Killing Chase

by Ben Muse

  “This sounds like goodbye?” I said.

  “Probably; I’m not sure. Depends on what happens.” She wiped at a tear.

  “Well if it is, thanks for everything. You saved my life and treated me with respect, and I will be forever grateful for that. Good luck, if this is it.”

  She hugged me again, and this time when she tried to pull away, I didn’t let her. I held her tight and stared into her eyes for a good ten seconds.

  “Maybe under different circumstances,” I whispered. She lowered her head and nodded, slowly, and we both understood, or so I thought. I kissed her forehead and hugged her tightly one more time, and as I pulled away, she reached up, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me as she had the first night in her apartment.

  When we stopped kissing, I said, “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to report this transgression to Schmidt. Three demerits for you, Agent Brighton, and a posting to the Juneau office.” She smiled, and I kissed her, picked her up, and carried her to the bedroom.

  “Do you need to remove all eight handguns you have on your person? I’d hate to have an accidental discharge so late in the game.” This earned me a playful bop on my head as I lifted her pajama top and kissed her flat, quivering stomach, planting kisses all the way up until I reached her lips again.

  “Chase,” she said, lifting my chin so she could have my undivided attention.

  “Jenna.”

  “It’s Elizabeth. My name is Elizabeth. I thought you should know before we do this.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Of course. I know my own name, dummy.”

  “No, about this,” I said as I bopped her lightly on the head this time.

  That elicited a giggle. “Absolutely, one-hundred-percent positive.”

  She stroked my hair, and I slid her pajama pants off. The ex-con and the FBI agent. Could it work? On the surface, I’d have to give it a zero-point-two-percent chance, but beneath it all, I felt a tiny heartbeat of hope. I just needed to make sure my heart continued to beat.

  “Elizabeth,” I said, sounding it out slowly as my hands found her hands, and I kissed her smooth skin below her belly button, then again lower. She reached out as my lips found her thighs, and she pulled my shirt up and over my head. Soon, clothes littered all corners of her room, and we made love amidst the mess, slowly at first.

  “Oh God, that feels good,” she cried as she straddled me with her back to me. I cupped her breasts then ran my hands down to her hips, before flipping her on her back and locking hands again. We kept our eyes locked as we again found each other, and our rhythm increased. Afterward, we held on to each other under the covers.

  “I haven’t told you this, but my sole goal while I was in prison was to someday screw the FBI,” I said, as I moved a blond strand of hair from her face. She smiled.

  “You’re incorrigible,” she whispered, “but you make me laugh, and that’s important. Do you have to go?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Not yet; tomorrow can wait,” she said, as she ran her hands down my stomach to my midsection.

  “Tomorrow can wait,” I echoed softly, while in the back of my mind I knew it wouldn’t.

  Chapter 37

  Wednesday, March 28, 2012

  I began to feel better about our trip to New York when my father arrived with Sergei and his entourage. Aside from my old friend Dmitri the Giant, the other two men were the size of mailbox posts and looked about as imposing as two small kittens. Had the Anchor Management been a rollercoaster, Mikel and Oleg would have just cleared the “You must be this tall to ride” sign. They seemed pleasant and were clearly nervous when around Sergei.

  Sergei greeted me warmly, though behind those smiling, steely gray eyes, I imagined him devising ways to make me disappear—or going through the steps of the plan he already had in place.

  “Bailey, you look as lovely as ever,” Sergei said, turning to my sister with a twinkle in his eye. I wondered if he was already looking for wife number whatever.

  “Thank you, Mr. Durov. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about Viktoria’s murder. Such a senseless act. If there is anything I can do for you to make your trip easier, please let me know.”

  “Your kind words mean a lot to me, Bailey, and thank you for your hospitality. Perhaps this trip will turn my somber mood around.” This was good. Bailey was keeping her cool, after a day of her telling me how nervous she was.

  “Mr. Durov, do the authorities have any suspects in Viktoria’s murder?” I asked.

  “As of now they do not. I have many enemies, and they have always underestimated me. I will find her killer if it’s the last thing I do on earth.”

