The Makarov File

by Peter Kozmar

  Alexi cut in, “It’s time.”

  Cheskov stepped forward carrying a heavy anchor chain, from one of the yacht’s launches, and placed it by Andy’s feet. He stopped as the yacht’s loud speakers crackled into action. “Mr Chousov, this is the Captain. We have been hailed by the US Coastguard to cut our engines and heave too. They are asking for permission to board the Babushka.”

  Alexi grabbed a radio from Pavchek’s belt, “How far away are they?”

  “Ten miles and closing, sir.”

  “Can they board us? Are we in international waters?”

  “No, sir, they can’t board us. We are Panamanian registered and in international waters. They can only board us, by right, if we were in US waters or we give them permission. The Panamanian Government can give them permission, but I don’t think that will happen.”

  “Okay, increase speed, keep them away.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Andy turned and looked back. In the moonlight he could see the lights of a distant vessel on the horizon steaming towards them. He could make out the flashing lights of a helicopter climbing from the vessel.

  “I think the cavalry has arrived,” Andy announced.

  “Too late for you,” Amanda replied.

  “You can’t run forever Amanda, the game’s up, give up now, you know how this plays out and you aren’t going to walk away either,” he figured the longer he could keep them talking, the better his chances of staying alive.

  “How did this happen? You were out in the cold. You were disgraced. I never expected the Agency to bring back the agent who wrote the original ‘Makarov File’,” Amanda shouted at him, “Hobbs hates you with a passion.”

  “Yes, we had our differences,” Andy replied, “but that’s at work. In private we get on ok and Helen is godmother to both my kids.”

  “That’s nice,” Amanda replied sarcastically, then turned to Cheskov, “Let’s get this over with.” She then faced Andy, “You see Flint, even if they catch up with us, you will be on the bottom of the sea and will have run out of breath.”

  Cheskov grabbed Andy’s left leg and attached a leg shackle to it. The cold steel bit into his ankle. Pavchek was about to attach the other half of the leg shackle when, without warning, a huge explosion tore through the bow of the Babushka, knocking them all off their feet onto the deck.

  CHAPTER 51

  The explosion pushed the yacht’s bow high into the air; the stern thrust underwater causing them all to slide down towards the water. The bow hung momentarily in mid-air before it fell, almost as fast as it had erupted from the sea, hitting the water hard causing the stern to rise rapidly and level out. The Babushka’s superstructure shrieked and contorted wildly as the forces of the explosion took effect.

  Andy heard loud cracking noises as the Babushka’s hull, stressed as sea water flooded into the lower decks, he looked around and saw everyone still sprawled on the deck, a look of horror on their faces as they tried to comprehend what was happening. Pavchek was first to respond, pulling his pistol out of his holster and aiming it at him. Andy knew he had to move and sprinted towards the guard rail, hurling himself head first over it towards the swirling sea below. He heard the pistol fire as he cleared the rail.

  He held his breath and closed his eyes as he prepared to land head first in the deep water below. He hit the surface and quickly disappeared out of sight. He knew he had to get up to the surface to breathe so he started to kick frantically and, seconds later, his head broke the surface. Gasping for air and rubbing the stinging salt water out of his eyes, he looked up at the bow of the Babushka. He could see a large gaping hole in the side of the yacht and knew it would be a short time before the yacht sank to a watery grave.

  Then, as if on cue, the Babushka started to roll to starboard and the stern started to rise slowly into the air. Andy could hear the wailing of the siren and the captain’s voice on the ship’s intercom: “Abandon ship. Abandon ship. All hands Abandon ship.” Despite the inevitable loss of his vessel, the captain sounded calm and reassuring, whilst the crew readied to abandon the doomed yacht.

  He watched as a rocket flare arced high into night sky. Its propellant left a silver trail as it climbed and burst into a bright red light. Andy saw its parachute deploy and heard a faint ‘pop’ then watched as the flare slowly circled as it descended. A second rocket flare arced upwards, this time it lit up a the surface of the water and he saw something to his right moving slowly towards him, his chest tightened, his heart pounded. Shit! Sharks! Andy looked closer to make sense of the shape, his mind raced. Do I hit it on the nose? Aim for an eye? Should I kick instead of hit? If it attacks will it be over quickly?

