Other than the protests, Karl guessed Sergei could have been talking about mother Russia until recently. “Good point,” Karl said.
“What about the company you represent?” Sergei asked.
“What about them?”
“You are in Aruba for a reason,” Sergei reminded Karl.
Before Karl could answer him, he noticed a boat approaching them from shore. This was strange, considering the fact that the piers here were designed for oil ships and not pleasure craft. As the boat came closer, it suddenly picked up speed and swung around them. He saw the two gunmen just as the muzzle flashes broke through the night darkness, followed by the crack of gunfire.
All four of them instinctively hit the deck. Karl pulled his gun and returned fire with three shots as the boat continued its circle around them. His shots forced the gunmen in the other boat to take cover.
“Get us the hell out of here,” Karl yelled to Sergei.
The Russian got behind the wheel, shoved the throttle all the way forward, and the boat surged toward the open sea. Crouching low, Sergei quickly turned the wheel to the right and their boat exposed only the bottom to their pursuit boat. Finally, their boat leveled off and powered forward at top speed.
Karl was crouched low at the stern, his gun pointed at the other boat, which seemed to be keeping pace with them. He looked back at the women and asked, “Are you two alright?”
Maya nodded, a concerned look on her face. Polina seemed to be unfazed, or something else. Perhaps turned on?
More flashes came from the boat behind them. Karl returned fire, emptying the last of his rounds into the night air and not sure if he had hit anything. He replaced his empty magazine with a full one from his pocket and let the slide shove a round into the chamber. Now he had just six rounds left. He would have to use them sparingly.
Maya put her hand on her purse and Karl shook his head. She had the same gun with two full magazines, but Karl didn’t want the Russians to know she was armed. At least not until he was sure they had no other choice.
But that wouldn’t be necessary. After Karl’s last salvo of bullets, the boat pursuing them suddenly slowed to a halt and simply turned around and gave up the chase.
Sergei glanced back and seemed to have a smirk on his face. “I guess the Dutch don’t like just anyone observing their oil facilities. Good thing you were armed.”
Yeah, right, Karl thought. He was thinking the same thing.
Now the Russian slowed the boat and continued back, past the Aruban capital, toward their hotel.
18
Karl and Maya got back to their hotel room by ten p.m. The Russians wanted to continue to party, but Maya made an excuse to get them out of it.
While Maya took a shower to get rid of the salt spray, Karl got on his SAT phone and talked with his guy at the Agency, Roddy, explaining his contact with the Russians.
Laughing, Roddy said, “Sounds like the SVR is up to the old KGB tactics.”
He was thinking the same thing. “You mean get close, challenge, and see how I respond?”
“You caught that?” Roddy asked.
“Yeah, and I’m afraid I fell right into their ruse,” he said. “Instincts are a bitch to overcome.”
“That they are,” Roddy agreed. “Is Maya there with you?”
“In the shower.”
“Nice. I’ve met her. Very nice.”
“What’s your point?”
“Officers in the field get all the perks.”
“Right. Like getting shot at.”
“Well, there’s that. Anyway, per your mission briefing, you’ll continue as a husband and wife. We’ve arranged transportation for tomorrow morning at zero six hundred from the commercial pier in downtown Oranjestad. A fishing vessel called the Maria Teresa.”
“Wait, what? Where are we going?”
“Venezuela,” Roddy said. “We think the Russians are making a major move in that country. Trying to capitalize on the discontent.”
That made a lot of sense, Karl thought. Especially in light of his conversation with Sergei that evening. Although the man was a dangerous SVR officer pretending to be an oil company official, perhaps there was some truth to their conversation. “How does this relate to the ship from Murmansk?”
“We believe the ship is heading to Venezuela,” Roddy said.
“Where is it now?”
“Still out in the Atlantic heading south. But much too far west to track toward Africa. Anyway, your contact is an oil industry consultant.”
“An Agency man?”
“That’s sexist. It could be a woman.”
“Is it?”
“No. But it could have been.”
Roddy gave him the name of his contact, or at least his fake name. Then he said Karl would get a secure text soon with the man’s picture and cover story, and he cut the call short.
Karl walked around the room and stepped closer to the bathroom door. Maya was really taking her time in the shower. Then he went back and sat on the bed as a text came into his phone. He looked and saw a picture of his contact. The image lingered for about thirty seconds before going away. The text that accompanied the image would hold to his phone only long enough for him to memorize the data, which was almost not enough time.
The shower still ran hard in the background. Something wasn’t right. He set his phone down and stripped down naked. He also needed a shower, but needed to make that phone call first. Then he went into the bathroom. By now steam filled the bathroom, making it almost impossible to see anything.
Karl went to the shower and found Maya sitting on the floor in a near-fetal position, with hot water pummeling her head and naked body.
“Are you alright, Maya?” he asked.
She didn’t respond. She seemed to be sobbing.
“Is this about the gunfire tonight?” he asked.
Her head seemed to nod ever so slightly.
Karl then went into the shower to comfort her. He held her until she finally held him back and let her sob against his shoulder. He had been shot at too many times to count while a soldier. The first time had been disconcerting and disturbing. Subsequently, that eventually changed to acceptance. Friends had been hit and died in front of him, and that was even worse than when he was hit himself. After he was wounded, he had a feeling not of pain from the bullet, but of how he would be letting down his team by not being there with them until he healed. Would others die because of his absence? Karl guessed that Maya was in that initial stage of trying to understand the fragility of life.
Later, once Maya settled down, the two of them lay in the dark room under the covers, the overhead fan breathing cool air down onto them.
“You don’t seem to have a problem with people shooting at you, Karl,” she said.
His eyes had adjusted by now, and the room wasn’t quite as dark as it had first seemed to him. He could see her face now in shadows.
“I’m sure a shrink would have a field day with this,” he said. “But I believe that well-trained people can find balance in almost any situation.”
“Balance?”
“Understanding, perhaps.”
Even in the darkness she looked confused.
He continued, “I spent some time in the Army getting shot at by the enemy. It didn’t happen every day while I was on my deployments, but it happened enough to make you think it could happen at any moment. In my world, there’s good and evil. It’s black and white. Not much gray area.” Karl remembered his father telling him this recently, and he had adopted it as his own.
“But this was simply a boat ride,” she said with despair. “Life was so much easier in Murmansk.”
“You mean deceiving me?” he asked, and immediately wished he had not.
She slapped his bare chest hard. “I was doing my job. And you also deceived me.”