The Distant Chase

by Cap Daniels

  “It’s what we do,” I said.

  “You’ll be pleased to know there will be a package waiting for you at the airport in Riga tomorrow afternoon. It should contain everything you need, but if anything’s missing, just call the number inside the package.”

  “I knew I could count on you.”

  “I’ll be tracking the airline passenger manifest, so I’ll know when you get on and off the plane tomorrow, but call me when you get to Riga for an update.”

  I hung up and felt my eyelids turn to lead weights. Minutes later, the sat-phone rang, and I stuck it to my ear. “Yeah, what did you forget?”

  “Chase?”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Penny? Is that you?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to be doing this, but I need to hear your voice and know you’re okay. And I need to tell you I love you.”

  I couldn’t hold back the smile. “I’m fine.”

  “You promised you’d never lie to me,” she said softly.

  “Okay,” I confessed, “I’m tired, cold, sore, and a little homesick, but other than that, I’m fine and not hurt or in any danger right now. I was just falling asleep in the amazing hotel Skipper scored for us.”

  “I wish I was there with you.”

  “No, you don’t,” I said. “You wish we were together, but you don’t want to be here. It’s cold and nasty.”

  “I want to be everywhere you are, Chase.”

  “I love you, Penny.”

  “Good night, Chase. Come home to me soon, okay?”

  “I promise.”

  The line went dead, and I cradled the phone against my chest.

  What am I doing halfway around the world, freezing my butt off, getting shot at, and sneaking in and out of a different country every other day? I should be anchored off Key West with Penny in one hand and a margarita in the other.

  * * *

  Morning came far too quickly, and we devoured the offered breakfast. I hadn’t expected first class, but the Lufthansa gate agent insisted that our seats were up front.

  The flight attendant couldn’t keep her eyes off Clark. “Can I get you gentlemen anything?”

  His patent-pending crooked grin was doing its thing. “I’d love a black coffee.”

  “Coffee for me, as well, please,” I said, interrupting their moment.

  I gave him the eye.

  “What? It’s not like it matters if a Lufthansa stewardess remembers me.”

  “Flight attendant,” I corrected him. “Have you always been such a slut?”

  “Hey now, that’s hurtful. I’m just über-friendly. That’s all. I can’t be held responsible for the animal magnetism I put off.”

  “Oh, you put off all right, but I’m not sure there’s anything magnetic about it.”

  The two-and-a-half-hour flight to Frankfurt was pleasant and left us in the airport for a two-hour layover before the connecting flight to Riga. I was enjoying the peek at a normal life, even though there’s little that’s enjoyable about airline travel. At least we weren’t cold, and as far as I knew, no one in the airport was going to try to kill us. I’d been wrong about that sort of thing before, but I felt relatively safe in the middle of Germany.

  We landed in Riga and picked up the package of cold-weather gear just in time to make it to the marina and catch the boy I’d left in charge of Pierre’s boat. Fortunately for me, the Gulf of Riga hadn’t yet frozen, and the boat was still moored offshore. The look of disappointment on the boy’s face when he realized he couldn’t keep the boat was unmistakable.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you by coming back before the big freeze, but I think I can make it up to you.”

  The boy frowned at me with uncertain curiosity. “Make it up to me?”

  The language barrier was a hurdle, but I believed we could overcome it. “How many more days do you think until the Gulf freezes completely?”

  He looked out over the water with ice already forming in the shallows. “I know it will be frozen enough to walk to Finland in two weeks.”

  I surveyed the Gulf. “Two weeks, huh? I’ll tell you what. I’m going to give you one hundred American dollars right now, and I’m going to take my boat back to Estonia. If the Gulf freezes over in two weeks, you can keep the money, but if it doesn’t, I’m coming back in my boat, and you’ll owe me my one hundred dollars, plus one cup of coffee.”

  The boy thought about my offer. “But what if you can’t find me when you come back?”

