by Cara Charles
“Recovery time?”
“Half hour, at the most.”
“Then I can expect to be speaking with Ms. Kimirov.”
“I told you, I can’t guarantee anything.”
“I see. Then neither can I.”
“We’ll see soon enough, counselor. Your name?”
The huge woman swallowed the stool. She had a script on a clipboard to follow, and a pen. She had started the video camera.
Elise heard herself answer, “Elise Michele Larsen Andersen.”
“And you are a high functioning, autistic idiot savant?”
“If I’m an idiot savant, you’re a beauty queen.”
The Doctor laughed, “Repressed hostility toward women in authority.”
“No snap judgments now, Doctor. You’re right. I just had two doubles, no salt…”
That’s the last thing Elise remembered, she was sipping margaritas under the lanai in Costa Azul with Tom and Lara.
One thing was wrong. She was cold, not hot.
IAIN HEADED toward Smallpox Cove following the reverse on the GPS buried in Sid’s back. Iain blew for five seconds into his mic in his helmet. Anyone listening would think it was a whale, surface breathing.
“Done!” Sid said of Iain’s signal. Sid hugged Dez and high fived the guys.
“Damn fine man, that Iain.” Dez said sighing with relief.
Mac said, “Iain always talked about the Old Man who had made him into the machine he is today, right Dave? I think we’ve even got some of you in us too, sir.”
“It’s his heart that makes him a fine soldier. Both of you have his same qualities or else you’d be back home, having a wake, tipping a few to Chris, and living your lives, instead of avenging his senseless death.”
“True enough sir thanks,” Mac said.
“Thank you, sir.” Dave was touched by the recognition, but he was nervous. Elise was all he could think about.
Mac saw it and whispered to Dave, “She’ll be all right, Davey boy. She has right on her side and you.”
Dave nodded. “Us…”
Mac said, “Absolutely.”
They drove out of the County Park to Smallpox Cove, a neighboring landing spot, with a tiny beach to throw off anyone watching to pick Iain up.
SID PACED THE SHORELINE, ready to help Iain out of the water.
Dez poured her special cocoa into the travel mug.
Iain breached the surface, once inside the Cove hooted twice like a Barn owl
Sid hooted back.
Iain could see Sid through his thermo-goggles. He shined the flashlight on Sid.
Sid had a huge grin on his face as Sid walked into the shallows and helped Iain walk out of the water.
Iain was a bit stiff and getting cold, but proud of himself.
Sid took the scooter and hugged him.
“You made it happen, son. It was all you.” Sid’s tears rolled down his face.
For Iain, coming out of the sea was like being reborn, all new and vulnerable.
There he stood, his “father” Sid Allen waiting for him, proud of him and waiting to tell him so. He’d never needed or loved anyone in his life, until he met Sid. Seeing Sid standing there waiting for him all these years later, made Iain realize he truly loved this man like a father. Iain had missed having a father love him, his whole life. Sid’s simple gesture of caring, meant everything. There he was in the flesh, his hero. Breathing, alive, and smiling proudly at him.
“Always my star pupil, Iain. Thank you for your extraordinary talents and service, son. You never let me down.”
“It’s to your credit, countless others are alive, and I stand here alive to tell you what an extraordinary man you are, sir. Truly. Extraordinary. I’m so happy your talents are righting the wrongs of the world.”
“I’m touched Iain, my boy. I think I’m blushing.”
“You’re not.”
“Cheeks are hot unless it’s jungle fever. Thank you son, from the bottom of my heart,” Sid laughed, then slugged him on the back.
Iain grabbed him in a bear hug.
And Sid returned the hug.
Iain was grateful for the dark that covered his completely unexpected tears, remembering how frail Sid had looked, bleeding out, and dying in his arms. The image of Sid begging him to protect his daughter never left Iain.
Back in OIF, Sid had just heard from his daughter. She had been afraid. She felt she was being followed. She was hearing things. She was exhibiting paranoid tendencies.
Iain had promised to get help to her as he put Sid on the chopper, and the medics had taken over. Iain was sure Sid wouldn’t survive. Iain had never shaken the helplessness and rage he felt when he couldn’t find out what happened to him. They had no trace of him. All trace of Sid and the chopper had disappeared.
