Kill on Command (50 page)

XVII

Nice Night F
or a Swim

Daytona Beach - Atlantic Ocean – Early Morning Hours  - Wednesday

The Mercedes was gone.  Sean found Sergei busy on the deck of a 60-foot fishing boat called the
Crazy Mary
.  Sean thought of the Pearl Jam show he caught at the Igloo a couple of years before it closed.  He remembered that it was a great show.  He had forgotten about the girl he went with, however.  He climbed aboard and placed the waters on a bench near the stern. 

“You know how to operate this?” he asked Sergei, knowing the answer.

“Yes.” It was not a “yes” I think I can do this.  It was a “yes” I won the America’s Cup last year, “yes.”

“Pavel not coming along?”  Sean asked, as he sat down in a captain’s chair that was bolted to the deck.

“He has other matters to attend to.”  Sergei climbed to the upper deck and started the engines.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Cast off.”  Sergei pointed at two ropes at the stern. 

Sean untied the boat and tossed the ropes on the dock.  Sergei gave the engines a little juice and eased out of the slip.  He kept the boat at idle through the small marina.  Sean climbed up the ladder and stood next to Sergei.  Outside of the marina, Sergei opened up the engines a bit.  They were in the intercoastal for only a few minutes and then moved into the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, headed north.  The wind really picked up and it was beginning to rain.  The sun was setting and the clouds hung low over the water. Sergei was less than one hour from the marina when he killed the engines.  They were 900 meters from the shoreline.   Sergei hit a button that dropped the anchor. 

“Is it going to reach the bottom?”  Sean asked.  He really knew next to nothing about the water, or boats.

“Yes.”  There really was no arguing with Sergei when he answered like that.  It was black and white.  Yes or no.  No maybes.  In his line of work “maybe” did not factor in.  Sean was starting to get it. 

Sergei took a set of binoculars off the chair to his left and scanned the shoreline.  There were a dozen or more tall condos along the beach and then nearly a mile of dunes with smaller houses behind them.  Sergei did not move for several minutes.  He finally spoke. 

“Price’s house is the fourth from the right of the yellow condo.”  He handed the binoculars to Sean.  Sean held the high-powered binoculars up to his eyes - these were not the binoculars you picked up at Wal-Mart.  Price’s house was nice.  He had clearly poured money into it.  Sean thought it was a Cape Cod, but he was no architect.   Too nice for a government salary, but then again, people sometimes marry well.   He could clearly see men in the yard and on the roof.

“There are six men on the property, plus Price.”

“I only see five,” Sean said, surveying the property.  It was getting dark and the low light was not helping.

“Number six is inside,” Sergei corrected as he pulled a second device out of a bag.  It looked like a scope.

“What’s that?”

“Thermal scope.  Follow me.”  It was getting darker by the minute.  The rain and wind were also picking up.  The boat bobbed up and down in the water.  Sean followed Sergei down to the cabin.  The cabin had two bedrooms off of the main room.  The main room was mostly white with wood trim.  There was a galley off to the side.  The cabin smelled of salt water and fish.  Not unpleasant, if you were a fisherman.  Inside, Sergei had already laid out the gear for the night.  There was not much.  Four guns.  Two knives.  Two pairs of fins, two pairs of gloves, two masks and two waterproof bags.  Sean sat down at a table that was bolted to the floor.  Sergei slid into the other side and looked at his watch.  They had several hours until they deployed.

“Thanks to the late Robert Waters, we have a pretty good idea of the layout of Price’s house.  His bedroom is on the second floor - the one you saw with the balcony, facing the ocean.”

“OK.”

Sergei pulled a syringe out of his pocket.

“We stick him with this.”  He placed it on the table in front of Sean.

“I am new to this.  I am assuming there is something that will kill him in there?”

“There’s a chemical in here that will send him into cardiac arrest.  The chemical is un-detectable.”

Sean frowned.

“That’s too good for him. Can’t we just shoot him from here?” Sean asked.

“I agree, but it’s how it is going to be done.  And no.  This would test even my marksmanship.  Shooting from a boat being tossed around the sea and hitting a target a thousand or more meters away would be difficult.  No.  This needs to be done up close.  We must not fail.”  Sergei looked straight at Sean, waiting for another reaction.  Sean leaned back, put his hands behind his head and let out a long breath.

“You have shot someone from this distance before?”  Sean asked, now curious.

“Yes.  Farther.”

Sean mulled this over.  That was a long way.

“You have too,” Sergei added, still looking at Sean.

“WHAT?”  Sean shouted.

“Like we talked about, you need to come to terms with this.  I have read the action reports.  You know how to shoot.”

Sean leaned his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands.  “Action reports?  Who the hell is writing action reports?”  The guilt, plus, the fact that he was now beginning to realize what he had become was taking a toll.  He tried to tell himself that he was still Sean. If he kept saying it enough, he believed it would be true.

“There’s a complication,” Sergei said, looking at him.

“What?”

“Those men protecting him are not mercenaries.  They are part of the CIA’s protective service group.  They are doing their job.  I doubt they know anything about Price and what he has done or what he is going to do.”

“So?”

“No harm can come to them.  They are not to be killed.  If we have to put them down, it is with non-lethal force.”

“Thank god!  Agreed!  I don’t want to harm them.  Price is another matter,” Sean exclaimed.  To him, these guys were no different than Brian.  Doing their job.  They just happened to get the short straw and had to pull duty guarding Price on a night when two guys were going to crawl out of the sea to kill their boss.

