by Jo Black
‘I’ll see you swing on the same yardarm your namesake did Charles Vane. Mutiny and Piracy. Shame about the small matter of Mister Merriweather and his security detail, now isn’t it?’ Smythe said before yelling ‘Merriweather get out here!’ Merriweather emerged through the doors from the lounge with his men. ‘You will deprive Mister Vane and his cohorts of their weapons. It seems they’ve elected to discharge themselves from my service.’
‘You’ll have to pry them from my cold dead hands,’ Vane said raising his gun, creating a Mexican standoff.
‘It’s all right Vane, do as he says. You have no need for guns here.’ Alex said. Vane looked at Alex.
Reluctantly Vane nodded. ‘Put your weapons down,’ Vane ordered his men. He walked over to Alex. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing...’
Alex smiled. He started singing softly.
We all live on a nuclear submarine,
A nuclear submarine, a nuclear submarine,
In the town, where I was born,
Lived a man who sailed to sea,
And he told us of his life,
In the land of Russian submarines,
So we sailed up to the sun,
Till we found Alex Green...
And we appeared from beneath the waves,
in our nuclear powered submarine...
As Alex sang, to the stern of Smythe’s superyacht, a nuclear-powered attack class submarine emerged from beneath the surface, its bright red Soviet red star on the conning tower glistening in the sun. Its klaxons sounded. Smythe turned around, got up, walked over to the rear weather rail and stared in disbelief as the huge inky black hull pierced between the waves. Smythe turned back to look at Alex. ‘Ace up the sleeve,’ Alex said. Vane smiled to himself. Smythe walked back over to his seat, collapsed into it and drank his champagne with an annoyed scowl across his face. The hull of the superyacht echoed as the submarine began sonar range pinging it.
‘She’s opened her outer torpedo doors!’ one of the crew yelled from the upper deck.
‘You’ll surrender your weapons now, if you please Mister Merriweather,’ Alex said.
Merriweather looked at Smythe. ‘What should we do?’
‘What do you bloody think you idiot! Wait until they torpedo us then surrender your weapons? Do as he says!’ Smythe said seething. He was reluctant to look up at Alex. Alex got up slowly. He walked along the table, sat down perched next to Smythe, took the bottle of champagne and filled a glass.
‘You killed my friends, and destroyed their boat. You’ll pay for that,’ Alex said softly. ‘I’m going to let you go Smythe, but know this. You or your people, or their people, ever come anywhere near Zara again, you tell them the next submarine I bring will have warheads pointing at London and Washington on it. You didn’t give my friends a chance to save themselves, but I’m a decent man, I’ll give your crew ten minutes to abandon ship. Then your little boat will join my brother’s at the bottom of the sea. Goodbye Mister Smythe.’
Alex got up, downed his champagne, tossed the glass onto the table over Smythe’s dinner plate and made his way to Zara. She took his arm and followed him along with Vane and his men, they got on board the superyachts’s V.I.P tender and headed towards the submarine.
‘What do we do?’ Merriweather asked Smythe.
‘Order the captain to abandon ship,’ Smythe said dejectedly.
As the superyacht’s crew paddled their life-raft furiously away, Smythe turned to watch as two torpedoes slammed into his prized toy. Engulfed by a huge explosion, her spine was broken and she quickly sank amidst a pool of burning fuel oil on the surface. Smythe stared at the remaining flotsam with a mixed look of dejection and resentment. ‘This isn’t over Green, you’ll pay for this...’ he snarled.
42
Zara found Alex sat at a table in the small captain’s cabin nursing a shot glass full of vodka. She stopped at the door briefly and gazed at him a while, watching as he was seemingly lost in his own world. ‘You can come in. Before your tea gets cold.’
She smiled softly. ‘You see everything, even when you’re not looking. Never looking, but ever knowing. What a wonderful trick you possess my love.’ Alex nodded and downed his vodka shot and refilled it. Zara walked in, sat opposite him and placed her tea down. She was wearing a rough black mariner’s sweater. ‘I met your Uncle. Pavlo. He seems a kind man. He’s quite drunk though, I’m not sure that’s a good thing for someone in charge of a nuclear-powered attack submarine.’
Alex glinted a smile. ‘He’ll be fine, he probably sails better drunk than sober.’
‘Crazy Ivans?’
‘Something like that...’
‘What about you?’ Zara refilled his shot glass before filling her own. ‘Do you sail better drunk, or sober?’
‘My ship is without a captain. We’re just drifting with the tide.’
‘What was he like? Zara asked softly.
‘Who?’
‘Your friend, on the fishing boat.’
