“If Dubov found out that we took her virginity, that would severely decrease her value and he would probably cut off your balls,” Alexie replied. “Just leave her alone.”
Vladimir grinned. Alexie was no match for his strength. If he wanted the girl he would take her.
The big Russian was sexually aroused by her innocence.
Chapter 3
Governor Ellis Patton finished his shower, brushed his teeth, and decided to catch the evening news before retiring. He was anxious to see if there was any additional speculation about his anticipated Presidential run. The Illinois press was excited that the second term Governor of the State was first in the polls for the Democratic nomination. In another poll when he was placed against the preemptive Republican nominee, Senator Roberts from North Carolina, he was behind by a mere eight points. The sitting Democrat Vice President, Alex Broome, was well behind both of them by more than twenty points.
Patton was pleased when the evening news reported that the latest New York Times poll showed that he had closed the gap to four points vs. Roberts.
After watching the rest of the 11 o’clock news, he prepared a bourbon and ginger ale drink, placed it on the nightstand, and got into bed. His wife of twenty years, Donna, was in her second day visiting her mother in Florida. Actually he enjoyed the alone time her vacation provided him. He was in his private home enjoying a few days off from the grind.
Recently his doctor prescribed Ambien for his recent persistent insomnia. He took a pill and washed it down with the bourbon and ginger ale. His wife Donna would never have allowed him to drink hard liquor, and was unaware that he was taking Ambien. The drug induced him into a deep sleep.
At three in the morning, Vlad Burov quietly moved to the back of the Governor’s home to the sliding glass door that led to the patio. After putting on plastic surgical gloves, he pulled a large roll of duct tape from the bag he carried. Vlad covered the entire sheet of glass on the right door with duct tape. He positioned a blanket directly below the sliding glass door. He then placed a pillow against the glass and taped it gently with a hammer. This action broke the glass, but because the duct tape was holding it together, it didn’t fall and create noise. A couple of small pieces managed to fall, but the soft blanket below the door absorbed the sound. He cut around the duck tape and removed the tape and glass stuck to it. Vlad reached inside and unlocked the door. He grabbed the jar from the bag, quietly slid the door open, and entered the residence.
Burov bumped into an end table on his right. He was blind in his right eye as a result of a beating from his drunken father when he was nine years old. He killed his father while he slept when he was seventeen.
The Russian Mafia smuggled him into the USA and trained him as a Warrior and assassin. He was known as the Silent Assassin because of his ability to noiselessly complete his assignments.
His innocent look, short blond hair, very slender build, and short height allowed him to pass as a young teenager. He was deadly with no conscience.
Burov steadied himself and moved forward. He passed through the family room and down a long hall. He gazed into the room on his left. It was an empty bedroom. He heard a sound and moved on down the hall. As he neared another door he recognized the noise as snoring. He crept through the open door and saw his prey lying on the bed on his side. The sheet was down around his waist and he was sleeping soundly.
Burov walked to the bedside and stood there motionless. He noticed a pill bottle on the night table beside a glass of liquid. He picked up the bottle and read the label. He knew Ambien and realized that his job was made easier by the drug. He picked up the glass and smelled the liquid. The sweet smell of bourbon, he thought, and drained the glass.
He then slowly unscrewed the cap of the mason jar he was carrying. The jar contained six brown recluse spiders.
The spider usually bites only when pressed against the skin. The fangs of the brown recluse are so tiny they are unable to penetrate most fabric therefore must be against the naked skin to be deadly. The bite is not felt initially and may not be immediately painful, but it is serious. The brown recluse holds deadly hemotoxic venom. The bites creates severe dermonecrotic lesions, and severe cutaneous (skin) or viscerocutaneous (systemic symptoms). The bites produce a range of symptoms common to many members of the loxosceeles genus known as loxoscelism, which may be cutaneous and viscerocutaneous. The bites cause hemolysis—the bursting of red blood cells.
