Necessary Retribution

by Mike McNeff

  Robin bent down to pick up the nuke, but he dropped to his knees trying to breathe. The man charged Robin again ready to strike him with one of the legs from the table. He swung, but Robin blocked the blow with his left hand and drawing his knife with his right, he rammed it into the man's gut, cutting edge up. The man gasped as Robin used both hands to pull the knife up cutting from the gut to the sternum. Their eyes met and Robin tilted the point of the blade and shoved it into the man's heart. The terrorist's eyes went dull and his body shuddered to limp.

  Robin collapsed with the man's body. He forced himself to calm down and breathing became easier. He coughed and spit blood. He staggered up with the pack and slowly opened the door. A man stood at the opposite corner on the port walkway with an AK47. He looked right at Robin and fired a burst, but Robin ducked behind the steel door as bullets smashed into it. He fired a burst through the crack and then took one of his frag grenades and tossed it out to the walkway. It went off with a loud bang and then Robin heard screaming. He put a fresh magazine in his submachine gun and leading with this weapon, checked the area. A head poked out of the cabin where the four men were. Robin fired a burst at the head and it ducked, leaving the door cracked. He ran to the door and tossed another grenade into the room and slammed the door. He ran to the stairwell to the tween deck, almost slipping on the wet weather deck in the wind as the second grenade went off. There he found Mark lying at the top of the stairs.

  Upon hearing the gunfire below him, Mark was torn. He wanted to go to Robin, but he knew he had to protect at least one of the RIBs they saw on the tween deck. He ran to the ladder and slid down to the second deck of the superstructure, seeing a man come out of the bridge as he did so. Mark hit the bottom of the ladder in a crouching position and fired at the man. At the same time he saw the muzzle flash of a pistol in the man's hand and felt a searing burn on the top of his right shoulder. The man fell back against the rail at the door of the bridge and crumpled down against the door. Mark then heard a loud bang on the port side of the ship.

  He ran for the ladder to the weather deck balancing against the roll of the ship and wind. He heard a yell behind him and a shot. A heavy blow hit his right buttock spinning him around and off of the second deck onto the weather deck twelve feet below. He landed on his left foot and heard a snap as he slammed onto the deck sending a sharp shot of searing pain from this ankle to his hip that felt like someone stuck a red hot fireplace poker up his leg. For a moment his whole body knotted in pain. Another loud bang reverberated throughout the ship. Then he rolled over on his back in time to see a head come over second deck rail and he fired a four round burst. The head disappeared in a red mist carried away by the wind, but the body folded over the rail and then slipped down.

  Mark crawled to the door leading to the stairwell to the tween deck, pulled himself up to the latch and opened the door. The wind caught the door and flew it open and he crawled inside to the top of the stairs. The intense pain again made his body taught and lightheaded, causing him to vomit. He heard footsteps and turned to see Robin coming through the doorway.

  When he saw Mark lying there in a pool of blood and vomit, Robin's heart stopped as Mark gave him a weak smile. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”

  Robin noticed Mark's left foot canted out in an odd angle. “I hate to do this to you, but we gotta move and it's probably gonna hurt like hell.”

  “I know. Let's go”

  Mark raised his arm and Robin pulled him up and got under his armpit. “Here we go, partner.” At that moment an explosion shot through the holds, jarring the men and hurting their eardrums.

  “Shit, now the boat's sinking!”

  Mark yelled in pain as Robin got them down the stairwell over to the RIBs, struggling under the weight of Mark and the nuke pack. There a shout sounded from the top of the stairs.

  “Cover the stairs, Mark!” Robin picked up a tarp and laid it in the bottom of the largest RIB, a twenty-two foot boat. Mark fired a burst at the top of the stairs. Robin put the nuke pack and his MP5 in the RIB and pulled Mark up and helped him into the boat. Drawing his pistol, Robin ran to the side cargo door controls and hit the lever to open the door.

  Water immediately flooded in the tween deck and at the same time another explosion painfully ripped through the hold. Bullets slammed in the bulkhead just over Robin's head and he turned and fired at a man on the stairs, but missed as he fought the surging water. The man pointed his gun at Robin again, but the ship lurched and the man fell down the stairs.

  “Get in the boat, Rob!”

  Robin struggled to get to the boat in the rising water. Then he saw Mark at the controls of the boat and the engine started. Mark steered the boat over to Robin and he crawled in.

  “I got it, Mark. Get down.”

  The real danger to them became clear to Robin as he looked up. The door was not going up as fast as the water was rising. He did a full circle, dancing around the other RIB which floated aimlessly, trying not to panic and looking for a way out. The thought of drowning flushed him with terror. Then Robin realized he could get the bow of the boat under the door. He maneuvered the boat and pushed the throttle forward getting the bow under the door, stopping at the helm pedestal.

  “Mark, take the wheel!” Mark struggled up and took the wheel, half kneeling, half sitting and cursing at the searing fire in his body. Robin got underneath the door and with all the strength in his legs and back, he pushed against the door, trying to lower the boat enough to get the door over the helm pedestal. At the same time Mark slowly increased the throttle and the edge of the door dug into Robin's back, causing him to grunt with pain.