‘Asad? He was a good man. He didn’t have a trace of malice about him. I don’t think he was capable of hurting a fly. Although he did want to be a pirate. Not one of the Somali sorts,’ Alex said with a remembering smile. ‘Proper Pirates of the Caribbean one. I think it made his day to meet a relative of Charles Vane, more so being his namesake.’
‘Pirate Arab. That I would have liked to have seen,’ Zara said with a smile. ‘Alahu Akbar! Surrender your ship!’
Alex smiled before it dissipated. ‘I hope he found his paradise.’
‘What was it?’ Zara asked.
‘A golden tall ship, with sails of gold-woven cloth. A mighty sight that would be.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘Yes...so can I.’
‘How long did you know him?’
‘I only met him the once,’ Alex sighed. ‘But he was a friend I would have like to have known better.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It is nothing, just another soul lost in this...’ Alex drifted off. ‘He was Hani’s cousin.’
‘J.I.D Hani?’
‘Yes.’
‘Will you tell him?’
‘I must. Although I’m afraid for the consequences to Hani and his family. Jordan should not be dragged into this.’
‘Hani will act rationally. As did you.’
‘Did I? I’m not so sure.’
‘You could have killed Smythe. So many chances, even at the end, you spared him. Why?’
Alex flashed a smile. ‘The bigger picture...’
‘Ah, that old chestnut.’ There was an awkward silence. Zara sensed Alex’s overwhelming grief at the loss of someone who clearly had meant something dear to him; she felt a natural desire to distract him from it, lest it consume him too much. ‘I remember being in the cell, at the start of it. I knew what was to come. I thought I was ready for it. And when the time came, I didn’t pray to god, I didn’t really pray to anyone, I just thought of you. Some distant memory that I’m not even sure took place, and you spoke to me...’ Zara said. Alex looked up at her. ‘In the darkest of places you spoke to me, as if you were there right next to me.’
‘What did I say?’ Alex asked.
‘You know what you said.’ Alex nodded. ‘And then I said it. Your name. It was if I had summoned the devil himself. I saw it,’ Zara frowned remembering. ‘The look of sheer terror on his face, such a sudden strike of fear into this ugly brutal beast of a man, and then he stopped. Just completely stopped. They took me back to my cell and...well, I couldn’t understand what kind of thing, what kind of man, possesses that power. Why are they all so afraid of you, and yet I am not, I am comforted by you, feel protected by you.’
‘Perhaps you see what they do not.’
‘What did you do...you went didn’t you?’
‘I did.’
‘And what did you do?’
‘It is better you do not know. It would not improve your opinion of me.’
‘My opinion? I love you Alex, what of my opinio
n?’
‘It is possible to love a thing and hold a poor opinion at the same time. You have done so in the past.’
‘You did something terrible?’
‘I went there looking for you, but all I found in those rooms, that place where he held you, was the tortured souls of so many people...’ Alex’s face folded. ‘You must have felt it, the misery exuded from the walls that suffocated your very being. I just knew that place would never rest until they were released. It had to be destroyed so the ghosts could be freed from their prison.’ Alex shrugged. ‘So I released them.’ Alex drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘I found your blanket. Just the smallest trace of your scent...it did not take much to remember. You know why you called out to me?’
Zara nodded. ‘I knew. You would look and you would not stop looking, even after everyone else had stopped, betrayed me, cast me aside, you would not rest, but you would burn everything in your path as you always do. I do not know if it is a blessing or a curse to be loved by you, to love you, I only know it is something I cannot ever control.’ Zara took Alex’s hand and wrapped hers around them. ‘I don’t know where we go from here Alex, but in the darkest of places when I called out you answered. You gave me hope. You gave me faith.’
‘I just gave you back that which you’ve always give me. My love for you is the only good in me Zara, it is the only warmth and the only light, and it is the only thing that keeps me from being the very darkest of beings. You are the hand that stays the sword when it must, and the voice of reason that guides. Without you I am simply adrift. I tasted the bitter experience of losing you, and I could not bear it even for a second. Whatever path you take, I will not let this world bring harm to you. It is simply not conceivable to me.’
‘Someone asked me not so long back if I had any psychotic ex-boyfriends,’ Zara smiled. ‘If only he knew...’
‘Boyfriend?’ Alex asked.
‘No, stow your jealousy my dear husband. He was more of a brother. I loved him, but not that way.’
‘And him?’
‘He’s a man, what do you think?’ Zara said with a smile. ‘But I’m a good Catholic girl. Our marriage vows will not be broken, no matter how badly our relationship is.’
‘I had a lot of time to reflect on my mistakes, I was selfish. I should have listened to you more, put you first. I have paid dearly for it with my time in the wilderness.’
