Black Cobra aq-2 Read online

  What was that all about? he thought, rubbing his temples. Flying all the way up to San Diego for an out-of-the-blue mystery meeting with some old Russian submariner? It was insane.

  He took another look at the plane ticket and then slipped it into his pocket and closed his tired eyes.

  Sunday

  Three days later…

  San Diego

  Chapter 18

  Jason stepped out of the limousine in front of the Hotel Del Coronado shading his eyes from the Southern California sun.

  His flight in from Grand Cayman had been delayed, and he’d been forced to sprint half-way across San Diego International to get to the waiting limo on time. Two years in the Caribbean had taken a bigger toll on his fitness than he had thought, and as he started up the red carpet runner he realized how tired he was.

  Commander Fagan had rightly assumed that Jason would show up at the important meeting sorely underdressed, and on the ride over to Coronado, Jason found a designer suit, a silk shirt and tie, a slim leather belt, and a pair of hand-made Italian loafers with socks sealed in a garment bag next to him on the seat. It was clear that Fagan had gone to a lot of trouble, so Jason acquiesced, swapping his T-shirt and jeans for the suit.

  * * *

  Fagan had reserved a table overlooking the Pacific Ocean in the Del’s fabulous Crown Room, a cavernous space, with 30-foot-high, hand-carved wooden ceilings, capable of seating over 600 diners.

  Jason checked his watch, 10:59 a.m. It was a miracle he had made it there on time. He straightened his tie, buttoned his jacket, and entered the famous restaurant from the north side through the set of heavy, wooden double-doors.

  * * *

  Jason looked around and spotted Richard Fagan seated at a table with two others at the far end of the room. He padded across the expanse of Victorian-era carpeting and approached the table. The three men stood to greet him.

  Fagan handled the introductions. “Captain Vtorak Borisovich Pankov,” he said, “I’d like you to meet Jason Souther.”

  “How do you do, sir?” Jason said, shaking hands with a man more than twice his age. His impression of the captain changed in an instant. Pankov was no ordinary old fart.

  “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Commander,” Pankov said, giving Jason’s hand a vigorous Russian-style shake.

  His accent was strong but his English excellent, and Jason did a double-take at being called Commander again. “Thank you, sir, but I prefer Jason,” he said.

  From what Richard Fagan had told him, Pankov had expected Jason to be a little more rough around the edges. “The suit looks good, Jason,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” Jason said, a tad embarrassed. He would thank Richard later.

  Pankov turned to the fourth man at the table, a man about five years his junior. “This is my friend and loyal confidant, Captain Uri Ruden,” he said. “Himself a distinguished former Soviet submariner.”

  Uri was pleased to hear that Pankov’s memory was sharper today. He shook Jason’s hand across the table. “How do you do, Jason?” he said. “My thanks to Commander Fagan for finding you.”

  “Thank you,” Jason said, accepting the compliment. “I thought it couldn’t be done.”

  Pankov found that amusing. He smiled and looked at Fagan. “For a man of Richard’s caliber it was an easy task — like pulling candy from a baby.”

  Jason smiled at Pankov’s inaccurate attempt at the American idiom.

  “Please have a seat,” Fagan said, gesturing to an empty chair, and they all sat down at the table.

  * * *

  Pankov had Jason’s leather-bound dossier in front of him. He turned to a marked page. “There is one thing puzzling me, Jason,” he said, more serious now. “It is about your dishonorable discharge. Why would you go AWOL from the United States Navy simply to visit your brother in prison for a day, knowing full well it may ruin your career as an officer? Is that not a bit extreme?”

  Jason looked at him and for a moment considered walking out. Instead he took a deep breath and gathered himself.

  “My mother and father died in a private plane crash when I was two,” he explained. “My big brother, my only sibling, was only nineteen at the time, and for ten years he set aside his dreams and aspirations to raise me. I tried to repay him for everything he’d done for me, of course, but I failed miserably, and he continued to bail me out whenever I was in trouble.”

  He took a sip of water.

  “Finally he took the rap for an armed, bank robbery that was all my idea and, while I walked, he picked up twenty. Johnny was one tough son-of-a-bitch, and he could hold his own in any fight, but at San Quentin things were different. He was just one man against many. I thought if I could just talk to him, and maybe help him out somehow, it might offset the huge debt I owed him. Don’t you see? I at least had to try.”

  “Was it worth it?” Uri asked.

  “Yes, Uri, it was,” Jason said. “My presence in San Quentin that day gave Johnny a renewed self-confidence, and inmates who had paid no attention to him in the past took a liking to him and started fighting alongside him. He went from having a life expectancy approaching zero to having his own army. I’d do it again in a second.”

  “Why did you not tell me this?” Fagan said.

  “It was my problem… not yours,” Jason said.

  Satisfied with Jason’s answer, Pankov continued. “What we will ask you to do this morning will make you a rich man, Jason.”

  Jason’s heart slid up into his throat.

  “However, make no mistake,” Pankov added, “you will earn every penny.”

  That sent Jason’s mind swimming. He hadn’t the slightest idea what was coming next, but he already knew his answer would be yes.