  “Oh, I’m much better at finding people than you are at guessing when the sea will freeze.”

  The boy stuck out his hand. “It’s a bet.”

  I stuck the money in his gloved hand and thanked him for watching my boat. There was no question that unless a meteor hit, the Gulf would be a solid sheet of ice in two weeks. I’d never see the boy again, and he’d spend the rest of his life thinking he outsmarted a dumb Canadian…American…whatever he thought I was.

  I checked in with Skipper, and she immediately apologized for letting Penny get the sat-phone number.

  “Don’t apologize,” I said. “It’s perfectly fine. There are times that would’ve been a terrible idea, but last night I needed to hear her voice. This time, it was a good thing. So, we’re headed across the Gulf now. Call Pierre and let him know we’re coming. Give him position updates as we get closer, and tell him we need Norikova and the chopper. Oh, and how are you coming along with the maps and plans of the prison?”

  She sighed. “I’m thinking about finding myself a new operator. You’re too demanding.”

  “Yes, but I pay a lot better than the other guys.”

  “We haven’t discussed that yet, but you can bet your buns we’ll be discussing it when you get home.”

  “Okay, discussion planned. Now, about those maps.”

  “You haven’t opened the package of cold-weather gear yet, have you?”

  “Not yet. Why?”

  She huffed. “If you had, you would’ve found a laptop with a satellite modem. You can download the maps, floorplans of the prison, guard schedules, yard schedule, and all sorts of other goodies we thought you might need.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  “I thought we agreed on phenomenal.”

  “You’re better than phenomenal.”

  “I know,” she said. “Call me from the island. I’m working on a little surprise I think you’ll like. We may have a way to get the three of you into Kazakhstan without using a stolen helicopter. Besides, that chopper would make a nice bonus for Pierre.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ll call in a couple of hours.”

  After paying a fisherman to ferry us out to our boat, we were relieved to hear the engines start on the first attempt. Making our way across the Gulf was a miserable experience in the frozen night air, and it ended with us breaking through a thin crust of ice as we entered the marina back on Ruhnu Island.

  Headlights flashed from the wall of darkness behind the marina. It was our favorite Frenchman in his Land Rover.

  “Welcome back, and merci for the helicopter,” he said as we thawed out.

  I furrowed my brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  His eyes widened. “Mademoiselle Ginger said when this is all over, the helicopter is for me to keep if I can get it safely back to France. I assured her I could do that, and I would never forget her kindness.”

  “Oh, sure. We get knocked out, kidnapped, shot at, beaten up, and nearly freeze to death, and Ginger gives away our only trophy.”

  Pierre laughed. “C’est la vie.”

  “How’s our special guest?” I asked.

  “She is hungry, dirty, angry, and generally miserable, but otherwise, she is fine.”

  “That’s just what we’d hoped for, Pierre. I’m sure you’ll be sending us a bill.”

  The man scratched his chin. “Oh, I think the helicopter makes us about even, don’t you?”

  “Do I want to know what you plan to do with the chopper
?”

  “Oh, I am going to sell it back to the Finns, of course. They will pay a handsome price to have back their helicopter and not admit to the world that it was stolen. It is a win-win as you say in America. I get paid, and the Finns get to save face and get back their helicopter.”

  Clark said, “I like your style, Frenchy.”

  “And I like yours, Monsieur Clark.”

  Back in the dungeon-esque environs of the church cellar, we were greeted with a barrage of angry threats from Captain Norikova. I tore a bit from a baguette Pierre had sticking from a bag and tossed it to her.

  “Your father told us he wasn’t interested in any deal, and he didn’t care if you lived or died.”

  “Bullshit!” she hissed. “My father would never say that.”

  I turned to Clark. “That’s what I took away from the conversation. How about you?”

  Clark nodded. “Yeah, there’s no question about it. He had no interest in negotiating with us for your safe return. In fact, he did everything in his power to see that we left the country quickly and in the most uncomfortable manner possible. He’s not a nice guy.”

