by Ben Muse
Dmitri walked as far aft as possible on the salon deck, leaned against the teak railing, and stared off into Anchor’s wake until he could see only blackness. His right paw extracted a satellite phone from the inner pocket of his rumpled, blue blazer, and he began punching digits as Anchor slowly came to a stop.
***
One hundred yards behind Anchor, Calypso had come to periscope depth and matched the bigger ship’s slowing speed. Inside the small submarine, three men dressed in black secured their gear as Alain maintained the speed and distance. Steyr machine pistols and 9 mm Rugers were the weapons of choice, not that they would be using them. They expected the boarding and takedown of the ship to go smoothly, what with Sergei and Dmitri on board. They’d run through the drill numerous times, pored over ship schematics, and committed every nook and cranny of the mega yacht to memory. Speed was the key. They were ready to be out of the cramped sub. Four men in the mini, along with the package and extra batteries, made leg room sparse.
“One hundred yards, one and a half knots,” Alain said to the former Russian spetsnaz operatives. “We surface in two minutes.”
Each man in the lethal trio looked the other two over to insure nothing was out of place. Bear, Lion and Hawk were the code names they’d go by tonight. It would be a quick swim to the stern of the Anchor Management. From there, each man would head to their predetermined locations on the ship, securing crew with flex cuffs. The most important task was to secure the bridge and communications room before a distress call could be made.
***
“Seems like we’ve reached our destination for the training exercise,” my father said to Sergei as we finished our blueberry cheesecake. “The captain will turn on the dynamic positioning system, and we should be able to begin in about twenty minutes.
“Dynamic positioning system?” I said.
“The water out here is too deep to drop anchor, so we have a system onboard that uses our propellers and thrusters to maintain a fixed point in the water. We’d never be able to dock Gemini without it. Think computerized anchor, Chase.”
He then looked at Sergei and said, “If it’s okay with you, Sergei, I think we’ll turn Anchor around tonight after the training exercise and head back to Foggy Harbor.” He glanced at me. “I’ve come to the realization that family is more important than business at this stage of my life. Would that be all right with you?”
“I have no problem with that, Hank. You need to spend as much time as possible with them,” Sergei said nonchalantly.
Alarm bells started going off in my head.
***
Calypso surfaced in the dark waters, and Alain immediately opened the hatch. The sat phone chirped a minute later.
“Perfect timing. We’re in position and ready to board,” Alain said to Russia’s version of The Hulk.
“It’s a go,” said Dmitri. “I will head down to lower the ladder for the men. Send them on and then wait five before you begin your approach to the stern. As soon as Bear arrives at the bridge, I’ll be back to tie you in and retrieve the package. The tender is ready for the men’s exfil once Anchor has continued her journey up the Eastern seaboard,” Dmitri said.
“They will be happy to hear that. Calypso out.” Alain clicked off the call and turned to the men. “It’s a go,” he said simply. One by one, the men, beginning with Bear, climbed the ladder and entered the cold Atlantic waters. Ahead, the mega yacht was lit up like a million swarming fireflies. With steady strokes, they neared her stern in four minutes.
***
Dmitri stood outside the bridge and, from his blazer pocket, removed an FNP-45. He quickly screwed in a silencer and then quietly opened the door. Luckily, all three officers were on the bridge, and they stood over brightly lit computer displays, completely unaware of him. It would be so easy to just shoot them, he thought, but orders were orders.
“Gentlemen,” he said in his thick accent, “please step away from the console and slowly turn towards me.”
“Is this a joke?” the captain said, as the three officers turned and exchanged confused looks.
“I can assure you, Captain, that this is no joke.” Dmitri pulled three flex cuffs from inside his coat pocket and placed them on the bridge console. “I can also assure you that you will not be harmed if you follow my instructions.”
***
“Do you have somewhere you need to be, Mr. Durov?”
“What do you mean, Chase?” he said to me curiously.
I pointed to his arm. “You keep looking at your watch.” The table grew silent.
“I am just eager to get started on the night training,” An amused grin came over his face.
