They met in a quiet, shady corner of the deck, away from prying eyes and ears. Count Dracula had aged some in the past hours: his eyes were wrinkled and his hair had lost its luster. His eye color was fading and slowly turning black.
“Have you got the afternoon off?” he asked his cohort, who only nodded.
“What time must you be on the bridge?”
“Much later.”
“Good. I want you to kill each of them. I don’t care how or where, just do it.”