The Honorable Knight

by Patrick John Donahoe

  Serena finished brushing her teeth and rinsed out her mouth. “Continue.”

  “The most unusual part of the crate delivery was the ship’s crew unloaded the crates from the truck and carried them onboard the Jamaran. They wouldn’t let the dock workers handle the boxes.”

  “This may be what I’m looking for.” Serena lifted a board in the flooring and extracted a black plastic device from its hiding place. She lifted her burqa and strapped the device around her waist under the padding she wore to transform her lithe muscular figure into a stodgy one. “Did the navigator come on board during the night?”

  “I tried to monitor everyone who returned to the ship, but I didn’t see him,” Levi replied.

  “That’s a relief. Make preparations to depart in an hour from now.”

  Serena arrived at the frigate earlier than usual to make breakfast and hoped the captain still hadn’t talked to the navigator about her home town. Through the partially open door, Serena spotted three unmarked wooden crates in the storeroom next to the ship’s pantry. Serena served the crew their breakfast, then informed the first mate she had to use the restroom.

  There wasn’t a female only restroom on the ship, but the rules were clear and strict that the men would keep their distance when she had to use the restroom. She set out the sign indicating she was inside. She concealed the only roll of toilet paper in the restroom under her burqa, slipped out of the restroom, and snuck into the storeroom. She would claim she was looking for toilet paper if she was caught in the storeroom.

  Someone had left a can of black spray paint and an ‘engine parts’ stencil on the deck next to the boxes. The stencil and the words on the boxes had not completely dried.

  Serena extracted the black plastic scanner block strapped to her waist from within her burqa. She ran the block over the top and along the sides of each box. She strapped the block back to her waist, dashed back to the restroom, replaced the roll of toilet paper, relieved her bladder, wiped herself, and flushed the toilet. She took down the sign and headed back to the galley. She had been gone for only a few minutes.

  When she arrived back in the galley, the captain was filling his coffee cup.

  “Is everything alright?” he asked.

  “I’m fine, Aqa. I’m dealing with my female situation today. Would it be acceptable if I went home for a couple of hours and returned to make lunch?”

  “What about your escort?”

  “I’ll call my husband. He has the day off today.”

  Serena hurried down the gangplank. Her heart raced as she passed the navigator walking up the gangplank. She avoided looking at him, and he brushed by her without a sign of recognition. Her undercover husband, Levi, was waiting and led her directly to his fishing boat at the far end of the pier. He had already prepared the boat for launch and started the engine.

  Serena took the Iridium satellite telephone out of its secret compartment built into the cabin and gave Ian an update on their extraction from Iran. She inserted the scanner block into its waterproof pouch and re-strapped it around her waist with a Velcro band for security.

  Levi undid the lines and pulled away from the pier. As they headed out to sea from the bay, an Iranian coastal patrol boat hailed them and ordered them to pull alongside. Levi handed the patrol boat officer their forged papers. The officer studied them like they were some deep mystery needing to be solved.

  Serena had seen his type many times before, low level officers who try to look and act as officious as possible, using their petty authority to bully others.

  Apparently satisfied he had demonstrated his importance, he asked Levi, “Can’t you find a man to act as crew?”

  “We’re trying to save money to return to our village. My wife doesn’t like city life.”

  “Don’t go out too far. I don’t want to have to rescue you today.”

  “We’ll be careful.”

  The coastal patrol officer signaled for one of his crew to release the lines and pull away from Levi’s fishing boat. The patrol boat headed toward the shore at a high rate of speed. Levi motored toward the open sea at a moderate speed to not attract attention. Once out of the bay, Levi turned the boat toward the rendezvous point an hour away along the coast.

  Serena lowered a high frequency beeper into the water to assist Ian in finding the fishing boat.

  After an hour Serena checked her handheld GPS for the nth time, and said, “We’re almost to the rendezvous point. Turn five degrees to starboard.” Serena noticed the patrol boat a few miles away coming toward them. She looked down into the water and spotted a killer-whale size Seal Delivery System directly below the fishing boat. “Stop, we’re here,” she ordered.

