by Cap Daniels
“I will love everything with you, my Chase.”
4
Passing Storm
For the first time, Anya and I tried cooking together, and it was an unmitigated disaster. Every time she’d reach for anything, I was in her way. Every time I started to add a spice, she’d veto the addition. Frustration built until I finally put my psychology degree to work.
“You know,” I said, “I’m a terrible cook, but I’m a great bartender. Why don’t you finish up with this? I’ll make us a couple drinks, and I have a few things to do on deck as well. There’s a storm coming tonight, and we don’t want to lose anything when the wind picks up.”
“Is best idea you have, Chase. Besides, is for woman to cook in America, yes?”
“No, Anya. Maybe some people believe that, but certainly not me. I want us to do things together. Nothing is your job or my job. There will be things each of us does better than the other, but we’re still a team . . . always.”
“I am better at more things, I think. Now make drink for me, sailing teacher.”
I stuck one finger behind the waistband of her shorts and pulled her to me. “As you wish, my princess.”
I left the galley and set about securing everything on deck and stowing anything I couldn’t secure. As an additional precaution, I let out a few more feet of anchor chain in case the storm was worse than forecast. I’d learned it’s always better to be prepared for the worst.
As agreed, I made drinks and she finished making dinner.
“What is this?” I asked. “It’s delicious.”
She poked at a small cube of braised beef on her plate. “I do not know. I cook what we have, and it taste good, yes? You will buy for me American cooking book.”
I liked how her questions often sounded like statements.
“I will buy for you whatever you want.”
“I do not want things, Chase. I never have childhood. I only know working, and now maybe you will give to me fun and not work . . . and maybe American cooking book.”
“Definitely an American cooking book,” I said.
* * *
I cleaned the galley and double-checked that the boat was ready for the coming storm. Satisfied we could weather anything short of a hurricane, I decided to have a more thorough tour of my new boat. My first foray into the portside hull surprised and pleased me. The aft cabin had been converted into a well-equipped workshop, while the forward cabin and head remained a comfortable living space. I couldn’t have been happier with my new home.
As I started down the starboard side stairs, I found Anya standing in front of a full-length mirror, turning her hips to look at herself. She was tracing a faint, newly formed tan line where the hem of her shorts had been. I sat on the stairs, admiring her.
She caught me watching and grinned. “Sun is making my skin brown, but only where I do not have clothes. I think I will not wear clothes in sun so I will be same color everywhere.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea. Now I’m going to shower. I’d like to get an early start after the storm passes so we can make St. Augustine before dark. I want to make Jekyll Island in forty-eight hours.”
She tilted her head. “I will be in bed when you finish shower.” As we slid past each other in the narrow walkway, she purposely pressed her body into mine.
* * *
I climbed onto the bed after my shower, and she sat between my legs as I brushed her long hair.
“I remember when I was child and mother would brush my hair. I am sad for her. Papa loved her like you love me, Chase. You are kind man, and I think Papa is same. If bastard not kill her . . . I so hate him . . . if he not kill my mother, Papa would love her and brush her hair like this.”
I laid the brush beside the bed and pulled her backward against my body. “I’m sorry, Anya. I know you miss your mother, and I wish I could bring her back for you and Dr. Richter. I think you’re right. I’m sure he loved her very much and misses her like you do, but maybe having you in his life will ease some of his sorrow. No one can replace your mother, but I promise to give you the best life I can, and we’ll spend as much time as you want with your father.”
“I love you, Chase.”
“I love you, too, Anya.”
* * *
The storm rolled in and the wind howled. The rain poured down in sheets, making it impossible to sleep. I climbed the stairs into the main salon and turned on the deck lights. From there, I could see every inch of the boat through the windows. Everything was in place, and the rain was washing the decks. I checked the radar to find heavy rain in all directions, but it was moving quickly to the northeast and would be over in a few hours.
A sleepy Anya peered up the stairs. “Everything is okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine. The storm should be over in a few hours. I’ll be back down in a minute.”
Anya lay on the stairs and crossed her arms on the top step. She rested her chin on her hands, barely able to keep her eyes open. “I will wait with you.”
I finished my work and lifted Anya from the stairs. She sighed as she draped her arms around my neck, and I carried her to the bed. I slid in behind her, joining her in sleep.
When the rain stopped, I woke and checked my watch to see that it was a few minutes past three a.m. I turned to make sure Anya was still sleeping, but she wasn’t there. I rolled over and peeked through the hatch, thinking she may have made a late-night trek to the head. She wasn’t there either.
I crawled from the bed and called to her. “Anya? Where are you?”
“I am in kitchen, and I have idea. Come, come.”
“A kitchen on a boat is called a galley. And why are you up so early?” I put one foot in front of the other, struggling to find my way out of deep sleep and up the stairs.
“Look. I have plan.”
I rubbed my eyes and stared at the navigation station and chart plotter. There were calculations and notes written everywhere. Some were in English, some were in Russian, and some were in a crazy combination of the two.
“What’s all this?” I asked.
