Combining Business and Pleasure 1

»It is going to be the last time!«

Captain Wolfgang Schmidt felt a bit wistful as he let his eyes wander over the deck, where now, as boarding had begun, the passengers were entering the gangway of the »Mauretania II«. He was 66, and he had long known that this would be his last voyage, and yet, he could not help sighing.

Though belonging to a British tour operator, the »Mauretania II« had been built here, in Hamburg, and it would be her maiden voyage. Technically, it would be the second trip, for of course, the ship had been tested under sea conditions, but now, it would be the first trip with passengers on board. Being Captain Schmidt’s last voyage on duty would also be her first.

There had been a few rumours about coincidences with the most infamous tragedy in naval history: it was a maiden voyage, under an again Captain who happened to have almost the same name as Captain Edward Smith of the »Titanic«. He had shrugged it off as superstition: the trip would not lead into the ice fields of the Northern Atlantic, it was July instead of April, and even if something would happen, there were enough lifeboats and other developments of safety at sea since 1912.

Actually, the trip could not be called a challenge: a trip to the Canaries, with a short dip into Mauritanian waters, so the ship had once been in the country she was named after; a nice routine trip of 16 days, adding a little bonus to his retirement money.

The »Mauretania II« wasn’t one of the biggest cruise ships, nor was she the fastest; measuring 621 feet, she was even shorter than the original »Mauretania«. However, in Schmidt’s eyes, she was a beauty. Whilst most modern cruise ships looked like shoe boxes on a hull, trying to cram more and more passengers on board, the »Mauretania« had the elegant lines of a real ship.

He put on his Captain’s hat, checked his uniform in the mirror and then walked down to the main deck to greet one of the passengers who had just arrived: Martin Conradi, a Hamburg shipowner and co-owner of the »Mauretania II«. Before one of the petty Officers would lead Conradi and his entourage to their cabins, he would have to do the hors d’oeuvres.

»Ah, Captain Schmidt, how nice of you to neglect your duties to welcome us aboard!«

Conradi shook hands with the Captain, then introducing his wife who left no doubt that she expected a formal hand kiss instead of a handshake. Schmidt looked questioningly at the petty Officer who informed him:

»Mr. and Mrs. Conradi will be at the Green Suite!«

Schmidt nodded pleasingly. Conradi had given order to surprise him, and so, it had been on him to choose an appropriate cabin – a job he had delegated to his Second Officer. Mrs. Conradi seemed pleased, but the man asked:

»Will the rooms of my secretary and my butler be far away?«

Only now, Schmidt gave a closer look to the other two people standing behind the Conradis. One was an elderly Asian, maybe a Japanese, who looked as if he had the same motionless expression 24/7. Beside him stood a young woman with blonde hair and a friendly smile whose business jacket did little to conceal her voluptuous figure. Again, he looked at the petty Officer who checked his clipboard.

»Mr. Sato’s in number 112, and Miss Martens in number 217!«

Looking up at Mr. Conradi, he answered the question:

»So, your butler will be on the same deck, just down the corridor, and Miss Martens will be one deck below!«

Schmidt noticed that Conradi wanted to say something and looked at the girl, whilst his wife showed a slightly bitter expression. However, the petty Officer now politely offered to escort them to their cabins, and the group disappeared, allowing Captain Schmidt to step towards a young woman in a blue uniform rather than the white one most Officers wore. What also distinguished her was the gun on her belt.

»Miss Bauer!«

The woman stood straight.

»Captain!«

Immediately after, both changed into a less formal way of talking: after all, this wasn’t a ship of the Navy. However, once the ship had reached the High Sea, he would be responsible of the security of every hand on board, and this included having a security service.

Usually, the only problems occurring during a cruise were drunken passengers who got abusive, something that could usually be handled by the bartenders. However, the shipping company thought that the passengers would feel better if some people in uniform showed their presence, and so, there was Melissa Bauer and her superior, Bernd Ruhler, who usually spent their time walking the deck or showing presence at the ship’s casino.

