Chapter 29

Wednesday

“You be careful,” Juwanna admonished while we shoveled breakfast into our mouths this morning. She had no idea where we were going or what we were up to, but had seen Will here and knew who he worked for, and that the three of us had suddenly been training together for something.

This was the first time the three of us had gone on the same “appointment.” Everyone who worked for us knew we did something slightly clandestine for the government. My top people and the household staff knew a great deal more, although nothing that was classified. Since I’d never been on a ship or a boat on the ocean, George insisted that I take Dramamine before we left. Being seasick would make it difficult for me to complete our assignment.

Our flight to New Orleans aboard the Citation X took under an hour. At the airport, I rented a car. We loaded our gear and drove to meet the boat. The car didn’t have a GPS unit, but our cell phones did, and Adam directed me to where our boat was waiting.

“Holy shit,” I gasped when I saw our ride out to the rendezvous. It was a forty-six-foot cigarette boat painted silver and black. I laughed when I saw the Lucky J logo on the boat, but realized it was a good cover, helping to minimize any thoughts they might have that we were there for anything other than a legitimate swap. We met our surprised captain and he took us aboard. He wasn’t aware that there would be others going with them. The captain even called in to verify that we were supposed to be there.

We found the hidden openings from which to fire. Below deck, there were three on each side of the boat, and two in the bow. When not being used, the firing slots closed tightly enough to be waterproof. When they were open, the angles of the boat’s paint scheme camouflaged them.

We added an FN-P90 inside the inflatable dinghy we’d crammed aboard, along with three extra magazines, a K-bar, and two dozen zip ties. We covered it and taped the covering to the inside of the boat with gray duct tape. Fortunately, the cover and the duct tape matched the color of the dinghy closely enough that it wouldn’t be noticeable from the ship, even with good binoculars.

The agent who would review the information showed up about 8:00. He, too, was surprised to see us. Like the captain, we told him we were a last-minute addition to help keep him safe. We showed him the FN-P90 in the dinghy, admonishing him that it was only for use in an emergency.

Once he was aboard, we headed southeast. The captain explained that the water was too choppy to run more than seventy-five mph, but the boat would easily do one-hundred-thirty mph if the water were calmer. The captain contacted Zhora’s ship when we were fifty miles away. We were nearly an hour early, but they agreed to meet us as soon as we got there. Even before he made contact, I knew something was wrong with the deal, and warned George and Adam, changing this from a transaction to a sanction.

I had butterflies in my stomach. It’s one thing to be involved in a gun battle with crooks when you have something to hide behind; knowing it would be a sanction, and that we were inside a fiberglass hull that barely protected us from strafing seagulls was another thing. I made a mental note to bring SWAT shields next time--if there was a next time.

The water was deep enough that we didn’t bother with the small anchor. Instead, the captain kept the boat reasonably stable. George had his firing slot open to keep an eye on what was happening aboard Zhora’s ship. The captain and the go-between got the inflatable dinghy into the water and attached the tiny electric motor to it.

George reported that one of the bodyguards was watching the dinghy with binoculars, and the other was watching our boat. Zhora was splitting his attention between us. “Now,” George whispered. Adam and I both opened our firing slots. We had waited for a moment when nobody was watching us before opening the final two firing slots to avoid the chance that they might detect the movement. We didn’t want all three open as we approached to minimize the chance of them being seen and to help keep out some of the spray.

Our rifle barrels were still far enough inside the boat that they wouldn’t be visible. George and Adam each had their OSV-96 aimed at the bodyguard watching the dinghy. I had the PHASR aimed at Zhora and the bodyguard next to him.

“Ready,” George cautioned when the dinghy reached the ship. When our agent reached for the rope ladder, the bodyguard watching him set his rifle down. George and Adam fired almost simultaneously, both hitting the bodyguard squarely in the chest despite the choppy seas. It didn’t matter if he was wearing a vest or not, these cartridges would go right through it. The guard slumped over the railing.

