Topless Agenda

by Lyle Christie

  “Any thoughts on what we do with the tangos?” Billings asked.

  “Good question. Any idea, Agency guy?” I asked, Corn.

  “Throw them in their boat, and I’ll call in the Navy to pick them up.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Billings said.

  We rounded up all the terrorists, put them on their boat, then dropped their anchor and left them there to be picked up by the Navy. With that complete, Billings went up to the bridge, and we headed up to join the others in the main salon. Soon, the Sozo’s powerful engines throttled up, and we could feel a rumbling under our feet as we began our easterly journey through the Mediterranean.

  “Well, Babs, we got your sister safely back,” I said.

  “Yes, and I’d like to thank you and Flubber the unfriendly dolphin for all your help.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  “Yeah, and now we can finally get the fuck back to the United States,” Corn added.

  Just then, Billings’s voice came over the intercom.

  “Battle stations, people. We have two more boats closing in fast on our stern.”

  “Goddammit, Babs! Is there a terrorist anywhere in the Mediterranean basin you haven’t pissed off?”

  “Perhaps, you should be asking yourself that question.”

  He had a point.

  “Well, regardless of who pissed off whom, we better get ready to deal with these fuckers, and that means we’re going to need some bigger guns. Those of you wishing to play pin the bullet on the terrorist should follow me.”

  Lux, Corn, Babs, Kip, and I ran to my cabin to grab assault rifles then headed out onto the stern to assess the situation. Unfortunately, it was just as Billings said, and there were two boats closing in fast, with the nearest one only fifty feet off our stern. We took up firing positions, and I let loose a three round burst at the closer vessel, causing it to veer slightly to port, but then it throttled up and came on even faster.

  “I don’t think that helped,” Corn said.

  I ignored Flubber and fired another burst at the pilothouse, only this time they cut across our stern, swerving to starboard before putting on another burst of speed and edging up alongside us. I ran over to the rail and watched as three men jumped across to the Sozo’s lower boat deck. Shit! In our haste, we had forgotten to close the side door, and now we had more pirates in our midst.

  I asked Lux, Babs, and Kip to stay up on the main deck and keep firing at the boats while Corn and I headed down to the lower deck to do a little pest control. Terrorists were a lot like roaches, and if you saw one or two, then there were likely a lot more, which meant we needed to do some serious exterminating. I threw my M4 over my shoulder and pulled out my pistol. In close quarters combat, it was always favorable to have a short weapon because you could bring it to bear on your target more quickly than a long gun. We arrived at the aft stairs and moved quietly downward with our weapons at the ready, and I could already hear talking coming from below. It sounded like Arabic, but I liked to think of it as roach-speak since they were technically still pests at this point. I nodded to Corn, and we moved to the doorway to recon the boat deck. There were three guys, and one of them was holding a device that I was about a hundred percent certain was a bomb. Wonderful. We needed to act quickly, so I nodded at Corn, and we moved out onto the deck.

  “Freeze, goatfuckers!” I yelled.

  The guy with the bomb reached for the timer, but I popped two quick shots into his brain to make sure he didn’t live long enough to hit the arm button. His friend tried to shoot back, but Corn was faster and dropped him with a couple of well placed shots. Apparently, the farm boy could still shoot like a PJ. The third guy managed to fire off a few rounds, but his aim was wild and high, allowing me to put two in his chest. Before I could put the third in his head, he stumbled backwards and fell off the side of the Sozo, hopefully providing the local sharks with a lovely middle eastern dinner. We moved in and got a closer look at the bomb and saw that it was a fairly sophisticated device with an electronic timer and about four pounds of C4 plastic explosive. It wasn’t exactly your typical third world IED, and instead showed that these fuckers were well-prepared and had more than enough explosives to destroy the Sozo.

  “Golly—where do you think they got this stuff?” I asked, Corn.

  “Gee, I don’t know. Perhaps Babs?”

  “Yep, so don’t let me forget to thank that fucker.”