  Ian appeared at the side of the fishing boat just beneath the surface in full scuba gear. He was hanging on to two more sets of scuba gear for Serena and Levi.

  “Stop the engine and cut the fuel line,” Serena ordered while she spilled gasoline over the deck from a two-gallon gas can.

  Levi chopped a large hole into the keel to scuttle the boat.

  Serena motioned for Levi to join her over the side. As she and Levi jumped into the water, Levi threw a lit cigarette lighter onto the deck and the boat burst into flame. Bobbing in the water, she observed the patrol boat approaching the fiery fishing boat at high speed. Serena held onto the beeper’s line and slipped out of her burqa. She used the diver’s knife she carried strapped to her ankle for protection to cut the beeper’s line, then tied the beeper to the burqa and body padding to pull it all down to the sea bottom.

  Ian shone an underwater light onto the two scuba packs he had prepared for Levi and Serena to use. She and Levi swam down to Ian and placed the regulator mouthpieces in their mouths and began to breathe, pulled the tank packs onto their backs, then put on their masks and fins. Ian safety checked their scuba gear for proper working order and gave a ‘thumbs up’ signal. Both Serena and Levi repeated the thumbs up gesture and the three of them dove down to where Jacques was waiting in the delivery vehicle.

  The three of them situated themselves inside the delivery vehicle, Ian as the navigator next to Jacques the pilot, with Serena and Levi seated behind them. The eighty-degree water felt good on Serena’s skin even though she was dressed in only bra and panties. When Ian signaled Jacques the all-clear, Jacques accelerated the vehicle as fast as it could go.

  The patrol boat’s propellers and engines rumbled as the fishing boat slowly sank in the water above and behind them. The fishing boat would be unrecoverable from the sea bottom.

  The patrol captain would think they had either burned to death in the fire or drowned escaping from the fiery wreck.

  About four miles out to sea, a 37-minute journey in the delivery vehicle, Serena spotted a US nuclear submarine holding station at their depth. Jacques docked the vehicle onto the submarine, and Ian opened the special Seal access hatch. They entered the lock in/lock out chamber and closed the hatch, pumped the water out of the compartment, then opened the inner hatch that provided access to the submarine’s interior. Once all four were safely inside, the submarine dove to normal operating depth and headed out to international waters.

  Chief Colby met them at the entryway and handed each of them a dry towel. Serena, oblivious to the stares from Chief Colby and the quartermaster, toweled off in her bra and panties. The quartermaster handed her a ditty bag containing a simple shift and sandals, and she put them on.

  Serena asked Ian, “Did you bring my laptop?” with an adrenaline pumped intensity in her voice.

  “Where’s the ‘hi, how are you, thanks for saving my butt’?”

  “I’m sorry. Hi, how are you?” she replied with a smirk.

  Ian gave her a hug and said, “Good to see you, too. Did you ask me to bring your laptop?”

  “Yes.” Serena relaxed slightly.

  “Follow me.”

  They passed through several hatches to the captain’s cabin. Ian knocked on the door and the voice inside said, “Enter.”

  All
five of them, Ian, Jacques, Serena, Levi, and Chief Colby entered the tiny office slash cabin. Captain Akers, Commanding Officer of the USS Ohio, stood as they entered. They crowded around the captain’s desk.

  Serena asked, “May I have my laptop, Sir?”

  Captain Akers handed the laptop and a pack containing the block power and USB cords to Serena.

  She opened the laptop, hit the ‘on’ button, waited for the log-on page, and signed in. She unstrapped the scanner block from her waist and hooked the block to her laptop by its USB cable. She selected the scanner icon on her desktop page and initiated the app. It read in the data from the scanner and displayed several scans of the tops and sides of the three suspect boxes from the frigate. With a couple of key strokes, the software enhanced the scans and combined and converted the top and side images to three-dimensional views.

  The captain, leaning over Serena’s shoulder, asked, “What are those things?”