“Chase, what’s the matter with you?” My father glared at me.
“I was just making an observation, Dad.” Decision time. I stood up. “Maybe I’ll go look for Dmitri, see if he’s okay. I know how bad seasickness can be. I think it’s one of the reasons I never took to the family business,” I said, dabbing my chin with my napkin.
“That would be a bad idea, Chase,” Sergei said, as he produced a small, black handgun from inside his jacket and leveled it at my chest. “We both knew this little dance had to end someday.”
***
Bear was out of the water first; he bounded up the portside stairs, machine pistol in hand. Thirty seconds later, he entered the bridge and, without a word to Dmitri, began to flex cuff the three officers, all while Dmitri covered him. With that complete, Bear entered the small communications room behind the bridge and disabled the VHF radio and the ship-to-shore telephone system. Anchor was cut off.
***
Lion was seven seconds behind Bear and, once on the boat, immediately made the short trip down to the engine room, where he easily overtook the two engineers. He had each man flex cuff the other, and then he led them forward to Sergei’s unlocked suite. He bound them tightly to two chairs and quickly went back to the engine room, found the airlock hatch for the moon pool, and opened it. This part of the ship was about to get busy.
***
“Sergei, what the hell are you doing?” my dumbfounded father asked. Immediately and without a word, Mikel and Oleg got up and left the table.
“Hank, I am afraid I’m commandeering your ship, as well as Gemini. Rest assured that I will return her safe and secure, and your people will not be harmed . . . unless they attempt to get in my way.”
“Mr. Durov, what is going on?” Anna asked nervously.
“Anna, your father plans on terrorizing New York City,” I said. “He’s still stuck in the Cold War. Frankly, I think he’s jumped the gun a bit too soon.”
This seemed to stun her. “You know he is my father?”
“He bugged your house, Anna,” Sergei spat. “Or rather, the FBI had him bug your house. Isn’t that right, Chase? Anna dear, the only reason he’s paid you any attention is to get information on me. He’s been using you.”
“What makes you think you can get anywhere near New York City?” I said. As much as I wanted to tell Anna that her father was wrong about me using her, now wasn’t the time.
“Why do you assume New York City is my target? Do you know where we are?” Sergei smiled as he waved the pistol back and forth.
My father figured it out first. “The entrance to Chesapeake Bay. Washington. The two men you brought aboard aren’t here just to train. They’re here to . . . my God, are you mad?” he said as he fully grasped Sergei’s intent.
“Hank, save your sanctimonious bullshit for someone else. Your country bankrupted us. Many of the men under my command lost their jobs and could not provide for their families. They became alcoholics and drug addicts. Homeless. They were looked down upon. Called names. This is as much for them as it is for me,” he snarled, spittle evident at the corners of his mouth.
“Tell me, did you have Viktoria killed?” I asked.
His demeanor changed, a smile spreading over his face as he pondered my question.
“She was becoming a nuisance, much lik
e you. A miraculous shot, wouldn’t you say?”
“You have your own mini subs you use for research. Why us?” I needed to buy some time.
“Your country will not allow my ships to get close enough to explore.” Again, Sergei looked at his watch. “Even now as my sub, Calypso, ties up to your ship, her batteries are low. Thus, the need to get inside the hundred-mile mark. Thank you for your unwitting assistance, Hank. You will go down in the history books as the American who helped a Russian destroy Washington. How’s that for a legacy?”
“You’re putting a small nuke on Gemini,” I said.
He just smiled his arrogant smile at me.
Please Lord, let Reigart hear this.
“There were thirty V-14 suitcase nukes produced in the early 1980s at Comerov, or thirty-one, depending on who is talked to. I happened to talk to the right people. People who also hate what America did to us. We’ve had it for so long, patiently waiting for this moment,” he reminisced.
“Perhaps instead of killing innocent people, you should consider giving these men you commanded some of the billions of dollars you’ve made,” my father said.
Sergei was getting ready to respond when suddenly a man dressed in black appeared in the doorway, machine pistol at the ready.