Iain had a Stateside friend of theirs go to Sid’s daughter immediately, but she was dead by the time their friend had gotten to her. Word got back that Sid had died en route to Germany on the med-evac plane.
Iain had gotten leave to arrange her funeral. With Sid’s daughter dead too, it was all mysteriously terribly wrong. An accident, they said. Drunk driver, crossed the line, hit her head on, they said. Whatever Sid had been afraid of, came true. They’d found her.
Iain hoped he’d have a second chance to spend more time with Sid now that they were all going to work for METAPHOR, full time it seemed. That was on the horizon. He didn’t mind that someday he’d honor another deathbed promise for him.
Sid embraced his protégé hard. “I’m so sorry for the ruse, son.”
Iain hugged Sid hard in return, then broke down and sobbed. They both had many vulnerabilities, and shared many scars.
Sid knew sometimes hard men crack for no reason at all. The harder they are, the deeper the fissure. Sid knew the darkness would hide Iain’s vulnerability from the others. They held onto each other hard, both grateful for each other. Iain sobbed with relief.
Sid understood that.
His sobs were blown away by the waves and the wind. He’d held in his tears and rage for years.
“Me too, son. Me too. I was afraid to let you know I was alive. I’ve been underground a long time with Dez and METAPHOR. Many of us have, as you’ll learn. We took an oath and we’re dying off. I told her about you, that’s why you’re part of us. Sam, Mac, and Dave are the first recruits of the new generation. Hopefully Elise too, if she can weather this tragedy.”
“My God, sir. They said you died in the med-evac crash. Sorry, I couldn’t save Kitty.” Iain hung his head as the old defeat grabbed hold.
“Don’t torture yourself, son. It wasn’t in your control. I saw you at our funeral. I was the groundskeeper in disguise. You know they never let us old school guys out. It’s in the past now, son. Not your fault. I’ve settled that score. Don’t you worry. We all have a second chance. That’s a miracle unto itself. It’s so good to be together again and on the right team for the right reasons. We’ll make this one count. We’ll make them all count, son. We are the Sultans.”
“Aye to that, sir.”
Sid picked up the scooter and escorted his protégé toward Dave and Mac.
Dave and Mac had known to give them their moment. As the two of them came on, they walked down to help Iain to the van, and out of his gear, out of his dry suit and into warm sweats.
ONCE IN THE WARM VAN, Dez handed him a travel mug of sugared hot chocolate, good for the blood sugar, brain, and soul. Iain sipped it as Dave and Mac rubbed him warm.
“How are you, Iain?” Mac asked taking his pulse. “Strong and steady, as always.” Mac knew it was a bit fast due to the emotions.
“The Care packages are planted! Brilliant plan, Mates. Mum, the cocoa is delicious. Any change in their Nav plan?”
Sid answered, “No, right Dear?”
“No changes, God willing. Thank you, you darling of a man. She’d have been lost to us forever without you. You know that? You gave her a huge chance.”
Sam said, “She has a
great chance now, thank you Iain. All of you.” Sam’s smile was weak. He was understandably scared.
“Feels good to score one for our team and this cup of cocoa never tasted so good. Getting Elise back home will soon be reward enough,” Iain sighed, tired now.
“Well done, well done!” Dez kissed Iain’s cold face. ‘The cocoa would bring his core temp back quickly. He just had a bit of a melt down.’ Desiree sighed, feeling hope return.
Sid smiled at them both, then tucked the warm down comforter tighter around Iain’s shoulders and pulled the fleece watch cap down tighter on his head. They stowed his gear and headed back to Snug Harbor to get the METAPHOR boat with great radar and a GPS on board and go back out to the San Juan Channel.
THE SUB HEADED south out of Haro Strait, then west out into the San Juan Channel, slowly heading to Cape Flattery where the wreck of the SS Pacific was in a canyon.
Dimitri had registered them as a salvage vessel.
The Coast Guard, Homeland Security and everyone involved in the Red Tape, didn’t know what was taking place below decks.
Dimitri knew the other Northwest salvage groups could be following them to the SS Pacific’s wreck site, because the other salvagers never could locate the wreck. They had a very small window to execute their plan. Dimitri had purposefully chosen the wreck of the SS Pacific for it’s unreachable location.
