THE PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA - ( CHAPTER 47 ) - { PT. 2 }

 { PT.  2 } - The rest would die most likely in pain from the explosion--screaming in agony as they lost a limb or burned alive. Others would drown. Whichever way you looked at it, only he would get away. He would make sure of that. He proceeded to plant the bomb to blast in thirty minutes time and, as a precaution, set an emergency remote detonator on his cell phone. He left the deceased body and the monotonous drone of the engine room muffled behind the locker door and bounded up the clanging metal carcass of the ship's bowels, where another crew member, carrying two cups, stood waiting for him to pass. Are you taking Torin some coffee? asked Kristoff. Yes, we're both on duty. He wondered where you'd got to. The unsuspecting man continued past Kristoff who plunged the knife into his back, penetrating his heart with the precision of a surgeon. His back arched in a violent spasm. He hurtled forward, his body hitting every step and landing at the bottom in a twisted, bone-shattered mass. Crimson-coloured coffee crawled across the floor, but there was no time for his usual ritual. He removed the dagger, wiped it clean and dragged into the engine room, leaving rusty track marks in his wake. He locked the door and checked the vicinity before heading up the stairs to resume his plans. His next stop--the bridge.