Maya said nothing for a while, letting Karl and Sergei do most of the talking, which consisted of ordering drinks and the weather. She looked nervous, her eyes inadvertently shifting toward the older Russian man. Was she interested in him? He had sort of a distinguished, rough appearance, Karl thought. Much like that of his own father. Polina seemed to constantly check out Karl, which was a little disconcerting to him, knowing some of her background. She was a killer, after all. Karl guessed the only place this woman could carry a gun would be in her small purse, and that would have to be a small pocket pistol in.380 or less.
Karl and Sergei ate steaks and the women had fish. For drinks, they all stuck to beer.
Remembering back on his training, Karl thought about the approach these two Russians had made. If the hot woman had approached him at the pool, Karl would have been suspicious from the start. So, Sergei had made the first contact, using the woman as bait. Polina used her sexuality like a pedophile used candy to draw in children. And she was damn good.
“How long have you two been together?” Polina asked, her eyes focused on Karl.
“About five months,” Karl said. The truth.
“How about you and Sergei?” Maya asked Polina.
Polina smiled, showing off her only imperfection, teeth that could have used braces. “We are not together. Sergei is my boss.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Maya said with mock sincerity. “I guess I just assumed.”
Polina spoke Russian now, roughly saying that Maya wanted to sleep with Sergei. But she used a crude derogatory form of Russian.
Maya took a slow sip of beer while Karl nudged his knee against her thigh. “That sounded like an old saying of some kind,” Maya said.
“Based on your accent,” Polina said, “I assumed you spoke Russian.”
“I assumed, based on your appearance, that you would be a total bitch,” Maya said in Russian. Then she switched to English and said, “I guess we were both right.”
Sergei raised his hands and said, “Time out, time out. There is a saying in Russia. What do you get when two beautiful women get all dressed up? Chaos or a cat fight. Or both.”
Karl wasn’t sure what to say. But he knew he had to get the conversation back on track. These Russians were here for a reason, and it had nothing to do with oil exploration.
“Maybe we should talk about something boring, like oil,” Karl provided.
Sergei waved his hand at Karl. “No way. We talk about that all day. I say we do something exciting.”
Polina raised her brows and seemed interested now.
“What do you have in mind?” Maya asked.
“The best way to see an island is on a boat,” Sergei said. “Especially on an evening like this.”
Karl’s mind immediately drifted back to the last time he had gotten in a boat with Russian intelligence officers on a lake bordering Estonia. They had tried to kill him, and he only escaped by jumping overboard. Then he was stuck on an island on that lake in the freezing cold until his father came and rescued him days later.
“Sounds great,” Karl lied.
The Russians picked up dinner. Thanks Kremlin, Karl thought.
Then the four of them walked out past the swimming pool to the beach, where Sergei had arranged for a boat. A skinny Dutch-looking blond man helped them aboard this power boat. It was a sleek pleasure craft over twenty feet long, with padded seats in the bow and in a half circle in the stern.
Sergei took a seat behind the wheel. Polina sat on a bench just behind him. And Karl and Maya took seats on the port side.
Maya grasped his hand and nuzzled at his neck, whispering, “Are you sure about this?”
She didn’t know that Karl knew these Russians were SVR intelligence officers, but her instincts had kicked in. She was concerned, he could tell.
Karl kissed her on the lips and whispered back, “It will be fine.”
Sergei backed the boat from the beach far enough to turn the boat out toward open water. Then he turned and smiled at Karl and Maya before power up and leveling off the boat.
They cruised down the coast to the east toward Oranjestad, keeping about a half mile off shore. As they moved slowly through the night, the bright lights of the resorts reflected off the calm water to their left.
The Russian woman was struggling with her hair, which flew back and then into her face. Maya noticed this and went across the boat to sit next to Polina. Digging inside her small purse, Maya found a hair tie and helped the other woman put her red locks into a ponytail. They spoke a little in Russian, but Karl couldn’t discern their words.
For some reason, Maya remained on the side with Polina, the two women seeming to get over their initial rivalry. They were so close that Karl was getting a little aroused thinking of them together.
Sergei glanced back at the women and then to Karl. The Russian smiled and gave the boat some more gas.
The surge forced Polina into Maya’s arms, her large breasts hitting Maya in the face.
That made Sergei smile even more. Polina flipped her fellow Russian the bird, the universal nonverbal language.
Soon they came upon the downtown area. Sergei slowed the boat to an idle and turned the bow toward the open sea before shutting down the motor.
Maya turned toward the downtown. “It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Yes, it is,” Sergei agreed, but he seemed to be looking at both women and not the shore.
Standing up, Polina said, “Let’s go for a swim.” Then, without an answer, she stripped down naked and dove into the water. Moments later she came out of the water and pushed a few strands of wet hair back from her face.
“You’re crazy,” Maya said. “There are probably sharks out there.”
“That is the exciting part,” Polina said. “Come on. Karl, what about you? Don’t be a little girl.”
Karl considered doing so, but he had concealed his handgun at the small of his back. Plus, he didn’t trust these Russians.
In the end, Polina swam alone, her body rising out of the water visible through the reflection from the city lights. Finally, she came aboard with a hand from Maya, who had found a towel under one of the benches to hand to the SVR officer. But Polina was not shy about showing off her superb body, which she toweled off sensuously before stepping back into her tight dress.
“All right,” Sergei said. “Now I need to show you something.” He started the motor and slowly picked up speed, heading toward the southeast side of the island. Since the island of Aruba was only 20 miles long, it took them only about ten minutes to travel less than five miles before Sergei slowed the boat and let the craft float.
Karl checked out the industrial area here, a stark contrast to the high-end hotel resorts on the northwest end of Aruba.
Sergei ran his hand toward the oil storage tanks and the oil refinery. “Most tourists don’t even know that Aruba is a major oil storage production facility. The island is like a huge gas station pretending to be a beach paradise. And this is just the beginning. Soon, the north shore will give way to even more oil production. We are only thirty kilometers from Venezuela, which holds the largest oil reserves in the world.”
Karl had to admit to himself that he was one of those blind to the island’s oil charms until he got this assignment. He had been playing catch-up the last few days understanding both the oil industry and its relationship to the ABC islands of Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao. But what was Sergei’s point of showing him this. “So, the Russian company you represent will sign a deal here? Why not just deal directly with the Venezuelans?”
Sergei laughed and said, “Have you seen what is going on in that country? They can’t even feed their people. The people are marching in the street and burning down their own country.”