Cape Flattery is at the tip of the landmass where the Pacific edge of the Olympic peninsula meets the ocean in a ninety-degree corner. It had inaccessible canyons and because of this in over one hundred years, no treasure hunters have attempted to locate the SS Pacific in those treacherous waters even in modern times.
Any mayday the Coast Guard answered would be a wholehearted rescue, but not a mayday from a sub. No salvage had been attempted in the past to recover the four million dollars in today’s money and would not be attempted in the future, unless an exact location of the wreck was located.
Dimitri had assembled a ship full of fools.
LATER, in the Captain’s quarters Dimitri and Mavra were viewing the tape with Dr. Arden, the only one sipping celebration Champagne. The crew was also enjoying themselves, quite loudly as sailors are known to do.
A little girl’s voice was coming from the recording. It was Elise. Little Elise was saying, “Daddy called her Eve. I told Daddy to call her Lady from “Lady and the Tramp.” Then no one would listen to him.”
Dr. Arden’s voice asks, “Where is the woman you call Lady?”
Elise answers as a child. “She’s a Nurse at the Walter Reed Annex Hospital.”
“What’s this nurse’s name?”
“Nola Macmillan.”
CHAPTER NINE -- A WILD RIDE
Dimitri Googled the hospital, hacked into the personnel file, and found an employee badge photo of a pretty African American Nurse named Nola Marie Macmillan BSN, age twenty-nine, graduate of Columbia University, New York. Then, D hacked into Columbia University’s student records and found Nola’s four yearbook pictures. They are nearly identical except for the hairstyles. Graduated in 1942 on the G.I. bill.
“Gotta be her. She hasn’t aged. Let’s go.”
They looked at Dr. Arden. She’d fallen asleep.
“Sleep tight.”
D walked out of the room. Mavra hung back to look in the closet. She quickly caught up with D.
The crew wasn’t laughing as much. They were getting sleepy.
They entered the room where Elise was sleeping. Dimitri gently touched her face. She didn’t wake up.
“Stop it, you’re making me jealous,” Mavra said.
“She’s still out. Good. Suit up,” he said.
They left the room. Mavra returned and slapped Elise hard across the face.
Dimitri came in and pulled her away. “Now, now. Control yourself. She’s done her part, now let’s go! Move!”
Dimitri and Mavra got into their scuba gear and exited out the swimmer’s hatch.
Elise was dreaming. A salmon had jumped Bridalveil Falls, landing on her face.
Knowing she was dreaming, her analytical mind was wondering, ‘how is it possible, that a salmon could make it up this high?’
The deafening roar from both Yosemite falls confused her but she was enjoying the experience of flying up and down the Valley more than wondering about it. Then, an unusual blast of cold made her stiff and uncomfortable, affecting her ability to hover above the Falls. She was losing lift, drifting down, like an overly wet bird. More mist, more cold, roar deafening. The fear of landing in the Merced River and drowning was floating her up to full consciousness. The roar of the Falls had changed again…
Elise opened her eyes.
The feet of her dry suit were close to her bunk, but still hanging on the back of the door.
‘How was that possible?’ She blinked, to further wake up. The floor was moving.
Water was rushing into the room. She jumped down and landed into a foot of ice-cold water. Still in her gown, she brought her clothes and the dry suit to the bunk, dried her feet on the blanket and dressed as fast as she could. She rushed out of the room, looked up the hall. The water was coming in from behind her at the swimmer’s escape trunk room.
She looked in front of her. Floating bodies. Soon the lights would go out. She had to find a tank. All the men who had brought her aboard were floating face down or face up, their tongues purple. Food and plates and plastic cups with small amounts of Champagne were floating next to them. Poisoned.
In a room mid-ship, she found what she needed; unfortunately no Steinke Hood, but there was scuba gear; masks, headgear, weight belt and a tank. She tested the tank. It had about one-fourth of a tank of air inside, enough for only several minutes. No gloves. She had get out before the sub sank.
The lights went out. The water was rising. The back of the sub started to list.
‘The emergency lights had to come on.’
