A Deeper Blue

Chapter Ten

Mike pulled the Cigarette up to the landing platform and backed as he came alongside, reversing the starboard engine to bring the rear of the boat around.

The line handlers were much better trained than the Keldara, he had to admit. They scrambled aboard, picking up the mooring lines before any of Mike’s party could do more than stand up, and had the boat secured in an instant. However, they didn’t look Colombian. Indonesians at a guess.

Mike climbed out of the boat, showing his invitation to a big guy wearing an earbud.

“Mike Jenkins,” the Kildar said. “Pleased to meetcha. Nice boat.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said, nodding and gesturing to the ladder up to the yacht. “Welcome aboard the White Line.”

“Am I supposed to salute?” Mike asked, as he walked up the stairway.

The rear deck of the yacht was about packed with people already. Another man, much smaller and dressed in a white blazer, held his hand out for Mike’s invitation, read it briefly, then nodded.

“Michael Jenkins and associates,” the man boomed. He had a much more resonant voice than his appearance suggested. “Mountain Tiger Breweries.”

“And bearing gifts,” Mike said, gesturing to the crate that Shota was carrying. “The good stuff.”

The man waggled a finger at one of the waiters and the crate was hurriedly shuffled off to the bar.

“Mr. Jenkins,” Juan Gonzales said, walking over with his hand out. “A real pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Señor,” Mike said, shaking his hand affably. “And if I could introduce my friends?”

“And lovely friends they are,” Gonzales said, nodding.

“Britney Harder, Anastasia Rakovich, Greznya Mahona, Señor Juan Gonzales,” Mike said. “Juan, meet Bambi, Anna and Grez.”

“Please make yourselves at home,” Gonzales said, shaking hands. “My boat is your boat. Mr. Jenkins, there are some people that I think you must meet.”

“Glad to,” Mike said, grabbing Lieutenant Harder’s hand. “I think Bambi wants to meet them, too.”

“Of course,” the lieutenant said, smiling.

“Britney Harder,” Suarez said, shaking his head. “Second Lieutenant, SOCOM G-2, South America section. She’s one of their people for tracking people like, well, us.”

“Unsure of herself but combat trained,” Ritter said, nodding. “Look at the walk.”

“I can see,” Enrico said. “Anastasia Rakovich. Former harem girl of an Uzbek sheik. Jenkins’ domestic manager. The other girl, the two guys, I got nothing on them.”

“You don’t need it for the guys,” Ritter said, pointing to the monitor. “One of them was either in a bad wreck recently or, more likely, serious combat. Look at that prosthetic. But he doesn’t seem slowed down by it. The other one… pure muscle.”

“He’s big enough, that’s for sure,” Suarez said. “The girl I’ve got nothing on, either.”

“Have you penetrated their system?” Ritter asked.

“Not even close,” the Mexican admitted. “Their encryption is a stone bitch, they’ve got firewalls from hell, some of them ones I’ve never seen before as if they’re something custom made just for them. And they’re paranoid; I’ve tried, twice, to do a serious attack and both times they nearly tracked me back even though I went through multiple systems. Hell, they tracked me through satellites. And about half of the boat’s screened against electronic penetration. Unless we get somebody on the inside, forget it. I don’t even know, for sure, what they’ve got in there. But the traffic level, both directions, is massive. And they’ve been running stuff through distributed servers a lot. I’ve gotten the data but without the encryption scheme it’s just ones and zeros. Mostly zeroes.”

“Mr. Michael Jenkins,” Gonzales said, walking over to a man in Bahamas Constabulary uniform, “Colonel Horatio Montcrief, regional constabulary commander.”

“Colonel,” Mike said, shaking the man’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again!”

“And you, Mr. Jenkins,” the colonel said, grinning. “The last time was… in Andros wasn’t it?”

“Bimini,” Mike said, shaking his head. “The blonde and the redhead.”

“Ah, yes, them,” the colonel said. “Whatever happened to them?”

“Back at school I presume,” Mike said, shrugging. “How is Deirdre?”

“Just fine, Mike,” the colonel said. “Just fine. I understand you have minions, now.”

