by Cap Daniels
My heart was breaking for her.
“Anya, listen to me. The memories of your mother and the feelings you have for her are wonderful and perfectly normal. Don’t push them away. They are—”
She stopped me again. “I need for you to listen to me and to not stop me, please. It does not matter if how I feel for my mother is real, because the way you look at me—the way you make me feel—is what is real now. I know it is, and I love it.”
“Of course it’s real, Anya. I do love you.”
She pressed her finger to my lips again. “I will not spy for you, Chase. I will not betray what I have been trained to protect, and I will not ask you to betray what you love. I know that you think I am trying to seduce you to have you share what you know with me, but is not truth. I should be doing that, but I cannot. I know that is my duty to have you like putty in hands and take everything from your mind, but I feel for you. I feel honesty and need and trust for you. I do not trust anyone, but I trust you and I do not know why. I know you are trained to lie to me and to get me to tell you everything, but you do not do that. You are sincere when you kiss me and when you make love to me. You are kind. That is new feeling for me. I want to be honestly kind to you. I do not know the feeling that Americans call love. I know respect, fear, and lust, but I do not know love. I am, for first time, feeling something that frightens and excites me. I am feeling something with you that is foreign to me. None of this is easy for me. I cannot stay with you right now, Chase, but I will come back. I will.”
She had to see the horror in my eyes when she told me she couldn’t stay. I was at a loss for words, so I said the dumbest thing that could’ve possibly come out of my mouth.
“How do you know Suslik isn’t dead?”
I saw the pain in her eyes immediately. I had taken a tender, vulnerable moment, and turned it into a selfish question. I hated myself for being so stupid. I tried to take it back, but it was too late. The damage was done. Her expression hardened, and she pulled her hands from mine.
“Chase, I am leaving tonight. I will find you soon, but you must go home. You must move money and you must go home. Listen to me. Do not try to find me. Nothing could be more dangerous for you. I will find you. I swear to you, I will find you.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but she shook her head, stood, and disappeared below deck. I wanted to put my gun in my mouth for my stupidity. Anya had poured her soul into my hands, and I let it fall to the deck. I was disgusted with my insensitivity.
Anya’s head appeared in the companionway. “Our friend is still sleeping, and I think you should do same. You have sailing tonight.”
She disappeared again. She was right, of course. I did need to rest before our long night of sailing, but she’d said she was leaving, and I didn’t want to miss spending one moment with her.
Moments later, she appeared on deck with two drinks in her hands and sat beside me.
She half-smiled. “I think how we feel about each other is new feeling for you too. We are to learn together, in time, but not now. I am going to make it easy for you. You take nap. I will wake you before sun goes down, and we will sail to Anguilla tonight. We will take care of our guest, then we will make plan to find each other again. Yes?”
I smiled, “Yes, of course, that’s okay with me. I think it’s a wonderful idea. Now listen, I’m very sorry about the question—”
She shushed me and handed me a glass. “Never be sorry.”
It was her perfect lemonade again. The tangy sweetness made me smile, and I emptied the drink in two long swallows. She placed her fingers against my bottom lip and pulled my mouth open. She peered at my swollen tongue. “It looks better, but is still too big. It will be okay in few days. I am sorry—”
“Never be sorry,” I interrupted, as I pressed my lips to hers.
Her hands in my hair, and her body pressed against mine, felt like Heaven had descended upon me. I felt my eyes grow heavy and my body melt into her arms. There was absolutely nothing I could do. I was powerless to resist the coming sleep.
28
Rude Awakening
The sun was still visible, but just barely, when I was finally able to pry open my eyes. I felt like I’d been hit by a bus. My head ached and my limbs felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds. I shook my head and squinted as I tried to remember what happened for the past twelve hours.
I began putting together little pieces of the day, and I tried to focus on the things I knew for sure. Anya had checked on our guest and declared him to be breathing. She’d made lemonade again and had a glass with me in the cockpit. I vaguely remember kissing her just before falling asleep.
