Targets of Revenge

by Jeffrey Stephens

“Beautiful day for a dive.”

  That earned him an indifferent nod.

  “Not much of a talker, are you?”

  Now the swarthy face turned toward him. “No,” the captain said, his unblinking gaze holding Sandor’s for a moment, then letting it go as if dismissing an unpleasant thought.

  “Well then,” Sandor replied, “I’ll try to keep my questions to a minimum.” He made his way aft, where the young woman was organizing the equipment. “Good morning.”

  That earned him the first smile he had seen since he came aboard.

  “Ah, a friendly face.”

  “You probably found that my uncle is not very sociable.”

  “Your uncle? Yes, I noticed. Seemed a lot happier when he came aboard the yacht.”

  “He’s always nice to the people who pay him.”

  Sandor laughed as he extended his hand. “I’m Jordan.”

  She took his hand, said, “I’m Nadia,” then went back to work.

  “This unusual?”

  “What?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “People bringing their own tanks and scuba gear?”

  She stood and looked at him, her lower lip jutting out as if this required some thought. “Most tourists rent from us. But some of the bigger yachts have their own equipment.”

  He waited, knowing that sometimes saying nothing is the best way to evoke a response.

  Nadia hesitated, then added, “Wealthy people tend to do things their own way.”

  Sandor nodded. “Your English is perfect.”

  “I studied in London,” she explained. With the roar of the twin engines, their conversation could not be heard by the others aboard. Even so, Sandor noticed that the captain had given her a quick, disapproving glance. “I need to get this done,” she said, then knelt down and returned to sorting out the equipment.

  Sandor could feel the three Russians watching him as he crouched beside her. “I’m curious. Is there any real advantage in using your own equipment? I mean, I assume you do this almost every day. I’d think it would be safer with you preparing things.”

  When she turned back to him he thought he detected a change in her demeanor. “I’m sure these tanks are fine.”

  “Just the tanks?” he asked.

  When Nadia fumbled for a reply, he held up a hand. “Only kidding,” he assured her. “I’m just getting in your way here. Let me give you a hand.”

  Before she could utter a protest Sandor grabbed one of the tanks and stood it in the hard plastic rack along the railing. By the time he had moved the second canister she took hold of his wrist.

  “This is my job,” she said quietly. “You’re a guest on our boat, and my uncle will be upset if . . .”

  “No need to explain,” Sandor said as he stood. “I understand completely. I’ll let you get back to work.” Then he turned to the three Russians, who were seated along the port rail, gave them a brief wave to which they offered no reaction, then climbed atop one of the starboard lockers and sat down.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CARACAS, VENEZUELA

  WHEN WORD WAS released that the health of President Chavez had taken another bad turn, the Venezuelan government was thrown into its latest round of turmoil. Players within the administration jockeyed for position, ever mindful that so long as Chavez remained alive he also remained in power. Which also meant, for so long as Chavez was in charge, none of these aspirants was going to extend less than the fullest cooperation to the nation’s deadliest terrorist. The current maneuvering was all about the future order of things.

  For now, therefore, Adina was still safely ensconced in the fortress known as El Helicoide, a guest of the Servicio Bolivariano de Inteligencia Nacional. He was meeting again with the minister, Bargas, who was the only one within SEBIN who knew of the laboratory where the anthrax had been manufactured. Beyond that, the minister knew nothing of the plot Adina was implementing, and neither he nor any of the others at El Helicoide was asking.

  “I will need you to follow up on certain arrangements I have made in New York,” said Adina.

  “However I can help, of course.”

  Adina was about to review those plans when an aide knocked on the door and was told to enter. The young man delivered an encrypted message from Egypt, then left the room.

  Adina took several minutes to decode the text, then looked up. “My associates in Sharm el-Sheikh have been approached by a man they believe to be an American agent. They identified him as Jordan Sandor.”

  Bargas was about to ask what associates Adina had in Egypt, then thought better of it.

  “You recognize that name? Jordan Sandor?”

  The minister nodded. “Wasn’t he responsible for, uh, interfering with your plans in the Gulf of Mexico?”

  Adina placed the message down on the large conference table and looked at Bargas. “Responsible for interfering,” he repeated. “You make it sound so benign.”

  “I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “That’s all right. We’re interfering with Mr. Sandor’s plans as we speak. My associates assure me that he will be neutralized. A tragic diving accident.”

  The minister did not respond.

  “He is of no further consequence. The only concern is what recriminations might come from this.”

  Again there was no reply.

  “I have to assume it was Sandor or one of his cohorts who infiltrated my compound. We have no way of knowing how much they learned or what information they might have passed on. My operation near Barranquitas was utterly secure. Now it has been compromised. We did not need these complications nor did we want to accelerate our actions. Unfortunately, we may now be forced to make some adjustments both in timing and approach.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  Adina thought it over. “There are arrangements I am making in New York. We must move up our timetable.”

  “Of course. I will make whatever contacts there you require.”

