by D S Kane
“Uh, oh shit! Well, Watson is in Muscat, Oman, but not at the airport. He’s downtown, possibly at a hotel. And the last phone call he received was from Achmed Houmaz.”
There was silence from Cassie’s end. He knew she was pondering what else could go wrong with her dismal life. “Oh.”
Wing could hear gunshots and explosions, and then the connection terminated.
Part Three
246
Chapter Twenty-Seven
October 30, 11:36 p.m.
The Hotel Visit, Vladivostok, Russia
Thick smog obscured the moon so there was nothing to illuminate them or their path as the mercenaries left the Vladivostok hotel and walked in groups of two along Tigrovaya, down the hill toward the harbor.
Shimmel observed from the hotel room. They were spread out, but that wouldn’t make them undetectable, just less threatening to any guards watching their progress. He was ready to join them just as soon as he was sure they’d gained command of the two subs and no longer needed him in his perch to coordinate the battle effort.
The mercs stopped just short of the wharf, where the two subs were moored on either side of the pier. One by one, they disappeared, almost into thin air, from Shimmel’s viewpoint. It was now all set up. The mercs remained undetected. His presence in the crow’s nest was no longer necessary.
He placed a Bluetooth earbud over one ear, then looked at his watch and triggered its stopwatch function. He shouldered his mission bag and stepped out of his room, leaving it empty of anything that could identify them.
Shimmel was sure of where the plan called for them to be right now. The two assault teams crawled on their bellies at the edges of the wharf toward the guard towers. “We’re ready now,” said Lieutenant Yakov Abelson, his second-in-command.
Running down the stairs, Shimmel whispered, “Go, go, go!” and each assault team flung flashbang grenades into the two guard booths, twenty feet away in the middle of the pier. As the grenades exploded, the mercs rose to their feet, ran to the entrances to the booths and shot tranquillizer darts into the guards. The teams ran to their respective submarines where they boarded, dropping fast down the hatches.
Shimmel made his way to one of the subs. No gunshots came from within either submarine and this was good news. He dropped from the conning tower to the bridge of one of the subs and looked around. He asked Abelson for Submarine One, as they had “named” this sub, “Is the sub’s crew on board?”
Abelson, a huge bearded monster of a man simply nodded in reply. Then he turned and pointed his Ruger Mini-14 toward one of the cowering men covered by three mercs, holding identical weapons. In Russian, a language Avram Shimmel knew slightly from his childhood in Israel, he asked the ten crewmen standing against the bulkhead, “Which of you is this submarine’s commander?”
Replying in Russian, one of the men said, “I am Captain Rogov. I am in charge.”
“Ty govorish’ po-angliyski?” Shimmel asked him. Do you speak English?
“Da, ya govoryu po-angliyski,” answered Rogov in the affirmative. “What do you want?”
“I am General Avram Shimmel, head of a mercenary group. We bought this submarine. It’s been paid for. And we want you to operate it. We’ll pay you much better than your current employers. A lot better. Are you agreed to work for us?”
The captain turned to his men and began speaking to them fast, in Russian. The conversation went on for almost a minute and then the captain turned back to Shimmel. “We might agree to work for you. But first you have to tell us what you want us for. And for how long you will need us.”
Shimmel knew that soon the guards would sound the alarm. Then, if they hadn’t submerged, they would have more trouble than they were equipped to handle.
He also knew that a similar conversation was occurring in Submarine Two. He smiled. “Right now, we’re tasked with picking up a group of mercenaries in Hawaii. America.” As he expected, Rogov smiled at the mention of their destination. “Then we will have to travel to another place, probably also within the United States.”
Rogov nodded and turned away.
Shimmel touched his shoulder. “We are a mercenary force. Using submarines is a necessity for us to complete many of our assignments.”
Captain Rogov nodded. “Will we be permitted to become citizens of America?”
Shimmel nodded. “Very likely.”
Rogov faced his crew and spoke with them. They all smiled and nodded. Rogov said to Shimmel, “Okay, we will do as you want. What you want first, for us to do?”
