That was the answer. Not to mention a rock solid alibi. We were nearing the end. After these two little fuckers were gone, we were home free.

Albert did his best to make conversation with Ahmed and Meena on the way back. Yes the fact that the temple was dedicated to fertility and marriage ceremonies was fascinating. No, I didn’t mind if we got dropped off downtown to visit their favourite crew bar. Yes, I would pay for the taxi back to the ship. Yes, no, yes, whatever. Shut the fuck up and let me think.

Give me a double vodka and orange; no make it a triple and two beers for my friends here. Tequila shots? Why not? I don’t care what your name is and why you are dressed like a whore just keep the drinks coming. Ahmed, my friend, tell me about life on the cruise ship. Really. That’s very interesting. Have you ever seen anyone fall overboard? No? I see, so what did your friend tell you happened? Really? That must have been scary as shit. Waitress! I told you to keep them coming.

*

That evening was formal night, dress-up night, Evening of Elegance, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it. We were all advised to ditch the shorts and vests and opt for shirt and ties, tuxedoes or gowns. It was, in fact, a thinly veiled scam for the photography department to make a small fortune. I had taken the Hotel Director’s threat seriously; he had offered us the perfect alibi on a plate. Who would ever suspect that a lonely old man, who had lavished gifts on these two crewmembers, would be responsible for their deaths?

Albert had purposely rented the largest tuxedo available. He looked bloody ridiculous in it. It was obviously made for someone twice his size, but he needed the space. When he met Ahmed and Meena outside of the gift shops, they were obviously amused by his new look, but said nothing for fear of upsetting their sugar daddy. Albert ignored their mirth, after all he who laughs last and all that.

Unsurprisingly the little bastards picked out the most costly watches for themselves. Ahmed opted for a Tag Hauer, whilst Meena shamelessly asked the sales assistant, which was the most expensive ladies watch they had. A Tissot, priced at $6,450. We knew exactly what they would do; as soon as Albert had left the ship they would try and flog them off at half price to some new guest or one of the officers. It didn’t matter anyway, it was adding worth to our cause.

Dinner wasn’t until eight. So Albert took his apples around the photography backdrops. They had their pictures taken in front of the Titanic staircase, in an Italian garden, posing behind one of the ship’s grand pianos amongst many others. The apples proudly showed off their new watches as Albert smiled endearingly for the camera.

It was all arranged. We had checked out the deck below. We knew exactly where the lifeboat was. There was a telephone nearby. Ahmed had basically told us the procedure. Albert would dine at eight, then take a nap before meeting Ahmed and Meena in the Piano Bar for drinks. It was a special occasion and Albert wanted them to be a part of it.

*

The sea had become increasingly rougher since leaving Mexico. It didn’t seem to affect Bruce from Scotland, the pianist, as he banged out Don McLean’s American Pie. Meena returned from the bar with a tray full of drinks.

“
I just want to tell you two how appreciative I am of your service. My friends were right, you two
are
the best,” said Albert through gritted teeth.

“
Thank you Mr. Albert, Sir,” Ahmed replied, “we are very grateful for the watches and anything else which you have in mind.”

That greedy fucking bastard. Calm down Albert! Not long now. “That brings me to my next point. Tonight I want us all to relax and have a few drinks. To tell you the truth I haven’t felt at all at ease having all that cash lying around the cabin, so I have decided to give you your tips tonight.”

The apples looked excitedly at each other. Meena had already told Ahmed about the $25,000 the casino dealer had received, and for doing what?

And so we drank. Bruce from Scotland played. The drunks sitting around the piano sang louder. The ship rolled heavier in the seas and we drank some more. The apples hadn’t even bothered to ask why Albert was still wearing that ridiculous tux. Given half a second they would launch into Urdu whispers, no doubt discussing how much cash they were about to receive. The whispers started to piss us off after a while. The sniggers. It showed a total lack of fucking respect. They could at least give us some of that.

