The military men were not happy about the fact that they were still awake. It had been a grueling 36 hours of training and people were getting slow. Everyone was wet and cold and stressed. Two opposing groups were participating in the exercise, the soldiers from A and C companies of The Royal Gurkha Rifles (RGR) had staged themselves against two fireteams of irregulars. That is to say, about 450 men against 8. The two irregular teams had split up into 4 teams of two individuals to make the hunt more interesting. The two yank-brothers were together and a far bit ahead south of the pursuing RGR.
Rick was caring the 180 pound dummy that was their simulated “wounded comrade”. Utah was working point.
Rick pressed his two-way short range radio mike twice.
“Copy,” Utah whispered in answer.
“Buddy’s hemorrhaging again.” Rick whispered into the mike. The card deck of this game was stacked against the irregulars as their trauma manikins had tracking devices in them. Hemorrhaging was code that it was transmitting a signal.
Utah answered with two static clicks to his mike, and he hunkered down into a hollow. He searched the perimeter with his night scope to check for any close unfriendlies. A few seconds later, Rick slid in behind Utah and unceremoniously dumped the dummy and then dropped down beside it, totally out of breath.
“We need to stop playing by their rules big brother.” He said as he tried to catch his breath. “I really don’t want to run another 8 miles while the Colonel cheats and gets his giggles playing master of the Quorn fox hunt.”
“I agree,” Utah said as he leaned back against the muddy embankment and slams his fist into the trauma manikin to scramble the electronics again. “They stacked the deck in their favor, and you know they will boast that they are better than us. I say change the game.
Rick propped forwarded and slowed his breathing. “What do you have in mind?”
“You think the Colonel is out in the middle of this or home sleeping?”
Rick smiled, guessing what his brother was thinking. “Sleeping, you want to go after him?”
“Why not? His objected is to see how strong his security is and see if they can hunt us down. Our objective is to penetrate the base, rescue a prisoner,” he pointed his thumb back at the dummy. “And then evade getting caught. Let’s dump that damn dummy and go for something a little more animated. That should teach him how strong his security is at any rate.”
“So we booby-trap the dummy and then double back and get another one?”
“Take the Colonel while he has his pants down around his ankle.” Utah said as he pulled out two simulated IEDs.
Rick suppressed a laugh. “That will make us popular. What about the rest of the team?”
“Ah, let them run around and get some exercise. It will be good for the newbies.”
The two placed the first IED in an obvious location and then set a second hidden trap. Then they headed south. To avoid being seen by any thermal imaging as the “hunting” party passed them they went swimming across cold waters of Loch Migdale, humped the hill and dropped down onto the A949. There they were able to hitch a ride up to Carbisdale Castle Youth Hostel where they stashed their MILES gear (Multiple Integrated Laser Engagement System designed to detect laser pulses that determine if someone was 'hit' during training engagements), cleaned up and changed into some “borrowed” clothing. After the clean change they easily walked through the main gate of the RGR base. No one even asked to see their badges. Sure enough, the Colonel was home in bed. After cutting the phone line and setting the security alarm into a harmless feedback loop, the two walked unnoticed into the Coronel’s house, bagged the fat otter, and drove out in his own Mercedes with tinted window.
Interestingly, the Colonel took the whole this in stride and even enjoyed himself. He was writing notes like crazy and asked the brothers questions about what his RGR teams had done well and what obvious security issues they had found. The trip to Scotland had ended well with an added surprise bonus. Utah had stumbled on a classic Aston Martin DB5 Vantage Convertible and fallen head over heels for it. It was worse than when Utah fell in love for some dame. The car was all he would talk about. The owner didn’t know what he had and was trying to get rid of the old thing. He happy sold it for the insane prince of a 10 pound which was an absolute steal! Utah arranged to have it delivered to London and the money spending spree began to restore the rare car.
Dave, who had been mysteriously absent to go north for the training in Scotland, was back. He was at first especially itching to get his hands into the thick of things to fix up the Aston. Everyone was aware that Dave us up to some secretive activities and even though they pestered him about what it was, Dave wouldn’t talk about it. This really bothered Utah who in turned absolutely refused to let Dave touch his car. It was his baby and he was going to do it himself. Rick, like Utah was likewise annoyed with his little brother but let Dave help him on own car, the Maserati GT. Rick thought Utah’s outright rejection of any help from his youngest brothers was odd but he just thought Utah was being moody. However, a palpable tense was building between the brothers.
Dave ended up disappearing just two day before Barett returned from China with a story that they could hardly believe. Barett joined in the fun of vehicle modification by getting himself a huge covered trailer full of mechanical gear, a few BMW 1200cc Enduro, and a monster Mercedes Benz G55 AMG. Utah’s and Rick’s jaws just hit the ground. Barett hinted that he an outside sponsor to help him with setup expenses.
The three spend almost every waking minute fixing and fiddling with their cars; that and talking about women. One day Maria came by to visit them. She had dyed her hair black and was wearing a seductive one-piece dress of white with silver embroidering. After flirting with the three brothers and getting a grand tour of their work, she kissed Utah and Barett on the cheeks and then she and Rick went off to talk. She was leaving for a long mission and wanted to say goodbye.
After a few weeks the brothers were more or less done. Rick had his white Maserati. Utah’s Aston turned out to be a truly beautiful piece of seductive artwork, an absolute gem from its custom hand-stitched black suede leather dash, sleek forest green paint job, to its polished, and somewhat modified, V8 Volante Tadek Marek engine. Barett had heavily armored his Mercedes G55. He panted it black and added carbon fiber mirrors, vents in the fenders, and a larger front grill. He increased the engine performance to 750 hp, included new electronics, and re-engineered the transmission. The thing was beast of a power house.
51 comments:
The Darkness was complete on the main Euro highway down to the Dalmation Coast, as night was getting ready to turn to day, in her opinion the best time to travel. Bianca sat at the wheel of her custom Mini-Cooper S Turbo, White leather interior, pearlized white paint, and white rims, if she could, she would have gone with white tires. The small but powerful engine hummed, as the car climbed through the hills and valleys of northern Italy. She knew something was terribly wrong with her new assignment, the timing, the directors attitude, she could swear that his whole Aura had changed colors in the last few months, to something dark and wrong.
Perhaps it was time to go free lance she thought to herself, do this one last assignment then start on the path to doing only the jobs she wanted. The thought appealed to her so much, she cracked a smile, and spent the rest of the trip planning out her exit from the corporate sector, and starting out into the private sector.
In the back of the car sat several bags, white cloths, her new ramped up laptop computer, custom built, white of course, and a special little backup gun she had made several years ago, she had never used it in actual work, and had stopped carrying it around on her after a while, but something about this assignment made her decide it would be needed. Something about this man Roman, that exuded sexuality and violence, that said danger, made her bring it along.
About the same time of early morning, London, the phone rang. Three am phone calls are never good news. Rick fell out of bed with a load thump as he attempted to untangle himself from the bed sheets. The phone receiver buzzed piercingly again. He cleared himself from the sheets and grappled the phone in the darkness.
“This is Rick.”
“Rick! Where are you? Monique is in trouble!” A panicking female voice almost screamed at a hundred miles a too fast.
“What”, is what he attempted to say but he was cut off.
“Rick, Monique just called me and she was scared. She said they found her and were outside the house! She was frightened and panicking. You need to get to her.” The female voice raced on in a French inflection.
Realization and recognition hit Rick. It was Carla calling him and adrenaline was starting to wake him up like a rocket slamming into a concrete wall.
Carla continued without breathing. “I heard noises Rick. It sounded like men shouting from outside of the house. And then I heard three clicking sounds and Monique screamed. She screamed and the phone went dead. I tried calling back twice but there was nothing, no ring, no busy signal, nothing! You have got to help her Rick! You promised to protect her! Please Rick! Help her!”
“Carla?” was all he was able to say before she continued.
“Oh god Rick, you have got to get to her! You saved her and she needs you again. Rick please!”
“I’m gone!” he answered. “I’ll call you later.”
And he hung up the phone, grabbed his pants, shirt, and a jacket and was out the door. The problem was he was in Eastbury on the North westerly side of London while the house in question was in the east in Newham; 30 miles away. Rick raced down to flight of stairs, not caring about the noise he was making and out into the cold morning night air. They didn’t have a proper garage here at the housing unit and he hoped it wouldn’t take long to warm up his white Maserati GT parked outside.
It didn’t disappoint. The car started with a roar and he squealed out of the drive and up the road. The fastest route he knew would be the M1 all the way down into the heart of London and then A406. This was going to be a good test of the car; that was for sure. Rick just hoped he wasn’t going to get the authorities up too tight with their panties closing off the blood flow to their heads. He would have to sort that out later he knew as he was doing 85 on the 30 mile back roads. Cats, dogs, and other nocturnal animals scrambled as fast as they could to get out of the way as the big 4.7 liter 8 cylinder supercharger engine bellowed down the road. In no time he was on the collector and heading east on the M1 where he opened the throttle and put his boot down as if he were in Germany on the Autobahnen. It was a good thing it was early, else traffic congestion would have brought him to a crawl.
He turned on his police scanner to listen for news. Sure enough, within 10 minutes they were after him. But there was also the beginning chatter about an explosion and fire breaking out in Newham. That was not good.
Her name was Kate. He didn’t know her last name. He didn’t care really because she was gorgeous. Kate was a full looks red panda with dark long hair, haunting sea-green eyes, and a tail so silky soft it made him inners melt just thinking about it. Utah Blaine had met her two weeks back and this was their third date. She was sitting on his mahogany chaise longue wearing only a long white dress shirt that was mostly buttoned. Utah guessed it was his but he couldn’t remember buying it.
Oh well. He was in his entertaining mode. He was making a simple breakfast of smoked salmon omelets topped with capers, sour cream and red onions, a side of hand-made crêpes filled with ham, Swiss cheese and a Béchamel sauce and a Mimosa drink which was a mixture of sparkling wine and thoroughly chilled orange juice. The Coontail brothers were all about lots of guns, martial arts, fast women, and faster cars, but Utah was also about cooking. Well, cooking with his shirt off while entertaining a beautiful woman.
It was a refreshing morning, still dark and quiet out with nothing to spoil the mood. Kate came over to help by pouring the mimosa and grabbed some silver ware while Utah brought the plates over. The cool thing about Kate was that she was tough, sharp witted, and a bit of an enigma. She liked to play mind games with Utah who played back. They were trying to guess what the other did for a living.
But just as they were about to start again on quizzing each other, the phone rang.
“Are you going to get that?” Kate asked looking at the clock. It was still very early. Most people didn’t get phone calls at this time of the morning.
“No.” Utah said.
“I’ll answer it then, shall I?” Kate said.
“Be my guest.”
She walked over to the old rotary style phone and pick up the receiver.
“Yes.” She answered in her soften Essex accent. Utah was hoping it was his boss or one of his brothers who would be totally flustered because they would assume they had dialed a wrong number and gotten some lady out of bed. He smiled at the thought.
“No. He is busy now.” She turned and smiled a mischievous grin at him. Utah groaned internally and continued to eat the remarkable good food.
“No . . . No I don’t know her . . . U-hu.” There was a long pause. “You said his name is Roman? Alright . . . I will let him know. Thank you . . . Good day to you.”
She hung up the phone and came back with a bit of worried look on her face.
