by D S Kane
Rogov shouted more orders to his crew as the sub continued out of the harbor.
It was way too easy. Shimmel waited for depth charges or artillery shells. But there were no explosions. Then he realized something more problematic might be occurring. He tapped the captain’s shoulder. “Is the sub equipped with GPS? Is there any other kind of locator device on board?”
Rogov nodded. “Of course. Mafiya has all subs equipped with state-of-the-art locator technology. Even ancient submarines.” He smiled.
Shimmel shook his head. “Disable them all immediately. And tell the other sub captain to do the same!”
* * *
Thirty-six hours had passed since Cassie asked Shimmel to steal the submarines. Nine hours since she last spoke to him. She sat on the floor of the suite, her back propped against one of the bullet-pocked couches. Her thirty mercenaries had been booked into other rooms on the tenth floor of the Nippon Tower, creating a gauntlet for any hitters to cross, but the thirty had dwindled to twenty-seven. Three were seriously wounded by fragmentation grenades thrown from the elevators. The hitters took the elevators to the tenth floor, waited for the doors to open and then threw the grenades down the hallway, pressing the elevator’s Door Close button in the elevator as fast as they could to take them back to safety in the lobby, where they would load up another batch of grenades. None of the grenades was thrown far enough to reach either of the suites, but Cassie knew that sooner or later the hitters would find a grenade launcher or a bazooka and her trouble would worsen.
Her cell phone vibrated and she accepted the call. “Sashakovich here.”
“It’s Shimmel. We’re in the Sea of Japan, heading toward you at eighteen knots per hour. Since we have about five thousand miles to go, expect us in 12 days. We lost no one, and I promised the sub crews that you’d have permanent work for them and base them out of the United States. They almost cheered.” He paused for a few seconds. “Uh, Sashakovich, what’s your status?”
“Not good. We lost three today. Even if it doesn’t get worse, we’ll never last that long. Any suggestions?”
She listened to silence from Shimmel as he thought. She knew he realized he might arrive too late but there was no way to solve the problem.
She was too exhausted to even cry. Cassie said nothing else. What else was there to say?
CHAPTER 28
October 31, 1:03 p.m.
Hyatt Muscat, on the Shatti Al Qurm,
Muscat, Oman
Wing and his team of mercenaries scoured Seeb International Airport to no avail. They couldn’t find Watson and he hadn’t used his cell phone for over two days.
The Defense Department’s research group, DARPA , had a collection of what was arguably the most sophisticated hacking tools Wing had ever stolen and used. But Watson’s phone wasn’t equipped with GPS. Worse, Wing guessed that Watson had either turned off the cell or destroyed it, so Wing couldn’t use his hacked entry to the DARPA website to triangulate Watson’s position using cell towers.
Wing hacked all the cell phone providers searching for the one that supplied him the phone number, because the holder’s name certainly wouldn’t be “Watson.” When he triangulated the cell towers for the provider at the time of the last call, he discovered Watson’s last known location using them.
But all he knew was where his quarry was two days ago. Now Wing was reduced to sitting in his room at the Grand Hyatt Muscat, on the Shatti Al Qurm and waiting.
Wing had never visited Muscat before. He’d read about it on the plane ride there. A big city with over 650,000 residents, Muscat was too big for a small team of mercs to search.
Once again the mercenaries had made Wing’s room their playroom, playing strip poker for hours at a time. When the mercs vanished periodically, Sylvia entertained herself with him as if he was her private love toy. As Wing thought about it, that’s exactly what he’d become.
But after being fucked by her twice a day for the last three days, he found that now, he thirsted for more of her. All the time. William hadn’t expected to want her at all, but he didn’t just want her, he expected her. With Betsy the Butterfly so far away in Woodbine, Iowa, he needed Sylvia. He enjoyed being treated as her private possession.
At least when they want to fuck, the mercs go to their own rooms, he thought. And that happens at least twice every day. It’s Sylvia’s signal to grope me. But, I’m stuck here. Can’t leave until we know where Watson is.
Wing forced himself to work, ignoring the mercs playing cards in his room. They were gathered around the table once again.