  “You did not see my father. You are lying. My father would have killed you before you could make your threats,” she roared.

  Clark lifted his coat and shirt, revealing the gunshot wound to his side. “Oh, he tried to do that, but let’s just say things got a little heated for him after that.”

  “Yeah, it’s safe to say he got screwed more than once the night we saw him.”

  She began another barrage of insults and threats, but I stepped toward the cage, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her against the bars. “You listen to me. I am the only reason you’re still alive. I still have a job to do, and I’m going to damned well do it. I’m taking you back to Russia, and I’m getting your sister out of that prison. You can play nice and come willingly, or I can exercise one of two options. Option one, I can sink you in that soon-to-be-frozen sea out there. Option two, I can knock you out and drag you back to Russia by your hair. The choice is yours.”

  She narrowed her eyes and glared at me through the bars. “You will never live long enough to regret what you have done to me. I swear to you I will—”

  I cut her off. “It sounds like you choose the frozen sea, so let’s go.”

  I reached for Pierre’s keys, and she immediately opted for a far more civil tone. “I know you will not kill me. You are American, and you must play by rules.”

  I pulled out the passport the pilot of the PBY gave me. “I’m not an American. Let’s see what I am.” I flipped open the ID. “Oh, look at that. I’m an Egyptian. That’s convenient. Now, let’s go for a little stroll by the sea. What do you say?”

  She swallowed hard. “I will go with you to Russia, but—”

  “No buts! You will do what I say every time I speak. Anything more or less than that gets you a bullet to the brain. That is, if there’s no sea handy. Got it?”

  She sat silently, neither agreeing nor arguing. I took that as a concession, but we’d have to wait and see how she behaved.

  I spent the next several hours upstairs in the ancient church, poring over schedules, plans, and sketches of the infamous Black Dolphin Prison, and maps of Sol-Iletsk, the city where the prison had existed since the eighteenth century. The town was basic enough with relatively good infrastructure, including maintained roads, parks, and public utilities. The area to the south, toward the Kazakh border fifteen miles away, was barren and would be simple enough to cross with an ATV or light truck. Kazakhstan was definitely the best way into the city. What I couldn’t come up with was a way into the prison; there simply were no weaknesses. The inmates were never outside concrete block walls, and when they were allowed to see the sky, it was within high, block-walled courtyards with horizontal fencing well above their heads, and razor wire above that. When the prisoners were moved, they were handcuffed, blindfolded, and marched bent over at the waist so they couldn’t resist or learn their way around the interior of the prison. No one could leave unless someone unlocked the four or more doors behind which everyone lived at the Black Dolphin.

  * * *

  Clark came up to the church where I’d been for hours, and he sat beside me. “What have you come up with?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. I don’t know how to get her. There’s simply no way to get in or out.”

  “Mind if I take a look?”

  “Of course not. Maybe you’ll see something I’m missing.”

  He studied the plans and maps. “I think you’re right. The only way out is in a coffin or a prison transfer.”

  I slapped him on the back. “That’s it! We clearly can’t break her out, so we’ll get the Russians to drive her out. Where’s the sat-phone?”

  He looked confused. “It was in your pocket earlier.”

  I slapped at my pockets and yelled when Skipper answered. “Put Ginger on!”

  “She’s sleeping, Chase. What do you need?”

  “I need you to wake her up and put her on the phone right now.”

  Thirty seconds later, Ginger was on the line. “What is it?”

  “Get something to write on, and listen closely.”

  “Okay, go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “I need you to get me connected to the embassy in Moscow with somebody way down the chain—nobody with the words deputy or chief in their title. I need an unencrypted line with a mid-level nobody who wants to be a somebody. Can you do that?”

  “Yeah, I can do it, but it’s going to take a while. There’s nobody like that awake in Moscow right now.”

  “Okay. Set up the call, but don’t warn them what’s coming.”