Unlike Ruhler, Melissa was a real Policewoman who, after absolving the Academy, had decided that she wanted to see something of the world and so, she had hired as a security Officer. With the routine of her 22 years, she watched the approaching passengers, and on one occasion, she indeed had to oppress a chuckle.

»Call Hollywood, if they need someone who looks exactly like a mobster!«

The man wore a suit a bit too pompous to be called elegant, and he obviously didn’t bother if anyone was feeling annoyed by his cigar. He was followed by a bulky man who seemed to prove that man descended from the apes, though he wore a suit and had his face shaved.

»Mr. Davenport!«

Captain Schmidt approached the man, and they shook hands. So, the mobster was obviously one of the VIPs. Melissa slightly shook her head and then, another slightly strange looking person caught her eyes.

The woman was wearing a long black coat, despite the heat, combined with a wide-brimmed straw hat under which grey curls fell over her shoulders, and she was also wearing big spectacles, together with a COVID mask. From time to time, she even looked over her shoulder, as if she was expecting someone to be after her.

»An American mobster and a fugitive – could be an interesting trip!«, Melissa thought and continued her round.

***

The »Mauretania II« had a second gangway for second class passengers, located closer to the bow, and here, people’s patience was strained by a young woman bossing around one of the porters trying to get her double bass up the steps. When aboard, she immediately told the petty Officer in a voice loud enough for everyone around to hear that she was Suzette Bonhomme, renowned double bass player, and that she hoped her cabin would allow her to rehearse in peace.

Behind her, a brunette woman rolled her eyes, for because of the musician, her own checkout was delayed, and she wanted to get back on the tracks of Martin Conradi. After all, her newspaper was paying her to find out about his business, and thus had sent Hannah Hoth after him, to see if she could get close enough for some confidential information.

Finally, the double bass was aboard, and Susette Bonhomme left, with an attitude as if she was at least as famous as Shakira. According to what Hannah knew, she was really quite famous in Hamburg, but far from being a world star. Well, she would be able to hear if she at least could play her instrument – if her job left her enough time.

Neither the musician nor the journalist had noticed that they had been marked with a small dot on the petty Officer’s clipboard. The dot was small enough that he could explain it if someone asked, but to Andreas Holm, it marked passengers that shared some specific characteristics: they were pretty, young, and they were travelling alone. With a few hundred passengers, the list would get quite long, but it was just a preselection that could later be thinned out.

Andreas hid his observations under a façade of polite professionalism, and his smile was the same when the next in line was a hard-hearing old man. However, his eyes already checked the row for the next potential candidate for his list.

***

Joanne von Gröbern sighed with relief when her cabin door closed behind her. Almost immediately, she took off the grey wig, together with the straw hat, and then removed the black coat.  Her disguise had proven effective, but it was also awfully hot to wear these things in July.

She felt as if she had gotten away with something, though she hadn’t done anything illegal. She was not on the run, and the passage was paid from her own account – though she was travelling under her real name, Johanna Müller.

Some four years ago, she had, already under her alias, published her first novel, and her detective stories seemed to have hit a nerve, even on that oversaturated market. The book had sold well and so had the three that had followed so far, and Joanne von Gröbern had become famous, at least among readers and in and around Hamburg.

It wasn’t that Johanna hated her fame – after all, it allowed her to go on a fun cruise and travel first class. However, she had soon learned the hard way that the Yellow Press was also interested in her private life, and whenever she had been seen with someone like her agent, there had been rumours about her having an affair. Johanna could not be called flirtatious, but in the end, it had costed her her marriage. Well, that and the fact that her ex could not handle her fame and sometimes being called »Mr. von Gröbern«. She didn’t miss him too much, but the trouble around her divorce had been another reason she had decided to travel incognito.

She knew that she could not spend the entire time in her cabin, nor did she intend to wear the wig all the time. Instead, she had bought a new outfit – some summer dresses in light colours instead of black jeans and sweaters, and she would wear her glasses instead of contact lenses. She had already tested her new look, and though she was a bit shy about how the dresses emphasized her body, she didn’t look like her cover photo in the slightest.

