by Tripp Ellis
As soon as we had cleared the door, a strong hand grabbed my arm and pushed me against the brick wall. The thugs frisked me and agent Archer. He found the pistol in my waistband and took it.
When he frisked Agent Archer, the goon made sure to get copious handfuls of her sumptuous assets.
"Watch it there, buddy!” she exclaimed.
He snickered, amused by her defiance.
That was the last thing I remembered. Someone cracked me in the back of the head with the grip of a pistol. Everything went black.
When I woke, the back of my head throbbed, and my knee and elbow were sore from hitting the pavement after I blacked out.
I don't know how long I was unconscious. I peeled open my eyes, taking in my surroundings. The gentle rocking told me I was on a boat. I lay on the deck with my hands tied behind my back with zip ties, and my ankles bound. My cheek rested against the cold decking.
I was in a small cabin. After a few attempts, I managed to stand and hop to the porthole. I was on the starboard side of the ship, and from this view, I couldn't see land. The running lights of the boat illuminated the small swells nearby. Beyond that was inky blackness.
A few minutes later, Baldy stormed into the compartment along with another man. His companion was a little shorter, and a little wider. Neither of them looked like they'd be fun to fight.
He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of the compartment. We were on a massive super-yacht. The thing must have been 160 feet long. It had three decks with a Jacuzzi on top. The main salon had a fully stocked bar, large screen TV, comfortable couches, and even a small pool table.
They brought me to the aft deck and sat me in a couch, not far from the swim platform.
The yacht was luxuriously appointed. The couch I sat on was made from supple Italian leather. Another goon stood at the transom, chumming the water. He dug out chunks of flesh from a slop bucket, filled with blood and meat.
I didn't like the looks of things.
Another man strolled out of the salon, holding a drink, with an unlit cigar in his hand. He wore a white T-shirt, white cargo shorts, and deck shoes. He looked like something out of a preppy catalogue, with the addition of a gold chain and several gold rings. He had a square jaw, steely blue eyes, and short blonde hair. I recognized him from Forbidden Fruit. Vladimir Kazakov.
The words came from his lips with a thick Russian accent. Can I get you something to drink?" Cigar, perhaps?"
"No, thank you."
"I'm leery of a man who turns down good liquor and fine Cuban cigars."
"I'm leery of a man who kidnaps people and takes them out to sea.”
"Then we are leery of each other. As it should be."
My eyes flicked from him to the man chumming the water.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vladimir Kazakov. I believe you have something that is of great importance to me."
“Looks like you already have everything. What could you possible want from me?”
“The data files the girl sent you."
“What data files?”
“Please don’t insult my intelligence.”
I figured there was no sense in bullshitting the man. “You've got my phone. You've got the data files."
"Those files contain some extremely incriminating information. If those fell into the hands of the authorities, it could bring down my entire empire. And that can’t happen."
"Well, seeing how you have everything you need, how about you let us go, and we call it even?"
It was worth a try.
He laughed again. "I'm afraid that's not possible. See, data in this day and age is very difficult to control. You think it's safe, then the next thing you know, it's everywhere."
I shrugged. "The convenience of the modern age."
"I need to know if you've made copies? And if anyone else has access?”
"No copies. You’ve got Ashley’s computer. You have my phone. That's it."
"What about your FBI friend? Does she have a copy? Has the data been disseminated to the Bureau?"
"No."
"What about your friend? The 80s has-been?"
"He can barely use email."
"I'd like to believe that. But I need to be sure. You see, I like my life here. I make a great deal of money, and as you can see, I live a life of luxury. But if the Feds have enough to put me away, I need to travel to greener pastures."
“I can assure you, you've acquired every copy of that data."
"I appreciate your cooperation. But I must be sure.”
“Why’d you kill Kingston?” I asked.
“You should know the answer to that by now.”
“I just want to hear it from you.”
“I suppose there is no harm in telling you. It’s not like you are going to live to tell anyone. He was stealing from me. And nobody steals from me.”
Two more goons dragged Ashley through the salon, into the cockpit.
She'd been beaten. Her face was blue and black and purple. The sclera of her left eye was now red from a broken blood vessel. Her lip was split, and her hair was frazzled. She shivered and sobbed, and her face distorted with terror.
My body tensed and I struggled against the zip ties. I hated to see her like that. It was cruel and unnecessary.
Vladimir lit his cigar and puffed on it until the cherry glowed red. He exhaled a plume of smoke.
"I could torture you," Vladimir said to me. "But I think it would be far more effective if I tortured her and made you watch."
31
Vladimir took a heavy drag on his cigar, glowing the cherry red. I worried that he was going to burn Ashley with it, searing her flesh.
I had been captured and interrogated by enemy forces before. I knew I could withstand a high degree of pain, but I wasn't sure I could sit back and watch a young girl tortured for no reason.
Vladimir already had the truth. I had given him everything. There were no more copies of the data. There was nothing that could incriminate him, or his organization.