  Sure, O.J. I wondered if his answer to my question was meant for me, or maybe I was so far down on his worry list that I didn’t qualify as a threat. The not-knowing is always the worst, or so I’ve heard.

  “How is your recovery going?” Bailey inquired.

  “The ribs are tender, but on the mend according to my doctors. What is the American saying? ‘You can’t keep a good man down.’”

  What an ass.

  He continued, “Hank, are you sure you are up to the trip?”

  “Sergei, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. We are going to shock the yachting world once we get to New York City,” he said, his voice coarse gravel.

  “If I know you, you are keeping this new feature as secret as possible. I bet you haven’t even told Bailey or Chase about it. Am I right?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “Mikel and Oleg are chomping at the bit to get started on the training. When can we begin?” Sergei asked.

  “We’ll split Portsmouth and Ocracoke Islands and enter Pamlico Sound bright and early in the morning, say eight a.m., and begin after breakfast. The water there will be calmer. Then we’ll do some night maneuvers off the coast of Virginia Beach, beginning after dinner.

  “Excellent, excellent. These two men are my best deep-water operators, and once Ukean is built, they will be stationed on it to give my guests the adventure of a lifetime.”

  “Dad, spill it,” Bailey said. “You’re closer to me than anyone in the company, and I don’t even have a clue what it is.” My father looked at Sergei and gave him a why-not kind of look.

  “Okay, but I’d rather show it to you, so I’ll hold our departure for fifteen minutes and take you down to the engine room. Sergei, if you want to get you and your men settled, we’ll meet you on the sun deck in twenty minutes.”

  “Mr. Durov, it seems we are missing Anna?” I said, before he could leave. I could see what he could not; the striking figure of Anna Petrov was gliding toward us from the marina parking lot.

  “I’m sorry; she is too busy with work for this trip.”

  That’s what you think.

  “I understand, maybe next time.”

  My father called the bridge to inform them of the fifteen-minute delay. Before our group broke up, all heads turned as a female voice called out from the dock, “Hold that ship!”

  Anna Petrov, in a peach-colored sundress and black sunglasses, wheeled a medium-sized metal suitcase down the covered gangway.

  “You’ll be happy to know I’ve put a sizeable dent in my workload, so I will be able to go on the trip after all,” she said to Sergei, who clearly did not look pleased. What was he going to do? Anna the employee he could order off the boat; Anna the daughter was a different story.

  “Anna, glad you could make it,” my father said while looking at me. “We were just heading down to the engine room. Care to join us?”

  “Why thank you, Mr. Hampton. I would love to.” She looked at me and smiled. “Hello, Chase.”

  “Hello, Anna, welcome aboard,” I said. This could get awkward.

  “Hank, I need to have a word with Anna. Perhaps she can visit the engine room later,” Sergei said sternly.

  “Good luck, Anna. The bossman doesn’t seem happy,” my father said. He didn’t know what I knew, what Anna
knew.

  ***

  We entered a small door on the beach deck and took a narrow set of stairs down to the engine room. My initial tour of Anchor hadn’t included the engine room, so I was shocked at just how large and clean it was, though it smelled vaguely like the auto shop at Ashmore.

  Two men in white jumpsuits monitored displays and gauges, ignoring us. We crossed a small, railed walkway that separated the two massive marine engines, and my father led us to a circular cutout, forward of the engines, that had a familiar-looking stainless steel wheel attached to the middle of the cutout.

  “This is an airlock hatch,” he said, kneeling down and silently spinning the wheel counterclockwise. A hiss of air and moments later, he opened it. Bailey and I knelt down and peered inside. It was dark until he flipped a switch on the underside of the hatch door. Light filled the space below. The walls angled inward to a small non-skid, metallic floor. There were three seats along one wall and a large, domed hatch door located in the middle of the floor.