The lemonade. The damned lemonade. How could I have fallen for such childish deceit? Anya and her damned tranquilizers.
I stood on trembling knees and took inventory of my senses and surroundings. I was groggy. My boat was still sitting nicely at anchor, but something was missing.
The gunman’s dinghy was gone.
This can’t be good.
The dinghy wasn’t the only thing missing. The gunman, Anya, and every drop of evidence that either had ever been aboard had vanished. In vain, I called for her, but the only response that came was the screech of the seagulls drifting lazily overhead.
My stomach felt like it was going to implode. I felt abandoned and alone. I’d grown accustomed to feeling Anya’s movement aboard the boat. I’d come to love her scent as we passed on deck and the feeling of her hair caressing my skin when we sat together in the cockpit. Now, she was gone.
She told me she’d be leaving and that she’d make it as easy as possible for me, but I hadn’t expected her to simply vanish. I don’t know what I thought was going to happen, but none of that mattered. I was a long way from home and without a plan.
My mouth felt like the desert, but my head was beginning to clear. I pulled my favorite plastic cup from the cupboard and reached for the faucet in the galley. Living aboard a boat tends to create habits that landlubbers don’t understand. Creatures of all size tend to congregate aboard boats, and they like to take naps in nice cool places like inside plastic cups. The first mouthful of an unidentifiable bug taught me to always shake the cup upside down and take a quick peek inside before filling it with anything meant to end up in my mouth. The shake-n-peek had become an unconscious habit. When I reflexively performed the habitual motion, a small, curled piece of paper fell from the cup and onto the cutting board. I placed the cup in the sink, picked up the slip of paper, and examined it carefully. When I unrolled the paper, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Written in delicate freehand script was:
Chase,
First, it is important that you know I am sorry to go away while you slept, but I know that you understand why it had to be. Second, move your money now. Third, I will find you. I promise. Fourth, stop being predictable and drink from different cup sometimes. We really have to work on what you Americans call tradecraft. Finally, I know how you feel about me and I feel same for you. We will find a way.
Instead of a signature, the bottom of the note was adorned with a sketch of two skinny human feet. One had all five toes and the other only had four. I laughed aloud as I read the note over and over. I even lifted it to my nose on the off chance that the faint scent of her might still be lingering on the paper. I slid the note inside my copy of Practical Navigation for Yachtsmen, and I set about plotting a course for Georgetown on Grand Cayman. I needed to see a banker about moving a little cash.
Georgetown lay just over a thousand miles west with Puerto Rico, Haiti, and Jamaica sprinkled nicely along the route. Anya would’ve enjoyed seeing those places. The prevailing wind was nice and strong from the southwest, which would make for thirty degrees of heel. I laughed, remembering how Anya had unknowingly chosen an easterly course by her dislike of heeling over as we beat into the wind. Considering my westerly course, everything about the coming night meant that I was getting further away from Anya.
With my course plotted, I weighed anchor and set
sail into the fifteen-knot southwest wind. Aegis heeled over and settled into the sea just as I knew she would. For the first several hours, I sat or stood with my hand on the wheel, feeling every twitch of the rudder and savoring the beauty and ease with which my fifteen tons of freedom cut through the waves and wind. I finally surrendered her to the autopilot.
I did the shake-n-peek with every cup hoping to find another note, but the search was disappointingly fruitless.
* * *
My journey, as is true of most of life’s journeys, proved to be far more than a change in longitudes. The seventeen degrees of longitude that separate Virgin Gorda and Georgetown would mean one hundred eighty degrees of personal change in the days to come.
So many decisions had been made without my permission, and so much life had been stolen from me in the previous two years. My childhood as the son of spies—who I thought were missionaries—left me both blessed and cursed with a headful of lies and mysterious truths that were impossible to separate. Physical injury tore me from my future as a Major Leaguer. My friendship with and respect for an eccentric psychology professor led me to becoming what my father had been: a killer. I’d made none of those decisions, yet they were the defining events of my life so far.