“Friends,” Mike said, shrugging. “Associates. Buddies. I could hardly call them minions. And if I could introduce Miss Harder?”

Britney’s eyes were wide as she shook the constable’s hand. For all the reports she’d read, the sight of a senior member of the constabulary sharing a friendly drink with a noted drug dealer was hard to take.

“Call me—”

“Bambi,” Mike interjected. “She likes that.”

“Bambi,” she said, shooting Mike a glare.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Harder,” the colonel said, grinning again.

“Sir,” a waiter said, holding out a tray of champagne glasses.

“Dom Perignon ’96,” Gonzales said.

“Nah,” Mike said, waving at the tray. “But could you get me some of the Mountain Tiger? Dom you can pick up in any liquor store by the case. I brought the pure quill, Mother Mahona’s brew. That you can only get from the Kildar!”

The waiter shot a glance at Gonzales, then scurried away with his tray at the expression on his boss’s face.

“Nice boat,” Mike said, looking around. “Bit smaller than mine, though, I think.”

“Ah, but mine is owned, not rented,” Gonzales pointed out.

“Point,” Mike said, shrugging. “But, hey, I hardly get a chance to get down here anymore. I just brought the harem down for a vacation. Georgia’s cold as a witch’s tit in the winter.”

The waiter had returned with four pilsner glasses filled with a rich brown beer.

“Ah,” Mike said, picking one up and taking a sip. “Nectar of the Gods.”

Gonzales picked up one of the beers, a frozen expression on his face, and took a sip. His face cleared instantly as he pulled the glass back to look at it.

“I take it back, Mr. Jenkins,” Juan said, nodding. “I confess to having your Mountain Tiger beer one time and finding it… good. This is…”

“Amazing,” Mike said. “And that’s just Mother Mahona’s. The boys have been trying the stuff we ship out for export and laughing their ass off. No comparison.”

“This is very good,” Colonel Montcrief said. “But I think… Did you say ‘harem?’ ”

“Do not all rich men have a harem?” Juan asked, waving at the girls that were scattered through the crowd.

“Absolutely,” Mike said, raising his glass. “But I’m a traditionalist. It started off as a bit of a joke, tell the truth. Some Chechen pimps thought they’d snatch a daughter of one of my… associates. Well, I mean, what would that have done for my reputation? So I had to explain to them that that was unwarranted. When we’d cleaned up the blood, I had seven teenaged virgins on my hands that were no deposit, no return. A harem seemed like the natural thing to do at that point.”

“Of course,” Colonel Montcrief said, taking a sip of his beer. “I take it that the young ladies here in the Bahamas are…”

“My official wards by the grace of the Georgian government,” Mike said. “Poor orphans that I took in out of the goodness of my own heart and feed and clothe by my own expense. I’ve got the paperwork if you’d care to see it?”

“Not at all,” Montcrief said, smiling.

“The poor homeless waifs,” Mike said, shaking his head and wiping a mustache of foam off his lip. “What could I do but take them in and… train them.”

“Of course,” Gonzales said, trying not to snarl.

“So I make the best beer in the world,” Mike said. “What pays for your yacht, Juan?”

“Oh, buying and selling,” Gonzales said. “A bit of manufacture.”

“Mr. Gonzales is a drug dealer,” Colonel Montcrief said, taking a sip of his beer. “And a very good one. Good enough that neither the government of the Bahamas nor the U.S. government have ever found enough information to prosecute.”

“A base canard, I’m sure,” Mike said, shaking his head. “You thought much the same of me once, Colonel, and I assured you you were wrong. I refuse to believe such of Mr. Gonzales. He’s far too much the gentleman to be involved in anything like that.”

“Well, I understand you do a bit more than make beer, Mr. Jenkins,” Gonzales said, showing a bit of teeth. “Something about Amnesty International petitioning the International Criminal Court? Killing wounded or some such. A… base canard I’m also sure.”

“Oh, hardly,” Mike said. “Actually, I don’t think most of them were actually dead when we buried them.”

“So the ICC will be bringing charges,” Gonzales said, shaking his head. “I am so sorry.”