Shimmel spoke into the earbud in Hebrew. “Lieutenant Sorkov, will Sub Two’s crew work for us?”
Sorkov replied in Hebrew, “Yes. We’re ready to leave. The harbor is too shallow to submerge, but we are moving out right now.”
Shimmel nodded at Rogov, “Move out of the harbor as fast as you can and into the Sea of Japan. Submerge as soon as you can. Then head east to Hawaii.”
Rogov gave a spate of orders to the crew and then faced Shimmel. “Will we always be stationed in the United States?”
Shimmel realized the question Rogov asked meant that he could easily buy the crew’s loyalty. He nodded. “Yes, but many of your voyages will be to other places.”
Rogov smiled. He faced his men. “America!”
Avram heard the soft whine of engines started as the sub shifted forward. He pointed to the comm. “Do you have any communications facilities on board?”
Rogov nodded. “Da, a state of the art Satellite Node. Includes stolen CIA-issue Secure Telephone Unit circuitry. It works well when we surface or submerge shallow enough so we can float an antenna.”
Shimmel knew that they’d be submerged for at least four hours until they entered open sea and were not easily detectible. He’d have to wait most of the night before he could call Cassie to report status. He nodded to Rogov and went looking for a place to sit. There’d be nothing for him to do but wait for several hours.
Rogov shouted more orders to his crew as the sub continued out of the harbor.
It was way too easy. Shimmel waited for depth charges or artillery shells. But there were no explosions. Then he realized something more problematic might be occurring. He tapped the captain’s shoulder. “Is the sub equipped with GPS? Is there any other kind of locator device on board?”
Rogov nodded. “Of course. Mafiya has all subs equipped with state-of-the-art locator technology. Even ancient submarines.” He smiled.
Shimmel shook his head. “Disable them all immediately. And tell the other sub captain to do the same!”
Thirty-six hours had passed since Cassie asked Shimmel to steal the submarines. Nine hours since she last spoke to him. She sat on the floor of the suite, her back propped against one of the bullet-pocked couches. Her thirty mercenaries had been booked into other rooms on the tenth floor of the Nippon Tower, creating a gauntlet for any hitters to cross, but the thirty had dwindled to twenty-seven. Three were seriously wounded by fragmentation grenades thrown from the elevators. The hitters took the elevators to the tenth floor, waited for the doors to open and then threw the grenades down the hallway, pressing the elevator’s Door Close button in the elevator as fast as they could to take them back to safety in the lobby, where they would load up another batch of grenades. None of the grenades was thrown far enough to reach either of the suites, but Cassie knew that sooner or later the hitters would find a grenade launcher or a bazooka and her trouble would worsen.
Her cell phone vibrated and she accepted the call. “Sashakovich here.”
“It’s Shimmel. We’re in the Sea of Japan, heading toward you at eighteen knots per hour. Since we have about five thousand miles to go, expect us in 12 days. We lost no one, and I promised the sub crews that you’d have permanent work for them and base them out of the United States. They almost cheered.” He paused for a few seconds. “Uh, Sashakovich, what’s your status?”
“Not good. We lost three today. Even if it doesn’t get worse, we’ll never last tha
t long. Any suggestions?”
She listened to silence from Shimmel as he thought. She knew he realized he might arrive too late but there was no way to solve the problem.
She was too exhausted to even cry. Cassie said nothing else. What else was there to say?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
October 31, 1:03 p.m.
Hyatt Muscat, on the Shatti Al Qurm, Muscat, Oman
Wing and his team of mercenaries scoured Seeb International Airport to no avail. They couldn’t find Watson and he hadn’t used his cell phone for over two days.
The Defense Department’s research group, DARPA , had a collection of what was arguably the most sophisticated hacking tools Wing had ever stolen and used. But Watson’s phone wasn’t equipped with GPS. Worse, Wing guessed that Watson had either turned off the cell or destroyed it, so Wing couldn’t use his hacked entry to the DARPA website to triangulate Watson’s position using cell towers.