  “This is what we call a moon pool or a wet porch. We’re not going down now because we don’t have the time, but I will explain how it works. Secured underneath the dome is a four-person mini sub. Gemini. From the moon pool, future customers like Sergei will be able to take visitors on submarine excursions. Gemini has a dive depth of two hundred feet with two large windows on each side for taking in the sights of our undersea world. It’s true that some of our competitors have subs attached to the side of their ships, but none have access through a moon pool and the majority of the subs are single person, two at most. This moon pool offers a security feature as well. Yacht owners can come and go without people knowing whether or not they’re on the ship. Thoughts? Questions?”

  I was stunned that there was a sub docked underneath the ship. I had questions, but Bailey was the first to speak.

  “How far can she travel?”

  “With both batteries fully charged, probably a couple hundred miles, assuming a full complement of people aboard. Though I don’t envision such a long journey in such a small vehicle.”

  “How does she stay docked to the Anchor Management?” I asked.

  “Two ways. In short, we’ve devised and installed an electromagnetic docking system, and we’re patenting it. A five-foot long, one-foot wide magnetic strip on Gemini’s roof will stick to the magnetized underside of the moon pool and with a simple flip of a switch mounted on the wall of the moon pool, we can reverse the magnetic field and allow her to leave. Also, Gemini’s entry hatch is smaller and rises into the moon pool hatch, above the waterline. Once this happens we electromagnetically dock Gemini and passengers can safely disembark. The pilot is the last one to leave, and he shuts down Gemini and secures her hatch.”

  “What happens if this airlock we’re looking into is opened when the moon pool hatch is opened, and Gemini isn’t docked?” Bailey asked. I already knew that answer. I’d lived it, but I let dad answer her.

  “Let me say first that the only time we’re even in the moon pool is when the ship is stopped. All hatches are secured until that happens. Once we are stopped, we can open the airlock and climb down to the moon pool. There’s room for five people on the platform below—four people traveling on Gemini and one person to secure the moon pool hatch once she departs. Once everyone is down, we secure the hatch. The moon pool hatch will be opened only when this one here, the one we are kneeling around, is closed. A moon pool only works when it is an airtight chamber and not subject to the atmosphere above, i.e. the engine room we’re in now. If this engine-room hatch is opened, flooding begins immediately as there is no more air pressure to keep the water at bay. This should never happen though, if the procedures are followed.”

  “Does having a sub beneath the boat slow Anchor down?” I asked him.

  “A little, but the moon pool is built into the hull, and Gemini’s profile is such that it’s almost an extension of Anchor’s hull. We designed her so that top speeds could still be achieved, but if an owner wants, we will design a sub berth on the side of the ship near the life boats.”

  “Who pilots Gemini?” Bailey asked.

  “I do,” he said, “but it’s a piece of cake. You’ll see when I take you guys out in her.”

  “Can the airlock and the moon pool hatch both be opened if Gemini is docked?” said Bailey.

  “No, too risky,” he said.

  “How does Gemini get into position to dock? Seems like it’s the equivalent of threading a needle. Getting her hatch tower inserted into the opening in the moon pool must be tough with the ocean subtly moving the ship.”

  “That’s a good question, Chase. In regards to your last statement, we have a state of the art gyrostabilizer installed on Anchor that we turn on when docking and undocking Gemini. It reduces the roll and the pitch of the boat, but truthfully we wouldn’t be operating her in seas over six feet. In terms of docking Gemini, we have two cameras on her hatch as well as a powerful underwater light that we use to guide her in. When she returns, someone will go down to assist in docking and passenger disembarkation. There’s a radio on the wall that the person will use to communicate with Gemini’s pilot.”

  “Suppose the docking system is damaged and she can’t dock?” Bailey asked.

  “We pull the tender out of dry dock, open the transom doors, and Gemini surfaces and maneuvers in. We got lucky; she just barely fits.”

  “Amazing. So this is what Sergei’s men are training for? To be underwater tour guides?” I said.

  “Yep,” my father said as he closed the hatch and secured it. He stood up.

  “All this stays between us—that should go without saying, okay?”

  “Understood,” said Bailey. She shot me a conspiratorial glance as our father double-checked that the hatch was closed.