Gretchen was naked, not a stitch on her. She rose from her seat, yawned, flaunting her rail-thin body and shook her tiny breasts, saying, “I need a break. We’ve been here for over three hours. Let’s leave now and we can reassemble in, say, an hour. Okay?” She sat back down to wait for their answer.
Gretchen was taller than William by at least six inches. They were all taller than him. Sylvia, the shortest, was almost four inches taller than him, leaving his face at just the perfect height to suck her nipples during sex, and he recalled now how that triggered her to fast climax. But Sylvia’s face wasn’t as attractive as Gretchen’s. He sighed. Beggars can’t be choosers.
There was still no cell signal for Wing to backtrace. In frustration, his eyes shifted focus from the computer screen to the mercs. No one was fully clothed. Gretchen sat back down, waiting. She held her cards with one hand, her other hand playing with Horst’s pubic hair. Horst slowly moved the fingers of his free hand into her crotch, a quid pro quo.
Horst had won Gretchen’s underclothes. Gretchen’s panties were ruined, stretched past the point of recovery. Sylvia was once again naked from the waist down. Jillian had lost only her blouse, and sat next to Alphonso, who had no clothing left to lose.
William couldn’t help staring at Alphonso’s penis. It seemed larger every time he saw it, and now appeared to him to be larger than a salami sausage. Jillian had her hand trapped in his genital hair and when she lost the hand to him, she pulled hard on his penis.
“Ouch, you bitch,” said Alphonso.
“I, too, need a break,” Jillian said. She got up and moved toward the door, still gripping Alphonso’s penis. In self-defense, he rose from his seat. She tossed him his pants. “C’mon.”
They all dressed and walked to the door of the room. In moments all were gone except Sylvia. She stood over him. “It is time, no?” She pulled his tee-shirt off and bent over to lick his nipples.
Wing searched the screen for signs of something he could backtrace. “Wait just a minute. I’m in the middle of something. Just let me—” But she spread her lips over his uncooperative mouth. In less than a second her tongue was deep within. She tasted of the butter and garlic popcorn the mercs had been eating when they played poker. When she stopped to come up for air, William admitted defeat. He reached behind her shoulders and opened the hooks on her bra. Cassie’s life was at stake, but in order for him to complete his work for her, he’d first have to labor on Sylvia. Real toil would have to wait.
Sylvia picked him up off his chair at the desk and lifted his body as if he was a doll. She carried him to the bed, placed his head on the pillow and smiled, “Now, Wheelyam. I am ready and I want you.” Her grin was predatory. “Right now.”
As she climbed onto the bed, her expression changed to that of a shark with a trapped swimmer. She moved slow and deliberate. Placed her long legs on either side of his hips and eased herself onto him. “Now, please me, and I wheel please you.” She ran her tongue over her lips as she forced her crotch on his. Before she even drove him all the way into her, she began to whimper. William went from being erect to being overwhelmingly aroused. As she slowly lifted her body off his and then plunged herself back onto him, he could no longer stop himself and felt his penis throbbing in response. His vision began to stipple as he crested into ejaculation. He tried to hold back. He wondered what would happen if he finished before she’d even climaxed once.
&nbs
p; His cell began to chirp and he almost jumped at the sound. But, losing focus, he felt himself exploding into her. She glared into his eyes.
He shrugged. “I have to find out who called. It might be Shimmel or Cassie.”
Sylvia’s face grimaced with extreme disappointment. “Sheet!” She removed his drenched limp penis and then grabbed it with her hand. “Wheelyam, you dis me.” She leaned over and placed it into her mouth, sucking and licking it with patience until he was once again erect. “This time, do not disappoint.” She wasn’t smiling. He nodded, worrying. The cell stopped chirping.
She pushed him back inside her, and began to rock herself back and forth, pressing her clitoris against his penis without moving up and down on him. William gulped, but hoped that he wouldn’t climax again if she didn’t ride him hard. He relaxed, but the relaxation let his body respond fully.