“Well?”
“That was odd. It was some guy with a heavy Russian accent. He didn’t leave a name but he said your brother would understand this better. He wanted you to know it was them that came for someone named Monique. And then they said if you knew what was good for your health you would stay out of Roman’s business. Agreeable enough chap but there was an undercurrent of a threat there.”
Utah swore. He went to the window and peaked out as if he was checking for something and then he went to the phone and called Rick but got no answer. He tried again with the same result.
“I’ve got to go,” Utah called to Kate as he went to his closet and grabbed a shirt and his heavy jacket. He then went to a large safe and dialed the combination. “Sorry to leaving you hanging here but enjoy breakfast. I’ll clean up when I get back but it won’t be for a while. Lock up when you leave and I’ll call you later.”
He fished out a large duffle bag from the safe and headed for the door. “It was a great pleasure but duty calls.” He said as he went out the door.
Kate stayed for another 2 hours and rummaged through all of his stuff, but she didn’t find anything more to let her know about Utah. She tried the safe but it was locked. She did the dishes and then cleaned up the place. She liked him and looked forward to going out with Utah again.
Barett sat at the edge of the Track on a worn metal bench watching the other bikers working the dirt hills, the humid air of the Mediterain Sea made him sweat a little in the black and red leather crash armor he was still wearing. Greece was turning out to be a nice place and he was looking forward to a little R & R this weekend after the race.
He had just run his set and felt he had a good time. The BMW 1200cc enduro was a heavy bike, much heavier than the kawasaki's 750's or Honda's 750's everyone else had,by far, and took a lot of muscle to move through the tighter corners, but on the open lanes that ran either side of the track it excelled.
He had made aquiantance with a partial looks Komodo Dragon, with his bald head, dark eyes, and 6' 3" muscular frame, he made an intimidating presence. Both of them were new to the track and the races, a new season of the open catagory, that had started this weekend outside of Athens. Barett had done some racing here and there in the Pacific City states, and one race on the Island of Man, but the circuit was new to him, andthis was just the challenge he chould use.
He was just walking back to his new trailer to do some work on the bike and tune up the suspension for the up coming race when a track attendant aproached him.
"Sir there is a telegram message here for you, urgent matter I believe."
He stood with his hand out straight, the typical Euro way of asking for a tip.
Barett gave him a five Euro coin, because he spoke in english to him.
The telegram thing was a bit film noir for him, and he liked it.
" Say, do you give these out often. " Barett asked.
"Just you and the Big Bald guy you were talking to earlier, both came at the same time, both very urgent."
He smiled at Barett then walked away.
Barett looked over to the Bald Komodo Dragon named Poseidon, or Psy as he was called by the others. He said he was from Macedonia, or the F.Y.O.D.M. or something like that, all the little baltic states seemed to similair to Barett. He was hurriedly loading his bike into the back of a open bed Rangerover, swearing the whole time.
Not a good sign Barett said out loud to no one.
Barett had just paid the 500 euro entrance fee, this had better be very Important.
Barett opened the envelope, read the two short sentences and tucked the letter into his jacket.
Looks like he was leaving to, He didn't know exactly where Split was, or why it was important, but duty was duty, so off he went.
Blood was everywhere, on his cloths, all over his hands and face. He sat in the emergency room trauma center holding a large gauze pad to his bleeding shoulder, while they worked to save his partners life. There was a lot of background noise, machines, doctors yelling instructions, nurses frantically moving around equipment, but all he could hear was the heartbeat machine beeping slower and slower until it stopped.
No one noticed when he got up and left, or saw that he still hadn't been taken care of yet. "Big Z" is what they called him around the base, but he didn't feel big right now. The wound really wasn't that bad, and he managed to stitch himself up with the med-bag he kept in the van, most of the blood was from his now dead partner.
The Russians must have known about them, and that little gun, the one that left a hole in the wall big enough to walk through was the end of it all, the were not prepared for that. "Z" or Zeus as his given name read, a large white wolf mix sat back in the mercedes delivery van that he used for covert operations and tried to think it out, tried to remember every little detail.
He remembers seeing Roman, come out of the old warehouse, and they were both surprised. Thats when they called it in, he was way to high profile for this case, to be just standing there. Then one guy in Romans group looked right up at them in the old apartment and things went down hill from there. The whole team had been taken out, and only "Z" was left. He knew he was a dead man if went back to the base, who ever turn them over to the Russian, would do the same to him even at te base, He knew Roman was heading to Split on the Dalmation coast, and that was where he needed to go as well, but first he needed help from the one person he felt he could trust. THe Telegram to "Psy" was his best bet.
The news station called in a panic. They had gotten word that some sort of terrorist arson attack in Eastern London had happened and they needed someone there 20 minutes ago! Shanzai and Pippa were their go-to girls. That and the fact that both of their apartments were in Eastern London helped. By the time the station manager had called Pippa with the instructions and location and then called Shanzai, Pippa was already out the door and on her way to Shanzai’s flat in her Opel Vivaro metal-panelled van. Pippa was the videographer and usually accompanied Shanzai out on her remotes. The two worked well together. Pippa’s full name was Pippa Huntington. She was quite a unique character in and off herself that left people with the impression that she knew more than she was letting on. She was a Tasmanian-devil full-looks, Australian native with gorgeous dark skin tones that turned more than a few heads her way. Her background was complicated, secretive, and she kept it that way on purpose.
Shanzai Tasmin Bhati was the reporter of the team. She was attractive and knew it and used it as a bonus but she felt her strength came from her great deal of stamina, physical fitness, and her tenaciously self-motivated drive. As a young aspiring television reporter, she used all these qualities to get the lead stories and the attention of the station managers. She had the perseverance to milk out the details to develop her stories and was told that she was someone who was fearless when she looked straight into the eye of danger. That part wasn’t totally true as her relationships record with boyfriends was total rubbish and given the choice of going on another blind date, she would rather cut off her arms and take a part time job as a stand in when Venus de Milo needed to step out for a smoke. Shanzai was a full-looks fox, with Pakistani human roots. She had come from a humble family but her tenacity had helped her graduate from Oxford University with degrees in journalism, politics, philosophy and economics and that she was a keen debater in International Relations. She was articulate, confident, and good at working with very strict deadlines.
The job meant that both worked long, long hours in which they often went without weekends, holidays, and any other special occasion. They were in the habit of always being ready to be on the road at a moment’s notice, so 3:30 in morning wasn’t anything new.
Pippa raced down the back roads of London while Shanzai applied liberal amounts of makeup, made four phone calls, and changed her top outfit into something more presentable for the camera than a tank-top bra and sweatshirt. The great thing about the Opel van was the room it had to change clothing. Shanzai jumped back into the front passenger seat and dropped the sun visor to check her makeup again.
“So what do we know?” Shanzai asked as Pippa got off the phone and turned sharply up a narrow London street.
“Not much yet. Police are saying there may be one victim in the fire. The station got the tip off when a neighbor called in to us first reporting that she some black cars pull up across the street and men, speaking in Russian jumped out.”
“How did she hear them speaking Russian?”
“No idea.”
“It matches what Williams told me though.” Shanzai said. “They received a creatable call from an informant at the station that this was happening. We need to track down that woman who called in.”
Pippa swung the van around another intersection and they could clearly see the eerie column of smoke with its familiar under-lite glow from a fire. The streets were narrow here and up ahead the fire and police department had blockaged the road. Both Pippa and Shanzai turned and smiled big toothy grins at each other because it was obvious they were the first news reporters on the scene.
“Exclusive!” They both said.
Pippa drove up right to the barricade and parked the van with a screech of the ties. Both jumped out to attend to their preparation to go live. People were everywhere, out in the night cloths, milling around and wondering at the giant infernal that had been their neighbor’s home. Pippa quickly got their network connection on line and began pulling out camera gear. Shanzai grabbed a notebook and put her ear peace in to begin checking audio connection with the producers back at the station.
She scanned the crowd of people trying to target in on those she thought would be good to interview, but something caught her eye that seemed a bit out of place. The feeling came from intuition that she had learned not to ignore. In the darkness of the morning with the reflection of the fire casting its glow, she saw a white car parked not twenty feet from her. The car just didn’t belong here because she instantly recognized it as a Maserati Gran Turismo, a car she knew car sold for more than 90,000 quid, more than most of these homes in this area of London cost. Staring at the car, she quickly wrote down the license plate number.
She turned to call Pippa, but at just at the moment, someone tall crashed into her. She fell head over heels backwards, knowing that she was going to crack her head open on the cobbled street. Time seemed to stop as she fell.
The tall someone who crashed into her turned his head. He was falling with her but as she was out of control, he somehow gained control. He grabbed her and spun, flipping her around so he took the blow on his back and not her. She landed hard on him, but the most embarrassing thing was than her head came down directly over his, causing her lips to meet his. His arms had worked like shock absorbers so the impact was almost gentle. Totally wide eyed, she started into his deep blue eye, both shocked by the unexpected kiss. Inexplicitly that one second in time stopped for Shanzai, the memory of it engraved deep in her mind in some primitive and primal corner she had forgotten was there.
The man rolled her off, and somehow helped her back to her feet while getting up himself. Shanzai was totally flustered and knew her face was turning scarlet. The man winked at her. He then turned and sprinted for the white car. Shanzai just stood like a stupid primary school girl watching him go. He slid over the bonnet of his car like he was some kind of modern cowboy, jumped inside and pulled quickly away from the scene of the fire.
“What had just happened?” Pippa asked her standing incredulously with her hands on her hips.
“I don’t know.” Shanzai answered truthfully, snapping out of her daze. But she knew she was smitten, and smitten bad! She needed to find out who he was. But she currently had a job to do so she turned and ran with Pippa to get her exclusive story on the story of the Russian arson.
Little did both ladies know how much they would soon become a part of it.
Barett sat in his new Mercedes 500 AMG suv, the new car smell still heavy in the air of the cab. The gas station outside of Tirane was mostly empty at this late hour, so seeing "Psy" in his beat up LandRover was a surprise.
Barett had beat him there by just a few minutes, and was just buying some water and energy bars when Psy pulled in. They nodded at each other from across the parking lot, but didn't say anything, it was odd for the both of them.
The trailer, Barett pulled, was a heavy load and navigating the coastal highway up from Athens wasn't to bad, but he held back on the motor not pushing it to much, he still hadn't broken it in yet, and didn't want to ruin any of the seals or rings, other wise he could have easily beaten the old Landrover any where and at any time, even with the trailer.
Barett watched from the cab of his suv while "Psy" filled his tank and bought some food. Pretending to read his map and check out his rig, he decided to keep an eye on him, since this was not a route home for the Macedonian.
Barett could tell he was an operator of sorts when he sized him up back at the track, but this was a second meeting in a row, and that meant something was up, he wanted to let "Psy" go first so he could keep an eye on him.
Soon enough he was pulling out of the station, looking back over his shoulder through the back window of the truck at Barett before his headlights disappeared around a bend in the road. Barett didn't like this, not one bit, and he went to his hot bag and weaponed up for the next leg of his trip. He was solo on this one for now and didn't want any surprises before he reached Split, to meet up with his contact.
The store front read Holland & Barrett Health Food and Natural Remedies on a dark green sign. Next to the store was a small sub-sandwich shop. The address was 78 Baker Street, London, one way south running street. Rick found a parking spot on the right side of the road and walked the two blocks to the store. Utah was already there.
