Boris smiled. “I don’t know what you are talking about Michael. This has to be a misunderstanding on somebody’s part. I was down here enjoying your nice American beach and its boardwalk. I have no reason to cause any trouble in your friendly country. I am a peaceful Russian citizen.”
“You’re slipping Boris. Who said anything about you causing trouble?” Forsythe said, shaking his head in disappointment. “With you being a former instructor, you should have known better. Your own students would mock you if they could see you now. I am truly disappointed, Boris.”
Forsythe motioned for his fellow agents to place him in a waiting car. “Get him out of my sight.” He watched as his agents roughly shoved Boris into a blue sedan.
Forsythe retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, dialing a number from memory. As he waited for his contact to pick up, he looked around at the final stages of yet another magnificent sunset. He smiled at the similarities between his career and the sun, both basically in their final stages, but at least the sun would once again rise the next day.
When his contact picked up, Forsythe said. “Tracker, this is Jupiter. The planets are aligned.”
Chapter Six
Peter had little trouble locating the bustling supermarket—open 24 hours a day as its banner proudly proclaimed — precisely where his Syrian handler said it would be.
He picked a spot on the right-hand side of the well-lit lot to park.
Retrieving his Koran from his overnight bag, he turned to the east and said his nightly prayers, thanking Allah for his good fortune. When he finished, he placed the Koran on his lap and reclined his seat, falling off to sleep.
A car door closing roused him. He quickly checked his watch then re-checked the ferries schedule to confirm the departure times. Peter realized he had an hour to kill before boarding, deciding to drive to a local McDonalds for some breakfast. He had picked up a taste for Egg Mc Muffins during his short stay in the United States. He wondered how he could satisfy his craving when he returned home? His country had nothing similar to this decadence in America.
Driving to the parking lot’s exit, he spied a local police car approaching from the opposite direction. Peter panicked for a split second until he saw the police officer turn his cruiser into the same McDonalds. Peter instinctively turned his car in the opposite direction. With his own breakfast plans on hold, he decided it would be prudent to head straight for the ferry. The presence of the police car suppressed his desire for food. His mission took precedence over his own needs, the needs of his people.
How selfish, he thought. I have become tainted by this American style of living after only three weeks.
Spying the massive ferry from the road, Peter drove onto the gravel lot before noticing a cardboard sign haphazardly nailed to a wooden post announcing “ticket sales this way.” Steering his vehicle in the direction of the crudely drawn arrow, Peter was able to spot a teenager who sported a roll of paper tickets almost the width of his skinny chest.
The line of cars in front of him was surprisingly short due to most of the vehicles having already pre-boarded. This being the busy summer season people wanted to be assured a space on the ferry with some people even arriving two hours early to await boarding. Peter didn’t take this into account with his back-up plan. Luckily for him tickets were still for sale.
“One-way or roundtrip sir,” the lanky teenager said, leaning in on Peters rolled down car window for support. “$43 roundtrip or $25 one way,” anticipating the question from Peter. He stood there looking back at the remaining cars in line, than to Peter.
“One way,” Peter said, handing over the exact change, in return receiving a white paper ticket. That was easy, he thought as he drove forward, easing his car into the line as it snaked its way aboard the massive ferry. Any other country would have police checking identification before boarding such a large ship. The lazy infidel Americans will soon learn the error of their ways. Everything would change after today.
Peter maneuvered his car up the ten meter wide steel ramp that announced the entrance to the ferry. At 25,000 Tons, the “Lady of the Delaware” was one of the largest car ferries operating in the lower 48 states. Peter carefully followed the uniformed workers hand signals that aligned his vehicle towards her center. After safely parking his car, Peter tuned his wheels inward as instructed by one of the ships crewmen. He waited until the crewmen moved on to the next vehicle in line before silently praying to Allah for his good fortune. After several minutes, he finished his prayer, turning to see a woman of probably 70 or 80 years of age who just smiled at him as she proceeded to make the sign of the cross, obviously ending a short prayer herself. Peter waved to her.
After being cooped up all night, Peter decided to walk topside. He also needed a suitable spot where the ships electronics would not interfere with a satellite phone call.
The top deck of the ferry lay crowded with passengers heading to the on-board coffee shop to feed their morning caffeine addiction. Peter decided to forgo the long line and walked to the stern of the ferry. He waited until the steel grated ramp was raised and locked in place.
Satisfied, Peter pulled out his satellite phone. He had to inform his superiors of their new status,…….. that of a nuclear power.
Chapter Seven
Captain Isinov stood hovering over his prisoner waiting patiently for Sirna Miliriud to awaken from his drug-induced sleep. Sirna had been provided with just enough to sedate him for the 5-hour flight on a military aircraft from Grozny to Moscow. A dead captive on his hands would show badly for his team’s efforts. He looked at the clock once more before consulting his watch.
Captain Isinov motioned for the medical orderly to once again check Sirna’s vital signs, this being the third time since he arrived only 30 minutes before.
“Vital signs check out captain,” replied the elderly medical attendant. “His state of physical exhaustion could be causing the extended reaction.
Captain Isinov looked down on the rebel as he lay sleeping. This man’s days of wreaking havoc upon my fellow countryman were over. This bastard was responsible for killing hundreds if not thousands of my countrymen. Soon he will betray his own troops and reveal to us the grand prize, their headquarters location.
After several seconds of watching Sirna sleep, he turned curtly on his heels and walked from the room, realizing victory was finally appearing on the horizon.
Michael Forsythe nodded to his fellow Agents. “I want him taken to the local police station,” he ordered the car’s driver.
Forsythe then walked over to the second FBI car, leaning down to speak to his lead deputy, Alice Weatherspoon.
Alice was his “techie” of the group, able to accomplish things with a computer that others only dreamed of. If something were computer related, she could not only find it, but also manipulate the information for their use.
“Alice, we need to get this piece of shit talking or there might be trouble on our side of the pond. I want you to pull up the agency profile on our Russian friend and see what information we can use on this guy. You probably won’t find anything nasty on him but check anyway. He might have slipped up somewhere in his travels. We need bank numbers, girlfriend’s name, phone numbers. Anything of value. Then, we need an isolated spot in the local police station, possibly a basement, so can put this guy through the ringer. Are you clear on where I’m going with this?”