by Laura Acton
His mind assessing many scenarios, William didn’t like the outcome of most. “If Mike’s been compromised, exfil for the others is in jeopardy. Did Winds provide specifics of the rendezvous location for the boat?”
“No. Those details had not been determined when he and Ripsaw exited.”
“Damn!” William’s gut spun. His men were hanging in the wind, and there was nothing he could do.
Bransworth knocked and entered when commanded, then presented intel he discovered. “Sirs, I found Colonel Gaspar Kirillovich possesses a stellar record and reputation with Interpol for the last ten years. I dug deeper into his history and stumbled on an interesting footnote.
“His name is listed as the individual who filed a missing person’s report on a Michael Galloway sixteen years ago. The report indicated Galloway’s last known whereabouts was Makhachkala. The alert was canceled sometime later, but the details were redacted.”
William stopped Bransworth as he made a meaningful connection. “Clear the room. I need to make a call.”
Bransworth pivoted to leave as Colonel Sutton stood to do the same, but the private turned and said, “Sir, I also found out a person with Galloway’s alias was admitted to the City Hospital this morning, but I couldn’t discover the patient’s condition.”
His stomach clenching, William nodded. “Good work, Bransworth. Keep digging. I want everything you can find out about the situation and attempt to verify if the man admitted is actually Galloway.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alone in the room, William dialed a number from memory. When the call picked up, he said, “Charles, William here. I cannot provide you any details, but I need some from you. Do you know a Gaspar Kirillovich and if so, how?”
Blinking rapidly and sitting in his leather chair, floored General Broderick called him, Baron Wildingham said, “Yes, I do. About twenty years ago, we hosted Gaspar as a foreign exchange student. He and Michael became best friends. Michael was over visiting Gaspar again when he went missing. He took a side trip without his friend, and when Michael didn’t return, Gaspar contacted me. Without him, I would’ve never known Michael disappeared.”
Although Charles comprehended no detail would likely be given, he asked anyway, “Is Michael alright?”
Understanding a father’s concern, William still sidestepped the question and asked another one, “Are you aware if Mike maintained contact with Gaspar?”
“No idea, Michael hasn’t mentioned him. If you recall he cut ties with everyone except family after you found him. Too many memories.”
“What is your impression of Gaspar?”
Charles rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. “He possessed a wild streak like Michael, a bit unfocused and in need of direction. I recall Michael saying something about Gaspar becoming serious-minded after an incident, but he never shared what happened.” Charles chuckled. “Michael came home from that trip bald and bruised. Not a good look for my son.”
William took in the data and formed his next question. “Do you think Mike would trust Gaspar?”
“The boy I knew was a decent young man. Honest and trustworthy … came from a loving family. The oldest of three boys and two girls. Intelligent and inquisitive too. But time and circumstances can change a man. I’m not certain. I wish I could tell you for sure.”
“Anything else you can tell me about him?”
Charles grinned. “Blue Blood … not royal … police. You might say that the Kirillovichs are to Russian law enforcement what the Brodericks are to the Canadian military. Generation upon generation go into police work.”
“Thank you.” About to hang up, William added, “I’ll have Mike contact you as soon as he can.”
“I appreciate that. Take care of my boy.” Charles hung up and sighed. Proud of the life his son chose, but his worry never ceased. Perhaps after his trip to Oshar, he would swing by Afghanistan and check in on his boy.
Mulling over the situation, William decided to initiate blackout protocol to protect Mike until he learned if the person in the hospital was indeed Mike. He strode to the door as he downed the remainder of the coffee. He needed more … he would not be sleeping tonight … again. After pouring another cup, he called Tom back in, shared pertinent details, and ordered the blackout.
City Hospital No. 2 – Mike’s Room – 0900 Hours
Arriving at Urvan’s room after another exhausting day, twenty-eight hours without sleep this time, Semyon opened the door and found his older brother where he expected. When Gaspar vouched for the man’s identity in the station, even though Urvan carried no ID on him, Semyon called the medical responders. Gaspar went with Urvan to the emergency room and stayed.