  Suddenly shots started ringing out, and we looked back to see that the boat that had just dropped off the tangos was only a hundred feet off our stern, and a man was firing at us with a large caliber machine gun mounted on its bow. Corn and I dove for cover just as bullets whizzed over our heads and imbedded into the far wall.

  “Jesus Christ! That’s a fucking fifty caliber!” Corn yelled.

  “No shit, and it’ll rip the Sozo apart if we don’t take it out pronto!”

  I fast crawled over to the cabinets on the other side of the room and pulled out a large orange life vest and secured it to the bomb before setting the timer for six seconds. Finished, I crawled back over and joined Corn.

  “Do you really think that will work?” Corn asked.

  “Have you ever gone fishing with dynamite?”

  “No, but I’ve seen it in the movies.”

  “Well, it works the same way in real life.”

  I suddenly felt as though I were ten years old and standing in my back yard with a handful of firecrackers. There was nothing more fun than blowing shit up, and now my back yard was the Mediterranean, and the shit I was going to blow up would be a boatload of fanatical terrorists and their fucking fifty caliber machine gun. They were a lot bigger and more dangerous than anything in my back yard, but they would blow up nonetheless. I timed when the boat would cross our stern, hit the arm button, then threw out my improvised surface warfare device. It landed a few yards off our stern and bounced around in the violent frothing wake of the Sozo.

  “It’s not going to work. The sea water will short it out,” Corn said.

  “Don’t be a pessimist.”

  “OK, then I’ll bet you ten bucks it doesn’t go off.”

  “Fine,” I said, as I reached out to shake.

  Just before we touched hands, the bomb blew up, pulverizing the terrorist’s lead boat and sending a massive fountain of water up into the air—a large portion of which rained down over the stern of the Sozo, soaking everything, including us, in a great deluge of sea water.

  “Sweet fucking Jesus! You could have killed us!” Corn said, wiping the water from his face.

  “Don’t be such a pussy. It wasn’t that close, and the important thing now is that you owe me ten bucks.”

  “Fuck you and your ten bucks. We never shook hands.”

  “Some gentleman you are.”

  I went to the wall panel and closed the door to the boat deck, then Corn and I headed back upstairs to find Lux, Babs, and Kip were all soaking wet and looking a little irritated.

  “You assholes could have at least warned us,” Lux said.

  At that moment, Billings, sounding a bit harried, came over the radio.

  “What the hell was that?” he asked.

  “Just doing a little fishing,” I responded.

  “Well, you might want to do us all a favor and use a fucking rod next time.”

  The four of us had a little laugh at Billings’s comment, but it was brought to an abrupt end when the radio crackled, and he delivered some bad news.

  “Um, I’m sorry to tell you all this, but there’s a guy with a missile launcher standing on the bow of the second boat. Any chance you have more of that special fishing equipment?” he asked.

  “Sadly, no.”

  “Well, then we better come up with a plan really quickly,” he said.

  “Wonderful. Are you happy now, Babs? This is what happens when you sell bad guys missile launchers.”

  “Fuck you. They didn’t get it from me.”

  “Then, they got it from some
one like you,” Corn said.

  “That doesn’t really matter right now. What does matter is that we’re all thoroughly fucked if they shoot that thing,” Babs said.

  “I have my sniper rifle in my room. Maybe I can get a lucky shot.”

  Billings came back over the radio.

  “The asshole looks as though he’s going to launch that missile any second.”

  I did the only thing I could think of and started firing at the boat with my M4. It had enough range to reach them, but I was still shooting across a dark ocean at a moving target.

  “Hey, you assholes! Fire at them!” I yelled to Corn, Lux, Babs, and Kip.

  The four of them raised their rifles and joined in, and, no sooner had I slid in a fresh clip and fired another burst, that the fishing boat exploded in a great orange fireball. All of us looked at each other, awestruck, our faces aglow in the intense light of the explosion.

  “Holy shit! What the hell kind of load do you have in these rifles?” Corn asked.

