The officer handed back the ID. “I hope you have a happy life.”
“Thank you.” Marina smiled.
Then the officer spoke in clear English: “Please drive safely.” It was the oldest trick to catch people off guard, and it work perfectly.
“Thanks. We will,” Nick replied, not realizing he had responded in English.
Marina’s face dropped. Nick’s door was jerked open, and he was tossed to the ground. They kicked him several times before they picked him up and slammed him against the car to handcuff him. His head hit the door and opened a large gash across his left eyebrow. He was spun around and dumped on the dirt in front of the headlights. The only thing going through his mind was that he had blown it. Then the beating stopped.
Nick dared not look up for fear of catching a boot to the head. The sudden silence was strange. He heard Marina step from the car, but no one spoke a word. She walked over and knelt next to him.
“You fucked up, Nicholas Kulakov. You could have cost us everything,” she said, using English.
Could have? Could have? What’s going on here? Nick didn’t reply.
“Release him,” ordered Marina. His hands were let go, and she handed him a handkerchief for the cut. “Speak Russian, or you will die. Too bad, I thought you were going to pull it off. Lucky it was only a test.”
The three men hopped in their car and left without a word. Humility was not Nick’s strong point, but he received a quick lesson in it. He returned to his seat, and Marina drove the rest of the way in silence. They went through several checkpoints, but they weren’t even stopped, only asked to slow down. Early in the morning, they made it to Kiev. She took the car to a derelict part of the city mainly occupied by housing.
“Come with me,” she whispered.
They went to the fifth floor of a complex and entered her tiny flat. The kitchen, bedroom, and living room were one area. The bathroom was only large enough for one person, and rather than a tub, it had a shower.
She turned on her stove and started making something to eat. Nick cleaned his eye in the bathroom; it had swollen, turned purple, and was very painful. He managed to bandage it and tried to forget the discomfort. They ate in silence. She pulled the couch out into a bed and pointed to it. Nick sat back and was asleep in seconds.
She gazed across him, wondering how she was to manage with such inexperience. Soon she, too, lay down and was fast asleep.
He was a nice enough guy but a big pain in the ass. Jim Hickman had been fielding complaints about Mikhail Nemokov all morning. The crew on the War Eagle knew that he had designed the ship, but it was their ship. They didn’t appreciate the old man crawling into everything and asking so many questions about classified matters. The men weren’t taught to reveal information in that manner. If he were an officer, it would have been different. But he was a civilian, and they couldn’t help but feel they were betraying the trust their country had placed in their hands.
Jim waited in the CIC for Mikhail to come popping through again. The trip had been relatively quiet as the War Eagle cruised silently through the dark depths of the Atlantic. Sonar was quiet except for a pod of whales moving north toward the Arctic waters on their annual migration. Every so often, he’d order the ship to three hundred feet, so Josh could continue realigning the satellites in ODIS’s orbits.
Mikhail had just finished eating in the mess. With half a sandwich in hand, he was making his way to the forward torpedo room via the CIC. He poked his head through the bulkhead door with a great smile. He loved where he was, and he reveled in the success of the War Eagle. His eyes darted side to side like a kid in a candy store. He absorbed everything.
“Ah, Mikhail.” Jim was always polite to the old man. “Could I see you in my cabin?”
“Now?” Mikhail didn’t have time for small talk.
“Please,” demanded Jim.
“All right, Captain, let’s go.”
Jim flipped the intercom to the radio room. “Air force captain Brand.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Jim winced at the reply. “My cabin, please.”
“Right away, sir,” Josh barked at the other end of the intercom.
Mikhail led the way, squeezing through the corridors in the ship to Jim’s berth. Josh had caught up and was right behind them.
Jim’s cabin was smaller than what had been allotted for ships of the Seawolf class. The modifications pushed the luxury space to the limit. Even the captain’s quarters were compromised in the refitting. The captain’s bed was placed in the floor. Covered by day, it was utilized as space for a small fold-down desk and laptop. At night, the desk folded into the wall, and the bed rose to a cot level. The rest of the room was used for working. Without the bed, it barely accommodated the three for their meeting.
Mikhail was somewhat irritated about the powwow. He had things to examine, people to talk to. “Will this take long, Captain? I’d like to get back to my inspection.”
“I need to talk to you about that, Mikhail. First, we have to go over this mission. Okay, here’s the situation: we have someone out there trying to make off with a Soviet-made nuclear submarine. The CIA is attempting to stop it before it happens. Using the War Eagle is the last resort. We’re to make sure that this sub does not get out of the Barents Sea if the bad guys get their hands on it.”
Jim had not been told the exact truth about what the CIA was really doing. Sukudo had conveniently left that area in the gray as he explained the mission to Jim.
Josh and Mikhail nodded in agreement.
“Now Captain Brand here is supposed to keep tabs on this ship, if his satellites can find it.”
“That’s my job.” Josh was beginning to relax about being under so much water, and he was in a better mood.
“You do realize that we cannot fire upon the ship without provocation.” Jim watched Josh’s face drop.
To Josh, it was academic. Bad guys raise ship. Good guys blow their ass up. He couldn’t believe that they were not allowed to do anything. “That’s very passive.”
Mikhail kept an even keel. “We can’t let any residue of the old Soviet system find an excuse to move the country toward communism again. Unacceptable.”
Jim tossed an envelope on the table to emphasize the point. “The only condition that allows us to attack an opposing Russian vessel is contained in that memo from Admiral Sukudo.”
Josh opened the envelope and stammered in utter amazement. “I–I can’t believe this. He’s leaving us with our balls hanging out.”
“Would you like to read it?” Jim offered to Mikhail.
He was too old. He knew what it had to say, and now nothing would be a surprise. Mikhail said coolly, “We can only fire if the Russian republic and the head of state grant us that option. Other than that, we can only defend ourselves.”
Jim didn’t confirm how right he was. “I just wanted you two to know that. We had better not get caught. You,” he said, pointing to Josh. “Find that damn thing and don’t let it out of your sight. And, Mikhail, I hope you know this guy on that boat.”
“I’ll know him.”
“Why do we even want to find this bastard? He’ll just blow us out of the water.” Josh hated being without control, and it was beginning to show. Time and again he had to remind himself to be a professional and serve his superiors. Hickman was his superior because he was on Hickman’s ship. It was an unattractive trait for Brand, and he struggled to put it away. All the time spent in the basement at Houston had made him a little spoiled.
“One thing about the War Eagle, Josh, is that it is quiet. Extremely quiet. We can tail him until we get the order. I’m sure as hell not going to give him any advantage.” Jim put the subject to bed. “Now, we’ll rendezvous with the Ohio in two days. We’ll get an update on the activity and take things from there.”