Burov reached inside the jar and picked up one of the deadly insects. His surgical gloves insulated him from danger. He put the spider on the Governor’s neck. He watched as the spider crawled around the man’s neck and into his ear. The spider was seeking a cool damp place to hide. A bite to the inter ear would certainly cause death, however Burov couldn’t take the chance. He carefully drew out another spider and softly pressed it against the neck of the slumbering man. He knew this would certainly produce a bite.
He then dumped the remaining four brown recluse spiders on the exposed neck. He watched one of them crawl up the Governor’s nose.
The Silent Assassin cautiously backed out of the bedroom. He smiled as he listened to the loud snoring of the soon to be deceased Governor.
Vlad Burov had one final task to preform. The sliding glass door had been broken. He must make the break-in appear to be a robbery.
He unplugged the flat screen TV and set it outside the door on the patio. He noticed the Governor’s wallet, ring and Rolex watch lying on the end table by the couch. He stuffed these items in his pocket and left the house.
Around the corner, Boris Slasvisky waited on him in a white van with a sign on the side, which read, Upton’s Plumbing. As the two Russian mafia Warriors drove out of the neighborhood, Burov made a call on his cell phone.
Ivan Dubov answered on the third ring. He was sipping a chilled glass of Reyka vodka. “Hello.”
“The job is done,” Burov said, and hung up.
Dubov drained his glass and immediately made a call himself.
The Controller was waiting for the call. “Is it done Dubov?”
“The Governor and the Senator are dead. Their deaths are unrelated to each other.”
The Controller smiled, “Nothing can stop us now,” he said, and hung up the phone.
Chapter 4
Something was crawling on my leg, but I couldn’t open my eyes. I spit sand from my mouth. I must have swallowed some, along with salt water, because my throat felt scratchy and dry. The last thing I remembered was losing my grip on the driftwood before passing out.
I forced my eyes open and found myself lying on a beach. Ocean waves crashed against the rocks. Another movement on my leg prompted me to raise my head and look down. My eyes mercifully opened.
A large snake lay on my warm skin, soaking in the sun.
Although adrenaline shot through my body, I froze. The snake had a lance-shaped head, and yellow and rust tones with rectangular blotches. My Navy Seal training had exposed me to poisonous tropical snakes. I racked my brain. Abruptly, it came to me: a Fer-de-lance. I took a deep breath and tried to remember details about the breed.
The Fer-de-lance is an infamous pit viper. If startled or provoked, it is quite aggressive and bites vigorously and often repeatedly. Its name describes its lance-shaped head. It eats small mammals and ground dwelling birds, capturing them by lying in wait, perfectly still. The snake has hemotoxic venom, which can cause nausea, black outs, loss of memory and even temporary paralysis.
If I moved suddenly, it would be all over. I struggled to lie perfectly still, deciding what to do.
I felt another slight movement and looked again. The snake’s head was raised. It appeared to be watching something towards the right.
I glanced over at a small black bird, pecking at something in the receding waves. With me and the snake motionless, the bird felt no danger—even though it was less than twelve inches away.
I knew the snake was getting ready to strike; for the next few seconds, I would have t
o hold my breath.
The Fer-de-lance shot forward off my body, and clamped its fangs around the bird’s head.
With shrill chirping, the bird screamed for its life. The venom worked quickly, paralyzing the bird right before the snake opened its mouth wide and swallowed it headfirst.
A large lump swelled the snake’s throat, and digestive juices began their process.
I was mesmerized by the spectacle, but attempted to get to my feet. I felt too weak, and crawled about fifteen feet through the sand away from the deadly snake. Finally, I was able to sit up. My head was swimming. As it eventually cleared, I took in the surroundings for the first time.
The ocean deflected the sun’s brilliant glare into my eyes, forcing me to turn towards a jungle of vines and trees. The trees formed a canopy and hid what lay underneath.