‘They were our mistakes to make, and we made them together. There is no blame to be thrown, not anymore. I had a lot of time to think too, locked in that cell, assuming I would never leave it. You reflect on what your life has meant, and you realise all these things you think are important don’t mean anything. Smythe was right, we could have all blown ourselves to the next life on that boat and they’d still have their war, they’d still go on. Only we would be missing, but nobody would miss us. That is a pointless sacrifice to make for a world that would not mourn our loss.’
‘So what now?’ Alex asked.
‘I don’t know. I think we start by picking up the pieces of our broken lives and try and sew them back together. We owe it to your friend who gave his life so you could save mine.’
‘He’s a true martyr. I’m sure he’ll find his way to the place he belongs.’
‘And what about us? Where do we belong?’
‘I don’t know, we’ll start with home and take it from there.’
‘And where is home? You do get around so it’s hard to know where to find you.’
‘A place of peace. A brief respite from this eternal battle of chaos and suffering.’
‘Not Chechnya then?’
‘No...’
‘Shame, nothing like a romantic weekend in Grozny watching the city burn.’ Zara smiled.
Alex laughed softly. ‘You don’t change.’
‘Maybe a little. Just round the edges,’ Zara said with a cheeky wink. She leant forward and kissed Alex then leant back again. He recharged their vodka glasses. ‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’
‘I’d never dream of it.’
‘Good, you know I can drink you under the table.’
‘Is that a challenge?’
‘If you like...’
‘Challenge accepted. Good luck. Nazdrovya.’
‘Nazdrovya comrade Aleksei.’
They downed their first shot. Alex refilled them. Zara had a fit of the giggles. ‘You see? Three fucking shots.’
‘No it’s not that.’ She took a deep breath and composed herself. ‘I was just thinking about my supervisor back in the River House at S.I.S. He’d have a duck fit if he knew I was sat on a Russian nuclear submarine getting drunk on vodka with the president’s pet. And I’m not even on the Russian desk.’
‘Not on any desk now, I assume they didn’t tell you.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘When they grabbed you in Pakistan. They concocted a cover story that you’d stolen some Jewish kid’s hundred and twenty million and run off with C.I.A Bishop.’
‘Jewish kid? You mean Ben Kaminski?’
‘You’ve been disavowed from Six, and there is a international arrest warrant out for you from the F.B.I.’
‘Really? Just as well I’m on a nuclear sub then, isn’t it? Good luck finding me down here,’ Zara said having another fit of the giggles.
‘You are definitely drunk.’
‘No. It’s probably just lack of air supply or the pressure,’ Zara said listening to the creaking bulkhead. ‘Is this thing actually safe? It’s not going to end up like K19 is it? I hope you’ve wrapped your balls in tinfoil.’
‘It’s perfectly safe,’ Alex replied.
Zara said in her best Sean Connery accent ‘One ping Vashily, one ping only.’
‘I think that’s enough vodka for you. At least until we get you checked out by the doctor.’
‘Come on, let’s go to the bridge and see if we can get Uncle Pavlo to sink a passenger ferry.’ Zara headed out of the cabin singing the Soviet national anthem before there was a sudden thud.
‘Zara? Are you okay?’ Alex got up, went out and looked down the corridor. Zara had passed out on the deck.
Pavlo made his way down from the bridge to see what the commotion was about. ‘We’re silent running you know,’ he said.
‘Well we are now,’ Alex replied with a shrug.
‘What did you do to her?’ Pavlo asked.
‘I didn’t do anything, three shots of your vodka.’
‘You didn’t give her the vodka in the cupboard, did you?’
‘Yeah, the stolly.’
‘You better get her to the sick bay. That was my special reserve blend.’
‘What’s in it?’
‘It’s mixed with a little torpedo fuel. Gives it more kick.’
‘You let my wife drink torpedo fuel? What the fuck Pavlo?’
‘You shouldn’t drink my vodka then should you! You’re okay. What’s the problem?’ Alex looked briefly unwell, leant against the wall then went down like a sack of potatoes. ‘Ah shit,’ Pavlo said shaking his head. His No.2 arrived.
‘What is problem Captain?’
‘They drank the special vodka. Get some stretchers and take them to the doctor. Hopefully they sleep it off before we arrive.’ Pavlo stepped over the bodies and went into his cabin. He picked up the bottle of vodka and saw it was half empty; he shook his head with annoyance. ‘I was saving this for special occasion.’ He sighed, downed both the shots and returned to the bridge.