  His relief was palpable when the frogman broke the surface and turned to Andy and then towards the doomed Babushka. Fifty meters to his right, Andy saw Amanda leap from the boat and disappear into the sea. The frogman turned back to Andy, nodded and gave a thumbs up signal. Andy kicked harder and raised his right hand to return the signal, trying hard not to swallow any more seawater, before quickly returning to treading water.

  The frogman slipped silently into the darkness heading towards where Amanda had entered the water. The steel shackle on his ankle made it hard to stay afloat. He had to conserve energy as the Coastguard Cutter could be still be around twenty minutes away from delivering assistance.

  Andy watched the crew form up on deck towards the stern helping each other to don their lifejackets. More rocket flares climbed into the sky, the captain had moved down from the bridge to be with the crew and was now launching flares from the deck. Andy saw Alexi snatch a life jacket from a crew member’s hand and then stand to one side as he struggled, by himself, to put it on. You’re such an idiot!

  The sound of a sickening crash carried across the water as the back of the ‘Babushka’ broke in two, causing the stern to drop and create a giant ripple. Andy watched in awe as the main lights went out plunging those on deck into darkness before the dull glow from the emergency lights appeared. Andy saw Alexi leap into the sea followed quickly by the remainder of the crew who had managed to get to the upper deck. As they surfaced they swam away from the sinking yacht.

  Andy saw a lone figure on the Babushka, it was the captain and, before he jumped, Andy could hear him calling out to confirm all the crew were off the stricken yacht. After a final look around, the captain jumped. The yacht’s siren fell silent and the emergency lights blinked twice and went out. The sea started to boil as the air escaped from the dying Babushka then she quietly slipped beneath the waves.

  After all the action, the deafening silence was the first thing that struck Andy. He watched the crew swim together as a group, before he started to hear voices calling out and assumed that it was a roll call. They formed a human raft holding on to each other, clearly another drill, to make it easier to locate and give mutual support.

  As if on cue, Andy heard the deep throbbing beat of a helicopter's rotor blades approaching. A powerful searchlight started to sweep the water to locate survivors. The searchlight blinded Andy as it locked onto him for several seconds before it moved away and focussed on the group. “This is the United States Coast Guard. We are dropping life rafts. Please climb in once they are fully inflated. The United States Coast Guard Cutter, Morgenthau, will be on station shortly to provide further assistance.”

  He watched as three large objects fell from the hovering helicopter, the searchlight directed on the spot where they landed. As they hit the water there were three loud pops as the CO2 canisters fired and the life rafts inflated.

  The crew cluster moved as a unit towards the waiting rafts and helped each another to get out of the water, sitting with their backs against the outside of the raft and their legs inwards. Andy watched them distribute their weight to stabilize the rafts. It was all very slick and it occurred to Andy that the crew were well organised and had probably been drilled for this.

  Andy faced a dilemma: continue to tread water and wait for the Morgenthau; or, climb into a raf
t with a hostile crew. The water was warm so he figured he was unlikely to die from hypothermia. He was more likely to be swept away. He decided to play safe and swim close to the rafts positioning himself on the outer edge of the searchlight. Andy had to work hard as the shackle on his ankle weighed him down and sapped his strength.

  After what felt like an hour, with his arms and legs burning from the exertion, the Morgenthau arrived at the scene. Andy felt relief as its powerful arc lights illuminated a wide area around the three life rafts which included him within its beams. Rope ladders were dropped from the port side as it slowed to a stop, its towering hull brushing gently against one of the rafts.

  Two of the Babushka’s crew grabbed one of the rope ladders and held it firm causing the raft to glide with the slowly moving Cutter. The crew in the other rafts used their hands to paddle the short distance towards the Cutter. By the time they reached the Morgenthau, those in the first raft were already climbing up the rope ladders to be met at the top by Coast Guard crew.