There was no sound of an insect, bird or reptile, only the steady rhythmical lap of the sea. But the calm pulse of waves hitting the shore did not calm my anxiety; instead it almost made me shiver with fear of what may reside in the jungle. I was in no condition to defend myself.
My instincts pushed me to escape the burning rays of the sun, and I gathered up my courage to stand.
After falling a few times, I finally staggered to my feet and stumbled forward, making my way for shade. As I lurched into the jungle, the light streaming through the trees elevated my spirits. For a moment the word “paradise” floated in my thoughts, but I quickly realized my mind was playing tricks on me. The penetrating heat in the jungle was more like hell than paradise. I still couldn’t determine what was real and what was imagined. My feelings and sensitivities were out of control.
Despite the surrounding calmness, I realized I couldn’t withstand the immense heat created by the jungle’s canopy. My mind spiraling out of control, I sluggishly walked out of the foliage and staggered into the seawater.
After cooling my dehydrated body, my mind cleared somewhat. The heat flashes subsided.
Once again I entered the jungle. I realized that I must find food and water.
Suddenly a hideous and garish scream penetrated the silence. I dropped to the ground, stunned by the horrific noise. The gruesome sounds emanated from my left side, and I slowly crept through the thick undergrowth toward it. Survival instincts were taking over. Seeing the danger would help me assess my reactions.
Crawling forward, I approached a small clearing. Lying on my stomach, I reached forward and quietly pulled back the branches of a bush to clear my view.
There in the middle of the clearing, I saw two wild boars facing each other. One was the classic black color the other a mixture of white and brown.
The two hulking boars were grunting and posturing. They probably weigh about two hundred pounds each.
The black one accepted the apparent challenge and approached the other one with a stiff legged gait, bristles up, and a soundless pushing match began. Shoulder to shoulder, it was a test of power.
Their coarse bristles along the back, from head to tail, were raised on end as they pushed each other. For the seemingly equal combatants, the vicious fight was just beginning. The boars pop their jaws and slobbered foam, working themselves into a fighting mode; the pumped up boars then slammed their heavy heads and tusks mightily into the body of their opponent. Now the frightening sounds of battle shattered the peace of the jungle.
The thrashing and the peculiar snorting continued. Abruptly blood gushed from a wound on the solid black boar, and it squealed in agony. The frothy slobber flew into the air, to the ground and all over the combatants. Finally the black one fell to the ground and was slammed again and again by the brown and white beast. With one last strike with his tusks, the patterned one declared his victory with a blood curdling squeal. The victor left the battleground first, to live or die on his own.
The black one grunted boisterously, then quietly rested, hemorrhaging and dying on the blood soaked earth.
My first thought was that he might be the source of food.
I struggled to move forward, but dizziness overcame me and my world went to black.
I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but when I awoke my body was soaked with sweat.
I looked down and for the first time I noticed what I was wearing. I remember changing into shorts and a T-shirt before my wife and I went to the balcony on the cruise ship. We were celebrating our wedding anniversary with the cruise, and that was the actual night that we were married twenty years before.
My shoes were missing as I had kicked them off in the water, but I still had on socks, the shorts, and a T-shirt. I detected something in my pocket and reached in.
The lighter I used to lite the candle on the balcony, and the small penknife I used to remove the wine seal of our celebratory bottle of Dom Perignon had somehow remained in my pocket. Having been soaked, I doubt that the lighter would work again. Touching the penknife reminded me that my daughter Lisa had given it to me to take on my Flounder fishing trips. The thought of my lovely daughter distressed me. I pray to God that she’s okay.
Dizziness nearly overcame me again. I know that I must find water.
My cracked lips were bleeding and the sweet taste of blood made me retch. Nothing came out as my body was at its breaking point. I stumbled forward and reached another clearing. I fell to my knees and crawled forward. I heard a trickling sound. I hope to God that it’s fresh water.
