The Tahitian Pearl: A John Otter Novel (John Otter Novels Book 2)

by Sean Blaise

  Just then Pierre’s phone rang. It was the office. He forgot 2 am in Tahiti meant it was closer to 2 in the afternoon at the home office.

  “What is it Frances?”

  “I need a progress report. Why have you not arrested Abdul?”

  “As I told you before, on what grounds?”

  “On the pirate attack.”

  “Frances, even you know that is impossible. The chain of custody of that photograph is a joke. We got the photo given to us! We don’t even know when it was taken. Tell me what else do we have to charge him with?”

  “I need someone as a suspect, I don’t have any more time for your excuses.”

  “Arrest him, on an impossibly flimsy charge of piracy, then what? Charge him for staying at the hotel where our man died in Monaco?”

  “Enough!” Frances spit into the phone. “You insolent prick! Grab him and get me answers. I don’t care how you do it; but Abdul is in cuffs by the time I get my coffee tomorrow morning or you can find another job.”

  So much for Pierre’s plan to wait and see. Pierre now had little choice in the matter.

  Chapter 106

  The next day Ivana was sitting on station, just two miles from Papeete, right above the bomb’s recovery location. The Ivana’s dynamic positioning system was using her thrusters to keep the ship in place in a virtual cage. The water was too deep to anchor and the DP system could hold the ship indefinitely to within inches of her desired location.

  John could barely contain his stress, today was the day. The Ivana was now emptied of all non-essential personnel. There was no point in exposing them to the risks. All of the interior girls, save Ingrid, had been sent home on leave. John sat on the back deck of the Ivana, watching Sophia setting newer, brighter lights on Troy.

  Sophia had been pivotal the past week on their daily dives on Troy. John had kept her away from any sites that might actually be the bomb, until the survey boat had it located. Instead, John had used the time having her train him on the Troy's grabbing arms and thruster controls in between their sex acts. The sex had been relentless and amazing. His back was sore from the Troy's chair but together they had mastered the art of contortionist sex.

  John was sending Sophia back to Papeete on the helicopter tonight on the auspices of resupplying them. He knew he couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. He looked at her again, and she smiled brightly. John smiled back but felt the palpable guilt of his lies. He hated lying, it went against his nature, but he had no choice. Alexi had given him no choice.

  Otter had studied the bomb's diagrams all night. The ex-Russian nuclear scientist Alexi had hired had a video conference with him as well. There really wasn't much to it. A few bolts to remove the outer access plate of the bomb and using the Troy's arms to remove the three balls of plutonium and place them into the lead case.

  Later that night, John and Sweeney had launched the Troy. Once on the bottom, John inched the Troy along, admiring the strange world once more. He watched the screen on the left of his controls and followed the sonar ping towards the sonar beacon the C-Legend had dropped; and the bomb. The Geiger counter was already chirping indicating higher levels of radiation. John wondered how many fish had four eyes and three fins as a result of the bomb’s radiation over the last sixty years. Not that radiation mutations could make these animals any uglier than they already were.

  John was hovering over the spot the sonar screen indicated as the location, but he still saw nothing. He used the Troy's claws to sweep the mud back. He took his time, there was no rushing this. Who knew what condition the bomb was in? He was assured by the nuclear expert that without the barge providing electrical power, there was literally no way to set off the bomb. But a bomb, was a fucking bomb! And John was the one messing with it, not that scientist ten thousand miles away. So slow and steady was the name of the game. As he swept the claw back through the mud, a metal clink echoed out and a stabilizing fin of the bomb became visible out of the mud.

  John maneuvered around the bomb to where he assumed the middle was and started to dig with the shovel on the Troy's left arm. The articulating arm was amazingly responsive, but John was not used to its operation. Sophia would have done a much better job, but for her own safety, that was out of the question.

  The mud gave way to expose the full side of the bomb. It was much smaller than John had imagined. You assume weapons of mass destruction are outsized, huge monsters, but they were quite small. And, yet, this one bomb alone could destroy all of Papeete and Moorea. It was hard to imagine.