“Is plan, Chase. I do figures, and is two hundred fifty miles to your Jekyll Island, and wind is strong behind storm. If we go now, I think we can do average eight knots. Even in darkness, yes?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Maybe a little better than eight knots, but that’s probably pretty close.”
“Okay, if eight knots, we arrive at your Jekyll Island in thirty-one hours. I can now sail while you sleep. Thirty-one hours is short time for not sleeping for me, but I know you need sleep.” She winked at me. “You are weaker.”
“It’s your plan,” I said, “so you make it happen. I’m only here to keep you from sinking another one of my boats.”
Anya gave me a stern Russian glare. “You demand I use English articles when I speak, so I demand you use correct pronoun when you speak. Is our boat, not your boat.”
“Forgive me, my princess. I shall not make the same mistake again.”
“Good,” she huffed.
She started the engines, brought up the lights, and weighed the anchor. Just as I’d taught her, she carefully maneuvered the boat from the anchorage as if she’d been behind the wheel of a boat for years.
I leaned over her left shoulder and turned the radar on so she could see the other boats in the anchorage, as well as the buoys leading us through the channel. Entering or leaving an unfamiliar harbor or anchorage in the dark is a terrible idea, but Anya’s timeline made sense, so the risk of running aground would’ve been worth the benefit of getting underway.
“You’re doing great,” I said, “but there’s something you have to consider when we leave the inlet.”
Anya listened closely.
“When we leave the inlet, the current will be flowing from the south and the wind is out of the north. The current will turn us to the north and the sea is going to be choppy. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Boat will try to go to left, and I must keep in channel between ro
cks and buoys.”
“Exactly,” I said. “All you have to do is stay to the right and be ready for the boat to pull left. When she does, use all the control inputs you need to keep her in the channel. We don’t want to be aground in a falling tide. We’d be stuck for a long time until the tide came back in.”
As we exited the inlet, clear of the jetties, the bow of the boat pulled violently to port.
Anya responded quickly, keeping us centered in the channel. “Is stronger than I expected, but I did it, yes?”
“You certainly did. Now keep her between the red and green buoys for another couple of miles, and we’ll be in deep water with plenty of wind.”
In a show of confidence, I left the cockpit and returned to the galley to make more coffee. I occasionally peeked through the windows to make sure she was still in the channel. At every peek, she was doing exactly what I would’ve done at the helm.
We passed the buoy marking the end of the Fort Pierce Inlet, and she turned the boat to the northeast. Leaving the engines running, she unfurled the genoa and let it fill with the crisp wind. Once the sail was correctly trimmed, she idled the engines and shut them down.
“Look at you, sailor girl,” I said, coming through the door into the cockpit. “Here’s a fresh cup of coffee for you, Captain Burinkova. You did a fine job, but you forgot one little detail.”
She took the mug and nonchalantly flipped off the spotlights and steaming light.
I pulled out a pair of water-activated life jackets from a locker and handed one to her. “I’ve always thought it was a good idea to wear a life jacket at night. If one of us goes overboard, we’d be hard to find in the dark.”
“You are good teacher, Chase.”
“You’re a good student,” I said as I clinked my coffee cup with hers.
“What will we do at your Jekyll Island?”
“We’re going to meet some friends who’ll have some things we’re going to need. I called the bank in Grand Cayman and had them overnight a pair of credit cards and wire some cash. We’re going to need a little money. You have some shopping to do. I can’t be seen running around with a woman in a dirty old t-shirt and pants that don’t fit.”
She pulled at her oversized attire. “I will be wearing nothing when sun comes up.”
* * *
We arrived at the sea buoy in the mouth of the Brunswick Harbor–St. Simon Range as the sun was coming up the second day. Anya’s calculations proved to be spot-on. We entered the busy channel, and there were cargo ships, shrimp boats, and fishing vessels of every shape and size. With that amount of ship traffic, she chose to relinquish the controls to me.
We motored up the channel, dodging other boats until we arrived at the wooden dock near the Jekyll Island Club. The dock was exactly as I remembered it from the first time I’d seen it. That was the day I stepped off the deck of Aegis, before she was my boat, and into another life—a life that turned me into a weapon, gave me a window into a world I never knew existed, and led me to Anya, the gorgeous former Russian spy who had trouble keeping her clothes on each time the sun came up.
With fenders deployed, Anya leapt onto the dock and tied us securely in place. I shut down the engines and slipped the keys into my pocket. I stepped from the boat and found Anya talking with a young man in a golf shirt. Once he saw me, he abandoned his conversation with Anya and reached for my hand.
“Mr. Fulton,” he said, “I’m Clark Johnson. We’ve been expecting you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I shook his hand. “Who’s we?”
“Sir?” The man was obviously confused.
Having learned to be cautious about how much I revealed, I thought it might be a good idea to keep the guy on his toes. “You said, ‘We’ve been expecting you.’ Who’s we?”
“Well,” he said, seeming somewhat flustered, “I actually meant the royal we. Dr. Richter sends his best.”
I was still skeptical, but Anya leapt at the sound of her father’s name.
“You know Papa? He is okay, yes?”
Clark gauged my reaction and then turned back to Anya. “He’s going to be fine. He’s in good hands with Dr. Cribb.”