“There are two sets of weapons over there.  One with tranquilizers.  The second is the one we don’t want to use.   The goal is to get in and out without them seeing us.  The weather is our friend and there should be one hell of a storm tonight.  We will have the advantage of night vision gear and close to total darkness.  Pavel is in a hotel down the beach and will disable the security system and all phones.  We will enter Price’s room and inject this into his system and leave.”

“Sounds easy.”

“Glad you agree.  Go get some rest.   We are in the water in less than five hours.”

Sean entered one of the small rooms off the main cabin area.  There was a double bed against the wall.  He flopped down on his back and stared blankly at the ceiling.    The motion of the sea rocked him right off to sleep. 

Sergei reviewed the house schematics, checked the equipment and got a few minutes of sleep as well.  While he dozed, the storm picked up.  Large round raindrops were pounding the boat and waves were crashing over the bow.  He awoke and changed into a thin neoprene wet suit.  It covered just the lower half of his body.  The legs stopped just above the knees. He picked up a can of black body paint and smeared it on his chest, face, lower legs and arms.  He knocked on Sean’s door and tossed a suit identical to his own onto the bed. 

“It’s time.  Put this on.  You’ll need it tonight.”

As Sean sat up in bed, he could feel the severity of the storm.  He didn’t like it.  It felt like a giant fist was pounding the boat, over and over again.  He put on the suit and went into the other room.  Sergei looked like something from a horror movie with his blonde hair, black paint smeared on his chest and face and those ice blue eyes, eyes that cut right through him and were enough to put fear into the hearts of most men. Sean was no longer most men.  Sergei pointed to the black paint on the table.  Sean let out a sigh and began applying it.

“This weather is exactly what we needed.  We should be able to slip in and out.”  Sergei packed the weapons into a waterproof bag as he spoke.  He placed the night vision equipment into a second bag.  He had already attached the sheaf for the knife to his leg. The boat was being tossed around violently and Sergei noticed Sean’s apprehension. 

“Getting off is the easy part.  The tough part is coming back.  If the boat is being pounded by the waves, it will make getting back on board very tricky.”

“That’s great news,” Sean said, sarcastically.

“We will be fine.  Based on my calculations, we will be back on the boat in less than sixty minutes.  Thirty minutes in the water.  Ten minutes on the beach.  Ten minutes in the house.  Ten minutes just in case.  The water is warm tonight as well.”

“Why so long in the house?  I thought we were just sticking him with the pen?”

“We need to make sure he is dead,” Sergei said and continued packing the bag.

“Of course, what was I thinking?”  Sergei let Sean’s comment and tone go.  Sean picked up the fins and looked at them.  New.  Expensive.  

“I took a look at the weather patterns.  The storm should start to pass as we are making our swim back out.”  Sergei pulled one of the black waterproof bags over his shoulder and across his back and tightened it until it was snug.  Sean watched him and did the same.

“Make sure it is tight as you can get it.  You don’t want it to slow you down in the water,” Sergei said, checking his mask.

“Nice mask.”

“Same thing the SEALs use.  Make sure it fits,” Sergei advised.

Sean shook his head.  “Naturally! The SEALs use them!” he said to himself.  He tried on the mask, made some adjustments and was satisfied.  The wind and rain continued to pound the boat.  Sergei did not seem to be affected.

“We are going to swim towards the yellow condo.  You lead.  I will be off to your right.  We are going to need to jump, fins first, off the starboard side.  Make sure you are well clear of the boat.  Once at the house, I will help you vault to the rail of the balcony.  You will then pull me up.”  Sergei put his hand on Sean’s shoulder.  “Got it?”

“Yeah.  How much do you weigh?” 

Sergei looked him over.

“About the same as you, I imagine.  I’m just not as fat.”  He chuckled.  Sean’s body fat percentage was in the high single digits.  Sergei was not far off of that − even at nearly sixty.

“Real funny. Let’s go.”  Sean began pulling on his fins.  Sergei got his on first.  He had had more practice. 

“Remember.  Non-lethal force,” Sergei reminded him.

“Got it.”  Sean reached for the door.

“Hold on.  Put your mask on before you go out there.  The wind and the rain will make it difficult to get it on.” 

It was good advice.  Sean put on the mask and opened the door.  He was instantly slapped in the face by horizontal rain and high winds.  It made him take a step back.  Sergei pushed him forward.  Sean got to the starboard side of the boat.  It was tough to keep his footing.  The fins did not help.  Waves were tossing the boat all over the place and Sean could hardly see the coast through the rain and winds.  He made the jump into the water, but did not have the timing quite right and entered the water awkwardly.  The mask and the fins stayed on.  Sergei was already in the water.  Sean thought Sergei had probably done this four hundred times all over the world.  Then again, Sean really didn’t want to know. 

Sean swam towards the shore.  The water actually felt good and the rain did not bother him once in the ocean.  He felt like he was really cutting through the water with the fins.  He looked to his right and saw Sergei right where he said he would be.  Sean really started swimming hard to see if he could pull away from Sergei.  He couldn’t.  The Russian kept pace with him.  Sean began to wonder what was in Sergei’s Wheaties every morning.  Clean living only got you so far.  However, it was actually sheer will that propelled Sergei and nothing more.  It was the same thing that had gotten him through the months of brutal Spetsnaz training many years ago.