  “Of course,” I said, hating myself for the ease with which I lied.

  When we reached the Salon Deck, Bailey and my father continued on. I walked to my suite and opened the door with my access card.

  “Were you able to hear the conversation?” I said to an empty room.

  “Clear as a bell. Told you that pen would come in handy,” said Detective Jay Reigart as he stepped out of the bathroom.

  Sometimes you have to make your own luck.

  Chapter 38

  “Enjoying your time aboard the Anchor Management, detective?”

  “Looking forward to the hot tub this evening, and I’m hoping you can sign me up for a ride on Gemini tomorrow,” he said.

  “I wish, but you are my ace in the hole. If things go south, you’re the cavalry.”

  “What does your gut tell you about the sub?” he asked.

  “Sergei wants it for something, though I don’t know what, yet. I need you to call Jenna and let her know what’s going on. The sat phone requires a direct path to the sky, so you’ll have to open a window when you call her. She’s not going to be happy about your involvement, but I’ll deal with that later. Just play nicey-nice if she gets angry.”

  It was “Jenna” around Detective Reigart. I’d betrayed her enough by sneaking him on the ship without her knowledge. I just hoped she could see past her anger to the beauty of my plan.

  “Don’t worry; I’ll make her understand this is the best option. Call it interagency cooperation,” he said, peeking out the window at the marina in the distance.

  “Mmm, I may have to shut this pen off later tonight. If I go silent, don’t be alarmed,” I said.

  “Might this have something to do with the late arrival I heard earlier?”

  “I will neither confirm nor deny that, but if I’m not back by one a.m., the bed is yours. Just make sure you put the chain lock on.”

  “Roger that. Here’s to a successful night for you,” he said with a smile.

  I grabbed my shades and headed upstairs to maintain the façade of glasnost.

  Due to security at the ship’s gangway, I had to go the unconventional route to get the good detective aboard Anchor. I called him after leaving Jenna�
�s apartment to confirm that he was still up for the trip. He had vacation time built up and being single, readily agreed to this little adventure, which began with a predawn dip in the cool waters of the marina.

  In a spare wetsuit from the Foggy Harbor Underwater Search and Rescue team, he made the hundred-yard swim from a nearby dock in four minutes, and I’d guided him in with a mini flashlight. By four thirty, he was bunked down in my suite’s large Jacuzzi tub, the sleeping ship and it’s two other occupants none the wiser.

  After getting him secured in my suite this morning, he’d opened the waterproof duffel he’d brought with him and revealed the goodies inside. My favorite was the pen I had clipped to my short-sleeved Polo. It doubled as a UHF transmitter, and Reigart had the receiver with him in the bathroom. Our thinking was that he could hear what was going on and then call in the real-time information to Jenna as warranted. If the shit hit the fan, he’d brought two nine millimeters and seven clips of ammunition to level the playing field.

  ***

  “Chase,” Jenna said, answering her cell.

  “Not exactly. You must be Jenna?” Reigart whispered into the phone.

  “Who is this?” she said cautiously.

  “Detective Jay Reigart with the Foggy Harbor Police Department. I’m sure you can confirm this after our call. They’ll tell you I’m on vacation. Chase is busy and asked me to call you with an update.”

  “Update? Where are you?” she said, alarmed and confused.

  “I’m currently hiding in the bathroom of his suite, on his father’s yacht.”

  “What has Chase told you . . . detective?”

  “Let me start by saying that I bluffed him pretty good to get him to admit he was working with you guys, so don’t go too hard on him. Other than that, he’s told me very little. I’m most interested in the unsolved murder of Kenny Jackson. Does that name ring a bell, Jenna?”

  “Whether it does or not is irrelevant right now. How did you get on the boat, detective?”

  “Early morning swim in the marina, if you can believe that. You and Chase are the only ones who know I’m on board. By the way, he said you wouldn’t be happy at this turn of events, but his plan is rather good if you’ll give it a chance. I’ve got him mic’d up and can hear his conversations, allowing me to give you real-time information.”