Chapter 5
The Controller hung up the phone. He hated Dubov and his Boss, Nevsky. Matter of fact, he hated all the Russians. To him, they simply were a means to an end. He knew that he owed them a debt, and they would certainly expect appropriate payment in the form of power.
The tall lean man walked to the bar at the back wall of his private condo and poured himself a generous portion of Gentleman Jack Bourbon. He sipped on the drink, turned on the TV, and sat down on his Sunpan Bugatti Grain Leather Sofa. Using the remote control, he flipped to all the channels seeking news about the death of the Governor or the Senator. Fox News, CNN, NBC, nor any of the other channels had any news of the incidents.
The Russians are good, he thought, as he took another drink of his bourbon. He was about to refresh the drink when his private cell phone rang.
“Yes.”
“This is Rita, I’m about ten minutes away. You told me to let you know when I’m near.”
“Come on up. Just let yourself in.”
“Yes honey. Can’t wait to see you.”
The Controller smiled and made another drink. He sipped it while he grabbed a bottle of Gran Patron Platinum Tequila. He poured six ounces in a pitcher, added four ounces of Cointreau, two ounces of fresh lime juice and a splash of simple syrup. He salted the rim of two tequila glasses, and put them in the freezer of the small fridge under the bar. Rita loved her margaritas.
He walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. He smiled to check his recently whitened teeth. For age 54 he looked damn good, 6 ft. 3 inches tall, with blue eyes and a head full of silver hair. He was often told that he favored James Brolin, Barbara Streisand’s husband. He worked out four times a week to keep his body in excellent shape.
The click of the door opening interrupted the Controller’s admiration of himself. He walked toward the door and stopped abruptly. His Prayer Rug and Koran were still situated by the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony. He had prayed, facing Mecca, just an hour ago. The Controller quickly placed the Rug and Koran in the closet in his bedroom, and hurried to the door.
Rita flashed her gorgeous smile and push by him into the living room. He closed the door and locked it just as she grabbed him from behind and hugged him. He felt her 34c breasts pushing against his back. He turned to face her. Rita was a sight to behold, with long red hair, with a body that looked like the leading lady on the TV show Modern Family, Sophia. Her full lips were pouty and her green eyes were sparkling.
“Baby come over and sit down and I’ll pour you a margarita.”
“Why don’t we take the pitcher
of margaritas to bedroom,” Rita replied, “We can enjoy them while we appreciate each other.”
The Controller smiled, “How was work today?”
“It was lonely without you honey.”
He grabbed the pitcher of margaritas, drew the two glasses out of the freezer and followed Rita to the bedroom. She sat on the bed and crossed long lovely legs. “Are you returning to the office on Monday?”
“Yes honey I’ll be there, I have a few things to take care of to ensure the future.”
The Controller brought the pitcher of margaritas and set them on the end table by the bed. He opened his robe, and dropped it to the floor. Rita raised up and gave him a deep passionate kiss.
“Screw the margaritas,” She said, “I want you. If it would please you, pour the drink on my body and lick it off.”
The Controller watched her slowly undress and lay on the bed. He grabbed the margarita glass and slowly poured the liquid all over her body, and the lovemaking began.
He didn’t pick up his personal cell phone when it rang. He knew it was probably his wife Gloria. His power grab was in progress and that excited him more that Rita did.
With the Senator and the Governor out of the way, nothing can stop me now, he thought as Rita performed her special pleasure act on him.
Chapter 6
“Passengers can begin disembarking the ship in twenty minutes. The luggage that you placed in front of your cabin will be available for claiming inside the port area.” The announcement came over the speaker as Vladimer and Alexie checked Lisa Roberts for the last time. She was heavily drugged, out cold, and wrapped in a blanket inside the trunk.
“We need to go to the main deck,” Alexie said. “Get the other handle on the trunk.” Vladimir grabbed the handle and the two men made their way to the elevator. They passed a steward on the way.
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