  Serena pointed at the 3D images and said, “Two of the boxes contain MANPADS, Man-Portable Air Defense Systems, shoulder launched surface to air missiles, which can be used to shoot down helicopters and commercial airliners. They’re a popular item for terrorist groups and are sold illegally on the arms’ black market for as little as five thousand dollars each. Hundreds of these things were looted from the Iraqi military arsenal at the start of the Iraqi War. The third box contains four rockets probably modified for whatever diabolical attack they’re planning to conduct.”

  “Why don’t they just use the anti-aircraft self-defense system on the Jamaran?” asked the Captain. “It carries four medium range surface-to-air missiles.”

  “The Jamaran’s captain was told in top secret orders that the submarine commander is in charge. I think the attack will come from the submarine in some form of clandestine action.”

  “Peace tour my ass. Sounds like you’re going to continue to need our services, submarine versus submarine.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Twenty-Nine

  While Karl poured two double shot drinks of neat Macallan Scotch, one for himself and the other for Heinrich, he considered Heinrich’s status as his personal security agent. Karl was reluctant to tell Heinrich too many details about their operations, since Heinrich was no fool, but with his background in the Brazilian secret police, he was capable of figuring out most things eventually anyway. If Heinrich ever became a problem, Karl would have him eliminated. Life was cheap in the favelas of Sao Paulo, and a threat could be eliminated with little trouble or cost. As long as Heinrich thought it was a possibility that he could become a Select, he seemed to be cooperative enough. The man had no family, no friends that Karl knew about, and probably many enemies who would be happy to eliminate him for Karl given half the chance.

  Karl handed Heinrich his drink and toasted, “Salud,” and drank down half his drink in one swallow.

  Heinrich followed suit.

  Karl took his seat at his made to impress teak executive desk and studied Heinrich’s face for a moment. Heinrich had the sharp cunning face of a man who had been employed as a secret policeman his whole life and was willing to do whatever duty demanded of him. His hair was receding; his clear dark blue eyes and skull piercing look could frighten anyone being tortured for information because he always looked serious and non-sympathetic. He wasn’t a tall nor muscular looking man, but with his wiry frame and years of training could probably best most men in a dirty fight.

  “Heinrich, we need two more subjects for experiments with our new virus. The medical reporters aren’t telling us all their findings from Notting Hill. They’re reporting the number of illnesses and ways to avoid catching the virus, but are not telling the actual debilitating effects. I expected them to report the victims showing unnatural signs of aging, like a year of aging for every day their fever remains over 103 degrees. This data may come out later, but I can’t wait, and I have to be sure before I deliver the weapon.”

  Karl knew Heinrich had probably noticed the experimental subjects looked older when he disposed of the bodies, so there seemed to be no harm in telling Heinrich of his concerns. Karl thought, the sponsor wants to launch during the next hurricane season off the coast of the United States, and I’m not ready. Karl wouldn’t tell Heinrich about the planned attack or that the sponsor had only provided 2.5 million of the 5 million USD promised because the media didn’t report the expected aging effects of the virus. Heinrich did not need to know. Karl considered the old adage, the devil is a poor paymaster.

  “Do you have any preferences for your guinea pigs?”

  “I need two homeless street people, one male and one female, between the ages of 18 and 25.”

  “Give me a day or two,” Heinrich replied.

  Heinrich considered his options as he rode the elevator down to the basement parking area and wheeled his black panel van out onto the main street. He would pay a night visit to the slum district and grab two hapless street people. The Sao Palo police and street gangs had been killing each other off so regularly for so long that no one would miss two homeless teenagers. Most of them did whatever they had to do to survive as prostitutes, drug runners, and thieves. Heinrich had made a number of grabs in the past few years working for Karl.

  Heinrich hoped to get into Karl’s good graces enough to be brought into the elite group that he only knew as the Select. Heinrich had no intention of disappointing Karl. This was the kind of work he felt comfortable doing, having been an agent for the Serviço Nacional de Informações, Brazil’s secret police, for twenty years. He wasn’t comfortable working in Karl’s laboratory in the jungle. He wasn’t very comfortable with Karl’s inner group either, since most were well educated, sophisticated, rich snobs who acted as though they were better than everyone else.