  “Okay, Chase. You got it. But what is coming?”

  “A little misdirection is all.”

  “I’ll call you back within three hours. Oh, and Chase, whatever you’re doing…be careful. There’s a beautiful woman here who can’t stop talking about a black lab puppy.”

  Clark and I went to work planning every detail. I’d had enough of running into the fray and hoping everything would work out. It was time to play chess instead of red rover, red rover.

  The call came soon after.

  “Okay,” Skipper said. “It’s all set up. The next voice you hear will be Oliver Conner, second assistant to the military attaché. Is that mid-level enough for you?”

  “That’s perfect. I’ll call you back as soon as I bait the trap.”

  The phone clicked over, and Oliver Conner spoke. “Attaché office, Mr. Conner.”

  In an intentionally menacing voice, I said, “Conner, listen to me. It’s on. We’re hitting the Dolphin on Friday at fifteen hundred hours. We’re getting your girl out of there, and casualties cannot be avoided. Make sure Burinkova is in her cell no later than fourteen forty-five, and make damned sure your two inside-men are not on shift. Do you understand?”

  He stammered and started to ask, “Who is this?” But I’d already disconnected, and the trap had been fully baited.

  Chapter 25

  Geronimo!

  “You’re getting good at this spy gig,” Clark said.

  “I’m not a spy,” I replied, trying not to laugh.

  “I’m starting to understand why no one believes us when we say that.”

  “I have to call Skipper back.”

  I dialed the number and waited. I’ll never understand why sat-phone calls take so long to connect.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Perfect,” I said. “Now here’s what I need you to do. Monitor the chatter from the embassy about the Black Dolphin, especially the back-channel stuff.”

  Realizing Skipper may not have fully understood what I was talking about, I asked, “Is Ginger listening?”

  “Yeah, Chase. I’m here. We copied everything you said to Conner, and I’ve already got feelers out. I expect the buzz to kick off in a matter of minutes.”

  “Great, Ginger. Conner will immediately report the call to his superior, and it’ll rocket up th
e chain until it finds its way outside the embassy. If the Russians buy it, they’ll have Anya out of that prison long before fifteen hundred hours on Friday.”

  “It’s brilliant, Chase. There’s no way they’ll ignore it,” she said. “What else do you need?”

  “Now we need a ride to Kazakhstan. That’s our only way into Sol-Iletsk. As soon as we know when they’re moving Anya, we’ll know our timetable, but the sooner, the better. I’m going to need a heavy truck, some bigger guns than the guards on the prison transport will have, and a couple of ATVs that aren’t afraid of getting wet. I’d like to round up some cavalry so it won’t be just Clark and me hitting the transport.”

  Ginger chuckled. “None of that is a challenge, and there’s never been a bugle that could call up the cavalry better than I can. How many do you want?”

  “How many can you get?” I asked.

  “Just answer my question, and tell me how many you want.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I want four knuckle-dragging trigger-pullers who know how to follow orders. Oh, and preferably ones who can at least understand Russian.”

  “We’re on it. We’ll be in touch in an hour. In the meantime, get ready to move out.”

  I hung up, hoping to get some indication of approval or trepidation from Clark. Instead, I got, “This is going to be more fun than Bangkok.”

  We headed back into the cellar where Norikova was on a cot in the fetal position and Pierre was staring intently at her.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked.

  “I’m concerned,” the Frenchman said. “I don’t think she is well.”

  “I can assure you she’s quite unwell in the head.”

  “No, no. That is not what I mean. She did not eat the baguette you gave her, and she is quickly losing weight.”

  “That’s not our problem,” I said. “We just need her to stay alive for three more days, or maybe less. After that, she’s Mother Russia’s problem.”

  We inventoried our remaining gear and repacked everything for a hasty departure. Ginger and Skipper would have us in Kazakhstan soon, and then time would really start to fly. I secretly hoped Norikova wasn’t well. The worse she felt, the easier she would be to control.