“I’ve never set eyes on you in my life,” Flynn all but spat the words out. “And now what? You’ve decided that you want your old job back? Decided to wipe out anyone who could stand against you? You think that with Melvin and…the other candidate who’s name we never even found out, you think that now they’re dead you can just reclaim your position on the bridge?”

“What? No! No of course not. I didn’t do this! There was another man, a German!”

Flynn raised an eyebrow. “Is there anyone else in there?” he asked the two men who were still restraining Jake.

They looked around the tiny room, as if someone could somehow have hidden away, and shook their heads.

“Mr Noah, you are a murderer. Your fate is not for me to decide though. Men, hold onto him.”

Flynn walked back down the aisle, still with one hand pressed against his shoulder. It was soaked with blood, but he didn’t seem to be letting the wound stop him. He reached the front of the auditorium and took the small flight of steps at the side of the stage. All eyes were on him as he stopped in front of the two bodies.

“Ladies and gentlemen, as if we were not already in dark times, we have experienced a true atrocity here. But we must not let these actions stand in the way of democracy. We need a leader now more than ever before.” A thousand people were hanging on Flynn’s every word. “Clearly the position is not without risk, there will always be elements who are opposed to the democratic process. So I urge you again, would anyone who thinks they could lead us, please come up to the stage. Time is short, we have to act decisively and act now.”

Silence.

Of the thousand or so passengers and former crew packed into the theatre, not one moved.

“Anyone? Please?” Flynn pleaded from the stage.

“Why don’t you do it?” someone called out.

“Yeah! You’re already up there!” another voice shrilled.

There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd.

“I wouldn’t consider myself the man for the job,” Flynn said modestly.

Several people shouted in response to that.

“You’re a bloody hero mate!”

“You’re clearly a born leader!”

“You’ve been in charge all evening, why not keep going?”

“Captain Flynn!” somebody screamed from one of the balconies. “He’s our saviour!”

That prompted cries of encouragement. The mood in the room was changing. The sense of panic and fear had been replaced by a feeling of anticipation, almost excitement. There were more cries of “Captain Flynn”. The cries united and became a chant.

“Captain Flynn! Captain Flynn! Captain Flynn!”

They reached fever pitch, Flynn’s name reverberated around the huge auditorium. People were stamping their feet, clapping their hands in unison.

Flynn looked on from his position on the stage. He let the chants continue for a few minutes. Finally he bowed his head, raised his free hand slowly and waved it from side to side. The chanting subsided, the stamping died out, the clapping stopped. Gradually the theatre fell silent, the sense of anticipation now greater than ever. Flynn lowered his hand and looked up. He scanned the room slowly, from left to right.

“Well, I don’t know what to say right now.”

“Say yes!” someone called out from near the front. There was nervous laughter, but the silence quickly reestablished itself.

“I’m just a regular guy, who believes in doing the right thing. I came here this evening to help facilitate a democratic process. It seems that fate, in some very strange and twisted way, has seen to it that the people have been able to have their say. Not in the way any of us expected, and not in the way any of us would have wanted. But if the last three days have taught us anything, it is to expect the unexpected. If nobody else is willing to stand, and if this truly is the will of the people gathered here, then I must accept that the hand of destiny has touched me tonight. So it is my humble duty to accept your wishes. I will take the captain’s chair, and I will do my best, with the advice of those who are willing to give it, and with the Lord’s help, to lead us all to safety.”

His last word hung in the air for a second. And then, explosive, rapturous applause. Anyone who was seated, stood. The chant started up once more.

“Captain Flynn! Captain Flynn! Captain Flynn!”

On the stage, Flynn smiled, waved his good arm, signalled for silence. It took a while, but the crowd slowly calmed down.

“Now, let’s get these doors open. Someone get through that back window and unlock the doors from the outside. If there’s a a doctor or nurse present, I could really use some help with my shoulder here,” he pulled his hand away, blood dripped from it onto the stage. “And you two heroes who stopped ex-Captain Noah, bring him to the bridge so we can decide his fate. I believe it is located on deck ten. The crew member who recognised can show you the way.”

Forty-Eight

THE TWO MEN hustled Jake out of the room and towards a staircase. He felt immensely grateful that the other doors to the theatre were still locked, meaning there was no risk of being mobbed by an angry crowd. Martin had climbed through the window, and he exited the control room and took the lead without looking once at Jake.

“Martin, listen to me. I didn’t do this, you have to believe me. Why would I? I willingly gave up the captain’s seat. You were there! You saw me go, freely. It makes no sense for me to kill Melvin!”

“Shut it,” one of the heavies grunted.

“I’ve been set up Martin! They’ve taken Lucya!”

At the mention of her name, Martin paused, looked round.

“Where is she? Where’s Lucya?”

“I don’t know, that’s what I’m telling you. They took her. She left my cabin, someone took her, and then they came for me.”

“I said shut it, or I will shut it for you.”

Martin considered Jake’s plea. “She was in your cabin? What was she doing there? Were you plotting this together?”

“No! We were…I mean, she came to see me and…They took her Martin, to set me up!”

The man restraining his left arm turned towards Jake.

“I said it twice, you must be a bit thick.” He swung a huge fist into the side of Jake’s face. The blow knocked him off balance and he tumbled to the floor.

The heavy bent down, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him back to his feet.

“You,” he pointed at Martin. “You’re done with the questions, now piss off back to wherever you come from.”

“What about the bridge?” Martin looked affronted.

“We’ll manage.”

The two men set off up the stairs, leaving Martin somewhat confused at the bottom. Jake remained silent the whole way, he didn’t want to feel the force of either man’s firsts again.

They reached the bridge without getting lost or making any mistakes in direction, which Jake found odd. The route to was not obvious, a deliberate design to discourage passengers from trotting up there and making a nuisance of themselves. One of the men knocked on the door. It swung open and the three of them went inside.

The captain’s chair was empty, as were the other posts. There were people present though. Four men. Jake recognised them. Two had been on the bridge with Flynn when Melvin had come to call for the election. Of the other two, one looked Chinese and the other was tall, blonde, and, Jake thought, probably German. Jake was marched to a chair near the map table. One of the men holding Jake pulled out a couple of cable ties from his pocket and secured him to the chair in exactly the same way he had been back in the theatre. He was sitting in front of the weapons cabinet, which he could see was empty. The door was open, and covered in blood. In the middle was a dent, about the size and shape one would expect to see if a head had been slammed into it with great force. The key in the lock wasn’t Jake’s, it looked, from the keyring it was attached to, like it was Max’s.