Wing hacked all the cell phone providers searching for the one that supplied him the phone number, because the holder’s name certainly wouldn’t be “Watson.” When he triangulated the cell towers for the provider at the time of the last call, he discovered Watson’s last known location using them.
But all he knew was where his quarry was two days ago. Now Wing was reduced to sitting in his room at the Grand Hyatt Muscat, on the Shatti Al Qurm and waiting.
Wing had never visited Muscat before. He’d read about it on the plane ride there. A big city with over 650,000 residents, Muscat was too big for a small team of mercs to search.
Once again the mercenaries had made Wing’s room their playroom, playing strip poker for hours at a time. When the mercs vanished periodically, Sylvia entertained herself with him as if he was her private love toy. As Wing thought about it, that’s exactly what he’d become.
But after being fucked by her twice a day for the last three days, he found that now, he thirsted for more of her. All the time. William hadn’t expected to want her at all, but he didn’t just want her, he expected her. With Betsy the Butterfly so far away in Woodbine, Iowa, he needed Sylvia. He enjoyed being treated as her private possession.
At least when they want to fuck, the mercs go to their own rooms, he thought. And that happens at least twice every day. It’s Sylvia’s signal to grope me. But, I’m stuck here. Can’t leave until we know where Watson is.
Wing forced himself to work, ignoring the mercs playing cards in his room. They were gathered around the table once again.
Gretchen was naked, not a stitch on her. She rose from her seat, yawned, flaunting her rail-thin body and shook her tiny breasts, saying, “I need a break. We’ve been here for over three hours. Let’s leave now and we can reassemble in, say, an hour. Okay?” She sat back down to wait for their answer.
Gretchen was taller than William by at least six inches. They were all taller than him. Sylvia, the shortest, was almost four inches taller than him, leaving his face at just the perfect height to suck her nipples during sex, and he recalled now how that triggered her to fast climax. But Sylvia’s face wasn’t as attractive as Gretchen’s. He sighed. Beggars can’t be choosers.
There was still no cell signal for Wing to backtrace. In frustration, his eyes shifted focus from the computer screen to the mercs. No one was fully clothed. Gretchen sat back down, waiting. She held her cards with one hand, her other hand playing with Horst’s pubic hair. Horst slowly moved the fingers of his free hand into her crotch, a quid pro quo.
Horst had won Gretchen’s underclothes. Gretchen’s panties were ruined, stretched past the point of recovery. Sylvia was once again naked from the waist down. Jillian had lost only her blouse, and sat next to Alphonso, who had no clothing left to lose.
William couldn’t help staring at Alphonso’s penis. It seemed larger every time he saw it, and now appeared to him to be larger than a salami sausage. Jillian had her hand trapped in his genital hair and when she lost the hand to him, she pulled hard on his penis.
“Ouch, you bitch,” said Alphonso.
“I, too, need a break,” Jillian said. She got up and moved toward the door, still gripping Alphonso’s penis. In self-defense, he rose from his seat. She tossed him his pants. “C’mon.”
They all dressed and walked to the door of the room. In moments all were gone except Sylvia. She stood over him. “It is time, no?” She pulled his tee-shirt off and bent over to lick his nipples.
Wing searched the screen for signs of something he could backtrace. “Wait just a minute. I’m in the middle of something. Just let me—” But she spread her lips over his uncooperative mouth. In less than a second her tongue was deep within. She tasted of the butter and garlic popcorn the mercs had been eating when they played poker. When she stopped to come up for air, William admitted defeat. He reached behind her shoulders and opened the hooks on her bra. Cassie’s life was at stake, but in order for him to complete his work for her, he’d first have to labor on Sylvia. Real toil would have to wait.
Sylvia picked him up off his chair at the desk and lifted his body as if he was a doll. She carried him to the bed, placed his head on the pillow and smiled, “Now, Wheelyam. I am ready and I want you.” Her grin was predatory. “Right now.”