Entering the store, Rick gave slight nod to the little squirrel partial looks clerk who reached under the counter and pressed a discreet gray button. Rick moved to the back of the small story and past the Asian imports. There he leaned against a shelf which swung black, letting Rick slip behind to a hidden stairwell. Upstairs was a small room, no windows but decorated in an English classic style smoking room, lined in age-stained wooden panels and furnished with four dark leather antique wing chairs surrounding a Persian rug. Utah was sitting, reading a telegram message on yellow paper the Rick had seen before.
The paper meant a clandestine mission.
Utah looked up. “Troubles with your girlfriend?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Rick said as he sat down. “How did you know?”
“I got a call this morning from someone claiming that they were going after Monique. Russian, though I didn’t talk with them directly. Is she dead?”
Rick sat up in his chair. “Can’t say. I am guessing yes, but the CSI guess will have to run their test to identify the body. Carla is in a frantic state to say the least. Are you saying they called you to let us know they were making a hit? They sure are feeling audacious.”
“I think you ticked them off when you stole her out from under their noses. They don’t take too kindly to people standing up to them. I heard what the news stations are calling the ‘Russian Arson Scare’ on the news this morning too and I am guessing they are related.”
“Yeah, I saw the news too.” Rick smiled. It was a look that Utah knew all too well when Rick was thinking about ladies. “Ran into one of them this morning, cute girl.”
“Is Carla still in the city too?” Utah asked bringing Rick back to the current issue.
“No, she is somewhere southern France. Not sure where but I told her to go into hiding. I doubt she will listen.”
“The Russian’s that called me claimed to be representing Roman. What pisses me off, and I am not talking drinking, is how in the #!@#, ##%*!@ did they get my number!” Utah tossed the yellow paper over to Rick. “This is a follow up with the missing Huntington agent out of Odessa. The top brass think we have a mole and I am beginning to believe it. Three MIA agents, their ability to locate Monique, and getting a number to my flat? . . . What else could it be? Somebody is feeding the Russian information. The only good thing I can see from this is that the Russians are a little too eager to play their hand. They are too emotional wrapped up in their business to restrain themselves. Now we know we have a leak, so we break up our patterns and disappear into the woods and flush the mole out while taking out their ring leader.”
“So our guys are guessing he will leave Moldovia and head to Croatia then,” Rick commented as he read. “Confirms what I found out from that Russian diplomat.”
“We really need to go to go deep underground on this one.” Utah said. “We don’t know what the level this mole is. Only Gen. Wineburg knows about our operation but I would bet this Roman Nikonov character may already know the agency will come after him.”
“We will need to set up some misinformation to feed him.”
“Wineburg is already taking care of it. They are assembling a team to go into Moldovia.”
“Good move. So what are our plans?”
“I am going to fly over to Warsaw like I am heading to Kiev. But then I have a friend who has a fast plane I hope a ride with. But” He said before Rick could say anything. “She is a private type of lady if you catch my meaning. She is scheduled to go on a tip to Riviera in Bologna and only has room for one.”
“Right,” Rick replied suspiciously. “I’ll race you then. You fly and I drive. Let’s see who gets their first.”
“You’re on. There is a hotel on in waterfront called the Bellevue. First one to check in wins. Loser pays for the rooms?”
“Deal. See you in a few days.”
“Just my back end and the hotel tab.” Utah said with a confident smile.
The E65 route was the most direct, as far as he could tell, so Barett followed it from one town to the next till he got to Dubrovnik. He didn't see anymore of Psy on the road and had kept a look out for ambushes but saw none. He was to meet Shelia at a tourist point on the coast, just on the north side of Dubronvnik, called Ston, at 7 am. for a breakfast hook up at a little cafe and to get the assignment.
The town had a real desereted feel to it when he rolled in at 5 am. just before sunrise. And he double checked his Telegram to make sure he had the right spot.
He'd been up all night driving roads he didn't know, and was ready for some explaining about how his R & R was interupted. He pulled his rig up to a city park, that had some off street parking for utility vehicles, across from the cafe, and took up two spots, never enough room to park a real sized vehicle in thess little towns. The climate and geography was so close to home, if it wasn't for all the ancient buildings, he would have felt more at home.
Taking the oppertunity for a quick nap to make up some missed sleep he set his watch for 6:30 and dozed off, always sleep when you can was one of the many mantra's his sniper instructors drilled into his brain. It was dark, and his Black 500 AMG, and Black trailer, practically disappeared into the surroundings, as good as it got for now.
Nodding off he came back to conciousness just before the countdown on his watch went off. Wiping the sleep from his eyes he saw Psy drive down the road, followed by a white panel van, the Mercedes equivelent of a chevy work van. They pulled up to a cafe only two blocks from his meeting point, the van pulled into the alley, while the landrover stayed out front. A large white wolf mix with two large duffle bags came out of the alley a few seconds later, tossed the bags into the landrover and then both of them were gone.
Barett noted this and the lisense numbers in his notebook, it may come in handy later. Nothing happens three times in a row without being important.
Barett walked over to the cafe, just as they were opening up, making sure to be the first person in so he could get the seat he wanted and to check out escape routes. Washing his face in the bathroom and straightening up, he sat at the back booth with a clean view out the front window of the cafe to the sidewalk and his rig beyond. Scarfing down the last of a muffin like thing and some chilled fruit juice, he saw Shelia enter the cafe at two minutes past the hour. She wore a light linen dress that was cut deep in the front to share her ample cleavage, the large over stuffed tote on her shoulder hinted at a heavy weight. Her large hat and sandles made her look all the part of a rich continental travler on vacation, only Barett knew the truth about her.
She slide in across from him at the booth, pulled out a small metal briefcase from her bag and slide it over to him.
" This is your diplomatic satchel, your diplomatic paperwork and passport are inside, anything you put in this can not be inspected by any officals, at any point you can drop this off to any British Embassy and it will get back to me unopened, if need be. There is twenty thousand euros in there for mission purposes, if you need more, contact me. Please keep a detailed record of expenses, in code, for the accountants later, it's something we just can't help now.
Your profile and alias are all provided, as well as mission parameters. This is a look and learn, you are not to eliminate anyone unless absolutly nessesary, understood."
Barett nodded, he had been given this as a possible senario when they set them up as operators, but they never sent guys like him in, unless there was a real chance someone was going to be killed.
"When do we meet next ?"
He asked in a low tone.
" Two days from now, I will contact you, in Hvar at the marina. Until then, keep a low profile, and find some place to hide that huge trailer, you can spot it from a kilometer away.
She grabbed a muffin like thing from the table and walked out.
Barett sat staring at the Briefcase next to him.
Barett left a ample tip, picked up the briefcase and covered it with his jacket, then left out the backdoor, best to not be seen coming out with something he didn't go in with. Walking the backstreets for a few minutes to strech his legs and then doubling back to make sure he wasn't followed he tossed the briefcase onto the passangers seat and headed out.
At the next small town with a gas station he topped off the tank, and the refuel station for the bikes in the trailer, using the money from the briefcase for that, and buying some local maps and tourist books to study up on the area.
The twin axle, german designed enclosed trailer was mostly empty, besides some tools and the 1200cc BMW Dualpurpose bike, it had room for two more bike if need be. Hidden into the front behind a built in work bench, Barett had a secret compartment made. It was only 9 inches deep, and looked just like the rest of the trailer. But when you unlatched it and swung it out, it revealed a large weapons cache, with ammo and other gadgets he might need.
Sitting at a rest stop view point down the road, he read through his mission paperwork. It was a basic set up, search out and record what the Russian business man "Roman" was doing in the area. Track him, and his boat, and the people he meets with. But do not engage unless authorized. A sub note indicated that he was looking for a missing agent as well, and was authorized to us force "If nessesary" to secure her release. That was the out they had given him, perfect he thought. There was a two way radio in the briefcase along with the money and instruction and profile on Roman, the Russian mafia they believed he was involved with and facts about the town of split. It was almost lunch time when he was done memorizing all he could about the mission. He saw that Rick and Utah were also assigned to the task and would contact him apon arrival in Split through Shelia.
Rick was back at his flat quickly getting ready to go leave. He knew Utah would be delayed by regular air traffic schedules, but beating him Split was going to close.
Gear, what would he need? The orders stated that this was principally a sneak and peek operation, but that didn’t mean he would go unarmed. That would just be plain stupid. He had his regular stockpile of weapons, cameras, computer equipment, and other essential gear packed and loaded into the boot of his big Maserati.
However a devious plan had formed in his head as he had driven back to the flat. It was simple really; he was going to steal a yacht from this Roman character. The government didn’t need to know and Rick knew he could do it; he had before but the trick was getting away with it. Roman was a powerful crook that had a whole fleet of high-end, ill-gotten boats. Losing one wouldn’t tip the scales too dangerously, especially if Rick could make it appear to have been lost at sea. They would never know they had been robbed, the ultimate irony, and Roman and his Russian goon squad wouldn’t be any the wiser while Rick would be out riding in the Adriatic and the Mediterranean with a big boat full of beautiful bikini-clad women.
How to pull this off was still in the embryo stage as random bits of thinking flashed through different scenarios. Two things he was sure of, first he would be getting wet and second, he would need a place to house and anchor the yacht away from prying eyes.
Going swimming meant that he would need a high-tech re-breather. This wasn’t something you just walked into any SCUBA store and rented for the day. He needed to secure a military grade, Draeger LAR-V a closed circuit re-breathing for getting on a yacht without anyone seeing air bubbles. Fortunately, this was easily remedied as he knew just a place where he could “borrow one.”
The second issue needed more time than he had. He knew he would have to sale the yacht out to the west Italy or even Spain. What he needed was someone to do the work for him.
But who?
He locked the door to his flat and headed down road back to London. As he stewed over the problem a crazy thought came to him. It really was crazy, but Rick liked it. The phone number would be easy to get. And the worst that could happen would be that she would say no. This could lead to a problem of potential exposure him to an element he knew he really should avoid. He would have to be careful but the more he thought about it as the roadside slipped past, the more he thought it was worth a try. The reporter he had run into was somewhat of an expert on the French and Spanish Rivera area as he had seen her do a number of side stories about it on TV.
Rick decided before he left Britain, he was going to give it a try. He would call her and try to hire her to use her investigating skills to find him a place to hide the yacht.
Shanzai had spent the better part of the day getting no where on who owned the Grand Turismo she had seen earlier in the day. That meant certain things, to a hardened investigative reporter like her, he worked for the government, and he was involved with the Russian thing.
She had several questions that she really needed to find out, one of them being, what kind of government employee can afford a car like that ? and what was he really doing there at the house ?
Pippa thought she was smitten by the man, and teased her that she was wasting her time chasing this imaginary "Prince Charming" ghost.
The idea did go through her mind he might be some sort of royalty. He didn't really seem British, and he wasn't Russian.
So who was he ?
It was later that night when her personal home phone rang, it wasn't a number she recognized, but chanced it and answered the call.
A smooth voice on the other end asked if this was, Shanzai. She answer yes, curious who had given this stranger her number.
His accent was not British as she suspected, it had a real mixed sound to it and she couldn't place it right away.