“Hawk, so good of you to join us. Would you kindly flex cuff my daughter, take her to her room, and tie her up. Be gentle with her. Anna dear, I’m sorry it’s come to this. I asked you to stay home.”
She’d been crying softly, but as she stood, she looked at Sergei defiantly. “So you would give up everything you worked for, everything you built to right a perceived wrong? To what end? The death of thousands? Why must you be so selfish and thin-skinned? To think, I was proud when I found out you were my father. Now I see that you are just a bitter old fool.” As Hawk led her away, she turned to Sergei one last time, a scared look on her face.
“Don’t hurt them,” she begged her father.
“I have no intention of hurting them, my dear. Goodbye, Anna.”
“Rot in hell,” she said simply. Then she was gone, dragged away kicking and screaming by the man called Hawk.
Sergei arrogantly looked at my father. “Kids,” he shrugged.
Bailey hadn’t said a word the entire time. I looked at her, and she had her face pointed toward the floor, as if she were trying to become invisible.
“Hank, dinner was wonderful, but I’m afraid we have to wrap this up. Schedules to keep, you know,” Sergei said with another wave of his pistol. “All three of you stand and walk single file out of the dining room. We’re going to take the starboard stairs down to the beach deck.”
***
Mikel and Oleg secured Gemini’s hatch and turned on the mini sub. Two extra batteries were transferred from Calypso for the run up the Chesapeake, as was extra water and food. Tied down in the back of the small vessel was the V-14. Their destination was a small dock on the western shore of the Chesapeake, in the city of Deale, Maryland. Forty-five minutes from the center of DC. If all went well, they would arrive sometime tomorrow night. After the package was transferred, the two men would sink Gemini, and enter a safe house near the dock, where passports, clothes, and two pre-purchased airline tickets would be waiting for them. Mikel keyed the radio: “Release Gemini.”
Lion obliged and immediately the small sub dipped as her tanks began to fill with water. Mikel turned her northwest and headed for the Chesapeake.
***
“It’s a nice night to lower the Beach, don’t you think, Hank?” Sergei punched in the code, and the wall began to lower outward. Once it was fully lowered, Dmitri motioned for us to walk out on the terrace, as his men in black converged on the beach deck from different areas of the ship.
“The ship is secure and ready to resume course, albeit at a slower speed. The package is on its way,” Bear proudly announced to Sergei.
“Excellent work. Just like we planned it,” he said, smiling at us, or more specifically, Bailey. “Get the tender out of dry dock and be ready to leave as soon as she starts moving.”
“So what now, Sergei? Are you just going to kill us?” I asked. I wasn’t going down without a fight.
His eyes danced, and he had an almost gleeful smile on his arrogant, Slavic face. The sonofabitch was enjoying this.
“Oh no, not me. This episode comes with a twist. I try to stay out of family business. Ms. Masters, I believe it’s your time.”
My father and I both watched in disbelief as Bailey calmly walked up to Sergei and took the gun from his outstretched hands. Tears streamed down her face as she turned to us and raised the pistol.
Chapter 43
“Bailey, wh . . . what are you doing?” my father stammered, gut-punched at the turn of events.
I was also knocked back. “It was you all along. The insider. You flooded Dock Two the other night and almost killed us. You had Kenny killed,” I said, staring at her as if I were in a trance. I didn’t know this person anymore.
“It’s amazing what you can do with an iPad these days, right from the cozy confines of your bed,” she said as she sniffled.
“Bailey, you don’t have to do this. I can tell you are conflicted,” I said in the calmest, most neutral voice I could muster. “Just put down the gun, please.”
“You mistake my tears for sadness or indecision. These are tears of relief, Chase. This is MY therapy. Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? Growing up not knowing who my father was, hoping that someday he would show up and rescue us from the trailer park. Instead, he sends us away, me away, into the arms of a rapist. Your good friend, Jackson Ellis,” she sneered to our father. “I bet he didn’t tell you he had his way with me. Did he? DID HE?” The sneer turned into a scream.
