Necessary Retribution

by Mike McNeff

  The two men pulled into the parking lot of the Carlton Hotel and made their way to the restaurant. A man in a tan suit with an open collar waved them over to his table.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I don't believe introductions are necessary.”

  “Good afternoon. What are we eating?” Robin asked.

  “I recommend any seafood here. You don't want to try their meat. It can be an iffy proposition sometimes.”

  The waiter came over and Robin and Alex order grilled tuna steaks. When the waiter left, the CIA agent pointed his thumb over his shoulder towards the bay, which spread before them in panorama through large picture windows.

  “The eighty foot yacht to the right is your boy's boat. He, the Asian and the young boy are on board and have been for several hours. I haven't seen any activity indicating they're getting ready to leave.”

  Robin studied the geography and the tactical situation. “We're going to have to do a seaborne assault. Can you provide us with scuba gear, weapons and a RIB?”

  The CIA man gave Robin a hard look. “Not without permission from Langley and a RIB on this short notice will be tough.”

  Robin looked around. “I'll be right back.” He went down the stairs and through the lobby to the front desk.

  The clerk looked up. “How may I help you, sir?” He asked in Arabic.

  Robin replied in the same language, “My friend and I are staying at the Hilton, but we like your hotel so much, we'd like to get rooms here. Do you have any available?”

  The clerk gave a condescending smile. “The only room I have available is one of our Royal Suites, which is quite expensive.”

  “On the top floor?”

  “Why yes, sir.”

  “Fine, we'll take it.”

  “How long will you be staying?”

  “A week.”

  The clerk raised his eyebrows. “I will need the room rent in advance.”

  Robin handed the man a credit card.

  The clerk looked at the name on the card. “Well, Mr. Al-Alani, you don't look like you're from the Middle East.”

  “My father is Saudi, but my mother is Irish. My father is of the royal family.”

  “Oh, I'm so sorry to have questioned you, sir!”

  “Apology accepted.”

  The clerk looked relieved as he handed Robin two keys.

  Robin made his way back to the restaurant and sat back down at the table.

  “You can forget about the RIB. We'll launch the assault from here.”

  “How are you going to do that?” the CIA man asked.

  “I just got the penthouse here for a week. All you need to do is get us scuba equipment, a couple of hundred feet of rope and suppressed weapons. If you need juice to get authorization, call Grassley.”

  “My boss doesn't like jumping the chain of command.”

  Robin sat back and drummed his fingers on the table. “What's your boss’ phone number? I'll have Grassley call him.”

  “All right, all right, calm down. I'll get the gear. It's just doing this op without telling the Paks is downright dangerous.”

  “And if we told them, the ISI would warn Picushkin and get him out of here.”

  The CIA man took a deep breath. “What time do you want the gear?”

  “After dark.”

  “I'll be here.” The CIA man rose to leave and reached for his wallet.

  Robin held up his hand. “Don't worry about it. I'll bill the room.”

  The CIA man nodded and left. Robin and Alex went up to the suite, which was spacious and had a balcony overlooking the bay. It gave a direct view of Picushkin's yacht.

  “Well Alex, we have a great surveillance location.”

  Alex laughed. “You're truly an amazing person, Robin.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I would have never thought about renting a room here and you had the CIA man terrified of you when he left.”

  “I don't know about that. We need to be careful. He might just decide he needs to tell the Paks what we're up to.”

  “Do you think he will?”

  “Not really because he probably believes we'll kill him if he does.”

  Alex broke out laughing. “Yes, he had that look in his eyes.”

  Robin reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of binoculars. “I'll take the first watch. You get some sleep.”

  Alex reached for the binoculars. “No, my friend, you have done most of the work today. You get some rest. I need that crazy mind of yours working in high gear tonight.”

  Robin shrugged. “All right, partner, I'll grab some shut eye.”

  Alex laughed again. “Sometimes you sound like the cowboys in American westerns.”

  “That's because I am a cowboy at heart.”