" I don't know if you remeber me, but I ran into you at the fire this morning, I was hoping to ask you a few questions, do you have a minute ?"
Rick spoke smoothly into the reciever, standing in a classic English phone booth just down the street from her flat.
She was charmed, and a little flattered, but red warning lights were going off in her head, and reason was fighting with curiousity about this man.
"It depends on the questions, but I have some for you as well, perhaps we should meet some place public and talk this out, what do you think ?"
She put her best spin on it, using her best innocent girl voice, and charm that had gotten a lot of men to share things they shouldn't have.
What does Rick do ?
Rick looked at his watch and a few obscenities pop into his head. He was going to lose the race with Utah. But on the other hand, a very attractive and somewhat famed reporter he instantly realized was pulling out all the stops to get him to meet her. He would have to be careful with her.
“That would be splendid!” He answered her. “However, I hate to inconvenience you with my schedule but the meeting would have to be tonight. I am heading out of the country for a stint and in my line of work, I am not positive on when I will be back. Would you be up to meet me within the hour? You name the venue of course and granted that I am not too far to meet up?” He lied about his location.
She checked her watch, it was 9:30 pm. now, she knew he was willing to meet her now, so she had to go for it.
" Yes, I could make tonight work, ummmm....let me think about a place...."
She paused to let him interject, if he was local, he would name the place, if not he would wait for her. There was no interjection on Ricks side.
" Well, lets do the 'Dead Goat' pub on the southwest corner of Fairfield and Airport blvd. at 10 pm., will that work for you ?"
The pub was inbetween Shanzia and Pippa's flats, so Pippa could play cover for her if things went weird. The place was right next to a small business airport in the Hotel district, so lots of people meeting at all different hours, it would not raise anyones eyebrows to see them meeting there.
If he agreed, she would call pippa and get her to watch from the parking lot, in case she needed help, it was a common routine that they used when meeting with some unsavory contacts.
“On the corner of Fairfield and Airport? Is that near the old Olympic Stadium at Marshgate Lane in Stratford?” Rick asked innocently.
“Yes, that is the one.” She said as she bit the corner of her mouth waiting.
“Okay. I think I can get there by 10:00 but I may be a few minutes late though not more than 10. Thank your taking a few minutes from your busy life to meet with me.”
“Oh, the pleasure is mine.” Shanzia said a little too quick and eagerly. She started hitting herself to dial down the enthusiasm.
“Great, she you then.” He hung up the phone.
Shanzia hit the speed dial to calling Pippa and turned it to speaker. She started anxiously to search for something appropriate to wear. The phone rang five times before Pippa answered.
“This is Pippa,” answered a drowsy voice. “What’s up Shanzai.”
“He called, Pippa!” Shanzai called out from five feet away as she bounced around, pulling on new pair of pants. “I’m meeting him in 30 minutes at the Dead Goat. I need you to be there like usual. You OK to come?”
“Wait, you said he called you? ‘He’ being our mystery man? How did he get your number?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but this the break in the story we need!” Shanzai grunted. She was now on the floor. The pants she was putting on were a little tight and the only way to get them on was to lie on her back and pull with her leg up in the air. She lost her balance and fell over with a bang.
“Girl, what are you doing? What is that racket? Are you putting on your sexy pants?” Pippa asked. Her voice sounded much less excited about going out.
“Yes.” She grunted like she was in labor and pulled. “I need to look good you know.” The pants slid into place. They were tight but she liked the way it shaped her figure. “Come on Pippa, I need you there.”
“Shanzai! You’re crazy. You don’t know anything about this guy but I can tell you’re hot for him.”
“No I’m not.” Shanzai called out from another room. “This is purely professional.”
Pippa wasn’t buying it. “Yah, right. Okay I’ll be there, but you better be careful.”
“I will. You know me. Besides, if you were a betting woman you know nothing will come of it. You know I never have luck with guys.” She answered back, but her voice was muffled by the fact that she was applying lipstick. “See you in a bit.” And she hung up the phone before Pippa could say anything more or tease her.
Shanzai paused as she looked in the mirror. She remembered the man’s blue eyes and the way he looked back at her as her mouth got planted squarely on his. The scene played over and over in her mind. She was embarrassed by it yet it thrilled her too. But Pippa was right. She was acting crazy. Taking a deep breath she let it out in a long sigh. Then she grabbed a cloth and began to tone down the amount of makeup she had just put on. She needed to act like a professional, not some collage age girl.
Meanwhile, Rick had quickly moved to stake out the Dead Goat pub. The building was an older three story build in an odd triangular prism. The front was wide and the bottom street floor was painted violently orange. It looked a tad dingy on the outside and the surrounding area was a bit off-putting, but the pub was in an excellent location. There were a two picnic style tables out front. Tall windows looked into the pub which casted its seductive non-sobriety glow on the outside street. A number of patrons seemed cheerful as the atmosphere friendly with good service. Rick could make out the plaster reliefs of goat heads painted the same outrages orange on the capstones.
Rick walked up and looked in through a window. A sign on the outside read that travelers would get a traditional East End welcome. The place had a nice warm feeling. A man in a white suite coming down the street even lifted his hand in greeting to Rick as he passed and entered the pub. Rick continued to walk around the front and turned down the wide alley to survey the rest of the building’s layout. To the right of the building was another less decorated three story building take looked to be an apartment complex. To the right of the apartment unit was a train and tram station, the tram line heading off to the airport.
Trees and shrubs lined the alley way. In the back, the building ended in its weird point and opened into a small parking lot that had room for maybe four cars tops. The alleyway was wide enough to allow a car but the front sidewalk had cement pillars meant to stop people from using the alley as a thoroughfare. Parking would be a problem here.
There was a door in the back but it definitely was not a public access door. The second and third floor windows were small and had iron bars. It looked like there was just the one way in and one way out, and that was in the front.
Rick looked at the apartment building next to him with its odd red bricks which appeared to have been painted green with some type of chalk. There was an entrance to the apartment building here too, with a narrow glass front running up to the stair well to the top third floor.
Behind the buildings was another narrow one way street named Rainhill way. He decided this was probably the best place to park his car.
Rick drove around the neighborhood trying to scope out the area to better learn the side roads but he was out of time. It was now just past ten o’clock. He looped back down the one-way road behind the pub and packed his car in a spot that was about two blocks away. He knew he needed play this out like a chess player, checking out as many avenues as possible all the while having plans for the next five moves. This lady was an investigative reporter and they tended to be always on the hunt for a story.
He rounded alleyway between the pub and the apartment building. There were quite a few customers here. Across the street and somewhat hidden was the reporter’s news van. He saw a shadow move inside it. Rick guessed he was being recorded. Hell, this Shanzai may even be wearing a wire! What was he walking into?
Rick mentally turned on the charm mode as he turned and moved through the orange doors of the Dead Goat pub. He also ramped up his perception, looking for any type of trap. The place was full of people. The atmosphere was light and congenial, nothing like the rough road-hog bars of his home country. The bar tender, a large deer by the looks of it, was busy serving a group of people sitting at the bar, but he looked up and acknowledged Rick with a welcoming look. Rick smiled and nodded back a greeting. Everything was wood; deep, rich, and a rustic shade of orange. The pub had charisma. Music was playing softly from an old style jukebox. People were milling about, drinking their dark making small talk about the day’s events. Rick overheard one group talking about the fire this morning and cursing the Russians for being a rogue state.
Rick continued to move back looking for the reporter. He found her sitting alone at a tall close to the back of the room. She was smiling without showing her teeth but her eyes were locked dead upon him as if she were evaluating his every move. Rick figured she probably was doing just that. She was an attractive lady. Her longish dark hair was neatly pulled back into a sweep over her crown and ended into a single pleat. She wore an attractive ensemble of tight jeans with high-heel shoes, a deep blue blouse and a white jacket.
Without skipping a beat, Rick moved back to her table and sat down in the stool across the round small table from her.
“Hi,” she said and extended her had just as he sat. “Shanzai Tasmin Bhati.”
Shanzai’s greeting was friendly with a slight touch of cold professionalism. Rick guessed she had ample practice greeting people this way. Rick took her hand and returned the shake.
“Rick, and I must say, you have incredibly soft lips.” He joked. That comment made her cheeks flush a sudden color of red. “And I must say that I am sorry for running into and knocking you down.”
Shanzai smile this time, showing her teeth. She really was a very pretty lady.
“Just Rick, or is there more.” She asked like a pro.
“Just Rick right now if that is alright.”
“Okay, Rick. What can I do for you?” She sounded a little disappointed but there was a definite resolve in her eyes like what a large cat looks like when it is hunting. She was determined to get information out of him.
“Well, this may sound crazy so I am just going to say it. I would like to hire you to investigate something for me.”
“Really?” she said as she leaned in close. She was interested. “What sort of thing is that?”
“I need to find a few options for a safe house down on the Mediterranean coast.”
“What? Wait a minute. You want to hire me to be a real estate agent for you?”
“No.” His answer confused her. Rick continued. “First off, you said you have some questions for me. I may be able to help you out there but let’s see if I can or not and second, because of whom you are and what you do for a living, I need to know generally what you plan to do with those answers. Then maybe we can see if you can do something for me or not. And of course I understand and appreciate how busy you must be so if you say no, that is agreeable too.”
“So you are wondering if you can trust me?” Shanzai asked directly.
“In a matter of speaking, yes.”
“I understand. What can I do to win your trust?”
“Well, for starters, are you recording this meeting?”
Before she could answer a waitress arrived and asked what she could get them. They both ordered a light drink.
‘Shiva’s cow bell!, this guy is for real. Who is he and who does he work for?’ Shanzai thought to herself as she watched Rick order. He had a charm to him that was disarming. When the waitress left, Shanzai sat up and moved closer, looking straight into Rick’s eyes and answered his question. “Be assured that I am not recording this. Can you tell me about what happened this morning? You have my assurance if you need your name out of the story I will keep it secret.”
Rick smiled at her. “You’re a quick one aren’t you?”
Shanzai pulled out a note pad. “What can you tell me? Do you know who the woman was that died in the fire?”
“I may know who it is but I need to wait to see what they learn at the lab like everyone else. But if it is who I think it is she was a Russian slave girl rescued from a Paris sex club.”
Shanzai’s eyes almost popped as she quickly scribbled down some notes.
“There are some bad people out there who are involved in Human-trafficking, extortion, money laundering, prostitution, and in general crimes against humanity: rape, torture, and murder.” Rick said. “What you saw this morning was them making a statement that they are untouchable.”
Shanzai looked up. “Are they?”
“Well, that depends upon what you say in your report and what you don’t.”
“So how are you involved with these people?”
“Let’s just say that I am involved in gathering evidence that can be used to put them way. But we have run into a bit of a snag. There seems to be mole somewhere close by. That is why I called you. I needed to work with someone totally outside the government.”
Her mind was whirling with questions. He did work for the government! Was he some type of secret agent or something? She didn’t know where to start.
“I know you have a thousand questions and we could be here all night but I honestly don’t have much time left. I need to get going. If we can come to an agreement, I think I can help you out and you can help me. Are you interested?”
“Yes.” She said with barely hidden excitement.
Rick knew he had her. He slid a small card over to her. As she reached to take it, he gentle took her hand and held it. “This is a number you can call and leave a message that gets forwarded to me. If you call it and leave a return number I will get it and can call you back on a secure line when I have the opportunity. I will try to help you out with information for your story but you will need to be careful. You need to know that powerful figures won’t like it, both in and out of the country.” He let go.