Nothing. She had tucked the thermo-goggles and flashlight inside her dry suit.
She pulled the headgear on, then groped for the mask, the tank and tested the regulator.
‘She scuttled the ship,’ the thought came to her.
As Elise got to the escape trunk, the water was pouring in because both hatches were open.
She pushed her back into the frigid rising water, leaning in and tripped over of a big, soft, body. She got tangled in it, fell forward, twisting over on her back. Stuck there, the tank turtling her, the water pinning her.
She pushed off the body, her hand coming in contact with the pudgy face of Dr. Arden. When she shifted her body weight to get her footing, the huge body gave her something to push off of, shifting her center of gravity so she could get back on her feet. The emergency lights flickered on.
“Glad you could help Doctor,” Elise said out loud.
Her hands were already numb. She put the mouthpiece in her mouth, and bit it so it wouldn’t get knocked out. Elise fought hard to get through the rushing water. A sense of dread was overtaking her. The rushing water was so strong.
She hooked her arm under each rung folding her forearm down to hook herself in. It felt like her arm was going to break each time she did that. She had to keep her momentum going or else loose her strength. Slowly, one rung at a time she made it along the rungs, pulling herself out of the rushing torrent and miraculously she was clear.
She swam clear of the propped open hatch, the buoyancy a relief to her burning arm and leg muscles.
Elise heard the sound of an engine. She could not make out if it was coming or going. Finally she realized it was leaving.
Kimirov and her lover. She didn’t see a red headed woman or a black haired guy floating in the water.
She turned and felt for the hatch in the black water. She wanted to shut the hatch, to maintain the sadistic evidence inside. It was stuck open. She felt for and found a crowbar wedged in tight to keep it open. Her lungs were bursting. She took a draw on her mouthpiece.
She pulled and pulled on the crowbar, finally
she could pull it out of its place, and the heavy hatch fell shut. She felt for the hatch wheel and turned it. It was turning. She was closing it. Suddenly, the back of the sub dipped, pulling the wheel out of her hands. She was trying too hard to preserve this evidence and not save herself.
Elise slowly swam to the surface, not knowing how far down she was in the pitch black, stopping every eight to ten strokes, Elise hovered for thirty seconds.
She heard the fleeting sound of a boat motor. Her instincts were screaming, ‘be careful.’
She breached the surface and breathed.
Aboard “Take No Prisoners” the METAPHOR former coast guard cruiser, now an undercover fishing boat. Dez had gotten Kurt the spotter to move it to Snug Harbor where Eamon took over and Kurt went back home.
There on the radar screen Dez and Sid saw Elise’s GPS pop up on the screen.
“She’s out and in the Strait. Let’s go.”
The guys yelled “Fantastic!”
Sid prayed it wasn’t her body.
Dez read his body language and whispered, “Pray she’s alive.”
Sid nodded.
Elise dropped her tank and struggled to get the headlamp out of her tight headgear, hoping it had stayed dry. She turned it on and swung in a circle getting her bearings. Something caught her eye fifty feet away. She swam for a dark blue kayak.
‘My God! A miracle. Thank you. Thank you. You have a good chance now, girl,’ she said to herself and punched the air for emphasis.
It was tied to a taut line, maybe fowled in the prop. She felt a tug on the rope. It was going to be sucked down any second. Her numb fingers wouldn’t work well, so she used her teeth to help her numb fingers pull at the knot. With all her might, she pulled up on the rope to give her slack, cutting her cold flesh.
She was losing the battle, the rope cutting into her hands. She wrapped her leg around it once and pulled up with all her might. She got an inch of slack. Just as the fouled line side pulled her down with the nose to follow, she felt the rope tighten on her leg. She unwrapped it as she got sucked down under the water.
She followed the line working on the knot with her teeth. She pulled up on the fouled line, knowing her last chance was upon her. She had to get more slack in the line and her fouled line was warning her it was getting tighter, her arm was being pulled out of her shoulder. She pulled the kayak on top of her over her head. Lying on her back, her legs wrapped around it, feeling the resistance winning. Her teeth pulling on the knot, she was almost there. She clinched her legs tighter to keep from being sucked down further. She felt the burn in her lungs. She was losing her air.