“Bailey, what are you talking about? Streak would never do that.” my father pleaded.
“Wrong answer,” she said. She redirected the pistol, and thunder rolled from the barrel. My father fell to the floor and blood poured from the bullet hole in his forehead, masking his face and lifeless eyes.
Time stood still, and bile rose to my throat. As I watched the murder of my father unfold, a memory imprinted on my brain. Maybe it was my body’s way of coping. Third grade, late spring. The hill behind our school. I sat on a blanket in front of my father; my fingers were sticky and my entire mouth a deep purple from the bag of cotton candy Bailey and I had just shared. I watched her dance and skip through the maze of other families lounging on blankets, as she munched on her baseball-sized hunk of spun sugar, and the elementary school choir sang America the Beautiful. She looked back at me, her mouth as purple as mine was, and she smiled. Happy. Content. Satisfied.
Much like the smile on her face now, I thought, as the horror of what had just happened, returned. Happy. Content. Satisfied. A coldness ran through my body, even as I felt immense sorrow for what she had endured and lived with all this time. Empathy? I wasn’t sure. She’d just put a bullet in our father’s head.
“Dump him overboard, Chase. I’m tired of looking at him.” she said.
“No.” I said it quietly. She raised the gun, and I closed my eyes, unable to face her.
Shots rang out, but not from the gun in Bailey’s hand.
“Shooter, portside stairs,” I heard Dmitri yell. I opened my eyes and saw two of Sergei’s operatives go down by the front of the dry-docked tender. They weren’t moving. The cavalry had arrived. Bailey’s attention turned to Detective Reigart, who was crouched behind a jet ski, and I rushed her and knocked her to the floor. The gun slipped from her hand, and I tried to gain traction to grab it, but my foot slipped in the expanding pool of my father’s blood. I lunged for the gun again and managed a tenuous grip on the handle, but Bailey had recovered. She kicked it out of my hands. A lightning bolt of pain exploded in my head, and this was the last thing I remembered before I passed out.
When I came to, I was propped against the railing of the terrace, my hands tied behind my back. I looked around, and my father’s body was gone. A r
agged, two-foot-wide trail of blood, from where he fell to the opening in the railing, told the tale. He was home now. Unceremoniously dumped overboard. Burial at sea would have been a fitting send off, if not for the hole in his head, put there by my batshit-crazy sister.
“Get on your feet,” she said to me. The pain in my head was now just a dull ache as I rose unsteadily.
“Where’s the detective?” I said. Deep down, I already knew the answer.
“He didn’t make it, but he went out in a blaze of glory. Killed two of Sergei’s men, plus Dmitri.
“Too bad he didn’t put you out of your misery.” She took two steps forward and slapped me.
“You slap like a girl.” It was the best I could do, given the situation. That earned me a punch to the gut, but I saw it coming and tightened my abs to absorb the blow.
“Maybe you should just shut up,” she advised.
“I’m sorry for what happened to you, Bailey. You must know I never wanted you to leave. In my eyes, you abandoned me. I didn’t know you were my sister or that our father was going to ship you off to Atlanta. I wanted you and your mom to move in with us, but I never got to tell you that because you shut me out of your life when you returned to Foggy Harbor.”
“I’m sorry; I’m done with the past, and that includes you. Goodbye, Chase.”
I didn’t beg. Instead, I just stared at her. I waited for my bullet to the head, but she had other ideas.
Chapter 44
Five months later
If you are still reading this, then by now you must have determined that Chase Hampton is dead. In fact, as much as I would like to tell you otherwise, that is the truth. He died that night, five months ago, in the cold waters of the Atlantic, fifty miles off the coast of Virginia Beach, Virginia, never to be seen again. The last clear image he saw was that of his half-sister, as she pushed him to his certain death off the Anchor Management terrace, a fuck-you sneer planted firmly on her face. I’m here to tell his story, because as he entered his watery grave, new life was breathed into him and ultimately a new man was born. This is where his story begins.