I struggled against my bonds, but I wasn't making any headway. It was possible to snap a zip tie if it was tight around your wrist. All you needed to do was slam it against your hip, and the cheap plastic would snap. But it didn't come without a price. It would hurt like hell, and the plastic would gouge your wrists. But it was a small price to pay for freedom.
Sitting on the couch with my hands behind my back, I wasn't in the best position to attempt the maneuver. If I did snap it, Vladimir's goons would be on top of me in no time. And I still had the zip tie around my ankles to contend with.
Unfortunately, Vladimir had something much worse than cigar burns planned for Ashley.
Vladimir motioned for one of his goons to come over. The man held a pair of wire cutters. Two other goons held Ashley steady, while the third slipped the blades of the wire cutters around her pinky finger.
She bucked and convulsed and screamed, trying to free herself. But it was no use against men three times her size. Tears streamed from her cheeks, and the most horrible sound escaped her lungs.
"I'm going to ask you one more time. Are there any other copies?" Vladimir asked.
My face was red, and the veins in my neck bulged. My whole body tensed. Through gritted teeth I growled, "I told you. You have everything."
"You can't be too thorough in my line of work." He nodded to one of the goons. The man squeezed the wire cutters, and a loud snap filled the air as the jaws clamped tight, severing Ashley's pinky finger.
It's fell to the deck with a splat.
Red blood spurted from the stump. Ashley screamed bloody murder. Projectile tears launched from her eyes.
"Are you sure I have all the data?" Vladimir asked me again.
"You son-of-a-bitch!”
Vladimir chuckled. He nodded to his goons again.
The wire cutters clamped tight around Ashley's ring finger.
Snap!
Another finger hit the deck.
Another agonizin
g whale billowed from her lips.
"So, you are saying I have nothing to worry about?" Vladimir asked.
"You have everything,” I shouted. “Let her go!"
Vladimir studied me for a moment. "I believe you. And I will let her go."
He nodded to his goons again, and they dragged Ashley toward the stern.
Vladimir flipped a switch, and lights underneath the water line illuminated the sea by the swim platform. Bull sharks swarmed the area like angry hornets. The water had been well chummed by now, and their appetites were insatiable.
My eyes widened with horror. I had seen a lot of despicable things in my life, but this ranked among the worst. "No. Don't do it, Vladimir!”
"You are all going to die one way or another. I find this way to be more entertaining."
Without hesitation, his goons pushed the gorgeous redhead into the water. Her screams were doused when she crashed into the sea. She flailed about on the surface kicking and screaming, which only made things worse.
To the sharks, Ashley looked like any other meal. They were the vacuum cleaners of the sea, getting rid of the weak and wounded, the dead and dying. Flailing about on the surface was the worst thing you could do.
Within seconds, the hungry sharks attacked, turning the water red. The water splashed and sloshed as the hordes of sharks swarmed to take a chunk of flesh.
My stomach twisted, and a sour acidic taste of bile crept into the back of my throat. I'd seen my buddies on the battlefield hold in their guts with their hands. It was gruesome and grisly. But watching this young girl die in such a vicious way hit me like nothing I'd ever felt before. It was like someone had punched me in the gut, then pulled my heart out. I didn't know her well, but that didn't make it any less heartbreaking.
I was so mad, my eyes welled, my throat tightened, and I was sure I was frothing at the mouth. "I swear to God, I'm going to kill you."
As far as Vladimir was concerned, it was an empty threat. He knew I was the next one going into the water. "Get the FBI agent,” he grumbled to a goon. Then he addressed me, "I'm going to ask you one last time. Is there another copy of those data files floating around on the Internet somewhere?"
I glared at him.
"Tell me the truth, and I will make it painless. I will put a bullet in your skull before I toss you in the water with those sharks."
32
I watched the sharks swirl around in the water as I stood at the edge of the swim platform. A goon had his meaty hand around my bicep, ready to shove me into the water.
I exchanged a concerned glance with Agent Archer who stood next to me, facing the same fate.
The remains of Ashley's body were unrecognizable, picked to the bone amid the white-capped frenzy of sharks.
We were next!
“Thank you so much for your cooperation," Vladimir said.
"Anytime," I replied with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
“Magnificent creatures, aren’t they,” Vladimir said. “Pure of purpose. Remorseless. Elegant.”
“Deadly,” I added.
“And fortunately the waters around Shark Cove are teeming with them.”
He gave the nod, and his goons shoved us into the water.
I leapt off the platform, springing into the air as high as I could. I wanted to give myself an extra second of hang time. With my hands still restrained behind my back, I extended my arms as far as I could, then slammed them against my hips, snapping the zip-tie. The sharp plastic edges dug into my wrists. It hurt like hell, but at least my hands were free.
We plunged into the water, and Archer sank, unable to tread.
I saw gray and white and razor sharp teeth.
A shark bumped into me.
Then another.
It was an aggressive move. An exploratory action before the real attack. It was common for sharks to do a bump and bite. The outcome was not usually good for the intended target.
I saw another flash of fangs as a shark charged toward me. I punched the toothy bastard in the nose, sending it twisting away.