  The nose of the bomb was slightly dented, but nowhere near as much damage as what Otter had expected to find. The bomb was damn near perfect. French lettering was still visible on the side as if it had just been made. There was no visible rust at all. Clearly the bombs impact with the bottom, and getting buried in the mud, had prevented almost any decay.

  John moved the Troy to the stern fin and used the Troy's gripping arm to grab the bombs fin. John dropped some of the Troy's lead ballast weight causing the buoyancy of the Troy to increase, while he thrusted the submersible into reverse pulling the bomb up and onto the flat ocean floor. By sheer luck, the bomb ended up settling with its access panel up, almost like the bomb was ready to be finally relieved of its burdensome cargo. Now was the easy part, John told himself.

  Chapter 107

  Pierre hated Frances’s ultimatum. His local police officer liaison seemed less than enthused about arresting anyone, let alone someone who might be a murderer. Pierre would have called for more backup, but all indications were that Abdul was unarmed and local police were largely inept.

  “Is he still there?” Pierre inquired checking his weapon.

  “Yes, I told you again, he has been back in his room since dinner,” his liaison said, sounding more than a bit exasperated.

  “It’s time to move.” Pierre said as they exited the Land Rover and began moving towards the door of Abdul’s hotel room. Pierre pulled his Sig Sauer P226 and moved along the truck. He gave the signal to stop, but the dumb local either didn’t see or didn’t understand the command and kept walking forward towards the building.

  Abdul was sitting on the bed, cradling the phone to his ear while he cleaned his weapon.

  “Are you sure?” the Sheikh asked.

  “As sure as I can be. The hookers confirmed it. Tonight, is the night.”

  “You will only get to attack once. Do you know how important this is to our cause?”

  “Yes, Sheikh, you and your friends need dirty bombs to strike fear into the hearts of the infidels. I understand.”

  “You mock me and our cause?”

  Abdul looked at the Sheikh’s henchman holding another weapon standing over him. He hadn’t killed him yet, but he might have to. Or maybe it was better to wait. Either way, he had to get rid of the Sheikh’s chaperon for tonight’s attack. He worked better alone, and he didn’t plan on handing over any radioactive materials without another pay grab.

  “Of course not, I’m just ready to be out of your employ. It has been more trouble than I bargained for.”

  “What if you attack and they have not recovered the bomb?”

  “Well I will have finally killed your Russian friend and retrieved the information you were looking for to begin with, the exact location of the bomb. You can mount your own expedition to recover it.”

  Abdul wasn’t wrong, the Sheikh thought. He did have his own yacht Ghajri that he could mount a mission with to find the bomb himself. Either way, the Russian would be dead; it was worth a try.

  “Put Munjab on the phone.” Abdul handed the receiver to the Sheikh’s man. The Sheikh’s butler began talking to the Sheikh in whispered tones in Pashto, a language foreign to Abdul. He was surprised the Sheikh knew it since it was predominately spoken in Afghanistan.

  It was dark outside now. Abdul stood up and walked to the hotel window. He had noticed a red-faced Frenchman conspicuously present around the hotel the last few days, and he knew it was a tail. His a
lias might have been compromised and flagged on the flight in and maybe he was just being watched as a precaution. As he pulled the curtain aside, he saw the same Frenchman moving towards the door. A lanky man was moving much more carefully towards the building’s wall. It was obvious they were about to breach the room. Abdul looked at Munjab still talking with his back to the wall. He had an idea.

  Abdul stood behind the door, where it would cover him when the police breached. He shifted so that his shoulder would take the brunt of the impact when they smashed the door in. His nose had just barely healed, and he couldn’t stand the thought of breaking it again. He chambered his pistol and waited. Just then the butler hung up with the Sheikh and turned around. Abdul could see the shadow of the police officers’ feet outside the door. The butler gave Abdul a quizzical look wondering why he was standing in the corner when the door crashed in.

