"Captain Gregory Severin, commanding the destroyer Boyevoy." Although the Russian's English was thickly accented, with syllables that sounded as though they were being spoken through a mouthful of breadcrumbs, there was no disguising the man's satisfaction at having the upper hand. He said nothing more until one of the sailors stepped to his side.
Before the seaman could report, Kismet spoke up. "What's this all about, Captain Severin? Why did you fire on us?"
Severin ignored him and turned to the sailor. "Report."
"Nothing at all, sir. Everyone is accounted for."
On an impulse, Kismet feigned confusion at their conversation. "What are you guys talking about? I want some answers."
"As do I, Mr. Kismet," Severin barked. "I want to know why a notorious American espionage agent is trying to sneak into my country."
"Is that what you think?" Kismet affected offense. "You're wrong on so many counts I don't even know where to start. I'm not an espionage agent. I was in Army Intelligence a lifetime ago, but even you must realize that's not the same thing. And we're not going to 'your country,' we're going to Georgia. Furthermore, we aren't sneaking, captain. We are traveling openly and legally on United Nations' passports. The documents are completely valid."
"I'm sure they are," Severin answered with a sneer. "I will of course be looking at them in greater detail." His eyes fell upon Irene. "And this is your lady?"
The statement was guarded, and for the first time Kismet entertained a glimmer of hope that the Russian was in the dark. Maybe Severin had not yet identified Irene; didn't know of her true heritage, or her exile from the Rodina—the Motherland. Kismet squeezed her hand, hoping to impart to her the message 'volunteer nothing.'
As if to signal her comprehension, Irene gripped his hand tightly and took a step forward. "I am not his lady," she snapped in clear, unaccented English. "I am his fiancée. And I would also like to know why you were shooting at us. You could have killed us."
The captain chuckled mirthlessly. "You are too lovely a woman to be taking up with a rogue like Nikolai Kismet. I wonder what you see in him, Irina Chereneyeva."
Kismet's heart skipped a beat. So Severin was playing with them; teasing them with what he might or might not already know. Before he could stop her, Irene replied. "So you know my name. I'm not impressed. You have no right to accost us like this. We aren't even in Russian waters. You are nothing better than a pirate."
Kismet pulled on her arm, dragging her back a step and cutting her tirade short, before she could hurl further insults. They were in over their heads; there was no sense digging the grave any deeper.
Severin laughed toward the sky. "Pirate! Yes, I'm a buccaneer. Perhaps I should make you walk the plank." He guffawed again then fixed Kismet with his stare. "My question stands, Kismet. The Russian Navy is tasked with guarding our own shores and those of our confederates in Georgia. Why are you sneaking across the Black Sea on this decrepit vessel? The owner of this boat is a known smuggler, and you — a former spy who now 'protects' the art treasures of the world? A grave robber is what you are, I'll wager."
"Are you sure you don't have me confused with someone else?" Kismet replied in a casual tone, trying not to let the captain know just how rattled he was. "Anyway, you've got it all wrong. We're not here because of anything I want."
"Of course," Severin retorted sarcastically. "How foolish of me to think so."
"Look, if you know who Irene is, then you'll understand why we're here."
Severin's expression softened. He looked at Irene, searching her face for sincerity. "What is the real reason for your return to your homeland?"
Irene's forehead drew into a crease. "I'm sorry, it's been a while."
Severin repeated the question in his thick, but accurate English. Irene nodded, as if gradually remembering how to speak her language as he translated. Kismet felt like rewarding her performance with a kiss, but kept his emotional response in check.
"Why have I returned? I'm surprised that you have to ask. This is my homeland. I may be Russian, but I was raised on the Georgian coast. My mother is buried there. It's natural that I would want to revisit my heritage before Nick and I are married."
"Your argument is not convincing. Your father is an enemy of the state. I cannot believe you would be so brazen as to risk your own safety in returning to your homeland, placing yourself within our grasp. Surely you must fear that we will imprison you in order to extort your father's surrender."
"That would be difficult, since he's dead."
Severin raised an eyebrow and chewed on the revelation for a moment. "Then you have my sympathy. I understand now why you wish to make this pilgrimage to your old home." He turned to the assemblage of his sailors and barked for them to prepare for departure. As they hastened to obey, leaving an uncomprehending Achmet to tremble in the wheelhouse, Severin returned his attention to Kismet. "I apologize for having waylaid you. It was, I confess, a regrettable misunderstanding."
"No problem."
Severin shook his head. "You are too kind to dismiss this so easily. I must make amends." He snapped his fingers, as if suddenly inspired. "I know. There is no reason for you finish your journey in this unseaworthy craft. You must allow us to deliver you to your destination."
"Uh, that won't be necessary—"
"But it is. Admittedly, my ship is not a luxury cruise vessel, as you Americans are surely accustomed to, but it is far more accommodating than this Turk's boat." His hard edge resurfaced for a moment, just enough to let Kismet know that declining was not an option. "I insist."
Kismet looked over at Irene, then back at the Russian captain. "With an invitation like that, how can we refuse?"
Kismet gazed at the face framed in the worn mirror. The stubble on his chin was growing thick; it would be a full beard soon. He rubbed it thoughtfully and decided not to shave. The last thing he cared about was ingratiating himself to his host. He splashed a handful of tepid water onto his cheeks then toweled himself dry.
They had been on the destroyer for nearly three hours. Severin had shuffled Irene off to her quarters, and then insisted that Kismet accompany him on a tour of the ship. Kismet had affected disinterest as the captain led him through a circuit of the decks, but the intelligence officer he had once been couldn't resist taking mental notes. The Boyevoy, Russian for "militant" had been taken out of mothballs, retrofitted and added to the Black Sea fleet at the start of the South Ossetia conflict. Severin didn't go into great detail about the armaments, but seemed more interested in alternately boasting about his accomplishments and tossing out leading questions to probe the veracity of Kismet's claims. Finally, with the tour over, Kismet was directed to his berth and told to get ready for dinner.
The quarters were cramped, but according to Severin, the cabin Kismet would be using for the remainder of the voyage was the berth of the first officer, and was quite spacious by comparison to any others, save the captain's own. Irene had been installed elsewhere, and Kismet had not seen her since shortly after their coming aboard. He regretted that they had not been given the opportunity to further reconcile their cover stories. Doubtless, that was the very reason Severin had kept them apart.
A rapping at the door distracted him. He opened it to reveal a blonde, pale-skinned man wearing a star and two thin gold stripes on his sleeve, which identified him as a senior lieutenant; Kismet recognized him as Severin's executive officer, the man whose quarters he now occupied. The XO did not speak English, and Kismet wasn't about to reveal that he understood Russian. Instead he waved the officer away, indicating that he wasn't ready to be escorted to the captain's table.