The first couple through the door of the bridge strode directly to the assembled circle of officers. They reached the circle and forced their way in. Laura walked over to join the group. The wife was tall, wearing a black cocktail dress. Her jewelry shimmered as she folded her arms in front of her.

Helen calmly turned to the passengers. "Hello. Welcome to the bridge. I am your captain, Helen Chen-Morris. I see that Bailey provided you with an escort. Thank you, Bailey." Her face was contrite. "I wish that we were meeting under better circumstances. I assume you are the families of our missing children?"

The wife nodded. Laura was impressed with Helen's ability to turn on a dime. She knew exactly what she was doing. She was turning an unexpected, unauthorized group into a welcome Captain's tour. Taking the wind out of their sails.

The husband cleared his throat. "They aren't missing. They are kidnapped." He was wearing an expensive, finely tailored black suit with a black tie.

Helen inclined her head. "Of course. Forgive my phrasing. You can understand that this is an unusual circumstance for everyone in this room."

Laura smiled. Finding common ground. This was moving in a good direction.

The husband nodded. "I get it. But look, my Asher is still somewhere on this goddamn boat. We haven't docked. Why haven't you found him?" He was gesturing sharply.

Helen nodded thoughtfully. "I understand. It's a delicate situation. We have a kidnapping on board, and that isn't the specialty of our security team. If I were in your shoes, I would want assurances that the best people for the job are handling it. Don't you?"

The husband chewed on this. "What is your plan, then? Who are the right people?"

"The FBI Anchorage field office is sending a full team, with SWAT equipment and a negotiator."

His eyes widened. "A SWAT team? Are these dipshits armed?"

"I can't share every detail about the situation."

He swatted the answer away dismissively and started to pace. "Look, I just got a text message demanding a huge ransom. It's enough having your kid taken, but this ransom is catastrophic. I would have to sell enough shares of my company to lose my controlling interest. My jackass investors would get the board whipped up and kick me out. I would be disgraced. Do you know what that means?"

Helen shook her head. "No."

He smiled darkly. "I guess you wouldn't. Enough to say that it fucks my life. My name is on the building, and I wouldn't be allowed in it."

"I understand."

"Well, you just admitted that you don't. But look, it's fine. The FBI is on the way. Hooray for the fuckin' cavalry. They'd better be here with bells on."

"They're in the air now. They took a cargo plane from a nearby Air Force base. This is urgent for them too."

"Good. It should be." He took a deep breath, and sighed. It was a long, frustrated sound.

He started pacing again. He traced a small circle. Deeply polished oxfords compressing the thin carpet in the bridge. His circle widened. He walked around the bridge equipment, seemingly at ease being let into any place. Being important in any space he entered. He walked to the steeply raked windows and looked down at the thrashing sea below.

His back was turned to the group. "What if they can't get to us?"

The ship continued to rock and sway during a brief silence. "Pardon?"

"I mean, what if they can't board the ship? Are you seeing this weather? It's a shitshow."

Another bridge officer spoke up. "Of course. We've been monitoring the weather. We have plans to allow them to board, and backup plans if those don't work."

The man grunted. He turned left to continue a wide arc. He stopped abruptly.

"Who the FUCK is this?!" He shouted abruptly. Everyone was startled.

He was pointing with his entire arm at Danilo, who was still standing near the doorway. His hastily applied arm bandage was soaked through with deep red blood. His A-shirt was spotted with blood. He was still wearing a gun slung over his shoulder.

Danilo turned to face him and stepped closer. "I'm a security guard."

Laura winced. She caught Jacqueline's eyes. They shared a knowing look. This was bad. Jacqueline was standing out of his line of sight. She set her rifle down quietly and prepared herself to hustle him out of the bridge.

The other couples had been standing silently during the whole exchange. They were shaken out of their silence by the sight of a bloodied, armed man.

Another man stepped out of the group. "Hang on. You said you were waiting for the FBI to get here!" His wife began to scream. At the sight of blood, or the sudden turn of events. No one was sure.

The man with the black tie held out his hand, palm down, to try to quiet the group. "Hang on, let's let the captain explain this."

Helen cleared her throat. "Danilo is one of our security officers, as he mentioned. He serves on Jacqueline Smith's team." She nodded in Jacqueline's direction, who returned a tight lipped smile. She was buying a minute to settle her story.

"He was conducting a security sweep of one of our cargo levels. He... was confronted by one of the kidnappers. They exchanged gunfire. Danilo was reporting to the bridge to give us an update before being taken to the infirmary."