43
Zara opened one eye. Not moving her head, her eyeball dotted around the room trying to focus and establish her new strange surroundings. Soft light cascaded from over her shoulder; a light breeze carried from the windows brought the fresh sea air and soft sound of waves lapping against rocks. She reluctantly moved her head from the soft pillow and immediately regretted it as she was hit with a splitting head pain followed by a sudden bout of nausea. She closed her eyes until it passed before re-opening them, reaching across to the glass of water on the bedside
table and greedily gulping it down to cure her chronic dehydration. She felt a sharp pain in her arm and looked down, tracing her eyes up to the saline drip besides her bed. She rolled over from off her stomach and twisted round to sit with her feet on the cold marble floor. She pulled down at the line’s needle stuck in her arm until it was free and discarded it before taking a tissue from the bedside locker and pressing it down on the wound to stem the small spot of bleeding. She tried to focus on her surroundings. The bedroom was a sea of white paint, white tiles, and gloss white furniture. White linen. As clean as an operating theatre. Her eyes set upon the only colour from a framed photograph of her wrapped around Alex in a warm embrace. Zara picked up the photo and held it, smiling, trying to recount where it was taken before delicately replacing it. She looked down at the soft white slip lace/satin singlet she was wearing and suddenly felt a shiver from the breeze as her nerves awoke from slumber and cast off the mind-numbing hangover. She got up, walked across to the wardrobes and opened the first. An immaculate line of perfectly matched shoes, suits, shirts and other clothes all organised with military precision. She ran a finger across them and smiled to herself before closing the doors and moved to the adjacent wardrobe. She opened it to reveal a similarly immaculately organised and categorised wardrobe of women’s clothes, she frowned briefly then ran through them and pulled a couple out — realising they were all her size, favourite brands, and styles. ‘You know me too well...’ she muttered softly under her breath. She found a black silk short kimono. On the back of it, embroidered with precision, a gold and green threaded ornate Chinese motif of a dragon. She pulled it out, slipped it over her shoulders and loosely tied it. She looked down and found a pair of Oakley flip-flops, slipped them on and closed the wardrobe doors. She turned around and gazed across at the dresser before walking over, her hand landed on the bottle of scent — her favourite DKNY Be Delicious!. She raised it to her nose and gently inhaled the fragrant aroma, bringing a soft smile as it evoked memories of before she was taken. She put it to her neck and squeezed lightly, dispensing a small puff to each side then on to her wrist pulses, rubbing them together to soak the cold alcohol base into her skin. She replaced the bottle where she found it and walked over to the open floor to glass windows that led out onto a sheltered balcony. She walked out and immediately felt the warmth of the sun on her face carried by the light sea breeze. She reached the edge of the balcony, leaned over and peered down at the sheer drop onto the cliff face down into the sea below. She peered around the building; her view restricted by the cliff overhangs and garden foliage as it became apparent the entire villa was embedded and secluded atop the buttress of a small rocky promontory. Her eyes were caught by the happy voices of children playing on the nearby sandy beach across the small bay. She watched for a while as they ran around in the sand or built sand castles, and felt an immediate flood of serenity and peace across her — washing away the torment of the past days. She let her attention linger for a while, soaking in the atmosphere before her spy’s curiosity nipped at her attention to explore further into this strange new place. She looked down again and ascertained they were on the uppermost floor of what appeared to be a three storey cascaded construction with the lower most floor wrapped around by a deep terrace built with thick white painted concrete set into the cliff face. The reality of its occupation was quickly re-established from the innocence of the family beach as a guard lazily made a patrol round, an S.M.G discretely hidden on his side as he peered over the cliff face before continuing out of sight. Zara turned her attention back inside, she returned into the bedroom and made her way cautiously to the three small steps through the wide arch into the large lounge area of the master suite. A giant flat screen television dominated the wall with a single over-sized designer sofa in front, naked save a few scatter cushions, a soft cream alpaca blanket, and a thrown fur rug over the back. Below the television, running the length of the central wall, a large inset minimalist steel fireplace with a ceramic glass bead filled fire pit, a thin strip of ceramic chips in front providing some feature effect or other. Flanking the television, gloss white shelves loaded with perfectly colour-matched and coded lines of reference books — suggesting its occupant had a deep and varied love of literature. To the side, set on a raised plinth in the window, a black Steinway classic full-sized grand piano, adding music to the owner’s list of cultural interests. Below it, a small wet bar with a variety of ornate designer liquor bottles, mostly stocked with different brands and colours of vodka, atop a pair of illuminated glass fridges with perfect lines of champagne bottles from all the best houses. Zara’s attention fell to the immaculate white table for two, currently set for breakfast with tall jugs of fresh juices and bowls of every fruit and cereal imaginable, silver hot plates, tall coffee and tea urns.