»Now, I will take a shower, and then, we will see how long it takes until someone recognizes me! Perhaps, I can use the experience for my new book!«

***

Though her name implied it, Leonora Conradi didn’t have Italian ancestors. Her temper, however, was quite hot-blooded, and now, she felt a fit of jealous rage as she left the shower, finding a note from her husband on the sideboard:

»Will have a first meeting with Davenport, see you before dinner! Love, Martin!«

»Love my ass!«, Leonora thought. It wasn’t the fact that her husband was always busy with some financial transactions – in his position, one could not work 9 to 5. However, she knew that he was not only keen on negotiating with the American, but he also was praying on his new secretary, that blonde bimbo Babette that was half her age, and almost 30 years younger than Martin. Babette who always hung on his lips and rewarded him with a smile whenever he made a pun. Babette, who obviously didn’t earn enough to afford clothes that weren’t tight-fitting.

Leonora noticed she had crumpled the note in her hand, and she dropped it, scoffing. For a moment, she imagined waiting for a moment when her husband wasn’t around, allowing her to throw Babette overboard. With a bitter smile, she shook her head.

»Most likely, that little slut’s tits have enough buoyancy to keep her above the surface until she gets rescued!«

***

Indeed, Martin Conradi had only changed his shirt and refreshed his aftershave before her had sent a message to Babette Martens and then had attended the larboard side of the smaller sun deck, where he had occupied one of the tables. Sato was leaning at the railing, and now, he could see his secretary approaching him. A smile appeared on his lips as he looked at the pretty blonde who obviously had seen the words »semi-official meeting« as an excuse to change into a short burgundy-red dress that emphasized her lovely figure.

»Ah, Babette, please take a seat on this chair!«

The blonde obeyed, crossing her legs. The only reason he had offered her the chair was that it offered him a good look at her shapely legs. Babette pulled on the hem of her skirt, a gesture rather emphasizing her legs than covering anything, and she smiled whilst raising her laptop.

»You want me to protocol, Mr. Conradi?«

He oppressed the urge to tell her she should rather go down on him, for now, Davenport appeared. He hadn’t bothered to change his clothes, and he was still accompanied by his bulky bodyguard. If he was enjoying Babette’s appearance, he hid it quite well. In a loud voice, Davenport called for a waitress and ordered a double Whiskey for himself whilst Conradi chose a light Gin Tonic. Davenport chuckled, looking at Babette:

»And how about a bowl of milk for the little pu-, I mean kitten?«

Babette’s smile was so charming that Conradi thought whether she was really that easy to amuse, or if she also feigned her laugh when he made a joke. The girl chose a mineral water, and Davenport immediately started talking about the establishment of a brewery in Chicago – German beer, of course, and it would be the sort of which Conradi held 51% of the shares.

»Maybe, I should make the deal with Elbbräu instead – after all, their products are in my minibar at my cabin, and yours aren’t!«

Conradi frowned. Elbbräu was his concurrent in the beer business, and he hid his anger about the fact it was sold on board with a joke:

»Elbbräu is like sex in a boat – fucking close to water!«

An oppressed chortle told him he had at least amused Babette, but obviously, Davenport had heard the joke before. However, it seemed that he hadn’t come to Germany in person to not make a deal, and soon, the talk got more specific. The two men were quite occupied, and Babette’s fingers flew over the keys. So, none of them did care much about the world around them, and they were all startled when suddenly, a female voice shouted:

»How dare you touching me? You are hurting me!«

As they looked up, they could see that Davenport’s gorilla had grabbed the arm of a brunette woman, holding her in a tight grip. When Davenport looked questioningly, the man said:

»She was taking photos of you, Sir!«

Davenport turned towards the woman and let his eyes wander over her. She still tried to free her arms and stared daggers at him.

»Is that true, Miss? I would beg you to respect the privacy of me and my friend!«

»I was taking pictures of the harbour!«, she fumed, »And right now, your henchman is breaking my arm!«

She didn’t lower her voice, and Davenport made a gesture towards the man who eased his grip, but still held her arm. Davenport reached out his hand.