“Oh, hardly,” Mike repeated. “No, no, rest assured on that stake. The ICC was presented the information and refused to even view the evidence.”

“Why?” Montcrief asked, honestly curious.

“Probably something about the governments of Russia, China, Japan, Germany, England, France… Oh, it’s a long list, telling them to mind their own business,” Mike said, smiling thinly. “The ICC can only exist with international support. When they considered touching me they were disabused of their… notion of power.”

“Why?” Montcrief asked.

“Well, they all like my beer, don’t they,” Mike said, taking another sip.

“So you consider yourself untouchable?” Gonzales said, his jaw working.

“Oh, no, I’ve frequently been touched,” Mike said, pulling Bambi into his side. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

“Oh, yes,” Bambi said, giggling. “He gets touched all the time. Why, I once saw him touched by over a dozen—”

“That’s enough, dear,” Mike said, slapping her on the ass. “Why don’t you go see if there’s a dance floor?”

“Okay,” Bambi said, giggling again. “I just love dancing!”

“I, too, have guests I must attend to,” Juan said, setting down his half finished glass of beer. “If you’ll excuse me?”

“Absolutely, Mein Host,” Mike said, picking up the glass and topping off his own. “You go.”

“That’s a very dangerous enemy you just made,” Montcrief said.

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Colonel,” Mike said. “By the way, your wife’s name is Deirdre, right?”

“Yes.”

“This is a very nice party,” Anastasia said as she and Greznya approached the dance floor. Most of the dancers were women and most of those in their early twenties. Most of them had come with the men who were doing business of one sort or another on the rear deck; there were enough trophy brides on the dance floor to host their very own convention. “I used to love to go to the club in Samarkand.”

“I’ve never done this sort of dancing,” Greznya admitted. The two were speaking Keldara, which was close to Georgian but had not only a very different accent but various loan words that weren’t in any database Greznya was aware of. Even if anyone was monitoring over the industrial “club” music, hard to do, it was unlikely they could do a full translation.

“WOOO-HOO!” one of the girls hooted, stumbling out of the crowd. She was obviously drunk off her ass already. Pretty with heavy makeup, she was close to the spitting image of Britney Spears. The large and impossible to cover bruise on her cheek, however, was off-putting. “This is a GREAT party!”

The girl had a bottle of tequila in her hand and handed it to Anastasia.

“I’m Alicia!” she said, happily. “Who’re you?”

“Anna,” Anastasia said, looking at the bottle in her hand blankly.

“You’ve got a funny accent,” the girl said. “Russian?”

“Georgian,” Greznya said.

“Nah, I heard a Georgia accent before,” the girl said in a thick southern drawl. “Ain’t like yer’s a t’all!”

“Oh, Father of All,” Julia muttered. “What is that girl playing at?”

“What?” Olga asked, coming over to look at the monitor. As always, it was jerking around as Katya’s eyes moved, but they settled for a moment on Anastasia’s face and then Greznya’s. “Oh, that is bold.”

“Katya,” Julia said, tapping the transmitter. “We know you’re there. But thanks.”

“Drink up, girl,” Katya said, gesturing at the bottle. “This ain’t yer Russian vodka. That there’s te-queee-la! That’s a pahty drink!”

Greznya took the bottle from Anastasia’s unresisting hand and took a swig. She felt a capsule drop into her mouth and tongued it over to the side, drinking as little of the raw spirits as she could.

“Wooo,” she said, having a hard time with the hoot while holding the capsule in her cheek.

“Come on!” Katya said, taking the bottle back and taking a swig. “Let’s party!”

“What just happened?” Julia asked. The monitor had flickered so fast she hadn’t been able to follow it.

Olga hit the replay and backed up, going frame by frame.

“There,” she said. There was a very brief flash of something sliding down the neck of the bottle. Katya had been watching it, too.

“God, I hope their people didn’t catch that,” Julia said.

“Be hard,” Olga replied. “They’re watching a lot of people.”

“Two of the females with Jenkins have hooked up with Alicia,” Suarez said when Ritter walked back in the room.

“Can you filter for conversation?” Ritter asked.