The notebook computer beeped repeatedly. William had discovered Phillip Watson’s location. Before he even realized what was happening, he ejaculated. “Sorry. Maybe this isn’t a good time.”
Sylvia’s face showed anger and she spit out the words. “You worthless piece of, ARGGHHH.” She slapped his face, and then sighed. “You must use your lips and tongue to finish me.” She peeled off him and rolled onto her back. William nodded and pushed his face up against her crotch. She was sopping and emitted the odor of ripe cheese. He gulped and brought his tongue into contact with her clitoris, a larger nub than any he’d ever seen. She brought her legs around his neck and pushed his head closer. William responded, doing as she’d directed. She kept him there for a half hour of climaxes. He counted six of them and then lost count with one that went on for almost thirty seconds.
After he’d satisfied Sylvia they both showered and dressed. In the fifteen minutes while they waited for the mercs to reassemble, he inspected the screen and verified Watson’s location. He prayed Watson hadn’t moved from his last location.
He called Cassie with the news. Wing said, “Cassie, I have a fix on him. He’s still in Oman, in Muscat, at Al Bustan Palace InterContinental near the souk at Muttrah. Quite a long distance from Seeb. And he’s got a new smartphone, which we traced. We haven’t eaten yet today, so we’re going out for a quick meal and then we’ll get him.”
Sylvia answered the knock at William’s door, and let the other mercs back into the room, all dressed for dinner at The Tuscany restaurant.
Cassie’s anger and impatience blasted through the speaker of his cell phone. “A meal? No, William. You get him first. That’s your mission. Call me back when you have him.” William could hear the sounds of battle from Cassie’s end of the phone conversation. Then the connection terminated.
He realized she was right. What was he thinking? He turned to the mercenaries. “Let’s get Watson now and deal with him before we have dinner.” They all smiled back at him, their faces split in predatory smiles.
* * *
Ann and Charles sat at a table in the school cafeteria. They held hands. The first time he’d covered her hand with his, she jumped slightly at the implications, but that was a few days ago. Now it seemed natural and she welcomed this intimacy. She looked at her wristwatch. “Big C, I gotta go. Lee will wonder where I am. There’s a bodyguard outside in an SUV having conniptions right now.”
“Okay. Lemme come with you. My parents don’t get home from work for at least two hours.”
Her face went slack as she ran his request for problems. And found just one. A big one. “You want to do it with me, don’t you? That’s what this is about?”
“No! Well, maybe yes. But I like you. We’re good friends, aren’t we? So, let’s go to your place. But, I promise this time I won’t do anything.”
She wondered if he could keep his word. But more important, could she have him there and not want him? “Okay, but no sex.” She closed her English text and loaded it into her backpack. They got up together. And walked from the cafeteria.
Together.
The bodyguard in Lee’s black Ford Escape hybrid nodded and closed his cell phone. No call to Lee. She opened the back door and let Charles in before her. The bodyguard asked, “Who’s he?”
“A friend. We have a study date today at the house.”
That seemed to satisfy him because he pulled the car from the curb and they were at the compound in minutes.
As they entered the austere hallway, Charles looked around and shrugged. “Your parents don’t believe in a cluttered life, do they?”
“False! Their bedroom looks like a garbage dump. They just don’t scatter stuff anywhere else. Lee used to, but Cassie throws out anything he leaves outside their room. He learned pretty fast.”
She led him up the stairs. Showed him Lee and Cassie’s bedroom. “See?”
“Wow. I’m impressed. How do they find anything?” He turned around and then picked up something off the floor. “A candy bar wrapper.”
“Yeah. Lee’s the worst. Most of this stuff is his. Before Cassie got into trouble, their room was way neater.”
And saying her new mom’s name, Ann found her mind swirling with thoughts of Cassie, memories of how she’d rescued her and given her a wonderful life asking nothing from Ann in return. Suddenly, she was sobbing uncontrollably. “She’s gonna die, I just know it. And there’s nothing, not a thing I can do.”
Charles sat down and drew her to him. “You don’t know that.” He held her, rocked her back and forth, cradling her head. “You have to hope for the best.”