The man in the black tie stopped pacing. Laura realized that he was zeroing in like a cross examination of a witness. He must be a lawyer. Even worse. "So, you know where they are?"

Helen nodded. "Yes."

"Well, you know now. We've seen the results of that. But did you know their location before his sweep?"

"We had a suspicion."

Laura winced.

He nodded. "Got it. So, you sent an armed guard to the location you suspected the kidnappers were holding my child. We've established that now, thanks. We can unpack that fuck pile in a minute."

Helen's face fell.

"But my questions are: was this guard alone? And, were you shooting near the children? Were they in danger?"

"He was not alone, no."

"Great. Not answering my other questions. So, should I assume this gunfight was near my child?"

"I'd rather not answer."

Oh, shit. Another father erupted. "Hang on, you sent this clown with a gun to do what, exactly?"

Jacqueline stepped closer to the group. "Look, this has been an evolving situation. It is not simple to manage a kidnapping on a ship the size and complexity of this one."

The second father was undeterred. "Bullshit. I don't believe either of you. I think you're giving us lip service. I think you have no idea what you're doing. You're screwing this up."

Helen set her jaw. "We are doing the best that we can, given the circumstances."

The second man pointed angrily at Helen. He began to raise his voice. "You aren't. The 'best you can' isn't sending some schmuck into a gun battle with the Russian mob, half cocked. Endangering our children. It's negligence."

Helen glared at him. Her eyes were drilling laser beams through him. "You need to leave my bridge, now. All of you."

This set off the powder keg. What had been a mostly civil discussion turned into a shouting match. A mother began to scream at the top of her lungs over the commotion. "We will not leave. We will NOT leave until you bring our children back."

Jacqueline heard the order from her captain. Grieving parents or not, an order to leave the bridge from your captain is an order. She summoned her authoritarian police voice. She told the agitated mass of people, "You heard your captain! We need to clear the bridge. This is a sensitive area for ship operations. Please make your way to the elevator. Bailey will escort you back to the lounge."

The group didn't budge. "I repeat, please clear the bridge."

The group began to writhe. It was moving. It was a tangle of bodies, moving closer to each other. The parents continued to shout as they converged with the circle of officers. Closer and closer they inched. Jacqueline, Bailey, Laura, and Danilo started to move ahead of them. To cut them off, and keep the groups apart. To form a defensive line. The sound was deafening. Officers began to shout back.

Jacqueline now stood between the two groups. She pointed to the elevator, and repeated again. "I repeat, your captain has ordered you to clear the bridge. You need to leave now. We will escort you to the lounge. We will provide updates when and if we..."

She was interrupted by the yelling mother, who started forward. She shouted "you are not getting me to leave this bridge. Not until my Chloe is safe."

Jacqueline stared her down. "I will not repeat again, you need to leave the bridge. We cannot have disorderly conduct on the..."

She was interrupted again, this time by a slap. The mother had wheeled back and slapped her across the face, hard. Jacqueline did a double take. She shot her hand to her taser on her belt.

Bailey stepped forward. "You can't assault the security team. You need to leave immediately."

Her husband stepped within inches of Bailey's face. "Make me."

Bailey reached for the pepper spray on his belt. He unhooked it, and raised it. He let loose a dense yellow fog of capsaicin and tear gas. The father began to cough. "Asshole!" He swung with a wide right hook, a powerful punch. He smashed Bailey directly in the face.

Bailey's nose was broken. It was obvious immediately. Blood began to stream down his face. He reeled backward, but kept the trigger down on his pepper spray. The entire group began to choke and cough.

The father doubled over to cough, and then raised up. He leaned in and burst forward, like he was setting up a football tackle.

There was a loud, sudden pop followed by a crackle. The father fell to the floor, convulsing. A long, thin, trailing wire led back to Jacqueline's taser. The rest of the parents began to retreat. Some were covering their eyes and mouths with their jackets or purses. A man had removed his pocket square and was dabbing furiously at his eyes. It was soaking with tears.

Jacqueline crouched down and fished out a large zip tie from her pocket. She zip tied the man's wrists.

Danilo held the elevator open. A grim sight, pale and covered in blood. Without much more resistance, Jacqueline herded the coughing and sputtering parents to the elevator. She and Bailey escorted them out. Then she walked Danilo, the father, and Bailey to the infirmary.

A few minutes later, the bridge was quiet again. The air smelled like a spill at a hot sauce factory. Laura dabbed the tears from her eyes with her sleeves. One of the officers answered an incoming radio call. He intently listened for a few seconds, nodded, and hung up. He turned to the group. "Guys, we have a new problem."