  Robin glassed the yacht as he saw a motorboat heading out to it, it's wake jumbling the reflection of the lights on the other side of the harbor. He had relieved Alex four hours before. It was dark, but he could see the boat pulled up alongside the yacht. Robin could make out a man climbing on board. The lighting on the yacht revealed a well dressed man whose head moved surveying the area. Definitely an operator and probably Pakistani ISI. Picushkin appeared and warmly greeted the ISI man. They went below.

  Robin walked to the room where Alex rested. “Hey partner, wake up. We have activity.”

  Alex immediately jumped to his feet. “What is it?”

  “It looks like Picushkin's ISI contact has showed up. It's time to go to work.”

  They moved swiftly, packing the gear delivered by the CIA man. They were already in the wetsuits. They put on their air tanks and masks. Robin stepped out to the balcony and looked four stories down. The area below was clear and quiet in the sticky warm air. The area was basically under construction. The hotel was new and the grounds around it didn't have much in the way of shrubbery for concealment, but there wasn't much in the way people traffic.

  Robin secured a rope on the balcony railing and threw the other end over the side. Alex slid down the rope first and disappeared behind a small building. Robin went next and knelt down next to Alex. The water was one hundred yards away.

  The men remained still, listening and surveying the area. Minutes later, Robin looked at Alex and gave a thumbs up. Alex returned the hand signal and they crept across the barren dirt using shadows for concealment. They reached the beach and slipped into the water.

  Once in the water, Robin put his flippers on and started towards the yacht on a compass bearing he previously plotted. A long cord connected him to Alex. Robin barely surfaced twice to check their course. Twenty minutes later, they were at the swim platform of the yacht. They took off their tanks and removed their weapons from waterproof bags. Each man had a suppressed MP5 submachine gun, a suppressed Glock 9mm pistol and KaBar knives. They put their pistols in thigh holsters.

  The only sound they heard was water lapping against the hull of the boat. Robin raised his head over the stern and covered the area with his submachine gun as Alex climbed over the gunwale and ghosted to the cabin door. He knelt ready to shoot and waved Robin over who went to the other side of the door and knelt. Alex rose to the bottom of a window. He quickly looked and then dropped back down. Turning to Robin, he put his fingers to his eyes and then held up one finger, indicating he saw one bad guy. He then made a throat slitting motion indicating he would use his knife to kill the enemy.

  Robin held up his hand for Alex to wait and pointed up to the bridge of the yacht. He wanted to clear high ground before they assaulted the main part of the boat. Alex nodded.

  Robin turned and climbed the ladder to the bridge. He approached it in a crouch and then rose slowly to look through the door window. He saw a large man bent over the chart table. He also saw Ahmed sitting on a chair, his feet and hands bound. Robin tried the door handle and it moved. He thumbed the selector switch on his submachine gun to semi-auto, raised it to eye level and silently entered the bridge. The man started to straighten up and turn as if he sensed something.
Robin squeezed the trigger and shot the man with one bullet into the base of the brain. The man pitched forward, but Robin caught him before he crashed onto the chart table and quietly lowered the body to the deck.

  He turned to Ahmed, whose eyes were wide and terrified. Robin put his finger to his lips and moved next to Ahmed and spoke in Arabic.

  “I'm Rob and I'm a friend of Jonathan. I'm going to get you to safety after I take care of the others on the boat. Do you understand?”

  Ahmed nodded his head.

  Robin looked around and saw a hatch. He went over and opened it and saw a hold large enough for Ahmed to hide. He went back and untied Ahmed. “Ahmed, you're a brave boy. I want you to hide in that hold until I or another man named Alex comes for you. Will you do that for me?”

  Ahmed nodded again and then asked, “Is my brother safe?”

  “Yes, Ahmed, he is with Jonathan.”

  Ahmed got up and went to the hold and crawled in.

  “Remember, Ahmed. Don't come out until I or a man named Alex comes for you. You're going to hear some bad things, but just stay here.”

  “I will.”

  Robin rubbed the boy's head. “Good boy.”