She looked up into his eyes and nodded. The tears stopped. “But I don’t know if I can.” She hugged him tighter. “I’ll try, big C.”
He nodded. “It’s all you can do. And when you feel like this, call me. I’ll be here as fast as I can. Okay?”
She realized she had friends now. Not just Lee, her make believe father. There were people her own age who would listen to her, share her fears and hopes.
Ann smiled. She lightly touched her lips to his. “Thanks.” She rose out of his grasp. “Let’s go do the English homework. You promised you’d help.”
* * *
Phillip Watson sat in the lobby of Al Bustan Palace InterContinental, looking at his purchases from the souk. He wore the straw Panama hat he’d bought. He’d bought a few changes of underwear and several inexpensive dress shirts in a shopping bag. The money he’d stolen from a tourist by picking the man’s pocket had bought him all this and more. He patted his jacket pocket, reassured that the stolen passport was there. He’d need to find a cobbler and have his own photo taken and inserted into the passport.
His smile was interrupted and his head snapped up. Noise from guests entering the hotel snared his attention. He was still nervous about the possibility he was being stalked. He looked toward the entrance, and what he saw made him shudder.
Watson recognized William Wing, the self-reputed hacker who’d been one of his early investors. Now he remembered Wing was also the man who’d sent him Cassandra Sashakovich. The hacker was at the head of the group that included several huge men and women, walking toward the marble check-in counter. He could tell that they were all part of a group because they all wore the same Hawaiian shirts. Oh shit. In desperation, he pulled the hat down to cover as much of his face as possible, and also reached for the Arabic language newspaper that someone had left on the ottoman in front of him. Watson held the newspaper to cover the front of his face, pretending to read it while he watched from around its edges.
He focused his attention on Wing, who stood at the reception desk. William said, just loud enough for Watson to hear the words, “Begging your pardon, sir, we’re looking for two business associates who is staying at this hotel. We’re here to meet with Phillip Watson and Henry Guthrie. Could you tell us which room either is in?” Watson flinched at the mention of his name and that of his first alias. His heartbeat accelerated. He felt the lobby becoming smaller and warmer. Perspiration bubbled on his upper lip and dripped into his mouth. He wanted to bolt, but was frozen in his chair. He tried to keep from
screaming as the clerk gave Watson’s room number to Wing. He watched as the group headed toward the elevators. As its doors closed, Watson forced himself up from his seat. His legs wobbled as he left the hotel lobby at a trot, carrying the shopping bag. He got into the first taxi in the line at the hotel’s entrance and took it to Seeb.
At the airport, he bought a ticket on the earliest plane leaving, a flight bound for Paris, France. Watson ran to the gate of the Air France jet and found his seat. He realized he’d never be safe.
Shit. How’d they track him? Wing! The Asian was a hacker. The little bastard was tracking by hacking. His eyes went wide. He pulled the smartphone from his pocket and disconnected its battery. He’d need prepaid cell phones, and he wouldn’t be able to use computers until he learned how to disguise his location.
As the jet took off, he was still steaming with anger at his mistake.
CHAPTER 29
November 1, 2:13 a.m.
Wailea Spa and Hotel,
Maui, Hawaii
Bob Gault wiped perspiration off his forehead. The once perfect hotel in front of him lay in tatters, like a battle scene from Gaza, Beirut, or Baghdad. He walked through the deserted rubble of the lobby. Above him he could hear the explosions. Plaster dust fell from the ceiling. He sat on the edge of a once-classic piece of sculpture anointing the lobby and propped his feet on the ruined head of a marble statue of an obese naked woman. Removing his cell phone from the pocket of his old Hawaiian shirt, he dialed his boss’s boss.
“Sir, it’s Gault. I have status for you.”
Greenfield smothered a cough into the receiver. Gault heard the man dismissing the people from his office. “Okay, Bob, we’re clear now. Is she dead yet?”
“I don’t know, since they’re still fighting. But that might just be her mercenaries, if they survived and she hasn’t. Hard to tell.”
“Keep monitoring the situation. I assume that when they finish her off, all the hitters will leave after fighting over who owns her severed head.”