  “Good,” Adina said. “Let me share some information with you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  ON THE RED SEA, OFF THE COAST OF THE SINAI PENINSULA

  THE CAPTAIN SLOWED the boat as they approached the reef he had chosen for them.

  “This is a good spot,” he announced as he throttled back, leaving them to rock to and fro atop the gentle waters.

  It was still early, but there were a number of other boats in sight. The morning sun hung above the horizon, the rays glistening across the sea. The captain nodded to the girl and she told the four men it was time to get ready.

  The three Russians stood and made their way aft, followed by Sandor. They began the process of climbing into their wetsuits and inflatable vests, snapping on their weight belts and arranging their masks, fins and regulators.

  The captain joined them, pointing off the port side. “Some of the best scenery is over there. You’ll have to get down a hundred feet or so, but I’m told you’re all certified.”

  The Russians gave no reply but Sandor smiled. “A hundred feet, should be interesting.” He stared at the Egyptian, wondering if he had already been told he would be returning a passenger short.

  “The waters are safe,” Sadiki said, averting Sandor’s gaze as he pointed to the other vessels. “You’ll find it quite rewarding.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I will,” Sandor said. “Now where do I get a knife?”

  They all looked at him as if he had posed a riddle they could not solve.

  “A knife, boys. I don’t ever dive without a scuba knife. I don’t care how safe the water is, there’s no telling what the hell is down there.” Then he pointed to the thigh of the tallest of the three Russians. “He’s no fool, he strapped his on already.”

  For a moment no one spoke. Then the big man shrugged and said, “Sure. Give him one.”

  Once Sandor attached the serrated knife to his belt it was one of the Russians, not Nadia, who lifted a tank and handed it to Sandor. It bore the blue appliqué. Sandor took it and pla
ced his arms through the straps. Then the other three cylinders were passed out and the men were ready to go.

  “Stay together,” the captain told them. “We’ll lower this rope with the yellow beacon. Try to stay in sight of this at all times, yes?”

  The men all nodded, then one by one they adjusted their masks and went over the side.

  ————

  Sandor had to admit the scenery was spectacular. A swarm of colorful fish swam around the four divers as if they were a natural part of the environment, and the closer they came to the reef the more it had the look of a fascinating geometric sculpture. As they slowly descended Sandor felt the water becoming slightly colder, but his wetsuit kept him comfortable.

  They continued downward and Sandor kept an eye on his three companions as they constantly shifted their positions to maintain something resembling a circle around him. It was evident the Russians planned to keep him surrounded that way, just in case he tried to make a move up, down or sideways. Sandor concentrated on moderated breathing, maximizing the air in his tank for whatever was to come. When one of the men signaled, Sandor nodded his understanding, then hit the release valve on his vest and the four of them continued farther below the surface.

  Sandor knew his companions were in no rush. They wanted him down there as long and as deep as possible. Time moved slowly as they floated near the vibrant coral and among the larger denizens of the deeper water. Then somewhere below one hundred feet Sandor saw what he had been waiting for.

  When he was speaking with Nadia, Sandor noticed that only one of the four tanks bore a small blue appliqué. Whatever they had done to the tank, Sandor wanted no part of it. With his back blocking the equipment from the view of the three Russians, he had made a deft switch of the adhesive patch from the deadly tank to another. Then, when the captain killed the engines and one of the Russians passed him the tank bearing the marker, he knew he was safe. He was not certain which of the Russians drew the short straw when the other tanks were passed out, nor did he care.

  Now he saw the man off to his right suddenly clutch at his own throat and spit out his regulator, a dense cloud of oxygen bubbles releasing into the water.

  Instinctively, the other two swam as quickly as they could to his aid. Sandor, instead of using the moment to escape, also rushed forward. The others did not see that he had already unsheathed his scuba knife.

  As the two men tried to help their dying comrade, Sandor came up from behind and, in two swift cuts, slashed their air lines.

  It happened so fast, with their attention on their choking friend, they had no chance to counter Sandor’s attack. They were more than a hundred feet below the surface and now their own survival was in question. One of them reached for his own weapon, but it was too late. Sandor had already distanced himself, swimming furiously away, his own air supply intact.

  The dying man was convulsing and had begun inhaling seawater. The others ignored him as they attempted to draw air from their own severed lines. They scrambled to drop their weight belts and began the climb to the surface as Sandor continued to paddle away from the yellow beacon that marked the location of the dive boat above.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  ABOARD THE ODESSA IN SOUTH HARBOR, SHARM EL-SHEIKH, EGYPT

  JUST BEFORE THE group of young women boarded the launch for their shopping spree in town, they were told that Lilli had decided not to join them after all. Only the girl who had invited Lilli to Sharm el-Sheikh voiced any concern.

  “Should we wait for her?”

  “No, she’s decided to stay here until her new friend returns from his diving adventure,” Sudakov explained pleasantly.

  The young woman was obviously surprised. “But Lilli loves to shop.”

  Sudakov shrugged. “They seem to have bonded very quickly,” he answered with a knowing smile as he helped the girl onto the launch. He remained there to see all of the women off, then returned to Sandor’s room. Lilli had stayed behind, but it was not to await Sandor’s return. She was in the company of two armed guards.