  Using up his last reserves, Andy attempted to swim towards the rope ladders, however, the strong current was working against him and pulling him further away. He realized he wasn’t making up the distance between him and the Morgenthau. Shit! He worked his arms harder to fight against the current but only seemed to move further away. He drifted out of the beam from the arc lights and realized he was losing this battle. He stopped using his arms to swim and instead waved frantically to be seen. He screamed at the top of his voice for help. This would be his last throw of the dice: he needed a pair of sixes as the current took him further away from the Morgenthau.

  CHAPTER 52

  A blinding light swept over him. He turned towards the light and, to his relief, a rigid inflatable was moving quickly towards him. It slowed and pulled along-side, arms grabbed hold of him and he was plucked out of the water. He found himself lying on the floor of the rigid inflatable as the outboard motor roared to life and sped away to safety.

  Andy was exhausted so he just stayed still with his eyes closed. Someone put a dry blanket over him, which he appreciated as he hadn’t realized he was cold. One of the crew shouted above the noise of the engine, “Don’t worry, sir, we’ve got you, you’re safe.” He didn’t move, it was too much effort, but the words were comforting and he wanted to sleep.

  Andy’s lack of movement clearly had the crew worried as, seconds later, someone had got down and shouted into his ear, “Sir, nod if you can understand me?” Andy nodded. The crewman continued, “That’s great, sir, just nod or shake your head to answer my questions. Are you injured anywhere?” Andy shook his head. “Are you feeling any pain?” Again, Andy shook his head. Then crewman spoke again, “We’re heading to the Cutter. We have a full medical team waiting for you. Before we get there I’m just going to have a quick look at you, is that okay?” Andy nodded.

  The crewman switched on his head torch and lifted the blanket away. Andy quickly felt chilled and opened his eyes to watch the torchlight run up and down his body. He saw the crewman turn to the crewman in piloting the craft and shouted, “We’ve got blood, a lot of blood. He’s been shot. You need to get us to the ship, pronto, I don’t want to lose him!”

  Andy passed out.

  ***

  CHAPTER 53

  The smell of chlorine and stifling humidity hit Andy as he entered the public pool and paid his spectator entrance fee at reception. He made his way to the poolside cafeteria, ordered a coffee and sat at a table for two where he waited patiently. Andy wished he hadn’t worn his heavy overcoat, but the late spring air felt unusually cold this morning and his doctors had ordered him to keep warm to avoid catching a cold or getting an infection.

  His stitches pulled making him wince with pain when he moved or sat. This morning he’d already taken his powerful painkillers and a fist full of antibiotics as prescribed, but with the pain returning he thought about taking another two tablets to take the edge off the pain. Subconsciously his hand caressed the pill bottle in his overcoat pocket. That’s an easy way to slip into another addiction. He took his hand out of his pocket and slowly removed his overcoat. Only another week and the stitches would come out.

  His movements were slow and deliberate to avoid stretching his left shoulder too much. A few moments later a waitress turned up with his coffee. Andy smiled, thanked her and gave a small tip. He lifted the cup with his right hand and took a sip of the coffee. He found the drink strong, as he liked it, but too hot and placed it down to cool for a while.

  Looking out to the pool he could see the lane swimmers and spotted Chuck Boston cutting through the water with a good freestyle technique. Boston swam faster than the other swimmers and Andy noticed he had a lane all to himself. After a few minutes Boston glided to a stop against the near wall, looked at the poolside clock and with a few brief strokes reached the ladder which he used to climb out of the pool. Boston raised his goggles from his eyes and placed them on top of his blue swim cap. The color of the swim cap matched the blue of his small, tight, swimwear.

  Boston saw Andy and waved as he walked to a poolside bench to grab his towel and water bottle before making his way to Andy. “Hey you look good,” Boston said as he dried himself with the towel.

  “I didn’t know you were such a good swimmer,” Andy replied. No point in provoking the man unnecessarily.

  “Yeah, I used to swim competitive at High School and Varsity. I even represented the State for two years. But I came to a crossroads and had to make a decision. Join the agency or be a pro-swimmer.”

  “Any regrets?”