»Sometimes, Jeb’s a bit rough on the edges – but if you really just photographed the harbour, you sure won’t mind showing us, so he can let you go and you may leave!«

Her face showing oppressed rage, the girl typed something on her phone, obviously deleting a few pictures. Then, she showed the gallery to the man, not letting him touch her phone. Davenport nodded with a smile:

»It’s on me to excuse, Miss! As I said, Jeb’s sometimes a bit overzealous when it comes to protecting my privacy! You better keep some distance to me as long as he is around!«

Jeb released her, and the girl withdrew. Davenport took a sip from his Whiskey and pointed at Sato with his chin.

»At least, Jeb is more alert than your man! Now, where did we stop?«

Conradi made a small gesture towards Sato, and the Japanese silently followed the corridor in which the brunette had withdrawn.

***

Once her double bass was securely stowed, Suzette Bonhomme felt a bit guilty about how she had behaved, and she tried to compensate that regret by handing the porter a generous tip. She had a temper, and her success hadn’t helped the matter. However, she was still nothing but a 19 year old girl – a girl who was an excellent musician and who had already played in the Elbphilharmonie, but nevertheless, she wasn’t that much of a star that she could behave like she wanted.

Suzette was famous enough that her agent had been able to organize her being part of the cruise’s entertainment program, but her payment consisted of the cruise and no extra salary, and her cabin was located on one of the lower decks. However, on four evenings, she would play in the main lobby, and the people who could afford a cruise were rich. If one of them was attracted by her play, she would perhaps be able to get better, more lucrative engagements.

»If so, I can start behaving like a bitch, and people will have to tolerate it!«

She changed into shorts and a tight T-Shirt, for she was free until the next evening, and she was curious to explore the ship. So, she stepped onto the corridor and looked at one of the maps of the ships, telling her where she was and where to go.

»Mademoiselle Bonhomme?«

Suzette spun around. Sometimes, people recognized her on the street, though it happened so rarely she still felt flattered. So far, nobody had asked her for an autograph, but there was a first time for everything.

The man who had spoken to her was tall, and his white T-Shirt not only contrasted nicely with his tan, but it also showed his muscular arms. His trousers were also white, making him look a bit like an orderly. He smiled friendly, showing his shiny teeth.

»My name is Karim«, he said, pointing at a small brass sign on his chest, »and I noticed you when you came aboard!«

Now, Suzette felt a bit insecure. Obviously, Karim worked on the ship, and perhaps, he would not reprimand her for behaving like a diva. She still was deciding whether to be meek or defiant when Karim continued:

»I couldn’t help noticing you were a little tense – and maybe, I can help!«

»Help?«

She now looked sceptically at the man. Was he trying to ask her out? Karim flexed his fingers, and she noticed that he didn’t have the hands of a typical bodybuilder. Instead, these were almost the hands of an artist, though not a musician, more like a sculptor.

»My rooms are just down the corridor, so, if you like, feel free to visit me! Just don’t hesitate too long, or there will be a waiting list!«

Having said so, he left, and Suzette shook her head over his over-confidence. A waiting list! Sure, he was an attractive man, but-

Without thinking much about it, she followed the corridor, and then, she saw Karim once again, or rather a portrait of him. It was part of a billboard telling her that he was the ship’s masseur, offering wellness massages and anti-stress-therapy.

»So, I could be groped by a professional for a change! Well, if I feel tense tomorrow, I will sure think about it!«

***

Beside the door of the massage studio was a one-way window, allowing people inside to look at the corridor whilst those inside had their privacy. Karim looked at the redhead walking away, and he grinned towards the man standing beside him. The man wore his work clothes, and Karim knew that he would have to clean the massage table he was sitting upon.