He honestly wondered who this man was and how his brother knew him. Handing a coffee to Gaspar, Semyon asked, “So, how do you know Urvan?”
Stalling, Gaspar sipped the brew. Mike must have a reason for using an alias, but as of yet he had not received more information from Katerina nor had Mike been conscious long enough the few times he woke to discuss anything. He decided to go for vagueness now. “We partied together a long time ago.”
Semyon chuckled. “You let your hair down? I don’t believe you.”
Gaspar shrugged. “You were only a kid when I was in university. There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
“Like what?” Semyon leaned on the wall.
“Like I used to have hair and loved to party.” Changing the subject, he inquired, “Did you put Vasil and his cronies on ice?”
“Yes. It appears Vasil ordered four men to accompany him to prevent issues while apprehending a dangerous suspect and were dismissed once they reached the station. No further review of their actions was deemed necessary as technically a warrant existed for Timur Romanovich.
“Those involved in the interrogation, however, were put on administrative leave pending the outcome of the disciplinary hearing. I can’t believe they never bothered to ask his name or run his fingerprints to validate they detained the right person of interest. I don’t agree with his vigilante methods. We are police and must adhere to the laws, or we are no better than those we arrest. So, what did the doctor say about his condition?”
Gaspar leaned back, fatigued with having been up twenty-four hours now. “Mostly contusions, a mild concussion and a few stitches for the gash on his jaw. Luckily, no fractures and no obvious signs of internal bleeding.”
Yawning, Semyon said, “Well, I’m going to go home for some sleep. Later, I need your help in dealing with Kesar. I fear corruption is widespread with both Panin and Radoslav fleeing. I want to go about bringing him down properly. He might only be one of many and low man on the totem pole. I want to clean house and be rid of all corrupt officers. I don’t want to tip my hand yet, perhaps we can discuss strategy over dinner?”
“Sounds like a plan. Thanks.” He kicked off his shoes and lifted his feet to the bed, stretching out as best he could in the plastic chair. As he sipped his coffee, his mind recalled one wild party he and Mike attended together.
His brother truly didn’t know some the crazy-ass stunts he pulled or the trouble he got into as a young adult. Mike was fun to hang out with, but he owed his life to this man. The main reason he recognized him now, is Mike looked to be in much the same condition as the night his friend saved him from becoming road pizza.
Mike saved him even after he shaved Mike’s head. They both drank too much and then someone brought out a pair of clippers. Several guys held Mike down, and he did the honors of shearing his hair. If Mike’s piercing stare had been a real dagger, he would have been dead.
When the guys released Mike, he raced after him vowing to shave all the hair off his body and also cut his balls off in retaliation. Gaspar ran headlong into the street without caring about traffic, laughing his ass off as Mike tried to catch him. Too drunk to pay attention, Gaspar didn’t notice the semi hurtling toward him until too late. He froze as the headlights came straight for him.
Only Mike barreling into him,
knocking him out of the path of the truck saved his bacon. They hit the ground hard and rolled several times. Mike’s face took the brunt of the fall. The image of a bald and bruised Mike seared in his memory. He chuckled again remembering Mike’s grumbled words in the emergency room that long-ago night, “I wasn’t trying to save you. Death by semi would’ve been too easy. I’m gonna make your life hell for shaving my head.”
Hearing a chuckle, Mike blinked open his right eye, the left swollen shut. He recognized he was in a hospital … his aching body acknowledged the need as a jackhammer drilled into his head. It took a moment to focus, but he found an older, balding Gaspar to his left.
“How are you feeling?” Gaspar laid a hand on Mike’s shoulder.
“Like I got hit by a semi. Did someone with clippers finally catch you?”
Bursting out laughing, Gaspar rubbed his prematurely receding crown.
Mike chuckled too, but it hurt, and he wrapped his arms around his chest.