  He closed the hatch and looked around and saw where a flight of stairs went down to the main cabin. He crawled to the edge of the stairway and listened. He could hear voices in serious discussion. He backed off and called Alex on the radio.

  “Alex, do you copy?” Robin whispered.

  Alex's whisper came through Robin's earpiece. “Roger, good signal.”

  “Still got the drop on your guy?”

  “Roger.”

  “I took one out here and found Ahmed. Take yours out and re-contact me. We'll recon and then do the assault.”

  “Roger, standby.”

  Robin stood back and gripped his weapon, ready to charge down the stairs if Alex ran into trouble. The seconds ticked by…

  “Bad guy down,” Alex finally whispered. “I see two people, an Asian and probably the ISI man talking to someone across the room I can't see. There's a guy with an AK shorty, probably a bodyguard, standing behind them.”

  Robin crawled back to the top of the stairs and looked. “There's another bodyguard with an AK shorty standing to the left of where you'll come in.” Robin moved his head to the right. “The guy the others are talking to is Picushkin, who is sitting on a settee. I'll take out the bodyguard I see, you take out yours. Let's try to take everyone else alive.”

  “Roger, I'll move to Picushkin, you move to the others.”

  Robin pointed his submachine gun at the head of his bodyguard and switched the selector to full auto. “Roger. Are you ready?”

  A few seconds went by. “Roger.”

  “On the three count…three…two…one.” Robin squeezed the trigger and sent a two round burst into the side of the head of his first target. He leaped onto the stairs, wrapping his left leg around the railing and slid down on his left leg facing backwards so he could train his weapon on the Asian and the ISI man. He landed on the deck to the left and slightly behind Alex, who advanced on Picushkin. The ISI man reached into the left side of his suit coat. Robin advanced on his two targets and shouted, “Don't move!” The ISI man continued to go for his gun. Robin fired a three round burst and shredded the ISI man's right shoulder sending blood, bone fragments and muscle tissue flying. The man screamed and fell back against his chair while his gun clattered onto the deck. The Asian didn't move. Robin moved behind the two men. He now faced Picushkin and saw he held a satellite phone with a calm face and his index finger on the keys. Alex was next to him with his submachine gun pointed at Picushkin's head at point blank range.

  Aside from the sounds of pain coming from the ISI man, silence settled in the room. Robin kept his submachine gun pointed at Picushkin and searched the Asian for a gun. The man was clean, but Robin found a passport identifying him as Bao Ma Teo, a Chinese citizen. He also searched the ISI man. He had no more weapons, but Robin removed a cell phone from his coat pocket.

  Picushkin looked at Alex and smiled. “Well, Alex, I must admit you moved much faster than I expected.”

  “I'm taking you back to Russia.”

  “Oh, I don't think so. All I have to do is push the pound key on this satellite phone and a signal will be sent to a backpack nuclear bomb in the main nuclear weapon storage facility at Saratov-63. Do you know what that would mean?”

  “Worse than Tunguska.”

  “Very astute, my boy, very astute! And of course you can't kill me, because you need what I know. So we have a predicament.”

  Robin pretended to be occupied with putting plastic handcuffs on his prisoners. His mind raced, weighing the odds of a shot to knock the phone out of Picushkin's hand. He had to get far enough to the right to take the shot without hitting Picushkin in a vital area…and he had to be sure he could do it. If he missed, a whole bunch of Russian people would disappear. He made it to a position where the phone was clear of vital areas on Picushkin's body. Robin breathed deeply and slowly. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.

  Picushkin continued to taunt Alex. “Maybe you should call your dear Yosef and get some direction on what you should do, Alex. There is so much and so many lives at risk…”

  Robin's hands and arms moved the MP5 smoothly to the shooting position as his trigger squeeze already started. By the time his sight picture settled where he wanted it, the trigger cleanly broke and two rounds smashed into the phone and Picushkin's hand. Robin came off the sights seeing Alex and Picushkin in what seemed like a slow motion ballet of Picushkin trying to catch the phone and Alex thrusting the butt of his MP5 into Picushkin's face. The former general went flying over the settee. Alex jumped over the furniture and quickly put plastic cuffs on Picushkin.