It was 11:30pm Albert sent Meena to get another tray of drinks. They had to be drunk for this to work. He had promised them that he wouldn’t be partaking of breakfast in the morning, so they had no reason to be up early. With no one to whisper to, Ahmed turned to Albert.

“
You didn’t tell us sir, what is the special occasion?”

My mind flashed back to that last photograph we had taken. The ship’s course was displayed on the plasma screen behind the photographer. It was the ship’s speed I had been looking for. 20 knots. That’s when I had seen it. The date. It was Laura’s birthday.

“
Oh it’s nothing really. Just a sort of personal celebration,” replied Albert, his hands starting to shake, “a milestone if you like.”

“
It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“
Not mine, no, but it’s an important day. Let’s leave at that, eh?”

Meena returned from the bar for the last time. Bruce was attempting a rendition of Sinatra’s “My Way”. We discussed the weather and other topics, which went in one ear and out the other. Albert finished his last glass of vodka before attempting to get to his feet. The roll of the ship and the alcohol were taking their toll on his balance.

“
Please come with me,” Albert asked his apples.

They drunkenly followed him out onto deck, giggling as they held onto each other. The wind was howling, a stark contrast to the air-conditioned interior, hot and humid. As the ship lurched forwards Albert could feel the spray stinging his eyes. Fuck, was this a good idea?

Albert and his apples were standing outside of the, now deserted, restaurant. We had noticed, the day before, that there were no cabins near and the solitary security camera still had the chocolate fudge cake stuck to its lens.

“
Now kids,” Albert had to shout over the wind, “Before I make this presentation, I want a photograph. So stand next to the rails there and smile.”

The apples followed the roll of the ship and ended up leaning against the rails. The crash of the waves beneath unnerved Albert. He reached into his pocket. Then another. Then an inside pocket.

“
Sorry,” he yelled, “I’ve left my camera in the bar. Don’t move. Stay exactly where you are or you won’t get your tips.” Albert disappeared back inside. Ahmed tried in vain to light up a cigarette.

We had timed the sprint to the deck below at exactly twenty-one seconds. That was when other guests were around. That was when it hadn’t been Laura’s birthday. That was without the rage. It took Albert twelve seconds. When he got outside, he pulled the cable ties as hard as possible around his ankles, the blasting wind made his trousers look like those a clown would wear. He pulled his belt two notches tighter. Taking another belt from his jacket pocket, he fastened it tightly around his chest, securing the pieces of dissected life jacket, which had gone unnoticed. The ship lurched to the portside. He thought twice. He saw Laura’s birthday cake. He didn’t think again that night. The rage took over. He made the phone call. “Man overboard Starboard side.” He grabbed the life belt and tied it around his waist. He climbed over the railing and clambered onto lifeboat number fourteen. The ship crashed forward again, covering him in salt spray. It didn’t matter. He didn’t notice. The rage was in control. Ten seconds later and the rage had climbed onto the roof of the lifeboat, crawled along it’s gantry and was holding onto the railings of the deck above. The rage could see its apples. They hadn’t moved. Still waiting for their photograph and cash. The rage inched along the outside of the railings, it’s latex hands gripping onto the bottom rung, a tiny ledge below giving its feet something to balance on, a few centimetres between it and the raging sea below. It quickly moved into position below the apples. Still waiting. Photograph. Cash. No respect. It knew it had to wait for the horn. Ahmed had told us that. The rage was making Albert shake. I could see the candles on Laura’s birthday cake. I could hear her laughter again. I watched her take a deep breath. The ship’s horn sounded. One long blast. “Bravo, Bravo. Starboard side.” The rage started to climb the railings like an invisible spider. It’s hands were either side of the apples now. Then it happened, just as Ahmed said it would. The ship started to list. It was turning around. The rage felt itself falling backwards. It made its move. It had them both by the neck. The ship listed further. Deckchairs crashed against the railings. People screamed from somewhere above. The lifeboats swung out, straining on their chains. We hit the water like a fucking atomic bomb.