  “Please leave us, gentlemen,” Sudakov ordered. They vacated the room and shut the door behind them.

  Lilli was seated on the bed. She had obviously been crying.

  Sudakov pulled up a chair to face her, not more than a couple of feet away. “What is the problem, my dear? You seem upset.”

  “Why didn’t you allow me to go into town with the other girls?”

  “And not wait here for the return of your friend Mr. Sandor?”

  She stared at him without speaking.

  “Let me be frank with you so you may be spared any unnecessary unpleasantness. You are going to tell me everything Mr. Sandor said to you since the moment you met him last night. You can do that willingly or you can do that, how shall I put it, under duress. That choice is yours.”

  “What he said to me?”

  Sudakov nodded. “And don’t waste time playing the fool. I want to know what he said about me or anything that relates to me.”

  For a moment, anger replaced fear. “He said you were dangerous.”

  “Ah, you see. And now you realize that to be true.”

  She glared at him.

  “What else did he say?”

  She studied his unblinking face for a moment. “That I should get off this yacht and not come back.”

  “Now why do you think he would have said such a thing? I mean, such a beautiful yacht. Such fine food and great wine. Why would he tell you to leave?”

  She drew a deep breath. “I told you already, he said you are a dangerous man.”

  “Yes, yes. You’ve said that. But dangerous how? I mean, what danger could I possibly be to a beautiful young woman like you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Without warning, Sudakov lashed out and smashed her across the face with his right fist. Lilli let out a shriek, grabbing for her jaw as he sat back again, appearing as if nothing had happened. “You see, that’s just the sort of thing I was talking about.” He sighed, then reached in his pocket and handed her a handkerchief to wipe the blood that was dripping from the corner of her mouth. “I promise you that I am not going to hit you again. Those men outside are much better at such methods. I also promise you that I will send them in here the next time you fail to answer one of my questions. Do you understand?”

  She wept quietly as she pressed the handkerchief to her face.

  “Do you understand?”

  She managed a nod.

  “Good. Now, what did Mr. Sandor say?”

  She drew back slightly, then said, “He wanted to find something on this boat.”

  “And what was he looking for.”

  She cringed even before speaking. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

  Sudakov stood and pushed back the chair. “Well, as I promised, my men are about to find out if that’s true. And if it is, I am sad to say that you will have outlived your usefulness here.”

  Then he turned and walked out of the room.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  ON THE RED SEA, OFF THE COAST OF THE SINAI PENINSULA

  SANDOR HAD NO way of knowing if Captain Sadiki was involved in the plan to murder him, but he was taking no chances. Using his underwater compass he continued to swim west as he slowly ascended, moving as far away as possible from his assailants. When he could make out the sunlight above him, he unhooked his straps and shrugged off the air tank. Then he swam straight up, breaking the surface of the water just enough to gasp for air and search for the only man he wanted to see out there.

  Without any sort of homing device it was going to be difficult for Farrar to locate him. Sandor had called his friend last night from the yacht, using Lilli’s cell, keeping the discussion casual, assuming it was being intercepted. He said he would be going for a dive in the morning and gave him the approximate time. Then he said, “I’ll see you for cocktails at sunset,” expecting Farrar to understand that meant his plan was to keep moving west once he had shaken free of his capto
rs. At the time he had no way of knowing what they had in store for him—a contaminated air tank, for instance—but he assumed they would be making a move against him and figured his best chance of breaking free would be out on the water. Farrar had told him yesterday morning that he knew which local skipper had been chartered to take passengers from the Odessa for a dive. All Farrar had to do was follow that boat from a safe distance and position himself west of it for a pickup.

  Easy as that, Sandor told himself as he caught his breath, treaded water, and tried to get his bearings. He marveled at how the sheer expanse of the sea can so quickly become disorienting. It is difficult to appreciate its overwhelming enormity until you are alone in its midst with your head barely above the surface. The slightest swell blocks your line of sight in virtually any direction and, even in bright daylight, a sense of helplessness can grow quickly.

  Fortunately, there were even more boats on the water than when Sandor began his dive, which helped as reference points since he was too far out to see the shore. He was not going to be able to find Farrar; Farrar would have to find him. He turned east, attempting to locate Sadiki’s dive boat, but with all the other vessels around even that was impossible. He decided his best chance was to continue west, away from the sun, and hope that Farrar spotted him on the move. At worst he could seek refuge in one of the other vessels out there.

  Without his weight belt and tank it was easy enough for him to swim through the calm water, his vest providing extra buoyancy. But the risk in movement was that he became more visible, not only to Farrar but to the men who would now be searching for him.

  Sandor hoped the two Russians were inexperienced enough to rush upward too quickly once he cut their air hoses. In a panic they might create their own decompression issues and the captain would have no choice but to speed them toward the Sharm el-Sheikh Hyperbaric Medical Center for immediate treatment.

  Sandor swam a hundred yards or so, but when he stopped to have another look around he thought he could make out a boat motoring toward him from the east. He knew that could mean trouble.