Shanzai just stared at him.
“What I am asking in return is your help. I have seen some of your stories you have done about the French and Spanish Riviera. You seem to know a lot about the area and like I said, I need some options for a safe house. As you can see, the one we had here got discovered. These new ones need to be even more discreet. Is this something you think you can do?”
Shanzai sat back in her seat and bit the corner of her lip, thinking. While she pondered about what Rick had said the waitress returned with the drinks. Rick paid for them on the spot, thanking the girl and then turned back to Shanzai.
“By the way, it truly was pleasure running into you this morning, whatever your answer is.” Rick said. “Think on it and if you are game, give the number a call.”
He stood and turned to leave. Shanzai jumped to her feet and grabbed his arm, turning him around. She wasn’t thinking everything through like she knew she should but she threw caution to the wind and stood up on her toes and planted a quick but solid kiss on his lips. “The pleasure was mine.” She said.
Rick winked at her again and squeezed her hand. Then he was gone.
Rick steps out onto the street and his Zanshin warrior instincts kick in, his senses are on fire. Switching right into combat mode his hand already on the grip of the H&K 9mm in the small of his back. He swings low againest the building, ducking behind the tables out front.
It takes him longer to zero in on the danger and access the situation, than it did for him to react. His training kicking in automatically, making his body move before his brain could sort out all the details.
Rolling down the street is a Mercedes 350e sedan, black with tinted windows, the back window is rolled down slightly and the barrel of a snubnosed sub-machine gun is poking slightly out of it.
But the gun isn't pointed at him, its pointed at the news van that Pippa is sitting in.
Rick knows then that Shanzai is also going to be a target, and starts looking for the second gunman.
What is Ricks next move ?
Rick swore loudly. It had to be the Russians! They were galling in their audacity. The car looked armored.
He knew he couldn’t do much for the person in the van before the machine gun opened up but he could distract the people in the Merc. Maybe they would even miss. Months and months of shooting thousands of rounds a day helped his aim. He squeezed off a quick double tap burst through the opened window.
Then not caring to look if he hit anything, Rick surged forward and grabbed the picnic table in front of him and lifted it up. With a grunt he threw it as hard as he could at the oncoming car. He wasn’t an offspring of a genetically engineered species cross-bred enhanced humanoid for nothing.
A table falling on an armor car wouldn’t do much damaged but it sure had a way of getting the occupants’ attention. Rick hoped he bought the person in the van enough distraction that they would make it out alive, but his attention was now on a second problem.
He raced at full speed and ducked back through the doors of the Dead Goat pub and headed straight for the back of the room where he had just been with Shanzai. He knew there was a door in the back and he was going to use it. His careful plans he had worked on were all down the drain. He had thought that using someone as random as the reporter would work. But it looked like she had angered the Russians on own accord. They had been watching her and knew she would be here. And that pissed him off! He had failed to foresee her as a target and left that out of the equation.
The plan was to grab her, no questions, and run for his car. He would have to take her with him.
He sprinted to the back of the room looking for anyone who might be a hit-man.
Rick didn't have to look far, the large dark haired man in a black suit had his back to Rick, and what looked like a surpressed glock 9mm in his hand. The rest of the crowd was now looking at Rick, surprised to have seen him throw the table at a innocent looking car.
The high pitched scrapping of metal on metal was coming thru the open door, as the car dragged the table under its frame. Swerving back and forth, trying to break free. But no loud gunshots came from them as yet.
Rick was at a dead full run when he hit the gun man from behind and low in the kidneys. A total surprise strike from behind, he was sure at least four ribs were badly broken on the gunman.
Shanzai had the most surprised look on her face, both of fear death mixed with admiration for the man who was attempting to save her life.
The gun flew from the Russians hands as his body hit the wall hard and bounced into the table.
He stumbled to his feet, trying to get his bearings.
Rick was now between him and the girl, gun in hand, he had the drop on the big man.
What does he do ?
Rick didn’t wait. He continued to faint like he would shoot the man if he moved but he also went for a knockout fist blow. When the man exhaled, Rick rushed forward and slammed the palm of his left hand hard into the man’s nose and heard the bones break, the barrel of the H&P 9mm never leaving its mark. The man, a silverback gorilla by the looks of it, stumbled back. The knockout blow must have hurt but it didn’t work. It was clear this man was no pushover. His eyes raged with instant anger and hate at Rick. He roared in a heavy Russian curse and attacked. The Russian’s hand flashed up like a striking cobra and caught Rick’s hand with the gun. He followed that with an attempted head butt. However Rick anticipated the man’s move and flung himself back, his right hand still in the iron grip of the gorilla. The head butt missed and the man jerked back his head to attack again but Rick followed in by sweeping his left elbow up into the man’s throat delivering a devastating trachea strike.
The gorilla boy instantly let go of Rick and collapsed to the ground.
Leaving the fallen Russian and ignoring the chaos that was irrupting around him in the bar, Rick jabbed his gun back into its holster in the small of his back. All he had on him weapon wise was the 9mm and his tanto. It was like getting caught with ones pants down.
He ran, grabbing the stunned Shanzai by the hand and moved quickly through the back room kitchen and then out the back door. Bursting outside into the dark night air made his night eyes momentarily useless. He hastily led Shanzai over to a cinder block wall and flattened themselves against it; waiting for their eyes to adjust.
“Well, that put a kink in things didn’t it?” Rick whispers. “Are you alright?”
Shanzai was breathing hard but she was gaining control. She looked up at Rick and shook her head in the affirmative that she was fine.
“Damn but are they bold.” Rick said as he peaked over the wall down the street. “I never thought they would go after the media. That is just crazy!”
“He looked Russian. Do you think he was connected with the arson this morning?” Shanzai asked as Rick continued to scan the area.
“I am sure of it. It’s the Russian mafia. Shanzai, you need to listen to me.” Rick said as he turned to her and squatted down low to the ground. “Your life is in terrible danger right now. The only thing I can think of right now is take you with me and get you out of the country. These guys are just too good.”
“I can’t go right now. I am in the middle of the biggest story of my life?” She said.
“It’s a story you will never get an opportunity to tell if you stick around. I am guessing they know where you live and have your phones tapped. How else could they have known you were here?”
A load bang sounded from the other side of the building followed by screeching tires. Rick took that as his queue to move.
“You are going to have to trust me on this. The best thing right now is for us to disappear. I promise I will do my best to take care of you, but we need to get out of here now.”
Shanzai hesitated.
“All right.” She said as she shook her head and gave a weeks closed mouth smile. “I’ll go with you.”
“Stay here and stay hidden. I am going to get my car. I’ll be back before you can shake a stick at this nonsense.”
Rick backed up a foot and then jumped over the wall and sprinted down the street, keeping in the shadows as best he could. His car was just a block away. As he approached it, a funny feeling came over him. He stopped and scrutinized the setting. Something was wrong.
Rick paused in the shadows of a alcove, the bricks still warm from the evening sun. It was quiet, to quiet, like in the forest when you hear no birds singing, no animals scurring about, same was true here, something was wrong.
There was no one on the street, all the windows were shut, something was going on.
He slowed down and started checking for ambushes, snipers, cars with running motors, things like that. This was taking time, and time was not a commodity that he had.
The sweep came up with nothing, so he went to the car. Stopped at his door, then leaned under the frame to take a look. Sure enough, a c4 bomb wrapped in nails and coins was rigged to go off the minute someone opened the drivers door.
It would have made a mess of him, or anyone else close by.
Rick let loose a long string of colorful metaphors and vulgarity.
My car they went after my car, was the first thing he could think.
Rick had seen this type of bomb before and it was easy to dismantle.
A few seconds later, after removing the hot leads and taking the thing apart, He tossed the now harmless c4 into the backseat and put the timer in his pocket, it may come in handy later.
Rick gave the car one last go round, felt good about it, then started the engine and headed to the bar.
You could shoot at him, that didn't bother him to much, people were constantly doing that. Threaten him, sure, that was common, even expected in the military. Even the girl was not emotionally an issue for Rick.
But try to blow up his new car, that crossed a line, the Russians had made it very personal now, and Rick was going to make sure what he did back to them would be personal to.
When he pulled up to the back parking to get Shanzai, Pippa was with her as well.
Pippa had a small cut on her upper arm, but looked good besides that.
The two girls jumped into the car, and Rick took off down the road.
Soon enough they were miles away from the pub, and had no followers, the shake up at the pub was still buzzing in his head. The girls had been quiet the whole time, waiting to see what he did. They had made a clean break, and Rick started to unwind.
Pippa holds up the gray plastic C4 and asks.
"What is this stuff ?"
Rick looked up in the mirror and saw what she was holding. Shanzai turned to her right to see what Pippa had.
“That is what we call incompetency by someone and now they are going pay for that mistake. It is C4, a type of plastic explosive.”
Both Pippa’s and Shanzai’s eyes got big. Pippa obviously didn’t know if she should be holding it or not and she wasn’t going to make any sudden moves.
“You can relax,” Laughed heartily at he looked at their faces. The tension eased as the two ladies stared at him incredulously. “That stuff is hard to set off. You can’t do it by holding it. You couldn’t even if you shot it or set it on fire. It needs a special type of firing cap to set it off.
“Why do you have it in your car?” Shanzai asked.
“I can explain that later, but I need you two to make a phone call first and figure out what your plans are.”
Rick pulled off the motor way into a petrol station and parked by a public phone. He looked at his watch. “I don’t have a lot of time. If you want to come with me I need you to quickly call your station manager and tell them what happened. Tell them that you are heading north to Manchester and you are being protected by the government and that you are safe for the time being and you can check back in, in a day or two.”
“We aren’t heading for Manchester are we?” Shanzai said, looking back at Pippa.
“No, I am not.” Rick answered in the first person as he opened the door. “You two will need to decide what you want to do now. Whatever that is I hope you understand that things are a little too hot right now for you to return to normal life. You really tell anyone where you are going. Those Russians will do all they can to track you down. You can either stick with me or figure something else out. You decide but I need to be on the road in less than five minutes if I am going to make my connection on time.”
Rick got out of the car. He pointed to the service station as asked, “I am going to grab a quick energy drink. Would either of you care for anything?”
“No, we’re good.” Pippa answered for both of them as she climbed out of the back of the car.
Rick hurried off to let them talk.
Pippa looked at Shanzai, and shook her head.
" You got us in trouble all the way up to our knickers on this one didn't you ? Look I don't know who this guy is, if he really is government, or not. But I'm out of here, some Russian mobsters just tried to off me and you, and thats not good."
Shanzai looked at her friend and co-worker, sadness and worry flooded her face.
"Look he just saved our lives, and is willing to help us out. we have no where to go, and no money to do anything about our situation. I think the story and our safty lie with him, I want to stay, this could be the big break I've been looking for, the big story."
She smiled at Pippa and opened the door, stepping out into the cooling evening air.
Pippa followed and they both headed over to the phone booth.
Shanzai called the station.
From the window of the BP station Rick watched a very animated conversation take place, hands were moving at a rapid place, he assumed they were describing the pub incident.
The clerk looked at him then over to the two girls jammed into the booth.