  With a grind the door rose to the lip at the base of the small windshield. Then the door stopped and Robin pictured the generators flooding. Adrenalin surged through him and he pushed again straining with every ounce of strength in his body.

  Full throttle, full throttle!” Robin yelled. He heard the engine roar. The boat momentarily stuck and then with the crack of the windshield breaking off, it shot onto a tumultuous sea.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  LAURIE MARLETTE WALKED into the family room and saw her mother out on the deck, looking towards the west and the open Pacific. Karen turned and walked to the edge of the deck and Laurie could see her mother wringing her hands. She seemed to be looking for something…or someone. Laurie opened the door and walked out onto the deck and put her arm over Karen's shoulders.

  “Mom, are you all right?”

  Karen didn't answer right away, but continued to look out to sea. Then almost absent mindedly said, “Your father's in trouble.”

  Laurie turned her mother so they were face to face and saw tears welling in Karen's eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Your father is scared, worried and hurt.”

  All her life, Laurie had heard her parents talk about being connected even when they were apart. They would say they could sense each other's feelings. Laurie didn't know if she believed it or not, but more than once, she witnessed one say something about the other which later turned out to be true. Now her mother scared her. “Do you know where Dad is?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Where?”

  “Honey, you know I can't tell you.”

  Laurie sighed with exasperation. “I know what's going on. I know we can't talk about what dad and the team does and I never have. What makes you think I would say anything?”

  Karen looked at her daughter and put her hand on Laurie's cheek. “I'm scaring you aren't I? I'm sorry, honey. Your dad is somewhere around Japan or Russia. Jamie told me he and Mark had to split off from the team to take care of a problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “Jamie didn't tell me, but I know your dad is really worried about someone and I suspect it's Mark.”

  “Mom, do you know how weird you sound?”

  Karen smiled at her daughter. “Laurie, I hope someday you meet someone you can connect with like your father and I do.”

  Laurie hugged her m
other. “You're going to make yourself sick worrying about him.”

  “I'm a little worried, but I know your father and he'll figure out how to get Mark and himself home safe…and God help anyone in his way.”

  “What the hell do you mean they're MIA?!!” Ernie almost screamed into the phone to Jamie. Burke jumped to his feet and glared at Ernie. The others were glued to Ernie's words.

  “I mean exactly that. NSA has confirmed the ship sunk about fifteen nautical miles off the coast of Russia, but we've had no word from either Rob or Mark. The storm makes it impossible for NSA to see enough to find people or even a small boat in the water.”

  “So that's all we know? That's as good as they can do?”

  “I'm sorry, Ernie, I'm just as worried as you.”

  Ernie let out a long breath. “Okay, Jamie, I'm the one who should apologize. I know it's not your fault. Just keep me posted on the situation. What about the Taiwan team?”

  “More bad news. Mission accomplished, but Rick is badly wounded. He's at the Taiwan Navy Hospital and Emmett is there watching over him.’

  “Jesus, things are going to shit!”

  “I got a call from Doug. He's alerted Maria and she's willing to go to Taiwan and make sure Rick gets the best treatment. He wants us to pick her up.”

  “Do it. Tell Shosi to monitor things from Japan. Make a stop at Osan and pick up Burke and Rocky on the way down to Mindanao.”

  “If you say so. You sure you want to us to leave here?”

  “Yes, I'm sure. How are you going to help Rob and Mark, land in the water? Just get moving.”

  Ernie ended the call. “Burke, Rocky, come with me.” Ernie led the two men out of the boat and on to the dock, where they could talk in private. “You guys remember Rob's instructions to us about getting a captured team member out?”

  Burke's eyes narrowed. “I do, but what makes you think Rob and Mark are prisoners.”

  “I don't know they're prisoners, but just think about it. The ship sank fifteen miles from Russia. If they got off it, there's only one place they can go…”

  “Russia,” the other men chimed.

  “So, we'll get you back to Osan and then you guys get on Fatboy and start doing what you need to do to get us some Russian bargaining chips.”

  “We're talking serious shit, Ernie,” Rocky said with a concerned face.

  “Just get it set up. I'll make the final decisions.”

  Burke's mouth bent in a whimsical smile. “You know, Ernie, you're starting to sound like Rob.”

  Bill Grassley leaned over the NSA deputy director's shoulder and studied the screen before them.

  “The sky's clearing, so we'll try an infrared shot,” the deputy director advised.

  Bill watched as the magnification increased. The technician, a man named Stevenson, gingerly fingered the controls, making the movement of the satellite imagery seem silky smooth as he moved it toward Vladivostok. “There, sir! Got something moving on a steady bearing towards the outer entrance to Vladivostok.”

  Bill looked more closely. “That might be them. There's no other small craft in the area.”

  “And that's a really small craft. Like a life boat or RIB,” the deputy director added.

  “Well, that means the nuke is either at the bottom of the sea or they're about to repatriate it to the Soviets.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “If I know Rob…and I do, he might need that nuke as a bargaining chip. Whatever he's doing, he has a good reason.”