“I bet. Damn, you look the same … well, a bit worse than the night you saved my ass. Want some water?”
“Yeah.” Mike pushed the button to raise his head and accepted a plastic cup. His lip stung as the split reopened, but the water quenched his thirst.
Quietly, Gaspar said, “As far as my brother is concerned you are Urvan. Want to share with me where the hell you’ve been for sixteen years and why you are here using an alias?”
“Are you a cop?” Mike asked in return not offering any details.
“Why? Are you into something illegal?” Gaspar replied not answering.
“What are you doing in Makhachkala?” Mike countered.
“Could ask you the same.” Gaspar studied Mike, noting a steeliness and wariness in his eyes which had not existed in their youth. “Okay, I’ll give first. Yes. I am now a Colonel with the National Central Bureau of Interpol in Moscow. I’m here because Interpol received some interesting information I must investigate.”
“So, you turned out decent after all,” Mike said avoiding saying anything about himself.
Gaspar rolled his eyes and grinned. “I gave up drinking after our last party. The one where I shaved your head. Focused on my education. The near-death experience had a profound effect on me. What about you? You disappeared about six months later when you went to Makhachkala without me.”
“Gave up the wasteful life too.” Mike shifted on the bed, swinging his feet to the side. “Bathroom.”
“Need help?”
“No.” Mike winced as he stood and grabbed the back of the gown to cover his rear. His ribs ached, but at least they weren’t busted … that much he recalled from waking once when the doctor checked on him. He shuffled to the bathroom.
The glaring light showed him his reflection. Fairly messed up but he would heal. After using the facilities and washing his hands, he noticed a slip of paper on the floor. He bent, grimacing at the pull on sore muscles. After straightening up, he unfolded the sheet. His open eye widened as he read the contents. How the hell did this get here?
Returning to his bed, he managed to sit on the edge, getting all the way in seemed to be too much effort, he faced Gaspar, and held out the note. “Found this in the restroom. Why do you have this?”
Glancing at his brother’s case questions, Gaspar reached for the paper. “Not mine. Belongs to my brother, Semyon. Must have dropped out of my pocket earlier.”
The investigator’s name came plowing back into his mind, and Mike shook his head. “Your brother. What are the odds?”
Tapping the stationery, Gaspar said, “And what do you know of this. With your evasiveness to my simple questions, I’m getting the impression you might be involved somehow. I hope to hell you aren’t with these criminals. I would hate to arrest one of my friends.”
Mike stared at the only person he would still consider a friend from his wastrel days. They met as teens when Gaspar was a foreign exchange student staying with his family. They clicked and maintained their friendship until he ended up being sold by Savelievich. Back then, Mike needed to cut all ties … including the one with Gaspar, so he could start over.
“Thanks for your help last night, but there’s nothing to tell, only a case of mistaken identity. I’ll be leaving now.” Mike stood, and a wave of dizziness hit him causing him to sway and almost fall. A strong arm caught him and firmly pushed him down on the mattress.
“You’re not in any shape to be going anywhere yet. You suffered a concussion, and the doctor says you need to stay. Tell me what you did is not illegal and I’ll drop the subject for now.” Gaspar steadied his old friend.
The pounding headache caused Mike to grimace. He held Gaspar’s gaze for a long moment. Thinking became difficult as haziness returned. Mike decided retreat would be his only option. He could reveal nothing, though once upon a time he fully trusted Gaspar. Mike swayed his body and let himself go limp as if passing out.
Gaspar caught his friend awkwardly, holding his full weight as he yelled, “I need help in here.”
Two nurses rushed in and between the three they put Mike back into bed and covered him. One of the nurses left to contact the on-call doctor as the other took Mike’s vitals.
Standing near the window, Gaspar observed the medical staff work. Mike had not answered his questions, and that worried him. He trusted Mike like a brother in the past, but now he was unsure. When the doctor proclaimed his patient to be alright and only sleeping, Gaspar sat again and decided to grab a few winks too. He would question Mike later, after calling Katerina for a report on the latest details.