  “If you choose to join us in this endeavor,” Pankov said, “several things will be set into motion immediately.” He sat up in his chair and picked up a menu. “But first we must eat. Commander Fagan tells me the food here is excellent.”

  Chapter 19

  The four officers dined on a tempting variety of prepared-to-order omelets, benedicts, and other breakfast classics, supported by gourmet cheeses, charcuterie, sushi, king crab, lobster bisque, and hand-carved prime rib. Dessert choices included a chocolate fountain, a truffle tower, tiramisu, caramel flan, cobblers, tarts, cakes, and more.

  Brunch included freshly squeezed mimosas and screwdrivers, and Pankov reminisced about the daily ration of white wine served to the crew aboard b-39 — a ration they commonly refused as not being the much preferred and officially banned vodka.

  Fagan pointed out that the exquisitely detailed chandeliers there in the Crown Room were designed by none other than the author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum. Jason mentioned that Charles Lindbergh celebrated his famous transatlantic flight there, as well.

  Pankov and Uri Ruden had heard of Lindbergh, of course, and both had seen the film adaptation of Baum’s book, so they were duly impressed.

  * * *

  Over coffee, Jason felt comfortable enough to broach the subject of his hiring. “Captain Pankov,” he said. “You were saying that if I take the job, several things would be set into motion immediately.”

  “That is correct,” Pankov said, wiping his chin with a cloth napkin. “First and foremost, an account, in a sympathetic Grand Cayman bank, will be set up in your name with a balance of $5 million. Half held in trust, half available to you immediately.” He paused for effect.

  Jason sucked in a quick breath and gripped his knees under the table.

  “The job will take place in roughly one month, here in San Diego,” Pankov said. “I thought perhaps if you and your girlfriend wanted to cruise up here on your yacht, you should have enough time to do so, and in order to help facilitate that, and as a second incentive, I will see to it that your beloved Cayman Jewel is properly registered, here in the U.S., in your name, with all historical paperwork and necessary licenses.”

  Jason shot a sheepish glance Fagan’s way: Why h
e’d thought he could fool someone with his high level of intelligence, he didn’t know.

  “Finally,” Pankov said, “as a third incentive, we will have your dishonorable discharge from the U.S. Navy expunged from your record, and in its place, the honorable military discharge you deserve.” He took a sip of his coffee, allowing his words to sink in.

  Jason’s eyes moistened and he wanted to cry out with joy. Fagan had obviously played a big role in the selection of incentives.

  Stay calm, he thought. You still don’t know what you must do in exchange. He took a sip of coffee and kept his mouth shut.

  “We’re looking for someone capable of handling any and all submarine operations,” Commander Fagan said, “because that is what will be demanded of each of us. To say we’ll be running a skeleton crew would be a gross understatement, and I thought of you because I know you can handle it.”

  “How many crewmen are we talking about?” Jason asked.

  “Including you, we’ll have four,” Fagan said.

  “Four?” Jason said. “Are you serious?” He looked at the others and considered for a moment. “The four at this table, I presume?”

  “That’s right,” Fagan said.

  Jason paused for a moment. “Who outside this group knows about your plan?”

  “Only one other,” Fagan said. “A man whom you’ll meet at a later date.”

  Pankov cleared his throat and looked squarely into Jason’s eyes. “Our mission is classified as top-secret, Jason, and must be treated as such, or there will be deadly consequences. Do you understand this?”

  “Y-yes, of course, Captain,” Jason said.

  “What Commander Fagan hasn’t told you,” Pankov went on, “and what I’m prepared to tell you now, is that we are planning an assassination… a political assassination.”

  Jason concealed a look of shock. This really was serious. “May I ask who it is that we’ll be assassinating?” he ventured.

  Captain Pankov glanced at his colleagues, then closed Jason’s dossier and looked at him. “Suffice it to say, the target is a high-ranking official in the United States government.”

  “But why the sub?”

  “We’re going to take this guy out the old fashion way,” Pankov said. “With a torpedo.”

  Grand Cayman

  Chapter 20

  It was dark when Brandy spotted Jason walking through the marina security gate. She had had time to think about things, and although he had only been gone for the day, she had missed him. She hopped up and skipped down the gangway to greet him.

  “Welcome home, sweetie!” she cried, giving him a flying hug that nearly put both of them in the water.

  “Whoa, there,” Jason said, regaining his balance. “I take it you’re glad to see me.” He dropped his bag on the deck and gave her a big kiss. “I was gone less than a day, you know.”

  “I know, but it felt like years,” she said. “I want to hear all about your trip.”

  The two boarded the Cayman Jewel and Brandy made drinks while Jason got settled.

  * * *

  It was a warm evening, and the air smelled sweet. Brandy snuggled up with Jason on a lounge chair.

  “So… how did it go?” she asked.

  “It went well,” Jason replied, taking a sip of his drink. The full scope of the meeting hadn’t really sunk in yet and he had trouble coming up with a way to explain it. “Brunch was fantastic. Just as I remembered it.”

  “What was the meeting about? What did they say?”

  He wanted to tell her about the money, but after promising her diamonds, he figured he’d better wait until he’d been to the bank. “Not much really,” he said. “They want me to pilot a submarine for them.”