" Which ones your main squeeze mate, cause it looks like the two of them don't go no where with out the other, ehh"
Rick just nodded, and downed a whole bottle of water in one gulp.
Walking out to his car he waited for the girls, at the five minute mark he honked the horn.
Pippa gave the five seconds sign and then said something into Shanzai's ear.
A few seconds later they both left the booth and came over to the drivers side door. Rick rolled the window down.
"Decided to stay here then ?"
Shanzai nodded her head.
" The station is very concerned about us, the police called them when they found the van and fresh blood in it, and all that, they have arranged a safe house for us, with protection, we should be fine."
Rick nodded, he understood.
Shanzai looked at Pippa and she walked away from the car.
Shanzai leaned into the car and planted and long wet kiss on Rick, it was intense, the girl was a great kisser.
She rubbed his arm and smiled.
"I really owe you one, please call me. I will do anything for you, anything you ask me. But more importantly, how do I get a hold of you if I need you ?"
“Just five that number a call I gave you and I will get in touch. But you two be safe.”
She smiled and that and threw a glance at Pippa. “This whole thing is just crazy. I have never been the center of a news event; I have only been reporter bringing the information to the public. This is new for me but I am glad I was able to meet you.” She rambled a bit.
“Me too. You better get inside and wait for the police. Now I have an excuse to watch the news more often. I hope to see you again though in person.”
“You will. Come visit me at the station if I don’t see you when you get back.” She invited.
Rick nodded and then turned his attention to the car. Shanzai stepped back and waited; standing hwere she was to see him off.
The big engine of the Maserati with its supercharger roared to life. Rick backed out and headed for the road. He looked back through the rear view mirror and saw her still standing in the same place. He revved the engine and saw her silhouette wave a final time as he vanished behind a building and moved on down the road.
He was heading for Dovar and had a reservation for the ferry at 12:45. He needed to be there 30 minutes early or they wouldn’t let him board with his car. That meant he had 40 minutes to do a 70 minute trip. He gave the throttle a boot-full and accelerated to a 125 mph. The angry rasp of the big engine barked its way down the high street. It was music to Rick’s ears. He loved his car. He was seeing why Dave had such passion for any well-tuned, high precision collection of gleaming panels and gears. The car began eating away the miles to the coast. There weren’t many people out on the roads at this time in the night so driving wasn’t as much a mental chore to him. It allowed him time to reflect on the events of today and analysis their meaning.
The car still smelled of Shanzai’s perfume. It was a different scent, one he had never smelled before. It had a mixture of subtle sweetness floral with a more aggressive Borgia aroma with a hint on something he could only describe as a faint oriental cinnamon. He liked it. The aroma kept his mind on her. Meeting the somewhat famous TV reporter Shanzai Tasmin Bhati had been unexpected. He had seen her on a number of times and thought she had a great voice, reasonable in her commentary and questioning tactics, and of course quite attractive. She had an aggressive, no nonsense determination and drive that got her to the front of a pack of reporter which repeatedly helped her get the attention of those she was questioning. She was good at her job which for Rick meant that she was a force to reckon with. Rick had expected Shanzai to have hundreds of suitors for her to pick from for companionship. He thought most people because of their good looks and high profile job made this an automatic outcome. But her shy embarrassed reaction from his teasing was a surprise.
Before he knew it, Rick was at the docks. He had made it with time to spare. Ahead of him was a 70 minute crossing of the Channel. After that was an 18 hour drive to Croatia. His plan was to sleep for most of the trip over to France, and then grab something to eat just before he disembarked and then drive as far and as long as his energy held out.
Rick was surprised at how much quicker he got through customs and the multiple checkpoints, using the diplomatic passport Shelia had provided him. He tried not to use it at all, but with the weapons and the like in the boot of the car, he wasn't interested in any slowdowns, Utah already had the drop on him and he was trying to make up some lost time.
The roads were winding and fun, the large motor easily handling the climbs and straight aways. The leather seats and longer wheelbase, with the larger rimmed lower profile tires, made the car a very comfortable ride, even on a long trip. So far the drive had gone with out incident and he was able to think more about the reporter girl, and where to hide the boat he was going to steal.
Shanzai's kiss still lingered in his mind, she emmited a sexual energy he had not felt before, both exotic and reserved at the same time. Perhaps it was time to move on and date some other girls, it wasn't like he had asked Maria to marry him.
He was at hour 17, on the 18 hour road trip, late in the afternoon, when the flashing lights of a patrol car caught his rearview mirror, he was in northern Croatia, just an hour or so from Split. He couldn't tell if they were for him or someone else, but he was easiliy exceeding the speed limit.
What does Rick do ?
Barett had spent the whole afternoon getting things set up in Split, he had rented a house that overlooked the marina, and parked his trailer at the house out of site from the road. In the attic he had set up a snipers hide, with spotting scope and rifle, just in case.
He spent the rest of the time, hitting motorcycle shops and checking out the club scene. Hitting the local spots the bikers and locals hung out at.
Barett didn't speak the language, so most of the time he was lost on what was going on, till he hit a little repair and sale shop on the out skirts of town. It was run by some ex-Australians, and their kids. He got some good info on places to eat and hang out, after he made a deal on a used Aprilia RS250 bike they had, they even agreeded to show him around town and introduce him to some other Australians that lived in town. It turned out that there was a large population of them whose parents had flew to Austrailia during the wars and had now returned to start businesses. It had a matching fullfacial helmet, and local tags, so he could blend in.
Their oldest daughter agreed to meet him that night at a local club, gave him the adress to written on the back of a business card. It wasn't till 10 pm they were to meet so he killed a few hours by scoping out the marina and making his snipers card for ranges to key targets.
Rick took mental note to kick himself later for drawing attention to himself. He quickly thought about the situation and the mission. He didn’t want records of him being in the country known to anyone, especially the local government. However, he didn’t have much choice in the matter now. He quickly turned on his radio scan to listen to any police traffic noise going on and slowed down. He could easily out run the police curser her was sure and thought about doing just that, but he thought better of that ideas as it would more than likely draw more unwanted attention this early in the game. The radio chatter, what he could catch anyway, was all in Croatian and unintelligible to him. He slowed more.
Rick was also thinking it was time to hide his car. He loved it and didn’t want to but it stood out in any crowd. He was thinking of locking it up is some secure location and renting a small city car. He would see first what became of the men and the flashing lights first.
Rick slowed it down to just below the speed limit, the big engine throtled back, humming along. The fast approaching lights came up on his left and pasted him, then a ambulance a few seconds later.
He breathed out a sign of relief, knowing that his diplomatic passport may have gotten him out of it, but better not to have found out.
He took the A1 highway till it meet up with E65 down to split.
It was later afternoon when he rolled into Split, the town was a beutiful location on the coast, the classic red tile roofs of the old town buildings on the shore, were just like all the pictures.
It was just before the tourist season in Europe so things were open and running, but the crowds were thin.
As he checked into the hotel, he noted his time, and that he beat Utah.
The staff all spoke english as well as several other languages, he managed to get the car parked in the underground secure parking structure and set off to do some exploring, or scouting for Rick.
Their instructions were to get some oreintation to the town and a feel for the local habits before meeting the next day with Barett.
Rick looked at his watch, it was 8 pm., his stomach growled in acknowledgement, it was dinner time.
Where does he want to go ?
It was time to learn the city and in Rick’s mind the best to do that was to go womanizing. After cleaning up and changing into outfit of dark slacks, a white collar button shirt and a custom-fitted gray summer jacket, Rick went down to the main lobby and asked the young man at the hotel’s desk where was a good place to go and mix with the locals. The hotel he was staying in, the Bellevue, was just west of the Diocletian’s Palace and the bellhop said he would recommend a place called the Cafe Bar ST Riva which was a short walk from the hotel.
“I would beeline for the Palace,” the boy, a partial-looks cat, said. “Make sure you ask for the second floor. It is a great romantic place where you sit outside on a deck and look down on the foxy ladies moving up and down the Rivera. The women are beautiful next to the clear bay water.”
Rick thanked the boy and tipped him well. He looked at his watch and wondered here Utah was. He wrote a short note and gave it to the bellhop to give to Utah if he came in while Rick was out. Then Rick headed out and walked the two blocks to the old world palace. He was happy with the recommendation. Diocletian’s Palace turned out to be an excellent choice. The locals and the tourist all partied with Mediterranean abandon. Within the Diocletian Palace walls were a parade of restaurants, clubs, bars, cafes and hangouts. Rick wandered first unwittingly into a cluster of flirty girls all from Romania who swooned all over him. Two of the girls were particularly aggressive and came-on to Rick like he was some celebrity. Their action and petty drama reminded Rick of actors from a bad daytime soap opera. The girls laughed silly at each other’s antics and jealously grabbed his arms, and tried to get him to dance with them; all the while taunting each other in such rapid succession of unending chatter that Rick was getting dizzy just trying to follow who was talking. They were attractive but the whole group of them didn’t appear to have much going on in the upstairs department.
Rick moved on. He danced and bounced his way out of the gaggle of girls and moved deeper into to center of the plaza. After escaping the girls, Rick looking around at the different shops, cafes, and general nightlife action. This is when he noticed a stunning woman standing at an outside café eyeing him. She was about twenty yards away, her back to a bar with her left arm draped out and relaxed on the wooden counter. She stood in a provocative pose with her chest drawn-out and her legs crossed. She was giving him a sly, knowing smile. Rick was intrigued. He was such a sucker for a pretty face. He began to move over towards her.
She was wearing a turquoise halter dress with thin spaghetti straps that tied behind her neck. The color of her dress set a stunning compliment to her dark olive skin while the shape and cut of the dress highlighted her elegant bare arms and shoulders. She had a wide noise, dark eyes, thin eyebrows that had obviously been shaved and styled, teeth that looked too white to be natural, and longish dark hair bradded up in dreadlocks. Interestingly, she looked to be a pure human. Moving within five feet of her Rick suddenly became aware of the man standing next to her. Rick, focused on the lady, had almost missed seeing him in the crowd of people. He was short, wearing a dark green T-shirt with brown shorts and looked to have had one too many drinks. While the woman stood out, this man blended. He was overweight and sported one of the worse comb-overs Rick had ever witnessed. He was human too.
Rick stopped his advancement.
The man, oblivious to Rick, had his back to the crowd and was leaning on the bar counter drinking something the color of blood. He turned slightly and said something to the beautiful olive skin woman who turned her head and answered. Her smile never broke nor did her eyes turn away from Rick. Rick was close enough to hear both of them speak but he was clueless as to what language it was; it wasn’t Croatian, that was for sure; maybe African in origin. The man turned his attention back to his drink and commenced nursing himself deeper into inebriated oblivion.
An odd cautionary alarm was pricking itself in Rick’s head.
The woman continued to smile at him. Rick smiled back at her and because he was a helpless lady’s man, he surreptitiously blew her a kiss. She moved her lips into a pucker and returned the gesture. But Rick was not one to ignore his senses and he moved away through the crowd. The encounter was such that when he ran into them later he understood why he felt apprehensive in approaching them. They too were operatives.
Rick wasn’t one to eat alone with so many attractive single ladies around. But he was being picky. He wanted more than just the pretty face. He was looking for someone that was not only beautiful but someone who was bi-lingual, intelligent, confident, and could show him around Split. Oddly, he found that not only was he measuring ladies up against Maria but of Shanzai Bhati as well.