  “Just normal rounds. Maybe we hit the fuel tank.”

  We all started cheering, but paused when we heard a helicopter coming up from behind the boat. It turned on a spot light, illuminating the four of us, then flew closer until it was hovering just above the aft deck. It was a military model, painted all black, and now I understood that it hadn’t been a lucky shot that took out the boat, but was most likely a missile from the helicopter. A door opened on its right side and a line dropped down just five feet from where we all stood. A moment later an armed assault team fully decked out in black fatigues and balaclavas slid down the rope and formed up on the deck.

  “Fuck yeah, Corn! I didn’t know you called in a SEAL team!”

  “I didn’t,” he said, a little nervously.

  “Well, then who the hell are they?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Sweet fucking days that just won’t end.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  New Places, Familiar Faces

  THE ROPE WAS pulled back into the helicopter then it banked to the north and disappeared into the night sky. The assault team, meanwhile, formed up around us, weapons drawn and pointed in our general direction. The lead guy told us in clear unaccented English to, very slowly and very carefully, put down our weapons. We all looked at each other then very slowly and very carefully put down our weapons. Our new arrivals were well armed and outnumbered us two to one, so it wasn’t exactly rocket science to figure out that it wasn’t the time to try and be a hero. As we quietly waited for our next instructions, the two people in front took off their balaclavas and smiled, bringing about yet another unexpected surprise.

  “Corn, these are the two fucking Fuchs I told you about. Say hello to Shooter McGavin and Tits McGee.”

  “Tits McGee indeed. You were right—she’s definitely a C-cup,” Corn said, only to be unexpectedly elbowed in the stomach by Lux.

  “Yeah, I have an eye for details,” I responded.

  “Speaking of my details, might I compliment you on your well-executed slight of hand back at the restaurant. I never even saw you grab our key fob.”

  “It’s all about distraction, and your lovely lady parts provided more than enough for everyone involved.”

  “Which is why I’m wearing these dark fatigues this time,” she said, with a smile.

  “Yeah, and, honestly, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’m not a little bit disappointed, but, now that we’re finally all together again, I suppose we might as well get properly introduced. The name’s Finn, Tag Finn, and you two are?”

  “Not important at the moment, but, for now, you can call us Dick and Jane,” the man said.

  “So, what is important at the moment, Jane and—Dick?” the emphasis falling on the last word.

  He looked at Jane, and they shared a knowing smile before she turned back to us and continued the conversation.

  “That we get this yacht and, more specifically, you and Babineux to Majorca by noon tomorrow.”

  “Why Majorca?” Corn asked, the irritation obvious in his voice.

  “Disco dancing and sangria, obviously,” I said.

  “Not exactly, though I can say it’s very important. Unfortunately, we can’t offer any more details just yet,” Jane said.

  “So, what the hell are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Lux asked.

  “You’re on a luxury yacht in the Mediterranean, so feel free to relax and enjoy the ride.”

  “Feel free, eh? Somehow, having a couple of mysterious assassin-types and a team of mercenaries takes all the enjoyment out of that scenario,” I said.

  “We’re not to here to hold you prisoner. We’re here to make sure you and Babineux arrive safely in Mallorca, so, as I said, just relax and enjoy the ride,” Jane said.

  Corn had heard just about enough and got in Jane and Dick’s face.

  “I don’t know why you and the fucking Fuchs Corporation are interested in all this, but I’m telling you right now that you are in more trouble than you could possibly know. I’m the Deputy Director of the CIA, and it is imperative that I get Babineux back to the United States.”

  “I understand, Mr. Wallace, and we know exactly who you are and why Mr. Babineux is so important. So, let me assure you that he will be doing exactly as you wish once we have completed our brief stop,” she said, in a soothing tone.

  “The stop that no one is willing to discuss,” I added.

  “Correct,” Dick said.

  We all stood around unsure what to say or do, so it would appear the discussion was apparently over. Dick nodded at the leader of the strike team, and the men gathered up our weapons and spread out around the ship, leaving only him and Jane with us.