Mike lay quiet, feigning sleep, as he planned his escape. In his current condition, he wouldn’t make it far. He reviewed his situation and noted he was not handcuffed to the bed, which meant they had not connected him in any way to the events at the Cherry Club. His cover identity was clean too.
Kirillovich may be suspicious, but without solid evidence, Gaspar would unlikely take action. With that in mind, Mike elected to rest now. Later, when stronger, he would find an opportunity to exit unnoticed, make his way back to the plane, and contact Blaze. With any luck, the storm would blow over quick, and he could retrieve them without further issues. Mike relaxed and allowed sleep to overtake him.
Fathers and Sons
61
June 2
Minnow – Lower Deck – Midship Cabin – 1045 Hours
With the storm still brewing, the yacht pitched as the heavy winds buffeted its windward side, though the violence paled in comparison to the wild race into this more or less deserted haven. Blaze, having regained his sea legs, managed to make it to the cabin without spilling the contents of the mug.
Upon entering he noted Mason dragged in bedding from the forward, starboard, and port cabins to create a padded area on the floor amidships since the motion was less brutal here. Patch and Anastasia slept on the mattress on one side of the centered-berth, while Dan and Brody occupied the one on the other side.
Blaze plastered on a grin as he approached Blondie, the only one currently awake in the room. The kid sat with his back against a twin mattress in the corner created by the bulkhead and berth with his knees pulled to his chest, making himself compact as white-knuckled hands held fast to the railing and Brody’s hand. Brody lay slumped against Blondie’s side, his head resting on Blondie’s shoulder, lolling in time to the yacht’s movements.
Lowering himself to the padding, wedging himself near Blondie, Blaze leaned against the platform and pressed his boots to the hull. “Hey, kiddo, I brought you some broth.”
Dan shook his head unwilling to release a hold on either lifeline. “Not hungry.” His stomach took that moment to betray him, roaring and announcing his hunger.
Blaze chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Your stomach begs to differ.” He put the cup to Blondie’s lips as he said, “Let me do this. You must eat … too many days without food. You need strength to continue keeping Brody secured so he can rest without knocking about.”
Accepting the drink, savor
ing the beef broth as it went down, Dan realized how ravenousness he was and that Blaze recognized his absolute terror. “We both know I’m not holding Brody for that reason.”
Blaze arched a brow. “That’s what I see. All else is irrelevant. Drink.”
After taking another sip, Dan asked, “Where is Mason?”
“On overwatch. Don’t expect any visitors in this weather, but better to be safe than sorry. I’m glad Patch is resting quieter and Anastasia too. She kept us on track and found this sheltered cove. Glad she is here … I did some sailing as a teen with my dad, but nothing like this.”
Remembering the crackers in his pocket, Blaze pulled them out. “Mary Catherine sent these for you too. I suggest only a few at a time. With Patch incapacitated I don’t want you hurling again.” Blaze offered one to the kid, and he bit it in half and chewed slowly. His real reason for limiting the soda crackers was they were the only solid food onboard. The weather still too rough for them to explore the other two boats moored here.
Dan swallowed and drank more of the offered broth. “Did Mike check in yet?” He wanted off this boat and needed a distraction. Talking to Blaze beat humming to himself while Brody slept. He wished he could listen to Beauty but didn’t want to risk the music player becoming wet when they transferred to the plane, so Beauty stayed sealed in her waterproof packaging.
Sensing the fear increasing, Blaze lay one hand on Blondie’s knee. “No, but until things quiet down here, there isn’t much we can do.” He lifted the mug again, happy that Blondie continued to eat. The dark circles under Blondie’s eyes indicated he had not slept since waking last night. Not that any of them slept much during the trip here.
Between sips, Dan said, “We can’t leave Mike there. We need to find out what happened to him.”
Blaze nodded. “One problem at a time. Now drink some more.”