  “What? Really? That’s crazy.”

  “I know.”

  “But where? Why?”

  “In San Diego. I have to report there in a few weeks.”

  “For how long?”

  “For a while, I guess, but don’t worry, you’re coming too. In fact we’ll both be moving there.”

  Brandy’s mind whirled with a mix of emotions. She was relieved that Jason wasn’t leaving without her, but leaving her home in the Caymans for who knows what in San Diego? “But what about the Cayman Jewel? She is our home.”

  “The Jewel will still be our home. We’re going to sail her up there.”

  Brandy paused. “Do you think we could do that? Just the two of us? San Diego’s a long way from here.”

  “I know that,” Jason said. “I’m thinking about asking Aaron to come along, just to be sure.”

  A thrill ran up Brandy’s spine. “Aaron Quinn? Would he do that?”

  Jason took another sip. “I’m not sure. But it can’t hurt to ask.”

  Monday

  Chapter 21

  The lobby in Cayman Union Bank reminded Jason of the bank he and Johnny were robbing when they got caught. He looked around nervously for a minute and then approached the counter.

  “May I help you?” the cashier said. She was pretty and polite. His new banking relationship was off to a good start.

  “Uh — yes,” he said. “There’s an account in the name of Jason Souther. I’d like a printout of the balances, please.”

  “May I see some form of ID?”

  Jason provided the ID and the cashier printed out the report.

  “Will there be anything else?” she said, checking to see that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

  “This will be fine,” he said, and took the report outside.

  * * *

  He found a bench in the shade and sat down to look over the report. His eyes went wide. The total account balance including trusts was $5 million. Available balance: $2.5 million. The money was his. Pankov was for real.

  Jason folded the statement and put it in his pocket. Then he went back inside and made a cash withdrawal in the amount of $2,500.

  Chapter 22

  Aaron was up at Earl’s Reef Dive Shop busily refilling SCUBA tanks when Jason showed up.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” Aaron said, surprised.

  “Good to see you, Aaron,” Jason said. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Yeah — uh, sure…” He indicated a picnic table down by the water. “Have a seat down at that table. I’ll be right there.”

  Aaron killed the air compressor and secured the refilled tanks, and then joined Jason.

  “What’s up?” Aaron said, folding his hands in front of him.

  Jason decided to get right to the point. “Brandy and I are going to sail the Cayman Jewel up to San Diego… and, well, we could use an extra hand. I thought maybe you’d like to come along.”

  That was the last thing Aaron had expected. “That’s a long trip,” he said, picturing the route from the Cayman Islands to San Diego on an imaginary map. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I have work there, consulting on some kind of restoration project.”

  “But I have a job here,” Aaron said.

  “I know,” Jason said. “But I thought if you could get a leave of absence, your job will be waiting for you when you get back. I’ll fly you straight back to the Caymans once we arrive in San Diego.”

  This all sounded a bit crazy to Aaron. He really didn’t know how to respond. “How long do you figure the trip will take?” he asked.

  “The Cayman Jewel’s cruise speed is eighteen knots,” Jason said, “with a top speed of twenty three knots. So in terms of international travel, we’re not that fast. I’ve never made the run myself, but I’m figuring two weeks, maybe three. There’s a welcome party in San Diego in twenty days that I really want to attend.”

  Aaron recalled his original trip to the Cayman’s with the retired couple. It had been quite an experience, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to do it again. “I’d like to think about it,” he said.

  “Of course,” Jason said. “But we leave Friday.”

  “This Friday?” Aaron said.

  “I’ll have you meet me a
t the marina Thursday afternoon,” Jason said. “To help with the final preparations.”

  “That’s not much time,” Aaron said. “Can I let you know?”

  “I’ll know you’re interested when you show up,” Jason said.

  He stood up to leave, giving Aaron a thumbs up. “Carpe diem, Aaron,” he said.

  Thursday

  Chapter 23

  Thursday afternoon, as scheduled, Aaron showed up at the marina with his duffle bag. He had been granted a leave of absence by the manager at Earl’s Reef Dive Shop and had every intention of returning to his job on Cayman Brac immediately after the trip.

  He helped Jason load the last of the provisions on board the Cayman Jewel, then they walked up to the marina office to square up with the manager.

  * * *

  The marina manager was a native islander with a heavy accent. “Good afternoon, Mr. Jason,” he said. “I am sad to hear you are leaving us for a while.” He had some papers ready and slid them forward.

  “Just for a few weeks,” Jason said. “If I can I’d like to keep my same slip.”

  “No problem…” the manager said, checking the marina rules in his head. “We’ll hold the electric, water, and phone for you, but the slip rental accrues, of course.”

  “Of course,” Jason said, and he began filling out the paperwork.

  “Two men were just here looking for you,” the manager said.

  Jason looked up, surprised. He’d been dreading hearing those words again, words he hadn’t heard in a long time.

  “Just now? he said. “What did they want? You didn’t tell them anything…”

  “No, sir, Mr. Jason,” the manager said. “I would never do that. You are my friend.”

  * * *