»What do you say, Sammy? Maybe, she’s a real redhead, and she is definitely a skilled musician! Double bass!«

»I prefer flute players!«, Sammy scoffed, underlining his words with an obscene gesture. »In addition, she looks as if she’s too small for my hands, if you know what I mean!«

Karim saw him form his hands to claws and kneading imaginary boobs. Once again, he had to remind himself that Sammy perhaps lacked style and class, but he had other qualities, including his access to nearly all parts of the ship, due to his rank as a bosun of the technical personnel.

»Are the rooms ready?«

Sammy nodded.

»The only problem is the ventilation! If we want a constant air supply, we can’t make the walls absolutely sound-proof! Seems we will have to keep our guests gagged for most of the time!«

His expression indicated that he was rather appreciating this fact, and he again made the kneading gesture. Karim playfully slapped his hand.

»An alternative would be to give them no reason to scream!«

Sammy scoffed.

»Unlike you, I am not getting paid for groping tits! So, I have to see by myself how I can make the most out of my job!«

***

Her upper arm still hurt slightly where Jeb had grabbed her, but Hannah was quite excited. The bodyguard had indeed caught her red-handed, and she had had to delete the few photos she had been able to take of Conradi and Davenport. However, the mere fact that these two were talking to each other, and that they were more than eager to protect their privacy, sure was a sign that they were negotiating not just legal business.

Anticipating what she would write to her editor, Hannah was suddenly stopped by someone she bumped into, and when she looked up, she saw the face of a woman about her age, pretty but a bit stern. Her dark brown hair was just long enough to be tied into a pigtail, and she was wearing a blue uniform.

»Oopsie, excuse me – Officer!«

Now, the woman smiled.

»I am just a member of the ship’s security, so, you may call me Melissa!«

It was policy of the tour operators that most service persons should be called by their first names, to create a more informal atmosphere. Melissa wasn’t the greatest fan of that policy, but in the case of the other girl, it felt okay.

»I am Hannah!«

Then, remembering her job, she added:

»Security? So, are there any criminals aboard?«

This time, Melissa’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.

»There’s a lot of money aboard, and this might attract thieves-«

»-like dung attracts flies!«, Melissa completed the sentence, and this time, Melissa’s chuckle sounded amused. The metaphor sure fit some of the passengers!

»Whatsoever, I hope that my job will be like that of the ship’s doctor – that I will rather die from boredom than from being overworked!«

Hannah continued her way to her cabin. An hour before, the corridor had been overcrowded by passengers searching for their rooms, but now, these were either inside or were on deck, waiting for the departure of the »Mauretania II«. She entered her room, not noticing the man behind her. Sato checked her cabin number, and he decided to have an eye on the journalist, just to be sure.

He considered himself a Samurai, though he kept away from wearing the traditional haircut, and he had even left his Katana at home. However, when it came to loyalty, he was as traditional as one could be, no matter what it would cost. And if this girl would try to step into the ways of his superior, Sato would do whatever was necessary to protect him.

***

 Yema took a few deep breaths through her nose, filling her lungs with air. Then, she screamed at the top of her lungs.

»Mhhrrrrmmmmmmm! Uuuhhmmmmmmmph!«

The scream was muffled, but still surprisingly loud, and the gagged woman frowned angrily. She didn’t need to look at the app telling her how much decibel it had been; this definitely was still too loud. As on keyword, she heard a knock on the door, and a woman asked in Chinese whether everything was okay.

»Mhhmm!«

She hoped that she had sounded assuring as she quickly picked on the tape she had wrapped around her head a few times and unwound it, ignoring the pain on her skin when she tore it off. As her colleague knocked a second time, Yema pulled the nerf ball from her mouth and gasped:

»I am fine! I just dozed off and must have had a bad dream!«

On the other side of the door, there was a scoff, followed by vanishing steps. Maybe, her colleague now assumed that she had taken drugs – or that she had masturbated. Well, as long as she didn’t assume what she really had been doing, it didn’t matter to Yema.

She crumples the tape and put it into the dustbin; then, she looked at the damp nerf ball. It had the size of an apple, and it had filled her oral cavity quite well – and yet, she had still been able to alert her colleague on the corridor.