“With Alicia?” Enrico said, chuckling. “It’s mostly ‘WOO-HOO’ or ‘PAR-TEE.’ But, yeah, and I listened in. She’s just learned that there’s a country called Georgia as well as a state and isn’t assimilating it well. That girl is just about dumb as dog shit.”

“No pleas to be rescued?” Ritter asked. “How about transfers?”

“She doesn’t have any pockets,” the computer guy said, backing up the recordings and starting at the beginning. “The only thing that’s been transferred is a bottle of tequila which is rapidly disappearing.”

Ritter replayed the video and watched the American girl’s hands. She hadn’t touched anything but skin on the two girls. Nowhere near their clothes. Although she… He backed up and watched her interaction then grunted.

“What?” Suarez asked. “What did I miss?”

“That that little bitch is bi,” Ritter said. “She’s making moves on the blonde, Rakovich.”

“I think this might make video of the week,” Enrico said, leaning forward.

Anna was enjoying the dancing but not the company. The American girl was extremely loud and kept touching her.

Anastasia had played with her friends in the harem. Otryad was as regular as clockwork about his sex with the girls and, frankly, lousy. You had the choice of your own fingers or others’ and she had even enjoyed it. But she was not naturally bisexual; she liked men, preferably men holding a whip.

The American girl, though, was clearly bi. And she’d settled on Anastasia as a play partner.

Anastasia had, also, virtually no experience with anyone trying to pick her up. She knew that was what was going on and wasn’t sure how you said “No.” Saying “No” wasn’t anywhere in her training.

As the dance number stopped the drunken girl let out another hoot and grabbed her, sliding her hand onto her breast.

“You are so hot!” Alicia said, pulling her head down. “Gimme a kiss!”

“Please,” Anastasia said, jerking back. “I don’t… I’m not…”

“Oh, quit lying,” Greznya snapped. “You know you are, you’re just shy,” she added, grabbing Katya. “I’m not, though. Forget the blonde, how about a redhead.”

“Oh, yeah!” Alicia said, sliding into her arms.

The group let out a loud holler as the two women started kissing on the dance floor.

Naturally, quite a few of the men drifted over as the two started a hard make-out session, writhing with the new music.

“What’s going on?” Mike asked as one of the men came back, shaking his head and grinning.

“Couple of girls going at it on the dance floor,” the guy said. “And I mean ‘get a room’ going at it.”

“This I gotta see,” Mike said, walking over.

The crowd at the door was thick so he eventually just hopped up on a chair. Several of the men had.

When he saw what was going on, though, his mind froze. Anastasia was standing in the middle of the dance floor, hands on hips and looking more pissed than he’d ever seen her while Greznya was… Jesus was she making out with some chick that was a total blank to him.

Greznya. Making out. In public. With a woman. He got a hard-on just thinking about it, much less watching. They weren’t just kissing, either, their hands were all over each other. And they’d started a cascade, a bunch of the girls, probably because nobody was watching them, had started doing the same thing.

As Mike watched, frozen, Britney strode across the floor, pushing dancers and other couples out of her way and walked up to Greznya, yanking her back.

Britney wasn’t sure what was going on but she knew that it was something. Greznya simply wasn’t the type to make out in public. Which meant she was doing something in regards to the mission.

And the toughest moment is always when you’re trying to egress Injun country.

But she had an answer to that, too.

She walked over and yanked Greznya off the other girl then slapped her, hard. She didn’t know if Greznya could fake taking a blow and wasn’t going to try under the circumstances.

“You bitch!” she screamed. “You two-timing bitch!”

Greznya had nearly lost the message capsule but managed to catch it at the last moment. She ducked down, her face working and trying to summon up tears. They didn’t come naturally to the Keldara.

“I’m sorry, Bambi…” she sniffled. “I’m sorry…”

“How dare you!” Katya screamed, grabbing the blonde by the hair. She’d seen her come in with the Kildar but didn’t recognize her. From the accent she was a real American, probably the liaison officer. “Just because you can’t keep her satisfied…”

If the make-out session had had everyone riveted, the two swearing women, tearing at each other’s clothes and hair, had them cheering.