  Munjab was still holding his gun and he started to bring it up to aim, when the officers fired point blank into his chest. The Sheikh’s man was thrown back against the wall in a spray of red. Abdul saw the back of the first officer as he entered the room pointing his weapon still at Munjab and Abdul put a bullet into him from behind.

  Pierre saw the muzzle flash from the right of the doorway, and the local policeman’s brains splattered. Pierre shifted his gun towards the door, when the door was suddenly shoved in his direction slamming him against the doorstop pinning him against the wall.

  Abdul kept the second officer pinned against the door and fired off shots through it. He then sprinted forward out of his hiding space running for the back door at full tilt. While running, he turned and pulled the trigger several times in the general direction of the doorway before he put his shoulder into the door leading to the parking lot and left it in splinters.

  Pierre didn’t move. He had taken two of Abdul’s shots to the chest and been slammed back against the doorstop, hitting his head. He was still aiming at the back door and struggling to breathe. He knew his bulletproof vest had saved his life, but he was seeing stars from the head injury. He struggled to rise, when the whole room swung, and his eyes went dark.

  One hour later, Abdul slipped down to the water’s edge at the Pink Coconut marina. It was a dark night with the moon setting early. Abdul loaded his weapons bag into the unlocked, outrigger kayak and pushed it into the water. Abdul had more than a little trepidation about going out on the ocean again after his last experience, but he had little choice. The Ivana was at anchor just two miles from Papeete in the same spot they had been for days. Now, with two dead cops, he knew his time was limited. It was time to get his revenge. If he got the nuke, too, that was a bonus.

  Chapter 108

  John was sweating profusely, which made no sense considering the seawater surrounding him at this depth was right above freezing. The Troy’s circulating fans had either finally broken or Otter’s adrenaline was spiking to record levels. He wiped the sweat dripping into his eyes away and looked back through the glass bubble back at the bomb.

  “How is it going?” Alexi asked. John jumped.

  “Sir, you are seeing what I am seeing. Please let me concentrate.”

  John manipulated the Troy’s arm to the toolbox mounted on the ballast sled. He used the magnetic grabbing arm to attach the screwdriver attachment to Troy’s left articulating arm. He then thrusted the Troy back towards the bomb, trying hard to not kick up any more mud. The visibility was awful and seemed to be getting worse. He released some additional air until the Troy settled hard onto her sled directly in front of the bomb.

  With Troy’s right grabbing arm John grabbed the bomb’s tail fin to rotate the bomb closer towards his view. He jerked the arm and nearly missed the fin. Despite his practice Otter had none of the dexterity with the articulating arms that Sophia had.

  He wished she was there to help him. He wished more that he hadn’t been forced to lie to her. He had no doubt that if the news got out of what they were really after, she would never forgive him. A woman smarting from betrayal would take another betrayal even worse. He pushed Sophia to the back of his mind and tried to focus on the task at hand.

  With the right arm holding the bombs tail fin, John rotated the arm to roll the top of the access panel towards him. Troy slid towards the bomb at the force applied to the fin, but the heavy bomb finally acquiesced and rolled towards him.

  “Begin with zee top,” the Russian nuclear scientist droned through the live feed. John moved the left arm with the screwdriver attachment over towards the first screw. He was practically leaning over the Troy’s bubble trying to get a clearer view. It took 3 tries to get the screwdriver into the first screw. The electric drive arm unscrewed it in less than 5 seconds. John moved onto the next.

  Forty minutes later the panel was off. It exposed a matted rat’s nest of old wires and three very perfect gray spheres.

  “There they are. The nuclear pits.” The pits were the spherical centers of the bomb’s fissile material. Usually made out of a heavy alloy shell covering the relatively tiny nuclear material. It made the pits easily transportable without killing everyone who came into contact with it due to radiation.

  “Cut all of the wires surrounding them, to expose the pits more clearly,” the Scientist said.

  “Cutting wires on bombs isn’t something I like.”

  “Relax, I have told you there is no power. With no power, it is impossible to go boom”

  “Alexi can you tell this guy if he says ‘boom’ one more time while I’m fingering the nuke, we’re going to have problems.”