He scanned the crowd and spotted a beautiful red head. She was a local and seems very bright, but sadly the two couldn’t understand a single word of each other. Next Rick talked with blond girl who sported a set of perfect artificially-enhanced breasts which were barely tucked away behind a tiny bikini top. The girl spoke some Spanish, but she had a boyfriend and though she was flattered with Rick’s advances, she turned down his invitation for dinner.
Dusk turned to night. Rick met four men from the Canary Islands who were a touring together. They were all starving musicians and they were playing outside a café down a small alley. Rick bought them dinner, ate with them and then he joined in a jam session outside the café. They played a game in which each member took a turn to play a song while the rest counted how many people stopped to listen. It was really a game to see how many women they could attract. It was a cool thirty minute cross-culture musical discover for Rick. Rick went last and got two very cute sisters who took interest in him. They spoke excellent English and French and it would have been promising except for the fact that they were only fifteen and should have been in bed. As he was finishing up playing his last song, a final woman stopped to listen.
Her name was Dzemila. She was a beautiful blond partial-looks cougar originally from Serbia. She was sun-kissed tanned and was wearing a sexy black bikini that was covered by a long white button-up shirt that wasn’t buttoned and a stylish pearl necklace. She had a wind-swept look to her as if she had just come in from sailing in the Adriatic. Rick finished his song and beelined it over to her. He and Bzemila hit it off. He learned that she was originally from Slovenia and had moved to Split five years ago. She had lived and worked in London for a number of years. But she jumped at a chance when she was offered a job to come to Split and spend her time out in the Adriatic working as a sales agent for a yacht company.
Rick took her over to the Cafe Bar ST Riva, the café that the boy from the hotel had recommended the two talked until late.
She smiled at Rick from across the table, it was clear what she wanted from him. Rick had been careful on his consumption and though he enjoyed the food and local spirits had keep things to a minumum. She had done the same, but had consumed far more of the local wine than he had.
He noted she was well versed in the local customs and seemed to know what to do.
" Lets take a walk, it is so beautiful out tonight, we should leave this pedestrian crowd and find some space of our own."
She stood up and leaned across to Rick.
" I love to walk the beaches, and to hear the waves gently cresting on the beach, I find it such a turn on."
She has the sweet smell of fruit, mixed with a musky earthy scent, it smells like sex to Rick.
He pulled his large money clip from his pocket and dropped a decent tip on the table. He knew women were attracted to wealth and power, some of them couldn't help themselves. Based on the fact she was hitting on him so heavily, that she worked in a industry that put her in constant contact with such men, it was clear to him what her weakness was.
He was not what she thought he was, but who was he to change her mind, he was sure she was not what she said she was anyway.
But Rick was one good looking charming guy, with a open expense account and time on his hands to do some research.
" I will follow you, lead on." Rick smiled.
She headed down the Riva Promenade and down to the beach.
What does Rick do Next ?
Barett took the Aprilia RS250 out for a spin, he wanted to test the suspension and see how the clutch and gears felt. Working his way out to the E65 and then opening it up, he found the bike light and powerful, the two-stroke v twin race motor had more than enough power for what he needed it for.
Backing it down from 150 mph he eased him self off the highway and followed the winding coastal roads on the north of Split.
Making His way over to Majan Hill to get a view of the bay and city. It was getting close to dusk so he headed back to the house e had rented and to get the bike ready, it needed some tuning to his weight and style of riding.
Barett was really beginning to like the city, it was a clean and well organized road and transport town, with a thriving Austrailian community, which made speaking English easier and less noticable.
The girl at the shop was facinated by the fact he was from California, and was here riding motorcycles, it was odd for him to be the novelty accent they liked.
She kept asking him to say "Dude".
The club she had chosen was in the industrial part of town, far removed from the classic, red tile roofed buildings of the coast.
It was a red brick warehouse, single story, with a large concrete loading dock serving as the front waiting area, loud rock music with heavy guitar rifts emminated from the building, as Barett parked his bike amoung the growing throng of mopeds and various motorcycles, he even saw two other versions of his bike, just what he was hoping for, something that blended in.
Rick was playing a mean psychological game.
He could easily see how Dzemila’s seductive charisma could easily capture the imagination of the world’s playboys. He wondered if her company knew what a huge asset she was to them. Men fell over themselves to be with her. She knew and flaunted this.
She had a striking 5’10” figure, flowing sun-kissed bleached hair, sultry blue eyes the color of an azure sea and exotic Mediterranean features. Her wit and charisma, mixed with even the barest amount of sales knowledge blended with her statuesque frame and irresistible looks was more than enough to sway any rich man to throw huge bundles of money to buy opulent boy toys, namely the yachts of Edmiston Company.
Rick knew that Dzemila was an expert in men manipulation and she was trying to seduce him.
Nevertheless Rick was determined that he wasn’t going to cave in so easily. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to know her in the biblical sense of the word, because he did to the point that it hurt. But he wanted to first turn the tables on her. He wanted her to want him more than he wanted her. This is where his little psychological game diabolical; he was going to use her like she was trying to use him so he needed to wrapped her around his figures.
He was sure she had a long string of men lined up and on hold, waiting for her beck and call. He wasn’t going to be one of them. That is, if he could hold out. She was a formidable opponent!
Rick learned that Dzemila had been educated at a finishing school since the age of 13. She was fluent in English, French, Croatian, Italian, Russian, and some Hebrew and Spanish. She learned how to hold herself with an air of refinement, yet be playful, flirty, and have a down-to-earth personality. She was a woman of multiple hobbies. She was involved with interior design, yoga, dancing, painting, gymnastics, playing tennis, squash, surfing, swimming, sailing, hosting, and boxing. She was the ultimate “busy body” who, Rick suspected, couldn’t commit to any one thing.
The two ended up on the south tip of the peninsula under the small hill the locals called mount Marjan. The beach was Kasuni beach. The water was cool and clean and the beach was mostly deserted from the daily throngs. There were a number of boats and luxury yachts anchored out a few hundred yards, the occupants at different stages of revelry. The sound of their music and merry making floated clearly across the water.
Dzemila produced a small luminescent ball, took off her over shirt and strode out into the water. Rick was tired from events of yesterday that started at three in the morning and ended with the long drive from England to Split. Yet the sight of her figure in the bikini out in the water, more than compensated for his lack of sleep. He stripped down to his underwear and followed. The water was cool and invigorating. The next half hour was spent with Dzemila teaching Rick how to play the local game of picigin. The game evolved from water polo and somewhat resembled volleyball as it involved passing the ball around, keeping it in the air and out of the water for as long as possible. There was much running, jumping, laughing, bumping into each other, and diving in the cool, dark water. Dzemila was fit and Rick was sure she could keep playing, but she stopped, swam out to where it was deeper and started floating. She was laying on her back staring up at the millions of stars shining back down on them. Rick joined her.
“It’s a beautiful night.” Rick said.
There was no moon and the Milky Way glowed with intense brilliance. Soft music from one of the yachts anchored out in the deeper water mixed with the swishing of the surf.
“Definitely,” She said. “I love the night.”
“Split is an amazing place. I can see why people come here. I have only been here for a few hours but I already like it.”
“You know what I like?” She said as she dropped back into the dark water. “I like to be naked. I sleep in the nude you know. Actually, the best feeling is swimming naked in the ocean.”
And with that the bikini came off and she began swimming out further into the sea.
Rick cursed. She was beating him! But he followed suit, lost his trunks and followed her. He caught her with easy and the two began to tussle playfully in the enveloping deepness. It took as much will as he could muster for Rick to brake the frolicking before it became too late for him. He swam away. It confused her. This had never happened to her before.
“I have an idea.” He said as she tried to rush him again.
“Pick a yacht out there.” He said quickly, pointing out to the floating group while keeping her at bay with the other hand. “Any one that grabs your fancy.”
She stopped pushing towards him looked quizzically. “Why?”
“I want to get you a gift.”
“You want to buy me a yacht?” She almost laughed.
“No. But a gift from off one of them. Something beautiful for you to remember this night. A ring or maybe a necklace but whatever it is, it needs to be something that is stolen and holds an air of danger to you. ”
She stared at him. He could see she looked excited by this unusual twist.
“That one!” she pointed to a large 120 footer. It was by far the biggest one.
“Right.” Rick said as he turned as saw the one she pointed at. Then he pulled her into him one more time. They sank as he kissed her hard. He let go and their naked bodies separated in the water.
“Swim to the shore and wait for me.” He said after they surfaced. “I’ll be back in 30 minutes.”
He turned and dove into the water. He swam for about fifty yard under water. This was crazy but it was the first thing he could think off to stop the passion. He was smiling under the water knowing that he had just done something to distinguish himself from all the other men that Dzemila had in waiting.
Barett casually strolled around the parking lot to the back of the building, doing a little recon. A six foot chainlink fence ran across the back parking area, topped with razor wire, it was a typical industrial set up, 1950's style. The blocky red brick building had a flat roof and industrial heating and cooling equipment on top that was humming along, trying to keep the building inside at a even temperature. There were several buildings in the area that had similar features, two were very close, forming small alleyways on either side of the club. The fenced back area was shallow only twenty six feet deep, before it butted up againest another brick building. A small private parking area was in the back,a V.I.P. entrance right in the middle and two huge bouncers keeping a eye on things.
Barett sat back in the shadows and watched for a few minutes, noting the alertness of the bouncers and the type of people coming in the V.I.P door. They looked mostly like want a be rock stars and rich kids from the E.U. all dressed up and driving their daddies over priced german cars, no place for a man like Roman, Barett headed back up to the front and stood in line.
His faded levi's and black t-shirt and motorcycle boots, helped him blend right in. He had grown a small chin beard and had his hair in a faux hawk cut, slight frosting of the tips to make it stand out.
The bouncers let him in and he paided the 10 euro cover charge to a small bird like girl sitting in a booth down a painted black hall, the walls seeming to throb and shake with the music. Barett sauntered down the hall, through a makeshift blackbeaded curtain, and out into the dance floor.
The smell of sweat and humidity smacked him in the face, the place was loud, and packed full, Barett smiled.
It was a target rich enviroment, lots of young rich girls, all trying to act cool and hip, easy to seduce and manipulate, a rich source of information and resources. He was hoping for a little sport tonight, something to take his mind off the missed race. Heading to the bar for a cold one to nurse and blend in, he spotted the girl from the shop with a group of girls, almost all of them attractive, that would be spot two he decided.
Utah Blaine sat at the airport customs office, stewing at the officials holding him up. His problem all started with the imported cheeses, they smelled, they smelled really bad, that's what made them good. So people on the flight to split complained, a lot. Then he had all this imported olives, and fruit and wine. Utah just figured he'd pay a freight company to ship it back for him, but he couldn't find one in time, so he just brought it along on the plane.
So now here he sat in customs, waiting for clearance to get the product out of quarantine, and inspections, and tax assesment.
It was almost three thousand dollars worth of food, and that was over the personal limit. But because he had flashed his Diplomatic passport at them, they couldn't just take it.
