Chapter One

The Device

Bibi’s client of the moment, Mark Colbert, the ridiculously wealthy Austrian business executive, suddenly decided that he needed to be somewhere other than on this gigantic cruise vessel. Without telling anyone but the vessel’s captain, he jumped ship in the Azores, helicoptered to meet his private G50 in Tenerife and flew off to Madrid, leaving most of his personal staff and bodyguards on board to await his promised return when the ship reached its next port.

Bibi was bored and hoped that someone or something would come along to relive that boredom. It was after 2300 hours, ship’s time, and most of the tourists on board were either throwing Euros down the black hole that the cruise line laughingly called a casino or had already gone to bed. Thus, the suggestion of some after hour’s fun by Nate, the barman in the Stratosphere Lounge, got more attention than it might have otherwise.

“Exactly what do you have in mind,” Bibi asked the good-looking, dark-haired young barman whom she had been flirting with on and off for the last three days.

“I get off at two,” he said, slowly wiping the brass and mahogany bar surface that separated them. “We could take a walk around the deck. It’s quiet at this time of night.”

“And do what?” Bibi asked, smiling and leaning over the bar just enough to display large portions of her superb chest. “By two, I’m usually pretty much ready for bed.”

“Well,” said Nate, who was about Bibi’s age and in similar fine physical shape. “We could skip the walking and just camp in Pomperoy’s cabin. He’s got some pretty interesting stuff.”

“Interesting stuff? Like what?” she asked, frowning.

“Ah, he has a hobby that’s sort of like, well, whips and chains, if you know what I mean.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. But I thought that since you mentioned last night that you had an interest in bondage, it might be worth checking out. You gotta see it.”

“Well first, Nate, I think you may have misunderstood what I said. Working on crime cases where bondage was involved is not the same as having an interest. But I must admit that I find the practice and some of the fetishes that often go with it to be fascinating…within some boundaries.”

“Oh, sure, right. I didn’t mean…” Nate quickly added, sounding embarrassed.

“And where will Mister Pomeroy be while we occupy his concierge level penthouse and check out his bondage gear?” Bibi laughed, thinking about some of her past BDSM experiences and wondering how the rest of the night might go if she agreed to this invitation.

“He’s, well, I guess it’s fair to say that he’s otherwise occupied with Jean Groff. In his other cabin.”

“…which is, if I remember correctly, just down the corridor…” Bibi added quickly.

“Right. But no worries. They are both cool and no one would bother us until after noon.”

“Oh yes. Jean is pretty cool. I know. She’s working with me on this cruise.”

“Right. I think she’s hot,” said Nate. Then, realizing that the remark was possibly counterproductive to his goals, he said: “Not that you aren’t, I mean…”

“Forget it,” said Bibi. “I know what you meant. We are traveling together because we like each other, in and out of bed. Does that clarify it enough for you?”

“Yes, Bibi. Sure.”

“And by the way, you may have the wrong information because the way I heard it, Pomeroy is breaking in some shipboard bimbo tonight. Jean had another date on the Isosceles Deck.”

“Really? I thought they were pretty tight. Jean and Pommy.”

“Whatever. It’s not important, unless you had visions of Groff adding to the pile in bed.”

“Ah, no,” said Nate, looking nervous all of a sudden.

“But you did ask her, didn’t you?” pressed Bibi, enjoying watching the barman squirm a bit for his sexual forwardness.

“Yeah. Sure. Three is often fun and you both are tens, so I tried and struck out.”

“Well, don’t give up, Nate. But let’s go back to what makes you think I’m ‘interested’ in bondage?”

“Uh, you mentioned it last night.”

“I did? After how many of your deadly Arctic Thunders, may I ask? My interest?”

Bibi, not especially inclined to drink anything with a mixture of alcohol in it, had fallen in lust with Nate’s proprietary drink, Artic Thunder, which she knew was heavily loaded with Aquavit and several exotic grappas. Two of these potent specialties had been known to topple large men. Bibi found the beverage stimulating…at least until the next morning.

“Yeah,” said Nate. “You told me about the case where you got chained to the wall of the old windmill in Amsterdam.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“And now you want to get it on with me in the penthouse?”

“Yes.”

Bibi said: “Okay. Let’s do it. Can I meet you there at, shall we say, two fifteen? I need to pick up a few things in my cabin and make sure I have no messages. After all, this is a paid job and I am supposed to be looking after my clients, even in the middle of the night.”

“Right. Two fifteen at the penthouse suite, 3A. I’ll bring the bubbles. Your choice, pink or white?”

“Tough choice. You decide, but no more Arctic Thunders, okay?” Bibi said, getting up from the bar chair and stretching. It was nearly one thirty in the morning on the third night out of Miami and the ship was making top speed across the calm Caribbean Sea. She was off duty until 4 p.m. the next day, so she thought that Nate’s plans might actually work out. Besides, she was looking forward to some kinky sex and Nate seemed like the best choice among the five thousand people on this monster cruise ship presently headed, somewhat circuitously, for St. Thomas.