  Heinrich parked in one of the many empty dirt lots on the fringe of the favela and watched the comings and goings of the locals with the van lights and radio turned off. There were no working street lights and only a sliver of a moon to provide a glimmer of light in the dark alleyways. A young gang member negotiated a drug sale with a middle aged man in a Lexus. As soon as the Lexus pulled away, Heinrich pulled up next to the drug dealer and rolled down the passenger window.

  The dealer looked into the window and asked, “What do you want, old man?”

  Heinrich replied, “Get in. I have a serious buy for you.”

  “Are you a cop?”

  “No.” Heinrich held up a small roll of bills. “Do you want to make a sale or not?”

  The dealer opened the door and pointed a pistol at Heinrich. “Pops, why don’t you hand that money over to me and toddle on home alive?”

  Heinrich held the money out toward the dealer, but not far enough for him to reach it without stretching into the van.

  The dealer leaned into the van to take the money. Heinrich grabbed his gun hand so fast and pulled him so hard the youth lost his grip on the gun and was dragged halfway into the van.

  Heinrich pressed the accelerator to the floor and the van lurched ahead, bashing the dealer with the open door, then he slammed on the brakes, smashing the dealer against the dash, then dropping him to the van’s floorboard. Heinrich clubbed the drug dealer on the head with his own pistol and sped down the street for two blocks with the passenger door banging against the dealer’s lower legs.

  He returned to the empty lot, ran around to the passenger side of the van, and pulled the unconscious dealer to the ground. Heinrich zip-tied the dealer’s ankles and hands behind his back, then zip-tied the ankle’s and hand’s zip-ties together. Heinrich dragged the dealer across the ground to the rear of the van, picked him up, and dumped him into the back of the van. He duct taped the still unconscious gangster’s mouth and handcuffed his right hand to a special bar he’d installed that ran along the inside right side of the van near the floor.

  With his first victim collected, Heinrich drove to the red light district of the favela and watched a teenaged prostitute lean on the passenger window of the same Lexus he’d seen
earlier. Here was a middle aged man with money walking on the wild side. Heinrich was tempted to grab the Lexus owner as a bonus for Karl’s experiments. The problem was this guy would be missed, and the search for him would be intense, even if he was a dirt bag. The girl, for whatever reason didn’t get into the Lexus. Having lost one customer, she would be an easier negotiation for Heinrich. Heinrich pulled up to the girl and lowered the passenger window.

  “How much for all night?” he asked.

  “You don’t waste any time, Grandpa,” she said, her halfway exposed bosoms resting on the window ledge. “Two hundred Brazilian Reals, ‘cause I like you.”

  “Let’s go.”

  The girl got into the van. Heinrich sped away to his favorite quiet spot and parked.

  “What are you doing?” the girl asked. She scooted as close to the passenger door as she could.

  Heinrich pointed the gangster’s pistol at her and said, “Move to the back of the van.”

  “Don’t shoot,” she pleaded. The girl stepped over the center console and into the back of the van, exposing her commando approach to undergarments. “Why is this guy tied up back here?”

  Heinrich followed her with the pistol pointed at her head and handed her a zip-tie. “Wrap this around your ankles.”

  “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you want . . . for free.” She sat on the floor of the van and held the zip-tie.

  “Tie your ankles and you won’t be hurt.”

  She zip-tied her ankles.

  “Pull it tight,” he said, pressing the pistol against her forehead. Heinrich zip-tied her wrists, but when he started to duct tape her mouth, she let out a scream and tried to scoot away. He bashed her on the head with the pistol butt knocking her unconscious. He turned on the overhead light and saw how young she was, and not bad looking, but was probably riddled with more than one STD.

  He felt no remorse for what might happen to the drug dealer, but did think it was unfortunate that the teenaged street girl ended up in her current situation. He would gladly trade her for the guy in the Lexus, but Karl wanted a young male and a young female.