The report from their rifles caused Zhora and the second bodyguard to look our way. When they did, I fired the PHASR, stunning both of them. “They were going to kill you,” Adam explained to our contact over our headset radios. “Get up there and secure the last two men while they’re still disoriented,” he ordered.

We hurried out on deck where we could see everything, and the captain headed for the ship. By the time we got there, the agent had Zhora and the remaining bodyguard secured with the zip ties and was covering them with the FN-P90.

“Now what?” he asked when we were aboard.

We found the bridge and the terrified crew manning it. George and Adam calmed the crew, promising them their freedom once they had sailed the ship safely to its new homeport. The crewmen on the bridge began calling the rest of the crew up to the bridge so we could explain that they would all be set free.

I called Dieter. “Hey Dieter, we captured Zhora and his ship. Where do you want it?” I asked when he answered my call.

“You mean, where do you want it. You captured it. It’s your ship. We’ll take Zhora, though,” he replied. “Of course, if you could convince him to tell you everything before we get there, we won’t need him,” he chuckled evilly.

“What do you mean my ship?” I exclaimed, alarmed.

“Like I said, you captured it so it’s your ship,” he chuckled. “Obviously, the government can’t capture a foreign ship outside of our territorial waters,” he reminded me needlessly.

“So, what do I do with it?” I almost whined.

“The first thing would be to have the crew sail it to New Orleans. The U.S. Coast Guard will meet you there and help you change the registry into your name. After that, you can either keep it or sell it. Personally, I’d suggest keeping it. I’m sure you can imagine how many D.C. bigwigs and even foreign dignitaries would love to be wined and dined for a few days aboard the yacht. Just knowing that Zhora has been permanently retired will earn you a huge amount of goodwill worldwide,” he added.

“Do you know how much this thing will cost to maintain?” I gasped.

The fucker started laughing at me! “No, but I’m betting you’ll be able to tell me next month,” he continued laughing. “Should I start a guest list?” he chuckled.

“Not yet,” I sighed. I still remembered my dad’s definition of a boat--a hole in the water that you throw money into. I guess the definition of a ship is a bigger hole that you throw half of the national debt into. Still, the government made sure my bank account was currently worth enough to actually buy this tub at current market value, so why not spend some of it and entertain them?

“Head for New Orleans,” I told the crew who were gathered on the bridge. “When we get there, I’ll pay each of you and make sure you have a way to get home to your families.”

Then I called Dieter back. “I guess you’d better start looking for a crew. I have no idea what I need other than someone to steer this barge,” I teased him.

“Barge?” he exploded. This time I got to laugh at him as I hung up.

With the help of one of the crew, Adam had found an electric winch on the port side of the ship and was in the process of raising the cigarette boat out of the water. There was an identical spot on the starboard side with a forty-foot cabin cruiser nestled inside an enclosure. The cigarette boat would easily fit inside in the port enclosure. While George and the cigarette boat captain stayed on the bridge, Adam, the agent, and I started at the top of the ship and began exploring.

The uppermost deck, three decks above the main deck, was evidently the tanning deck. That was where we found three stunningly beautiful women cowering. I’m sure that the fact they were naked didn’t help them feel any more secure. “You are all safe, none of us will hurt you,” I tried to reassure them.

“You kill the pig?” one of the women asked nervously in a sexy Russian accent.

“No, but he isn’t going to escape,” I assured her.

“I kill pig?” she asked a little more boldly, but very enthusiastically.

“Let me think about it,” I replied.

Since the girls gave me no feelings of being dangerous to us, we left them to continue perfecting their gorgeous tans. As we left, I envisioned my harem joining them tanning nude. The area was big enough for them and a lot more.

The next deck was where the bridge was. Down one more deck, the helipad was aft of the bridge. It looked big enough for the Aircrane to land on it safely. The helipad was the only part of this deck open to the sky. The rest of it was covered with an overhang from the deck above it.