“Okay, Clark,” I said. “What do you have for us?”
“I have no idea. I’ve got two locked cases and a golf cart. That’s all I know. I’m just the courier.”
That sounded more believable, so I let down my guard a little. “Now we’re getting somewhere, Clark. Let’s see this golf cart of yours and take a look at those cases.”
He nodded toward the end of the dock and led us to the waiting golf cart. We climbed in and headed for the Jekyll Island Club.
“So, Clark, what room are you in?”
“I’m in one-oh-four.”
“Great.” I patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll drop you off on the back side near the bar. One-oh-four is a couple doors down from there. I’ll have a bellman come by and grab those cases and bring them up to our room.”
“Perfect. I’ll be waiting.”
I dropped him where I’d promised and watched him walk through the old wooden door. I kept my eyes on him as I saw him turn to the left and toward the room he’d named.
Clark never looked back, which is exactly what I would’ve done if I believed I was being watched.
5
Cloak and Dagger
Anya and I drove around to the front of the club and walked into the massive, ornate lobby.
“Good morning. I’m Chase Fulton. I think you have a couple packages for me,” I told the young woman behind the desk.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Fulton. I do have some things for you.”
She placed a sealed manila envelope, bearing overnight postage from Georgetown, Grand Cayman, on the counter, and produced a small slip of paper for me to sign. “I’ll need your signature for this one,” she said.
I signed the paper and slid it back across the desk.
“Thank you, sir, but I also need to see your ID before I can release the package and the remainder of what I have for you.”
“Of course.” I patted my pants as if I were looking for my wallet, which was with my boat, several hundred feet under water. “I think I must’ve left my wallet in our friend’s room. Would you mind ringing Mr. Clark Johnson’s room and letting him know I’ll be coming by to grab my things?”
I watched as she made a few keystrokes on her keyboard and then dialed one-zero-four on her telephone.
“Mr. Johnson, this is Stephanie at the front desk. I’m here with your friend, Mr. Fulton. He says he’ll be on his way to pick up his things from your room.”
“Thank you,” she said, and hung up.
Convinced Clark was who and where he claimed to be, I strolled down the hallway to room one-oh-four and knocked twice. I saw a shadow pass over the peephole before hearing the locks click. The door swung inward, and a cautious peek around the doorframe allowed me to see Clark, hands visible, stepping back from the door to give me room to come inside.
“Thanks again, Clark. I’m sorry for all the cloak-and-dagger, but I needed to know you are who you claim to be.”
“No problem,” he said. “I did my time at The Ranch, too, so I know the game.”
“Oh, you did? Is that little round guy they called Gunny still in charge of the tactical training?”
He cocked his head, squinted his right eye, and had a moment of obvious recognition. “Nice try, Chase. Gunny is six feet tall with one percent body fat, and he’ll be in charge of tactical training until he dies. Maybe longer.”
I reached out to shake his hand. “Okay, Clark. No more tests.”
We relaxed for the first time since we’d met.
I said, “On my first day at The Ranch, that guy kicked the shit out of me and knocked me out cold against the concrete wall of the cave he calls an office.” I remembered how my body ached for days after that encounter.
“He’s quite the people person, isn’t he?” Clark pointed into the room. “Your cases are on the dresser b
eside the TV. I hope it’s everything you need.”
The cases were stainless steel with six-digit combination locks. I dialed in the first and last three digits of the serial number of my Walther PPK, and the locks popped open, just as I knew they would.
Clark laughed. “I’m glad to see you knew the combo. No one told me, so I wasn’t going to be any help.”
I ignored him as I pilfered through the cases until I found what I’d been looking for—a leather wallet that looked like it could’ve been in my hip pocket for years. “Good ol’ Rocket never lets me down.”
Clark looked at me as if I were speaking Mandarin, clearly unaware that Rocket was Dr. Richter.
“Thanks, Clark,” I said, pocketing the wallet and closing the cases. “Are you all set? Is there anything you need from me? A lift somewhere?”
“No, but thanks, Chase. I’m in the King Air out at the airport. I’ll be heading back to Virginia in a day or two. I need a couple days off, and Jekyll Island is as good a place as any to get some rest.”
I made my way back to the lobby and handed my newly minted, but purposely worn driver’s license to Stephanie. She promptly handed it back and slid over the envelope with my name printed across the seal. She held up one finger, indicating that I should wait a minute, then picked up the phone and dialed some numbers. I wasn’t quick enough to see what they were.
“Jack, Mr. Fulton is here,” she said into the phone. “Would you please come open the safe?”
Jack, who I assumed to be the shift manager, came through a two-hundred-year-old door, pulling on his suit coat and sticking out his hand.
“Mr. Fulton. I’m Jack Ford, the operations manager here at the Jekyll Island Club. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I shook his hand, returning the courtesy.
He walked back around the counter. “I’ll have your package for you in just a moment.” He knelt, spun the dial on the aged iron safe, and pulled the door open. He extracted five stacks of bank-banded hundred-dollar bills and placed them on the counter. “There you are, Mr. Fulton. Fifty thousand dollars wired from your bank yesterday morning.”
