“What did they train you in, how to avoid paper cuts before you sat down in front of your computer terminal?”
She frowned. “We didn’t use paper. Security protocol.”
“Renee, dear, now I haven’t been to a good yacht party for the ungodly rich in months — and that is a long time for me — but if I walk onto that yacht, I would get shot in about ten seconds. And you…”
She crossed her arms.
“Renee, the truth is, I feel guilty for dragging you into this in the first place. You could have been killed in Georgia. I won’t place you in harm’s way like that again.”
She saw the look on his face and knew she wasn’t going to convince him right now. “Well, I’d at least like to get a better look at this thing. Maybe we can just go check out the yacht from a distance?”
“That’s a more reasonable idea.” Max took off his sandals and pulled up the pant legs of his khaki, placing his bare feet in the cool pool water. “You know, Renee, I think it’s time I treated you to a nice trip on the water.”
Max and Renee snapped the buckles of their life vests. The sound of seagulls overhead mixed with the clangs of the sailboats floating in their slips. Deep-sea fishing boats motoring out into the Caribbean. The smell of salt in the air. Max loved the sea.
“You guys want to rent one or two?” said the freckle-faced kid working the counter of the Jet Ski rental shop.
“One should be fine,” Max said.
Renee said, “Two.”
The kid looked back and forth between them.
Renee whispered, “I’m not going to be one of your pretty girls, hugging you and hanging on.”
“Don’t say that. You look great in your bikini.”
She frowned.
Max turned to the boy behind the counter. “Two Jet Skis will be fine, my friend.”
A few minutes later, they were headed out of the small harbor, their engines barely above idle. Renee was the first to pass the buoy, which signaled the end of the no-wake zone. She immediately gunned the throttle, and a spray of white seawater shot up from behind her. She looked back at Max, smiling as she left him behind. A second later, he accelerated and felt his body sliding back as he neared fifty miles per hour.
The wind and seas were calm. Uninhibited by a rough ocean, the Jet Skis skimmed above the water at a very high speed. Riding them was pure fun.
Max reminded himself to do this again soon. They zoomed in between Sunset Key and Wisteria Island, turning right, towards Fleming Key. From there, they headed towards a group of tiny islands about two miles to the north, a large sandbar interwoven between them.
They arrived at Cayo Agua. The small island was barely more than a few hundred yards around, carved apart by multiple turquoise seawater streams. Both Renee and Max slowed their Jet Skis and headed into one of the inlets. The water below was crystal clear, and Max saw flashes of color darting underneath him. Tropical fish, not used to being disturbed here. As they slowly motored along the stream, they were surrounded closely on either side by tropical plants and trees. Banana trees. Mahogany trees. Coconut palms. A scattering of bright pink orchids. It was at once quiet and beautiful.
Renee turned her Jet Ski towards a sandy bank. About fifty feet further ahead, the stream opened back up into the ocean on the other side of the island. They didn’t want to come out that far.
Max and Renee pushed their Jet Skis up onto the bank, beaching them. They removed their vests, hanging them on the handlebars, and waded the rest of the way through the stream, soft sand under their feet.
Max couldn’t help but noticing that he was right about Renee in her bikini. She kept in good shape, and the years had been kind.
“There it is,” Renee said.
She had lowered herself into the deep middle section of the stream and peeked out around the corner where it emptied into the ocean. About half a mile to the north, just past the sandbar, Max could see Pavel Morozov’s yacht.
“Wow. That is an incredible piece of work.”
He took the pair of waterproof binoculars from around his neck and scanned the vessel. It was even more impressive in person. Sleek and aerodynamic, it looked more like a modern warship than a private yacht — although the three tall metallic masts made it more like a work of art than a warship.
On the upper aft deck, he could see private security. Big, thick men wearing black vests over white tee shirts. Each wore wraparound sunglasses. Each looked to have a holstered weapon at his waist. Max counted five of them that he could see. Probably three less than there were a few days ago.
On the two decks below that, there were sets of scantily clad women. Some were rubbing oil on each other’s backs, bathing in the sun. Others carried tall glasses of champagne. And there in the middle of it all was the man of the hour.
Pavel Morozov.
He was speaking with someone. A woman. Her back was to Max. She wore a long, flowing skirt and a bathing suit top. Max wished he had a long-range microphone, because he knew who it was.
“That’s her,” Max said.
“Who? The MI-6 agent?”
“Yes. Wish we knew what they were discussing. Hmm.”
“What is it?”
“I see something that wasn’t in the picture of the yacht,” Max said. “There are antennae on the fore and aft of the ship. They look like big orbs. Do you see them?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Those look very similar to the datalink antennae on a Navy warship.”
“How do you know that?”
“DIA, remember?”
“So why is that significant? The antennae.”
“Because Charlotte told me that the Fend 100 was vulnerable through its encrypted datalink. I wonder if those antennae are how they’ll hack in to the Fend network this time.”
“But it’s encrypted. They’d need some type of passcode to get in.”
“If Morozov has someone working for Fend Aerospace, they could help them with that.”
“If we could get aboard that boat, I might be able to answer some of these questions, Max.”
“Renee. No. You see the security guards. They missed us in Georgia. It would be stupid to hand ourselves over to them now.”
“But they’re throwing a party tonight.”
“So?”
“So it’ll be somewhat public, right?”
“No. A private party. The opposite of public.”
“You know what I mean. What if I placed myself on the guest list and snuck on? I would only need a half hour. I could go as a maid.”
Max shook his head. “This isn’t the movies, Renee. Don’t put yourself in a position of weakness. If they get their hands on you—”
“I can handle it, Max.”
“I saw you handle it in Georgia.”
She reddened. “I said I was sorry about that.”
Max sighed. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just that I don’t want to risk you.”
“Max, if I can gain access to the computer network on that boat—”
“I said no. It’s not worth it. We’ll leave tomorrow and fly to Jacksonville. Then I’ll get in touch with my father and use Charlotte’s thumb drive to disarm Morozov’s virus.”
Renee scrunched her lips together. She didn’t like it.
“Come on. Let’s go back to the Jet Skis and head back. I’ll give you cash and let you go shopping. Girls like shopping, right? We need food and clothes. I’ll give you a grocery list and then I’ll cook you up the most delicious French cuisine you’ve ever had.”
“I’m not sure whether to respond to the good or the bad part of that.”
“Always look on the bright side of things, Renee.”
She rolled her eyes.
Pavel Morozov had two qualities that had helped him to attain his level of wealth: cunning and ruthlessness. These qualities had served him well prior to the fall of the Berlin Wall. His rise through the ranks of the KGB had been swift. But one could only go so far in the Soviet Union. The idiocy of the Communist bureaucracy meant that natural talent had its limits. Politics and ideology always got in the way.