As she climbed onto the bed, her expression changed to that of a shark with a trapped swimmer. She moved slow and deliberate. Placed her long legs on either side of his hips and eased herself onto him. “Now, please me, and I wheel please you.” She ran her tongue over her lips as she forced her crotch on his. Before she even drove him all the way into her, she began to whimper. William went from being erect to being overwhelmingly aroused. As she slowly lifted her body off his and then plunged herself back onto him, he could no longer stop himself and felt his penis throbbing in response. His vision began to stipple as he crested into ejaculation. He tried to hold back. He wondered what would happen if he finished before she’d even climaxed once.
His cell began to chirp and he almost jumped at the sound. But, losing focus, he felt himself exploding into her. She glared into his eyes.
He shrugged. “I have to find out who called. It might be Shimmel or Cassie.”
Sylvia’s face grimaced with extreme disappointment. “Sheet!” She removed his drenched limp penis and then grabbed it with her hand. “Wheelyam, you dis me.” She leaned over and placed it into her mouth, sucking and licking it with patience until he was once again erect. “This time, do not disappoint.” She wasn’t smiling. He nodded, worrying. The cell stopped chirping.
She pushed him back inside her, and began to rock herself back and forth, pressing her clitoris against his penis without moving up and down on him. William gulped, but hoped that he wouldn’t climax again if she didn’t ride him hard. He relaxed, but the relaxation let his body respond fully.
The notebook computer beeped repeatedly. William had discovered Phillip Watson’s location. Before he even realized what was happening, he ejaculated. “Sorry. Maybe this isn’t a good time.”
Sylvia’s face showed anger and she spit out the words. “You worthless piece of, ARGGHHH.” She slapped his face, and then sighed. “You must use your lips and tongue to finish me.” She peeled off him and rolled onto her back. William nodded and pushed his face up against her crotch. She was sopping and emitted the odor of ripe cheese. He gulped and brought his tongue into contact with her clitoris, a larger nub than any he’d ever seen. She brought her legs around his neck and pushed his head closer. William responded, doing as she’d directed. She kept him there for a half hour of climaxes. He counted six of them and then lost count with one that went on for almost thirty seconds.
After he’d satisfied Sylvia they both showered and dressed. In the fifteen minutes while they waited for the mercs to reassemble, he inspected the screen and verified Watson’s location. He prayed Watson hadn’t moved from his last location.
He called Cassie with the news. Wing said, “Cassie, I have a fix on him. He’s still in Oman, in Muscat, at Al Bustan Palace InterContinental near th
e souk at Muttrah. Quite a long distance from Seeb. And he’s got a new smartphone, which we traced. We haven’t eaten yet today, so we’re going out for a quick meal and then we’ll get him.”
Sylvia answered the knock at William’s door, and let the other mercs back into the room, all dressed for dinner at The Tuscany restaurant.
Cassie’s anger and impatience blasted through the speaker of his cell phone. “A meal? No, William. You get him first. That’s your mission. Call me back when you have him.” William could hear the sounds of battle from Cassie’s end of the phone conversation. Then the connection terminated.
He realized she was right. What was he thinking? He turned to the mercenaries. “Let’s get Watson now and deal with him before we have dinner.” They all smiled back at him, their faces split in predatory smiles.
Ann and Charles sat at a table in the school cafeteria. They held hands. The first time he’d covered her hand with his, she jumped slightly at the implications, but that was a few days ago. Now it seemed natural and she welcomed this intimacy. She looked at her wristwatch. “Big C, I gotta go. Lee will wonder where I am. There’s a bodyguard outside in an SUV having conniptions right now.”
“Okay. Lemme come with you. My parents don’t get home from work for at least two hours.”
Her face went slack as she ran his request for problems. And found just one. A big one. “You want to do it with me, don’t you? That’s what this is about?”
“No! Well, maybe yes. But I like you. We’re good friends, aren’t we? So, let’s go to your place. But, I promise this time I won’t do anything.”
She wondered if he could keep his word. But more important, could she have him there and not want him? “Okay, but no sex.” She closed her English text and loaded it into her backpack. They got up together. And walked from the cafeteria.
Together.
The bodyguard in Lee’s black Ford Escape hybrid nodded and closed his cell phone. No call to Lee. She opened the back door and let Charles in before her. The bodyguard asked, “Who’s he?”