My heart pounded, and I could hear the thrashing sharks in the water. I reached into the pocket of my cargo shorts and pulled out my pocket knife.
Sharks swirled around me, not yet striking.
A few more bumps.
I extended the blade and cut through the zip-tie around my ankles. I clenched the knife between my teeth and swam to Archer. My hand grabbed her arm, and I pulled her deeper underwater.
Sharks typically feed around the surface. I pulled Archer underneath the boat, away from the swirling horde of flesh grinders. I cut her wrists and ankles free and continued swimming toward the bow.
My arms pulled me through the water, and my legs kicked frantically. My lungs burned, desperately needing oxygen. With my background, I was a much better swimmer than Archer, and I imagined that her lungs must have been on fire.
We had moved away from the frenzied pack. But a loan shark bumped Archer. It circled around, lowered its fin, then arched it spine. Its jaws opened and its serrated teeth sent chills down my spine.
It decided to sample Archer’s leg.
Blood poured into the water as its teeth penetrated Archer’s flesh.
I stabbed the monster in the eye with my knife.
The beast released its grip and spun around, swimming away, leaving a trail of blood.
Bubbles escaped from Archer’s lips as she screamed underwater.
Her gaping puncture wound oozed blood, but fortunately the shark didn’t take a fleshy chunk from her leg. He bit down, then released the moment I stabbed him in the eye.
We surfaced quietly near the bow, and I sucked in a huge breath of air. Archer fought back a scream.
Vladimir yelled at his goons, trying to figure out where we had disappeared to. He wasn’t sure if we had been devoured.
I peeled off my T-shirt and cut it down the middle to add some length. Then I dove underwater, and tied it around the wound so Archer wouldn’t bleed out.
I surfaced again. “Slow, steady breaths. Don’t go into shock.”
Archer’s eyes were wide, and fear consumed her. The scent of blood was only going to attract more sharks. I kept a vigilant watch in the water, looking for predators.
The footsteps of goons stomping across the deck echoed through the night air. They looked over the gunwale, scanning the water.
We hugged the hull and moved forward to the anchor pocket. With the curve of the hull, it was difficult to see our position from above.
There were no lights in this position, and the sea looked like black ink. There was no telling how many sharks were out there, lurking in the darkness.
Archer needed immediate medical attention.
Vladimir and his goons scanned the water for signs of our demise.
The shark that I had stabbed in the eye drew the attention of his comrades. There was more blood and chaos in the water, and I think the other sharks attacked.
Vladimir assumed we had perished. After a few minutes, the massive chain rattled as the winch hoisted the anchor.
It didn’t really matter whether the sharks got us. We were in the middle of the ocean. We were as good as dead. It was only a matter of time.
The ship’s engines rumbled, and the yacht began to plow forward.
I took a deep breath, and Archer did the same. We dove underwater and pushed off the hull. I pulled myself through the inky blackness, swimming as far away from the yacht as possible. I stayed on pace with Archer who was doing her best despite the handicap.
I surfaced when she needed to come up for air. We took another breath, and plunged back under. By the second time we surfaced, we were far enough away not to be seen. The Aquaholic sailed away into the night, leaving a wake of white water in its path.
There were hundreds of sharks out there, Archer was bleeding, and we were alone in the water.
33
After a few moments, my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Archer and I treaded water. I'd be lying if I s
aid I wasn't concerned.
I scanned the horizon, trying to get my bearings. Vladimir had mentioned Shark Cove, which wasn’t far from Starfish Key Island—at least, by boat.
It was a clear night, and the stars flickered in the heavens. You could see the hazy band that made the Milky Way—something that wasn't visible from the city. I glanced at the night sky, scanning the stars for orientation. Once I had figured out which direction north was, I looked for landmasses.
I didn’t see any.
I knew Starfish Key had to be somewhere close by. Within a mile or two. Not an impossible swim, but not easy, especially under the circumstances.
Archer looked terrified. Her teeth chattered, and she shivered.
“We’re going to be okay,” I assured her.
“She didn’t look too convinced.
“Starfish Key Island is not far in that direction,” I said with confidence. I figured the more I believed we had a chance to succeed, the more she would too.
Archer was barely holding it together.
“We need to move at a steady pace and not attract attention. The more you look like a dying fish, the more appetizing you’ll be.”
Archer was dazed and numb.
We swam north. Thankfully, the water was relatively calm. But swimming at sea can be orders of magnitude more challenging than swimming in an Olympic size lap pool.
Fear and adrenaline made for good fuel. This was easy for me. My military background had prepared me well for long distance swims. The warm water off the Florida coast was nothing compared to the special ops I had pulled in frigid water where hypothermia could set in quickly.
It was tough on Archer.
She was a capable swimmer, but hadn’t been trained for this kind of thing. Her arms turned to rubber quickly, and a few mouthfuls of saltwater made her feel like she was damn near drowning. The blood loss didn’t help. She began to struggle around a thousand meters.
I paused for a moment, letting her catch her breath. There was still no sign of land. For all I knew, we were swimming away from shore.