Of course, the walls and doors of their quarters were paper-thin, and it was only a slight exaggeration that one snorer could keep the whole deck awake. At least, she had a room for her own. The »Mauretania II« offered all kinds of luxury, but that didn’t include the quarters of the service personnel, especially the laundresses.

Like on most cruise ships, the laundry was run by Asians who were known as hard workers and who could be exploited for minimum wages. In recent years, the Chinese were more and more replaced by Filipinos, but Yema and about half of her coworkers were Chinese. Since she had come with excellent references, she even was shift manager, allowing her some privileges, like her own room, though it wasn’t much bigger than a coffin.

»When this job is over, I will spend an entire month in a house where every room has got at least three windows!«

She looked at the nerf ball, deciding that solving the gag problem would have to wait. At least, Sammy had promised that the rooms were almost sound-proof, and in addition, the noise from the adjacent rooms would also drown any noise their guests would be able to make.

Yema checked the tightness of her braid and left the room, only to see that her colleague was still in the corridor. She asked her whether she really was okay, and Yema nodded, showing a smile as she remembered the lie she had told her.

When she had begun her work, Yema had tried to get to know her coworkers, and Mei wasn’t too fast in the uptake, but she was friendly, and so, Yema had befriended her, and told her that she was pregnant, but had to keep her job, for the father was absent. So, Mei had agreed to occasionally take shifts from Yema, so she could retire if she felt sick. This white lie would cost her both her rations of cigarettes and chocolate, but it would allow her to be free more often, so she could work on her other, far more lucrative job.

»It’s okay, Mei! I am just hoping that I am not developing sea-sickness! This would really not match my morning sickness!«

She went to the lounge where she saw a folded sheet in her post box. Yema took it; usually, these were payrolls, weekly schedules or shift plans, but in this case, it was a documentation of overtime.

Of course, since the trip hadn’t yet started, there hadn’t been any overtime, and when Yema looked closer, she could see that the seemingly randomly arranged numbers were in fact a collection of cabin numbers. Yema smiled when she put the sheet into her frock pocket.

So, Andreas had already done the pre-selection, and once they had further narrowed it down, it would be on her to check both the rooms and the girls living in them. Anticipating this, she went to the laundry room to start the tedious and strenuous work there.

***

»Sorry, Babette! I promised you a leisurely cruise with only occasional work, and now, Mr. Davenport found no end! Well, once you have sent me the formulated version of the protocol, you may enjoy your evening off!«

Conradi rose and took Babette’s hand. Since he was a Gentleman, the hiss just did not touch her knuckles, but he held her hand a bit longer than necessary and Babette noticed that his eyes were rather at her cleavage than at her eyes.

»Now, I better spend some time with my wife!«, he said, indicating that this wasn’t the most desired duty he had lying in front of him. When he had withdrawn, Babette started to type the protocol when suddenly a shadow fell over the screen. She closed the laptop and looked up, seeing a man with dark blonde hair looking down at her.

»Excuse me, Miss, but may I abduct your ashtray?«

»You’d do me a pleasure!«

During the negotiations, Davenport had smoked a cigar that had sure been expensive, but nevertheless had not smelled pleasant, and Babette was glad to get rid of the ashtray. The man now smiled apologetically as he drew a silver case.

»Seems you don’t have my bad habit, and I should not offer you one, too!«

Babette answered his smile. The man hesitated and put away his case without taking a cigarette out of it. When Babette frowned, he explained:

»Since you are not smoking, I would have to withdraw to the next table. So, if I’d offer you a coffee instead, would you allow me to stay?«

Babette chortled and looked at him. He was about 5’10’’, slender, but athletic, and he had an accent that sounded rather British than American. She decided that she could indeed have a few minutes’ break before she finished the protocol.

The man withdrew for the bar, only to return with a tray with two Espressi on it. Then, he reached out his hand.

»I am really lacking manners – my name is John Atticus Beauregard! Or just John, if you prefer!«

His handshake was firm, and Babette showed him a pearly smile.

»Babette Martens – or just Babette, if you prefer!«

***