The main deck was also mostly covered from above. The one hundred feet of the deck nearest the bow wasn’t covered. The covered pool was next. The stern most hundred feet wasn’t covered either, and looked to be a combination of a loading zone for equipment to be set down upon or lifted from, and a cargo elevator.

We used the cargo elevator, and watched as half of the deck began to lower into the bowels of the ship. My eyes widened in surprise when they got used to the semi-darkness of the hold. It was fucking filled with drugs and crates of weapons!

The crewman acting as our tour guide showed me how to call the bridge and I did. “George, call Dieter and tell him we need ATF and DEA here. The military might want to send someone to evaluate some of this stuff,” I added.

Despite the massive quantities of arms and drugs, there was still empty space in the hold. We found his helicopter, as well as enough room for two more. I called George back. “Call the house and tell them to get my family on the Skyhawk. Have them fly to Mobile, refuel, and then give them coordinates to where we should be in three hours. Have your family and Adam’s family get on the second Skyhawk, leave half an hour later, and do the same thing. Call the pilot of the Citation X and have him fly home,” I said.

“My wife is going to be so excited that I may not be able to move tomorrow,” he laughed.

“Back at you times ten,” I laughed. “And, tell them to bring a few dozen gift packs of the good stuff,” I added.

The biggest surprise so far was a sealed hold next to the helicopter. Inside was a thirty-foot, one or two-man mini-sub. That ship’s hold could be flooded and the sub launched beneath the ship. Holy shit! That was probably how they got the contraband ashore. When we looked, bricks of cocaine filled the cargo area of the mini-sub.

When we moved forward from the cargo holds, we found the crew’s quarters. We also found four luxurious guest cabins, six guest suites, and a monstrous master suite. Off to one side inside of the master suite was a locked door. I tried the keys we took from Zhora and his two bodyguards. Finally, one opened the door and we entered what had to be his private study.

“Oh, my god,” I laughed when I looked at his computer. It was turned on and still on the page for his offshore bank account. I couldn’t believe that it hadn’t gone to sleep yet. He evidently had it set up so he could verify that the funds were properly transferred into his account. Instead, I transferred his money into my own account, adding more than ten times what I already had offshore. I guess I didn’t need to worry about the fuel and maintenance costs of the ship for a while. Hell, I could buy a few more of these.

Another locked door off the study led to what was apparently a torture chamber with a small cell to confine a prisoner. Looking around the study further, I located a huge safe behind a bookcase. I couldn’t believe that he hadn’t even locked the safe! It held more gold, platinum, silver, diamonds, and other gemstones than I’d had at home before I sold most of them. It also had thousands of stacks of $100 bills, €100 and €500 notes, 1,000 and 5,000-Ruble notes and Yuan notes.

I sent Adam and the other agent to finish exploring the rest of the ship. I went to retrieve a securely shackled Zhora. Not even Houdini could escape from these shackles. Aside from the fact that they were tight enough to cause circulation problems, I had filled the keyholes with a fast-setting epoxy. The only way to get them off was to cut them off, or to cut off his hands.

Once I had Zhora secured in his own torture chamber, I began questioning him. He laughed at me. “You can’t torture me, and you know it. Your pathetic country’s archaic laws prohibit it,” he taunted.

I carefully pulled the sanction letter out of my pocket, and out of the waterproof plastic bag it was in. The paper it was on would dissolve at the first hint of water, even the sweat from keeping it in my pocket. “Read it and weep.” I taunted him. “I have a presidential authorization to sanction you. The only question is, do you cooperate and die quickly, or do I turn the naked women on the upper deck loose with sharp things?” He actually paled.

Half an hour later, I knew all his passwords and combinations and had tested them. I also knew how to access all the secret computer files he had hidden on CDs, including the list of agents from various countries that he’d tortured and killed before feeding them to the sharks.

I made a final call to Dieter. “Anything specific you want to know from Zhora? He’s very talkative right now.” I told Dieter what I already had. He called back several minutes later with three more questions that Zhora answered readily.