  They continued to watch for a half-hour as the image moved into the harbor. It slowed down and then turned and headed for a flashing light just in from the beach.

  “I wonder why he's headed for the light?” The technician asked.

  “Can you change from infrared and get the color of that light?”

  “Just a moment, sir.”

  A few seconds later the screen changed. “It's a blue light.”

  “Well, I'll be damned,” Bill said under his breath.

  “What's he doing?” The deputy director asked.

  “He's going to contact a cop!”

  Bill's satellite phone rang. “Grassley.”

  “Bill, it's Jamie. We just got a flash message from Rob.”

  “What's it say?”

  “Mission accomplished. Mark WIA. Expect to be prisoners soon.”

  “Thanks, Jamie.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well gentlemen, that's the case. Robin is going to trade a nuke for his team member's life.”

  “I'd say he's making a good trade,” the technician blurted. “Sorry, sir…just my opinion.”

  “For what it's worth, Mr. Stevenson, we agree with you and we better tell the Chief of Naval Operations that he can pull his sub out of there. It won't be needed now.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  THE BOAT SHOT OUT ONTO THE SEA, throwing Robin backwards. He hit the side of the boat and bounced into the water, grabbing onto a rope lining the outside of the RIB. The boat bucked like a wild stallion in the waves and the rope cut into his hand. He pulled himself up so his left arm got over the side and then he felt Mark grab him and pull. Robin surged with a kick and flopped into the boat.

  The rain lessened and a full moon radiated through cloud breaks, but the wind was howling, agitating the sea. Robin crawled to the pedestal taking control of the boat, guiding it over and down the five to seven foot waves at an angle. They came at him as looming, dark, undulating masses with pale, luminous tops. The bucking became less pronounced, but the boat still made a wild ride. He gave thanks they were in an almost enclosed sea, which limited the wave action. He remembered from the mission work up that the currents ran counter clockwise. With the winds coming out of the east, he could only go one way…back to Russia.

  Robin saw Mark lying in the fetal position in the bottom of the boat.

  “Mark, get under the tarp!” He yelled.

  Mark raised his head, but seemed unresponsive.

  “Goddammit, Mark, get your ass under the tarp before I kick it from one end of Asia to the other!”

  Mark raised himself higher and fumbled with the tarp. Robin leaned to help him, but almost lost control of the boat.

  “C'mon, Mark, move it! You've got to fight shock!”

  Mark started moving more deliberately, managing to get the tarp unfolded and lay down on it. He got the other side almost over him, but the wind fought him.

  Robin leaned over enough to grab the edge of the tarp and pull it over Mark, who pulled it tighter around himself like a cocoon. It was all he could do for Mark at this point. He concentrated on getting to Vladivostok as fast as he could. He fought the waves and the wind for a good hour. His body was shaking and he knew hypothermia was imminent. He saw lights and gradually could make out Ostrov Russiky. Soon he guided the boat between Russkij Island and Skryplev Island and entered Vladivostok Bay where the surrounding land masses calmed the winds and wave action.

  Robin took a minute to check on Mark. Barely conscious, the young man was in the early stages of hypothermia and Robin knew he had to get help quickly. He pushed the throttle forward and decided to head for the headquarters of the Russian Pacific Fleet, although he only knew its approximate location. He moved through the bay and then headed up the main harbor.

  Suddenly, Robin picked up a flashing blue light in his right peripheral vision. That may be a cop! If it is, based on what we were told about government workers not getting paid and not showing up for work, this guy's got to be dedicated to still be doing graveyard shift. At least I may be able to talk to him before the shit hits the fan. What the hell, it's the best shot we got. Here we go.

  Robin put the boat in idle for a moment and sent a message to Jamie. Then he dumped the satellite phone and all of Mark's weapons into the water. He put the boat in gear and glided to the shore just below the light. He jumped out and pulled the boat onto the beach. He checked on Mark.

  Mark looked at him and Robin saw he didn't look good.
/>   “Hang in there, partner, I'll be back in a minute with some help.”

  Mark nodded.

  Robin headed up a small hill and just before the top, he stopped and surveyed the area. The short climb warmed his body a little. He saw a police car and an officer bent over his hood writing. Another car rested on its side just in front of the police car. Robin didn't see anyone else. He silently came within five feet behind the officer. Although Robin had learned Russian during his training, his fluency needed work, unlike his Arabic. He spoke carefully.

  “Greetings, comrade.”

  The officer spun around and blanched at the sight of Robin's MP5 pointed at his head. Robin saw a man with an intelligent face wearing a clean, pressed uniform with his leather and brass shined. Good! A professional.

  “I don't want to hurt you, officer. I need to talk to you and I need you to listen. When I'm through, I'll give you my weapons.” Robin thought he said it right.

  “Would it be better if we spoke English? Your Russian is not very good,” the officer replied.

  “That would be a great help.”

  “I understood you to say you do not want to hurt to me, but you should repeat the rest.”

  “I just need you to listen to me and then I'll surrender and give you my weapons.” And brother, you have no idea what kind of weapon I have.

  “I'm listening.”