  “So, we’re to believe that you two are nothing more than baby sitters?” I asked.

  “Yes, and clearly, if we wanted you dead, we wouldn’t still be here talking,” Jane said.

  She had a point.

  “Well then, Jane, as I don’t have a tray full of glasses of ice water, do you want to join me for a dip in the swimming pool?”

  She smiled.

  “Sorry, but I didn’t bring a bikini.”

  “We’re close enough to Europe that you won’t need one.”

  “Perhaps another time. I’m afraid skinny dipping is against our rules of engagement.”

  “Well then, I guess our rules are just a little better than yours.”

  She shrugged at Dick before bringing her gaze back to me.

  “I would have to agree,” she said.

  We all headed back into the main salon, and I went behind the bar and made a pitcher of Dark and Stormies. As long as we were being held captive I figured we might as well make the best of it.

  “OK, who wants a drink?”

  Everyone walked over to the bar and grabbed a cocktail and proceeded to drown their anxiety with the delicious mix of ginger beer, rum, and lime. Letizia, who was sitting beside Babs at the bar, appeared to be particularly thirsty as she quietly sipped her drink. She was obviously still in a bit of shock, which made sense. She’d been through a hell of an ordeal over the last twenty-four hours, and it might be weeks, months, or even years before the effects of it all started to diminish. It wasn’t fun being a hostage, and now we were all kind of hostages together, though our captors were being pretty civilized thus far. Jane, apparently wanting to put us more at ease, took a seat at the bar and asked for a cocktail, and, in the interest of keeping things cordial, I filled her a glass and handed it over. I clinked my drink to hers, and she took a sip and smiled.

  “Wow, that’s really good,” she said.

  “You can thank Babs. It’s his rum.”

  “Well, thank you, Babs, its delicious,” she said.

  “Lovely. Now you’ve even got the fucking Fuchs calling me Babs.”

  Jane laughed.

  “See how nice this is? If you and Dick would have come clean a lot sooner, you could have joined the fun instead of watching it all from behind a sniper scope.”


  “Once again, I would have to agree, Finn,” she said.

  “Well, now that we’re all supposedly friends and sharing a cocktail, is there any chance you could tell us your connection to the Fuchs Corporation, and why you’re here?” I asked.

  “All in good time,” Jane said.

  We spent the next part of the evening enjoying our drinks and hanging out in the main salon, but, as the chill of evening came on, Kip came in and turned on the gas fireplace. The warmth of the flames soon drew everyone into the main part of the lounge, and Letizia and I snuggled together on one of the couches.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Surprisingly good—considering.”

  “That’s good. I imagine it must have been pretty terrifying.”

  “It was, but, somehow, I knew you would come for me.”

  “And I’ll keep coming for you as many times as you like,” I said.

  “Oh God. I’m right here,” Babs said, plaintively.

  Being back with Letizia made me feel a bit warm and fuzzy, and I thought that I might just have a new role in life as the patron saint of beleaguered women. I could be the human manifestation of chocolate, salt, and alcohol—a penultimate comfort in the wilderness of love, relationships, heartache, and, worse case scenario, kidnapping. As I sat there ruminating, I took a moment to look around the room at my peers, and my gaze soon fell upon Lux and Corn. They were sitting side by side, and Corn was using his left hand to gently rub her neck while he used his right to hold the chicken leg that he was gnawing on with the tenacity of a man-sized chubby Dachshund. They were quite an unusual couple, and, perhaps, one that I might never completely understand or accept. Oh well, it was probably time to grow up and let that wound heal, so I shifted my gaze over to Babs and Bridgette, who were sitting on their own couch. He appeared to be deep in thought as he stared into his glass, but he abruptly turned his gaze our way and smiled, apparently having had some kind of revelation.

  “Letizia, I hate to admit it, but you look happier than I have seen you in years—which is a lot considering what you have been through. So, I have decided to apologize to you and Finn for acting like such an overbearing dickhead back in Sicily.”