  Robin moved to the center of the room so he could watch the other two men and give help to Alex if he needed it. He didn't. Alex rose up from behind the settee dragging Picushkin by the scruff of the neck. He threw the hapless general at the feet of the other two men.

  Robin put his hand on this friend's shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yes, thanks to you. I made a stupid move by getting too close to him.”

  “It's the end result that counts, my friend. I'm going to get Ahmed. I trust you can get the general to tell where the other two bombs are.”

  “No problem.”

  “I didn't think so.” Robin hurried up the stairs to the bridge. He reached down to open the hatch. “Ahmed, it's me, Rob. I'm opening the hatch.”

  “Okay, Rob.”

  Robin opened the hatch and Ahmed crawled out and immediately wrapped his arms around Robin. Robin could feel the boy shaking. “It's all right, Ahmed. We're getting out of here.”

  Robin went over to the captain's chair and surveyed the controls and the instruments. He turned the engine batteries on, activated the power and began the startup procedure for the diesel. He cranked the engine and the instruments came to life all in the green.

  “Ahmed, I hereby designate you the First Mate. Do you know anything about boats?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, just do as I say and you'll be fine. I want you to stay here and make sure the dials all stay in the green. If one doesn't and goes into the red, pick up the microphone and call my name. This is the boat's intercom and I should hear you.”

  “Okay, sir.”

  “Good boy. I'll be back in a couple of minutes.” Robin went back down the stairs and saw Picushkin bent over sobbing.

  Alex looked at Robin. “The other two bombs are in the master stateroom in a compartment under the bed.”

  “Roger.” Robin worked his way to the master stateroom, clearing every area along the way and after a brief search, found the compartment and removed the backpack bombs. There were also two large briefcases. Robin opened them and saw they were full of US dollars. He looked deeper into the compartment and found another briefcase. He opened it and an involuntary, “Son of a bitch,” fell from his lips. The briefcase contained the
Soviet Union's order of battle for a nuclear war with NATO. Robin knew he had a real predicament. He shook his head. How did I go from being a raggedy-assed street cop to being in possession of this pile of monstrosity?

  He stood up and looked at the heap of backpacks and briefcases, wrestling with the conflicting loyalties inside of him. He rubbed his temples and stood still for a few moments. Then he reached down and picked up the backpacks and carried them back to the main salon. As he entered the salon his eyes met Alex's.

  “You found them!”

  Robin put the bombs down. “There's more. I'll be right back.” He went back and retrieved the two money cases.

  “What is in those cases?”

  “The general's loot. I've got one more to get.” Robin retrieved the case with the secret documents and brought them into the salon.

  “More money?”

  “No, we'll talk about this later.” Robin pulled Alex closer and whispered, “Get a hold of Yosef and see if you have any ships in the area. We have to get out of here immediately. I'll watch these morons.”

  Alex gave Robin a puzzled look for a moment and then went into another room. He returned a few minutes later and leaned to Robin's ear. “There is a submarine two hundred and fifty miles away. It has been ordered to come to us.”

  “I'm going to get this boat underway. I'll be back in a bit.” Robin went up the stairs.

  “How we doing, First Mate?”

  “Everything is green, sir.”

  “Good.” Robin looked over the control panel again. He sat in the captain's chair and engaged the forward gear. The boat started slowly forward. “Okay, Ahmed, keep the bow of the boat headed toward the bay entrance. I have to go forward and stow the anchor. Watch me and when I hold my fist up like this, you ease this lever to the neutral position. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Robin hurried forward and looked over the bow, stepping on the switch for the anchor winch and the anchor started rolling in smoothly. He raised his fist and the forward motion of the boat slowed to a stop. The anchor soon came up and locked itself into place at the tip of the bow. Robin hustled back to the bridge and put the engine back in gear, pushing the throttle forward. “Okay, Ahmed, steer for the bay entrance again.”