As the sun rose and set on my journey, it was time to make some decisions for myself. Anya was correct. I had to move my money someplace that only I could find it. I had to talk face-to-face with Dr. Richter about what happened to me, and specifically about Anya. He was the closest thing I had to a father. More importantly, he was one of the few living souls I could trust.
* * *
The banking business in Georgetown was a life lesson for me. I learned that a million dollars in cash won’t fit in most briefcases, but it will fit in a gym bag, and it weighs around twenty-five pounds in hundred-dollar bills.
I also learned that I couldn’t just walk out of a bank with eight million in cash. Besides weighing two hundred pounds and taking up as much space as a beanbag chair, banks don’t keep that much cash on hand. I didn’t know any of that before my afternoon of embarrassing questions. I left the bank with just over a million dollars in cash, seven checks, and a stack of bearer bonds.
There could be no worse idea than to place that much perishable value aboard a sinkable sailboat in the Caribbean Sea. Instead of bedding down my fortune aboard Aegis, I chose to open a few numbered accounts and spread it around. That part turned out to be quite easy. I ended the day with several credit cards drawn against several accounts. Remembering David Shepherd’s instruction, I kept a nice little stack of hundreds as walking around money.
* * *
Dr. Richter arrived on a chartered flight just as the sun was setting on one of those perfect Caribbean evenings that look so good on postcards. When I picked him up at Owen Roberts International Airport, I was surprised to see that he wasn’t alone. The man with Dr. Richter carried himself with the confidence of an operator, but he had the look of a politician. It was an odd combination. He was fit and observant like a good field agent, but he wore the fake smile of a governor who wanted to be a senator. There was a dichotomy about him that was impossible to overlook.
Perhaps the other man’s presence would make sense as the evening progressed, but at that moment, I was a little disappointed Dr. Richter hadn’t come alone. When I’d called Dr. Richter, I made it clear that I needed to speak with him privately. I needed not only professional guidance, but I also needed an old, trusted friend. I had a lot on my mind. I honestly felt a little betrayed that he brought a new character into my already crumbling world.
As Dr. Richter and the other man stepped from the plane and started across the tarmac, I left the terminal building to greet them. The man never took his eyes off me. I was tempted to not let him know that I recognized his blatant stare, but I decided I would play alpha male. Surprisingly, he blinked first. I didn’t expect that. After he blinked, that politician’s smile smeared across the lower half of his face. He was in khaki slacks, a blue button-down shirt, and a navy blue jacket. Dr. Richter, on the other hand, was wearing his typical professorial attire. His ragged shirt looked like it should’ve been thrown into a ragbag back in the seventies. Some things never change.
I shook Dr. Richter’s hand excitedly and embraced him as if he were my long-lost brother. He returned my hug, but not with the same measure of excitement. Something was making him uncomfortable.
When we parted, he turned to the man. “Chase, this is Michael Pennant. Michael, meet Chase Fulton.”
The man extended his hand and I shook it with confidence, just as my father had taught me.
I looked him at boldly. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pennant. Your name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite recall having met you before.”
The man smiled warmly. “I get that a lot,” he said. “Most people who hear my name never actually meet me.”
I was intrigued by the cryptic response, but I’d be patient and let it all play out in time rather than rushing the situation with awkward questions.
“I haven’t made any reservations for you. I’m on the boat. You’re welcome to join me aboard, but I get the feeling that you may not be accustomed to sleeping in a tiny bunk on a rolling boat, Mr. Pennant.”
I watched him for a reaction, but none came. I kept playing the name Michael Pennant over in my head. I knew the name, but not the face. Dr. Richter was no help.
Before Pennant could respond to my comment about where they’d sleep, Dr. Richter said, “Let’s get some dinner.”
“Great idea,” I said. “There’s a great little place right on the beach that has the best grilled snapper you’ll ever eat.”
“Sounds great to me,” said Pennant.
