Free Perpetual Winter: The Deep Inn by Carlos Meneses-Oliveira

scattered about. He replaced the whiskey with water. He fell asleep, only waking up when Cliff came into his quarters. The captain was laughing to himself. He picked up the camera and continued taking pictures of the book. Someone knocked at the door and entered.
                  “Hey, Cliff.”
                  “Yes,” responded the captain.
                  “What are you doing?”
                  “Making a copy of our life insurance policy.”
                  “Hmm,” the voice answered him.
                  “The prick must have done the same. He had enough time for that and to send everything by mail,” worried the captain.
                  “Who could it be?” asked the voice.
                  “I don’t know, John. I have no idea, but it was a contract job. That’s for sure.”
                  “But by who?” John tried to imagine.
                  “We’ve got to find out. We have to take care of this. If not, whoever it is will pull a fast one on us,” the captain synthesized.
                  “If our calculations are right.”
                  “Exactly,” responded Cliff.
                  “The problem is that we still don’t have the money to proceed.”
                  “I’m going to make some contacts,” Cliff answered him. “The Russians have a ship on the way to Newfoundland. It can’t be far. The owner of this cargo won’t ever see it.”
                  “Are you crazy? If we show up with empty hands, they’ll smoke us,” John reminded him.
                  “There’s a storm coming, John. If we’re quick, the ship will sink in the storm.”
                  “Can we reach our rendezvous before the storm?” inquired his assistant.
                  “With a little luck. Prepare the sea-cocks for opening and put another motor and whatever else we need in our lifeboat,” ordered the captain.
                  “And the crew won’t talk?”
                  “No, they’re up to their necks in this.”
                  “And those who aren’t in the loop?”
                  “Let the others take care of them. Have you got the slugs ID’s?
                  “No,” John answered.
                  “Take care of that now. You can’t fail me,” Cliff ordered.
                  “Yes. Vive le Québec libre!” John proclaimed sarcastically.
                  “Take care of the orphans and the rest.”
                  “Later.”
     
                  Is his Excellency stupid or what? thought Lucas. How can he be sure that the part of the crew not involved in this scheme will be eliminated by those involved and how can he guarantee that they’ll keep quiet, like he needs? What’s in the book? Truly lost treasures? But then why wait so many years to go look for the gold? Ships have sea-cocks so they can be sunk? Lucas realized that the ship had been stopped for several hours and there were comings and goings from the captain’s suite.
                  Then the storm hit. Lucas took a chance and left the drawer. He closed the door from the inside. He went to the bathroom and shaved his sparse beard with Cliff B. Richard’s things. The captain’s aftershave was good.
                  Lucas opened the door and glanced down the corridor but had to retreat. People were coming. He went in the suite’s lavatory since he didn’t have enough time to hide in the drawer. Cliff and John came in together.
                  “Nobody saw you, did they?” the captain asked.
                  “No,” John assured him.
                  “Did they fall into the sea?”
                  “Both of