Burn

As soon as the porter saw her luggage tag and looked at her paperwork, he said, "There was a mix-up on the suite assignments on this deck. When you get aboard, there’ll be someone in a red jacket waiting in the elevator vestibule to tell you which stateroom is yours. Your luggage will be set aside until we get the correct number."

Her anxiety level ratcheted upward even more. She was tired, she was worried about Syd, and she didn’t want to deal with mix-ups. She didn’t want her luggage to be "set aside," because what if the ship sailed without it? But this was one more thing she couldn’t control, so she mentally threw up her hands and gave up. "What am I supposed to do now?" she asked the porter. "I’ve never been on a cruise before."

He smiled. "Then you’re in for an experience. You’ll love it." He pointed toward the entrance to the terminal. "Go in there, and take the escalator up. The concierge will take care of you, get you checked in, and show you aboard the ship."

Syd had told her that the passengers who booked the suites were checked in separately, and before the others, but on this particular cruise everyone was a VIP, so she had no idea how the order of check-in would be handled. On the other hand, most people were staying in the smaller mini-suites, so the ones who had booked the most expensive suites would still get the star treatment. Maybe.

She followed the porter’s directions, got private, individual service checking in, and was escorted to security, where her photo was taken and scanned into a facial recognition software program. She was given her key card and her ship’s card, which she’d need for identification, drinks, and anything else she bought while onboard, then she crossed from the terminal to the ship via a covered walkway. A red jacketed attendant was there, checking room assignments and sending people in the right directions. When he saw Jenner’s card, he called up and alerted someone to Jenner’s presence, then directed her to the correct elevator with the assurance that someone would meet her when she got off the elevator at the penthouse deck.

The hallways, corridors – whatever they were called on a ship – were full of activity as people strolled around, crew members delivered luggage, and acquaintances stopped to talk and thus blocked the rather narrow passageway. Jenner saw a couple of people she recognized, but waved instead of stopping to chat. She wanted to get to the suite and find Syd. She reached the elevators and punched the "up" button for both of them, then got in the one that arrived first.

Another red jacket was waiting for her when the doors slid open. "Ms. Redwine?" the woman asked, smiling. "Please come with me, I’ll escort you to your suite. I’m so sorry for the confusion. The suite you had booked was lovely, but I think you’ll be very happy with the one you’ve been assigned. It’s next to the owner’s suite. Your steward, Bridget, is waiting for you."

The attendant started briskly down the corridor and Jenner followed; she wanted to ask if Syd had arrived, but at the pace the woman was walking figured she’d find out herself in about five seconds anyway. They passed an impressive set of double doors that had to be to the owner’s suite, then stopped at the next door down as a compact but sturdily built young woman with coppery red hair and calm blue eyes approached. "This is Bridget," the attendant said. "Bridget, this is Ms. Redwine. I’ll leave you to your duties." Then she hurried back the way she’d come, talking into her radio phone as she raced to meet more arriving passengers and conduct them to their newly assigned quarters.

"I’ll be taking care of you and your quarters," Bridget said, swiping her own key card and unlocking the door. She held it open for Jenner to enter. "If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to call me."

Jenner stepped into the living room part of the suite. In the past seven years she’d become accustomed to luxurious homes, but this room, in gold and white, screamed of elegance and old-world charm. The walls were decorated with oil paintings, not reproductions, and the frames were ornate. Beyond the wall-to-wall draperies was a sun-drenched balcony that called to her, even though they weren’t at sea yet.

"Sydney?" she called. "Syd?" When there was no answer, she turned to Bridget. "My friend, Sydney Hazlett, hasn’t arrived yet?"

"One moment," said Bridget, taking out her radio phone and punching in a number. Her smile remained calm and unflustered. Probably late-arriving passengers were part of the job description. A moment later she disconnected the call without saying a word to anyone.

Puzzled, Jenner said, "Is she here?" The words were scarcely out of her mouth when her own cell phone rang. Retrieving it from her bag, she glanced at the caller ID and breathed a sigh of relief. Syd – finally! "Never mind, this is her," she said to Bridget, turning away as she answered the phone. "Syd, I just got here. Where are you? I’ve left two messages."

There was a moment of silence, then Syd said in a tight voice, "Jenn. Do what they say."

Jenner halted. "What?" She had one of those moments of blank confusion, because while the words made sense, the context didn’t.

"I’m okay, they haven’t hurt me, but you have to do what they say or … or they will."

"What?" Jenner asked more forcefully, actually taking the phone from her ear to stare at it for a second before putting it in place again. "What are you talking about? Do what who says? Is this a joke?"

A man’s voice, deep and unexpected, interrupted. "This isn’t a joke, Ms. Redwine. Do what you’re told, and at the end of the cruise both you and Ms. Hazlett will be released unharmed. Cause any trouble, and you won’t see your friend again."