Five hours later and three hundred euro's in taxes and fees he was on his way. The only thing the rental company had left for him to drive was a fiat van thing, Utah was sure they had the luxury sedan he requested, but one smell of his luggage made them change their minds. It was two in the morning on a warm spring night, as he pulled up to the hotel he was to meet Rick at, he could sense already the he had lost, another expense that he didn't need. At least he knew leaving the car in England was a good idea.
After paying for the room, he took a long hot shower and hit the sack. He knew Rick was out building another Harem of good looking women to have around him. Utah Blaine went to sleep, dreaming of simpler times, and one eyed tigers. The heavy smells of cheese and wine in the air, the four crates of them stacked againest the wall in the large two bedroom suite Rick had rented for them.
As free and nude as a day old baby, Rick swam stealthy to the large yacht. He wished he had a grappling hook and rope with him. That would make boarding the yacht without being seen so much easier. But considering that state of undress he was in, he knew he would have to make his way up from the stern and move forward either on the starboard or port side-deck.
From the water, the 125 ft. yacht looked massive compared to the lone figure in the water. It rocked gently in the ever ebb and flow of the Adriatic Sea as the lone swimmer circled it like an inquisitive dolphin checking out this strange object jutting down into its territory.
On the top quarter deck, voices carried over the water. The sound was slurred which made Rick think the occupants were subdued by drinking too many spirits. This was a good sign. Rick circled the yacht again to watch the four decks for any sign of crew member or someone else not enjoying the party. He counted three passing shadows on the second and fourth levels.
The point of a yacht is to be a toy. It really doesn’t have any other function which meant that security was always an afterthought. That was the point of all that water and distance from the shore wasn’t it?
So boarding was easy. Rick swam under the hull and surfaced directly behind the aft ladder. Crawling up he spotted a pile of clean white towels. Taking one, he dried himself off and then wrapped it around his waist. Crouching low he eased himself over the railing and slipped behind a couch on the main aft deck. There was too much light for his liking.
Directly in front of him was a low coffee table, more lounging chairs, a chrome staircase leading up a level and open French doors that led to a large sitting and dining room. A crewman dressed in a powder blue sailor’s uniform was inside cleaning the dining table. Rick waited. The man picked up a large tray of discarded food and moved through a far side port door. As soon as door shut behind the man Rick hurried through the French doors into the room.
The room was long and had a 10 seat table that filled the forward end. Aft was a cross between sitting room and ship library with a number of chintz chairs and couches. It smelled of cigar smoke, roasted pork, and whisky. Clanking of dishes could be heard coming from behind the door the crewman hand entered and Rick guessed that was the ship’s galley. There were more items on the table than needed to be cleaned up. Rick guessed that he less than ten seconds before the crewman would be back to clear it up. He moved quickly to the forward starboard hallway. To his left was another stair well leading up and down while directly in front of him was a wooden door that opened into who knew what? On his right was another door that led back outside to the side deck.
He heard noise behind him from the room he had just exited and guessed the crewman had returned. If the man came round the table’s edge he would see Rick. Rick gambled and went straight ahead through the closed door.
Beyond was darkness. Gently he pulled the door handed behind him in until he heard it click shut. He waited for his eyes to adjust but by the size of what he could make out he knew he had entered the master suite. There was a short hall that opened around the corner into another large room. He knew it was large because he could clearly hear the acoustic reverberation of someone softly snoring.
Rick let his eyes adjust slowly to the darkness, the blinds on the windows still let in some light from the outside, but not much.
The master suite was of a good size and streched what looked like the width of the boat at this part. He could hear the slight clinking of glass and silverware from the galley nextdoor. The dark wood paneling and heavy drapes made seeing things clearly hard, but the large snoring shape under the linen sheets was positivly a male, large and fat.
Rick could smell his bad breath even from the door, and the stench of his sweat hung in the air. The cool air moving from the ceiling fan, coupled with a onboard AC unit kept the room almost frigid. Standing there almost naked, goosebumps forming on his arms and legs, Rick moved forward slowly creeping towards a built-in night stand on the far side of the room, at least fifteen feet away. Shining in the darkness was a large gold watch, and next to it a large custom money clip, with rolls of large denomination euro bills in it.
As he is making his way past the door to the bathroom, he hears movement out side in the hall and the click of the handle being moved.
" I just need to grab a few things, then I'll be right back down, save me a spot at the table, I'm feeling lucky tonight."
A effeminate male voice says to some one right outside the door on the deck. The lispy english voice sounds of a london accent.
What does Rick Do ?
Leaping like a surprised cat, Rick flew over the bed where the sleeping figure continued to snore. He landed silently on the other side of the bed and dropped into low crouch and waited. He peered over the bed. A mysterious white item had appeared on the bed and then it registered in his head; he had jumped out of his towel which was now draped over the sleeping form. Not a good situation to be caught in. He may have to break a couple of necks if he was discovered.
Rick lay on the floor, pressed into the fine wool rug that covered this section of wood flooring. Trying desperatly to force his body even closer to the bed, wishing himself smaller.
The door opens and light floods the room briefly then is gone.
He can hear someone on the other side of the room opening a cabinet then a shuffling of a stack of bills. The mystery figure moves quietly in the room, attempting to be quiet and let the large fat man sleep.
" You never could hold your liquor, my sweet little piggy." He states leaning on to the bed and kissing the forhead of the sleeping figure.
Grabbing the towel he tosses it into the bathroom and leaves.
Rick is alone with the sleeping man, who hasn't moved the entire time. He can hear the party moving to the back deck, calling for drinks to be brought to the slowly moving group, of giggling gay men. Till almost no other noisey but the snoring, smelly man on the bed are left.
What does Rick do ?
Rick stood up and cussed under his breath. He wasn’t going to find any jewelry on this boat, he was sure of that. He looked down at the smelly sleeping fat man with disgust. Most gays Rick had met took pride in their personal appearance. This man had shattered that image.
Rick moved over to the dresser again and picked up the large gold watch and money clip with its roll of euro bills. He would count it later but it was time to get out of here and back to the beach. He looked around for something water proof he could use to put the stolen items in during the swim back. A condom would have worked well but he couldn’t find any. He guessed these gay men didn’t use them. He hoped they all picked up a HIV.
He found a shower cap in the bath room that would do the trick. Wrapping up the watch and money in the cap, he tied off the top to keep the water out. He was about to leave the room when he thought better about the discarded towel. As he retrieved it from the bathroom floor where it had been thrown by the other man, the sleeping man made a loud snort as if he stopped breathing. He flopped over in the bed.
Rick held his breath and waited. If the man woke up and saw Rick standing there in the nude, two outcomes were likely. He would either scream like a little girl at Rick’s intrusion or he would look at Rick’s impressive body, smile broadly and think him to be a gay man’s gift from his friends.
Not while there was still one last breathe in his lungs and a drop of blood running through his veins! He would kill this man if tried to touch him.
But the snoring started again and the danger to this fat man’s life evaporated.
Rick left. He put his ear to the door and listened for any sound. When he was sure everything was clear, he stepped through the door and turned directly to the left out onto the deck and jumped over the railing and into the dark water below.
Rick swam quickly from the boat to the shore, the light workout of swimning easing the tension in his shoulders and body.
Dzemila sat on the beach, trying to shield herself from the evening breeze, the shirt fully buttoned at this point.
Rick stepped from the water a glistening specimen of physical prowess and strength, something animally charmismatic about his confidence and muscular body emitted itself. She had contemplated just leaving him, while he was off on some strange quest. But seeing him again reminded herself why she had hit on this man, something sexual and raw about how he acted, drew her to him.
Sweetly she teased him.
" What treasures has my rogue gentleman returned with ?" She smiled, a wide grin, across her face as she handed out his cloths to him.
Rick strode onto the beach and opened the plastic cap, revealing a expensive gold watch and roll of money.
She whistled out loud, a look of shock and excitement washed across her face as she reached for the watch to examine it.
Rick handed it to her, and put the money clip into his pant pocket.
"I must admit, what you did, seemed strange at first. But the thrill of it is like a strong drug, I'm getting a little rush off this. Do you do this often ?"
Rick smiled back as he put his cloths back on.
"No, just for you my sweet...keep it to remember me. I must go now, but would like to see you again, if that is agreeable."
She looked at him in surprise.
"You are going now, don't you want to come back to my place, have a night cap, shower off the sea water ?"
She was using all her charm to get him to come back to her place.
What does Rick do ?
Rick swam quickly from the boat to the shore; the light workout of swimming eased the tension in his shoulders and body.
Dzemila sat on the beach, trying to shield herself from the evening breeze, the shirt fully buttoned at this point. Rick stepped from the water. He was a glistening specimen of physical prowess and strength, something animally charismatic about his confidence and muscular body emitted itself. She had contemplated just leaving him, while he was off on some strange quest. But seeing him again reminded herself why she had hit on this man, something sexual and raw about how he acted, drew her to him.
Sweetly she teased him.
"What treasures has my rogue gentleman returned with?" She smiled with a wide grin across her face as she handed out his cloths to him.
Rick strode onto the beach and opened the plastic cap, revealing an expensive gold watch and roll of money. She whistled out loud, a look of shock and excitement washed across her face as she reached for the watch to examine it. Rick handed it to her and put the money clip into his pant pocket.
"I must admit, what you did seemed strange at first but the thrill of it is like a strong drug, I'm getting a little rush off this. Do you do this often?"
Rick smiled back as he put his cloths back on.
"No, it was just the moment that took me. It was sometime outrages for you my sweet. Keep the watch as a memento to remember me. I must go now, but would like to see you again, if that is agreeable."
She looked at him in surprise.
"You are going now, don't you want to come back to my place, have a night cap, shower off the sea water?" She was using all her charm to get him to come back to her place.
What does Rick do ?
Rick took Dzemila’s hands in his and pondered for a second what he was going to do with her. Her connection with the Yacht industry was of key importance to him and something he wanted to exploit. If he went to her house tonight, he was sure it would be a one-nighter and he would lose that leverage he wanted to use over her. On the flip side, a long-term relationship seemed to be out of the question too. She acted too much like nymphomaniac, which Rick admitted could be a lot of fun for a while. But, and this was a big but, dating a nymphomaniac was like dating a vampire; her appetite would eventually suck him dry like the nymph Calypso attempted to do to King Odysseus.
“Dzemila, I would like nothing better than join you at your place tonight.” Rick said. “It is taking all the self-control I have to stop myself from lifting you up into my arms and enjoying what could only be compared to time with a goddess.”
“Then come with me and you will find out how right you are.” She said as he pulled herself in close, her hand dropping to find his hardening member.
“Are you as ridiculously attracted to me as I am to you?” Rick asked as he kissed her.
She answered with a moan of satisfaction. After the kiss, Rick pulled away.
“You are an evil temptress.” He said and she smiled. “I really must be leaving.”
“We could have all sorts of fun.” Dzemila said, trying hard to press her seductive advantage.
“Of that, I have no doubt. “ He said as he pulled from her embrace. “But as much as it pains me to say it, I cannot come tonight. My time is up as I have pressing responsibilities I absolutely need to attend to tonight. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Only if you agree to meet me again.” She looked at him firmly.
“Of course! I can meet you in two night’s time, how about 10 O’clock at the Cafe Bar ST Riva again?”
“I’ll be there and waiting and you better not have sometime else planned all night long!”
“Cross my heart.” He said as he drew the old religious sign over his chest. Then he kissed her hand one last time and then was off.
Post a Comment