We headed for my borrowed SUV. The manager of one of the banks where I’d made a sizable deposit earlier in the day had insisted that I use his Land Rover while I was on the island. I took him up on his very generous offer. The vehicle was comfortable, roomy, and even a little luxurious. I liked the ride and feel of the substantial car.
When we reached the Land Rover, Dr. Richter opened the rear door for Pennant. The man slid inside as if he were accustomed to being driven, and Dr. Richter closed the door behind him before hopping in the front passenger’s seat. The servant role was not typical of Rocket Richter, so I was even more intrigued than before about who Pennant actually was.
We left the airport and drove along the sea on the southwest side of the island. It was a perfect night. The wind was blowing lightly and the golden sun was sinking across the western horizon.
Pennant began the conversation. “So, Chase, I’ve been hearing a lot of very impressive things about you and the things you’ve been accomplishing. You should be very proud of yourself.”
He left that statement floating in the air like a hanging curveball just begging to be driven out of the park, but I didn’t swing.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Pennant. I just sail and fish. There’s not much to be proud of about that, unless you count that mahi-mahi I bagged this morning. She was a beauty!”
Dr. Richter looked at me with a knowing smile. “It’s okay, Chase. Michael is the deputy director of operations for the CIA. He knows more about you than you know about you.”
So, that’s why his name sounded familiar. Michael Pennant had been one of the most brilliant field agents the CIA had ever produced. He was a legend among operators, the world over. Now, he was in the back seat of my borrowed Land Rover showering me with compliments.
I tried to appear unimpressed. “The DDO, huh? How about that? What brings you to the Caymans, Mr. Pennant?”
“You, Chase,” he said almost as if I should’ve been expecting him. “Your work in Cuba has caused quite a stir on the international stage. We have a lot to discuss about how you were able to get so close to Suslik when nobody else on Earth seemed to be able to get it done.”
I looked around nervously, unable to believe that he had just said that in a car that hadn’t been
swept for bugs, and after having only met me ten minutes before.
I looked around as if I were confused. “I’m sorry, but you must have me confused with somebody else. As I said, I’m just a sailor and a fisherman. I’m an American. Americans can’t go to Cuba, and I don’t even know what a Suslik is.” With raised eyebrows, I glared at him in the rearview mirror. “Isn’t this borrowed car nice? I don’t know who actually owns it, but I think it belongs to a bank here on the island. They’re just letting me use it for a few days.”
Pennant’s eyes widened as he recognized that the Land Rover was not an asset of the Agency. He realized he’d spoken out of turn and far too freely before he’d ascertained the level of security. He said, “Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”
We arrived at the beachside grill and spent two hours drinking island beer and eating every fish the cook would send out. The conversation was meaningless, but we had a few laughs as we tried to guess the occupations and hometowns of the tourists in floral shirts with sunburned noses.
We finally made our way aboard Aegis where we could speak freely about almost anything. The speakers that had been installed around the deck pointed outward to muffle any conversation aboard. Sounds travel impressively well across the water, so the noise of the stereo made for an excellent curtain of audio security.
It didn’t take long for Pennant to continue the discussion he began in the Land Rover. “So, Chase, tell me about the Cuban op.”
I looked at Dr. Richter for any indication that I shouldn’t proceed, but it didn’t come, so I started talking. I told Pennant how everything had gone down, from the helicopter ride, to the freighter, to the run for my life after the mission was complete.
“I’m impressed, Chase. This kind of work is clearly in your blood. We made a good decision in recruiting you.”
In a moment of confidence, I asked, “Do I work for you, Mr. Pennant?”
He looked at me, then lifted his glass and took a long, slow swallow. “No. You don’t work for me. At least not yet.” He swallowed the last of his drink. “Thank you for the hospitality, Chase. I’m going to call it a night, but I’m sure we’ll talk again soon. I have a feeling that you and I have a lot in common. It was a pleasure to finally meet you. You remind me a lot of your father.”