  “None I can think of. I didn’t miss getting up at five-thirty every morning to be in the pool by six for two hours and then back in the pool at six in the evening for another two hours. With that one decision I finally got a life and I could eat whatever I liked.” Boston sat opposite Andy and sipped from the water bottle.

  “Thanks for meeting me. I know it’s been a busy time for you at the agency,” Andy lied.

  “That’s fine. Remember, I reached out to you on this one, it’s the least I could do,” Boston shrugged and pointed at Andy with his water bottle, “I suppose you’d like an update on what’s been happening while you’ve been in hospital and convalescing?”

  “You’re an excellent reader of people. You always were.” Andy decided to blow smoke up Chuck’s ass to make him feel more at ease, “That’s why I’m here. Go on.”

  “The Senate investigation into the deaths of Bruce and the field agents in Russia went as well as could be expected. There were a lot of difficult questions thrown at us, but Hobbs did a great job and kept your name out of it. It was a huge embarrassment to us that Amanda had been a traitor, but we couldn’t tell them. We said that Amanda had been held captive on the Babushka and drowned when it sank.”

  “So even in death she’s still highly regarded. Does she get a star as a fallen Agent?”

  “Look. This is political and we’ve got to limit the damage to the agency, even if that means turning Amanda into a saint!” Chuck replied and took another swig from the water bottle.

  Andy fell silent for a moment, then started on a different tack. “Russia is flexing its muscles in Central Europe, the Arctic and the Middle East, not to mention their massive increase in cyber-attacks and hacking. With all of this increased activity, the agency will need to employ more agents to cover the increased workload on the Russian Desk,” he paused, “you must have new positions for hire.” He studied Boston’s reaction.

  Boston leaned back from Andy and looked embarrassed. “Listen Andy, this was a disaster for the Russian Desk. They didn’t see this happening on their watch and they had a traitor within their team. The Senate and the White House want a fresh look at the Russian Desk. We’ll see a new broom. This means a clean sweep and all that goes with it.”

  “What? That’s crazy. One bad egg and you’ll wipe out the whole team.”

  Boston leaned forward and slammed his water bottle onto the table. “Look Andy, I brought you in
from the cold as a specialist contractor. That meant the Middle East Desk sorted out the problem which crippled the Russian Desk. The credit goes to me and the Middle East Desk. The additional funding goes to the Middle East Desk. The Russian Desk is going to be cut further. There won’t be any new positions on the Russian Desk, less in fact.”

  Andy couldn’t hide his disappointment from Boston, “You know I’ve been battling for years to get you back into the agency. I’ve been your biggest supporter.” Boston picked up his water bottle again and took a drink, “Maybe you could do something at the Middle East Desk. Do you speak Arabic?”

  Andy sat back in his chair and scratched his head, seemingly frustrated and disappointed by what he’d been told. Boston continued, “Hobbs kept all references about you out of all the briefing papers to the Senate and White House. You got no recognition, I pushed her, but you know what she’s like.”

  Andy nodded, “What you’re telling me is I have no chance of getting back into the Agency.”

  A young lifeguard appeared by their side.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you. Is one of you Chuck Boston?” Boston looked up with a surprised expression and nodded. “There’s a call for you at the reception desk. They didn’t leave a name.”

  Boston stood, grabbed his towel, made his excuses and left to take his call. With Boston out of sight, Andy took hold of the water bottle, opened the cap and poured a small vile of light blue powder into it. He replaced the cap and shook the water bottle vigorously for several seconds to dissolve the powder. He held the plastic bottle up to the lights to check there were no visible traces of the blue powder and placed the bottle down in its previous position. He reflected on what Boston had told him.

  Boston returned a few minutes later, “No one there. I wonder what that was about?” Boston sat and took a long drink from the water bottle before continuing, “I’m sorry this isn’t what you were expecting. I can tell you’re disappointed at hearing there’s no prospect of you getting back on the Russian Desk. I take it you’re not keen on joining the Middle East Desk, but, if you change your mind, I can have a quiet word with HR and see if I can get the ball rolling. You know I’ll bat hard for you.”