Mike jumped down off his chair and forced his way through the crowd, making it to the two before the bouncers. Shota was right behind him. Quite a few people trying to get a better look bounced off unnoticed.

“God damn it!” he bellowed, grabbing the by now half-naked Britney and pulling her away from the girl. She had the other girl by her long blonde hair but he managed to pry her fingers off, simultaneously shoving the stranger away. “Bambi I am going to tan your hide! I swear I can’t take you girls anywhere!”

“Oh, get your fucking hands off of me!” Britney swore, lunging at Katya. “I’m gonna tear that bleached hair out of your head, slut!”

“That’s enough,” Mike shouted, pushing her towards Shota, who got a grip on her upper arm that the lieutenant wasn’t going to break in her wildest dreams. “Anna, Grez, come!”

“I’m very sorry about this,” Mike said, as he passed Gonzales on the way to the door. “The girls were just having too much fun and it went to their heads. I apologize.”

“Not a problem,” Gonzales said, grinning. “It will be the talk of the harbor for at least a week.”

The security had spotted that they were exiting and Mike’s Cigarette was alongside before they’d made it to the ladder, Mike dragging Greznya and Anastasia by their upper arms.

“I am so going to tan your hides,” Mike said. “And Anastasia! I’m surprised you let this happen!”

“I’m sorry, Kildar,” Anastasia said, practically sobbing. “I don’t know what happened…”

“We are going to have a serious spanking session when we get back, that I can assure you,” Mike said, shoving the two girls into the boat. “One that you are not going to enjoy.”

“Are you sure?” Ritter said, looking at the video. “Nothing was passed?”

“Not a thing,” Suarez said, standing up, a flash stick in his hand. “Trust me. I reran that clip a dozen times. Maybe more. Zoomed in all over it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to my quarters…”

Mike jerked the two still-pouting girls out of the boat and dragged them up the stairs, Shota still dragging Britney and Oleg stumping along behind. He took them downstairs but instead of turning towards his bedroom, took them down to the intel shack. As soon as Oleg followed and shut the door, Britney dropped into a chair and started laughing so hard she choked.

“I don’t know exactly what just went on,” she said through the tears, “but I’m pretty sure it was a drop. Right?”

“Yeah,” Greznya said, pulling the capsule out of her mouth. “Father of All, Lieutenant, you were wonderful.”

“That was Katya,” Mike said, chuckling. “Damn. Even I didn’t recognize her.”

“We were dying over here,” Olga said. “When the lieutenant called Greznya a two-timing bitch… Oh, All Father.” She started laughing again, helplessly.

“How’d you recognize her?” Mike asked.

“I knew Katya was there and couldn’t leave the boat,” Greznya said, shrugging. “When an American girl came over and started woo-hooing I knew it had to be her. So I had a drink of tequila. She’d put a message capsule in it. I think she offered it to Anastasia first, knowing that Stasia would be too… refined to drink from the neck of the bottle.”

“And making out?” Mike asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She was trying to start a fight,” Greznya said, shrugging. “If Stasia had been more prepared for this sort of thing, she probably would have started the fight. As it was, the lieutenant did nicely.”

“Yeah,” Britney said. “But, damn, that girl can hit.”

“She can do more than that,” Mike said. “Be glad you’re alive. What did we get?”

Julia had opened the capsule and extracted the note.

“Set of signals and pick up and drop points,” she said. “Probably for Jay.”

“So we can signal Jay that Katya can’t get off the boat,” Mike said, nodding. “Hopefully he’s developed some data.” He considered the situation, then nodded again.

“We’re moving,” Mike said. “Up towards the new base. Time to off-load some of the troops and get the base set up. Julia, you and… Lilia hang back. With a team of security. Take a hotel room and do a drop. Does anybody know if Jay has our codes?”

“We’ve got codes for him,” Greznya said, rubbing her cheek. “By the way, Lieutenant, Katya’s not the only one who can hit.”

“Sorry about that,” Britney said, grinning.

“Okay, make up a micro of everything Jay needs to know to date,” Mike said. “Do the drop tomorrow. Take some gear with you but you’re not going to be secure; Gonzales is definitely onto us. But do the drop and wait for a pickup. We’ll be back in two days.”