  There was a burst of Russian from Alexi followed by “da, da, da” by the scientist. Alexi had ripped him a new one.

  John went back to his tool kit and dropped the screwdriver attachment and mounted the grabbing claw with cutting sheers at its base. He carefully approached the nest of wires covering the pits and cut them. There was no countdown John thought with relief, the only lights on were Troy’s.

  “Now what?” John asked.

  “The pits are not attached except by gravity, you can remove them now. Put case in place first to protect from any radiation if pits are cracked.”

  John released the Troy’s right arm still holding the bombs fin and reached underneath the right side of Troy for the metal case tied there. The case looked odd and out of place underwater, like some businessman had forgotten his briefcase in 5000 meters of water. Otter placed it on the sled in front of the sub and opened it. Inside were three identical spots for the nuclear pits. The schematic drawings Alexi had made it possible to make a perfect match.

  John moved the left arm out towards the first pit. He thought the robot arm was shaking, but he realized it was only his own arm inside the sub. He gently grabbed the small grey ball and lifted. It broke free with relative ease. It was surprisingly small. He was almost done with the nightmare.

  With three plutonium pits safely inside the case, the bomb looked empty. John attached the case to Troy’s sled once more. Now was the tricky part. He removed the small box tied to the sled that Alexi had given him prior to the dive

  “It is a one-hour delay,” Alexi said as if he knew what was going through John’s mind.

  “Place it directly where the pits were located. This should destroy the bomb completely,” the Scientist added.

  John maneuvered the box of into the center of the bomb. At the top of the box a single silver switch looked back at John.

  “Alexi please tell me you’re sure there’s a delay. If this thing goes off with me right here, I’m dead,” Otter said.

  “John, you have to trust me. I promise you my boy, there is a delay. Turn the switch on.”

  Sweat poured into John’s eyes like a tsunami. Mr. Clark’s words came roaring back into his head like a cacophony of doubt. Don’t trust him, he’s not who you think he is. John knew he had a choice to make, trust Alexi or leave the bomb where it was, opened for the world to see. John couldn’t move.

  Alexi watched the robot’s arm just hovering over the switc
h. Alexi knew better than to say anything to John. John had to make the choice himself. Alexi found himself holding his breath, wishing for John to trust him. There was a sudden swipe of the robot's claw as it flipped the switch sand the box shone a green light indicating the countdown had begun. Alexis sat back with a smile.

  “Come back now John,” Alexi said.

  Chapter 109

  Three hours later water broke above the Troy to Otter's incredible relief. It was finally over. John felt a sigh of relief as he opened the hatch of the submersible. He gingerly hoisted the heavy case that carried the plutonium core, onto the sub roof and climbed out.

  The Troy was swinging in the soft swell on the A frame, but the Ivana looked lifeless otherwise.

  "Alexi, Sweeney a little help here!" John shouted up at the yacht.

  Suddenly, a group of black clad men leaned over the Ivana’s edge and pointed AK-47s at John from the deck of the Ivana. A fat man, not a commando for sure, looked right at John.

  "Out!" Captain Bae barked.

  John considered his options, but realized he had none. At this close a range, five assault rifles pointed at his gut meant he would be turned into hamburger before he could reach his pistol on his back. He thought he might be able to just jump into the water, but he just lifted his hands in the air instead. Getting shot again wasn’t an option.

  "No problem," John said, as he made to climb the ladder to the Ivana without the case. He was hoping they didn't see it in the dark lying on the deck of the Troy's roof.

  "Case!" Bae shouted pointing at it.

  John lifted the heavy case up to one of the men on deck, while two others grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him on the deck of the Ivana. It was obvious what was happening now. Alexi and Sweeney were on deck on their knees, with their hands bound with zip ties in their laps. The men did likewise to John, cuffing his hands in front of his body before shoving him to his knees. They were clearly in a rush or they would have frisked John and found his Beretta in the back of his shorts. Dmitry was in Moorea looking for the Korean ship that these men were from. That was a fucking oversight, John thought.