“I have two choppers inbound in the next hour. If you want to send an analyst after that, go ahead,” I told Dieter.

“You’ve already got one there,” he reminded me. Duh!

“Don’t go away, I’ll be right back with the analyst,” I taunted Zhora, closing, locking, and barring the door to the torture chamber.

I took all the data, reset the safe combination, and locked it. Then, I changed the computer password and put the computer to sleep before leaving to find the analyst. “Take a quick look at this. The source won’t be alive much longer,” I warned, handing him my laptop.

Fifteen minutes later, he looked at me, eyes as big as saucers. “How the hell did you get him to talk?” he asked.

“I threatened to turn his ‘lovers’ loose on him with sharp objects,” I chuckled. Satisfied that the information was good, I went back to the tanning deck.

Three gorgeous, naked women looked up at me expectantly. “Ladies, I’ve finished interrogating the pig; he’s all yours.” They stared at me, stunned.

“Really?” the bold one who spoke up last time asked.

“Follow me, he’s locked in his little torture room,” I replied. They didn’t exactly follow me. Two ran slightly ahead of me, and then slowed to a hip-swaying, ass-jiggling walk they used purposely to attract my attention. They even looked back a couple of times to make sure my eyes were glued to their asses. They needn’t have bothered. Between the stiletto heels they wore, their long, naturally shapely legs, and their naturally gorgeous asses, my eyes might as well have been epoxied to their asses.

They stepped aside so I could unlock the stateroom door, but pushed past me, making sure they each rubbed their bare titties against me as they did. Hands accidentally brushed against the lump in the front of my pants. They stepped back nervously when I pulled my Glock and opened the final door. Zhora was still secured, right where I had left him. I found several sharp instruments for the ladies to use. “Fast or slow, your call. I’ll be right here when you’re done,” I told them as I sat in the chair and turned on the computer.

“What? You promised,” he screamed when the girls entered.

“I guess I lied,” I chuckled to myself. I was almost disgusted with myself for how much I enjoyed hearing him scream as the girls got their revenge. Despite his desperate screams of rage and pain, I was able to concentrate on the computer. I learned that the ship had a shipboard intruder detection system. It also had a system that detected emissions used by cameras to determine the range and countered those with various lights. I’d have to look into attaching the special LED lights on the upper decks to defeat overhead cameras like satellites, drones, and other surveillance aircraft.

The girls only took fifteen minutes to extract their revenge. Afterwards, we used plastic bags to dump various body parts overboard to feed the fish. The hose in the torture chamber washed the rest of the mess down the drain in the floor. When I finished cleaning the chamber, the girls had just finished showering in the master bathroom. They came out giving me predatory looks.

“Sorry ladies, you have to get a test that shows you’re free of STDs, and get permission from my wives,” I told them, knowing there was no way my wives would agree.

“Wives?” one of them asked, her curiosity piqued. Fortunately, George paged me. The first chopper would be here in five minutes.

“Don’t you want to put clothes on?” I asked the girls as we left the stateroom.

“Why? We haven’t been allowed to wear clothing for more than a year since we were brought aboard. The crew have seen us hundreds of times, but were afraid to look at us because they feared Zhora,” one of the girls explained.

“Zhora’s dead,” I reminded them.

“But you aren’t, and you killed Zhora so they will not want to anger you,” she explained with what was impeccable logic to them. I didn’t bother reminding them that they had killed Zhora.

Shrugging mentally, I followed three gorgeous asses, watching as their ass cheeks jiggled deliciously. They checked again to make sure I was watching, and giggled when they saw that I was.

One of the crew was there to guide the helicopter in for a landing on what looked like a large dolly. Once I saw it, I realized they would need it so they could roll the helicopter off the elevator and into an empty storage slot. Once the blades had nearly finished spinning, I hurried out to meet my harem and family, and one additional woman I didn’t recognize who appeared to be a few years older than my parents. They were all rubbernecking and looked at me questioningly when they saw me.