Killing Chase (19 page)

“Enjoying your time aboard the
Anchor Management,
detective?”

“Looking forward to the hot tub this evening, and I’m hoping you can sign me up for a ride on
Gemini
tomorrow,” he said.

“I wish, but you are my ace in the hole. If things go south, you’re the cavalry.”

“What does your gut tell you about the sub?” he asked.

“Sergei wants it for something, though I don’t know what, yet. I need you to call Jenna and let her know what’s going on. The sat phone requires a direct path to the sky, so you’ll have to open a window when you call her. She’s not going to be happy about your involvement, but I’ll deal with that later. Just play nicey-nice if she gets angry.”

It was “Jenna” around Detective Reigart. I’d betrayed her enough by sneaking him on the ship without her knowledge. I just hoped she could see past her anger to the beauty of my plan.

“Don’t worry; I’ll make her understand this is the best option. Call it interagency cooperation,” he said, peeking out the window at the marina in the distance.

“Mmm, I may have to shut this pen off later tonight. If I go silent, don’t be alarmed,” I said.

“Might this have something to do with the late arrival I heard earlier?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that, but if I’m not back by one a.m., the bed is yours. Just make sure you put the chain lock on.”

“Roger that. Here’s to a successful night for you,” he said with a smile.

I grabbed my shades and headed upstairs to maintain the façade of glasnost.

Due to security at the ship’s gangway, I had to go the unconventional route to get the good detective aboard
Anchor.
I called him after leaving Jenna’s apartment to confirm that he was still up for the trip. He had vacation time built up and being single, readily agreed to this little adventure, which began with a predawn dip in the cool waters of the marina.

In a spare wetsuit from the Foggy Harbor Underwater Search and Rescue team, he made the hundred-yard swim from a nearby dock in four minutes, and I’d guided him in with a mini flashlight. By four thirty, he was bunked down in my suite’s large Jacuzzi tub, the sleeping ship and it’s two other occupants none the wiser.

After getting him secured in my suite this morning, he’d opened the waterproof duffel he’d brought with him and revealed the goodies inside. My favorite was the pen I had clipped to my short-sleeved Polo. It doubled as a UHF transmitter, and Reigart had the receiver with him in the bathroom. Our thinking was that he could hear what was going on and then call in the real-time information to Jenna as warranted. If the shit hit the fan, he’d brought two nine millimeters and seven clips of ammunition to level the playing field.

***

“Chase,” Jenna said, answering her cell.

“Not exactly. You must be Jenna?” Reigart whispered into the phone.

“Who is this?” she said cautiously.

“Detective Jay Reigart with the Foggy Harbor Police Department. I’m sure you can confirm this after our call. They’ll tell you I’m on vacation. Chase is busy and asked me to call you with an update.”

“Update? Where are you?” she said, alarmed and confused.

“I’m currently hiding in the bathroom of his suite, on his father’s yacht.”

“What has Chase told you . . . detective?”

“Let me start by saying that I bluffed him pretty good to get him to admit he was working with you guys, so don’t go too hard on him. Other than that, he’s told me very little. I’m most interested in the unsolved murder of Kenny Jackson. Does that name ring a bell, Jenna?”

“Whether it does or not is irrelevant right now. How did you get on the boat, detective?”

“Early morning swim in the marina, if you can believe that. You and Chase are the only ones who know I’m on board. By the way, he said you wouldn’t be happy at this turn of events, but his plan is rather good if you’ll give it a chance. I’ve got him mic’d up and can hear his conversations, allowing me to give you real-time information.”

There was silence on the line as she assessed her options.

“Why should we trust you?” she eventually said.

“Because I’m one of the good guys, and I want Kenny Jackson’s murderer brought to justice. Check me out; you have the resources.”

“Looks like I have no choice but to, now. What can you tell me so far?” she asked, an air of resignation in her voice.

“It seems the
Anchor Management
has a mini submarine attached underneath her, connected to something called a moon pool. Training on it starts in the morning and again tomorrow night. And lobster is being served tonight, complete with drawn butter and asparagus. Baked Alaska is dessert.”

“Thanks for the menu rundown. Please tell Chase to call me as soon as possible, detective,” she said before disconnecting.

The night was cool and
breezy on the darkened sun deck as Anna and I relaxed on the L-shaped couch, the only light coming from the spa tub. I could see the moon periodically as it slipped into and out of the passing clouds, a celestial game of hide-and-seek as we cruised northeast at fifteen knots. I’d invited Anna up here, arriving ten minutes before she was to join me so that could install and activate the Aquatracker before she arrived. I affixed it to a space high on the outside part of the wall where no one could see it. A small, green light blinked intermittently to let me know it was active.

In my lap lay Anna’s head; the rest of her was stretched out on the loveseat, hidden under a thick blanket she’d purloined from her room. I sat there silently and stared at the hot tub where this entire adventure began almost two weeks ago. Poor Viktoria. Like most things in life, this too was coming full circle, though hopefully not ending with my demise.

I ran my hands through Anna’s thick, black hair and wondered if I had the temerity to turn away from her. I considered feigning illness or seasickness, but in the end, I knew I would probably give in. She had a way of weaving herself into me, and her pull was strong, but the memory of last night with Elizabeth was fresh on my mind. “Conflicted” was the name of the game, and I tried rationalizing that I would never see Elizabeth again.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it today,” I said to her as she pulled the blanket up to her neck.

“Mr. Durov asked me to stay home, but there was no way I would pass up this trip.”

“I don’t think he was happy when you showed up.”

“There aren’t many people who go against his wishes. I am one of the few who can get away with it,” she said.

“Aren’t you worried about angering him and getting banished to the Siberia branch of Sergei, Inc.?” I wanted her to tell me she was Sergei’s daughter. I needed to hear that from her.

“I do excellent work for him, and he knows I’m irreplaceable.” She turned on her stomach and kissed me, then looked at me with those intense, blue eyes.

“Do you find me irreplaceable, Chase?” she said, and I could hear an unusual lack of confidence in her tone.

“Extremely,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster, but inside I wavered. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Anna. I wanted to trust her, but I also didn’t want to get blindsided in case she was involved with whatever Sergei was planning.

“Tell me about your parents, your upbringing, Russia. I want the Anna Petrov story, the entire, unedited version.”
Anything to keep your clothes on, because it is game, set, match otherwise, and I need to keep my head about me.

“It’s quite unremarkable,” she said, leaning into me and pulling the blanket up with her. “I’m cold. Let’s go back to my room and open a bottle of champagne. I’m sure that will get me to open up to you, Chase, as if there has ever been a problem with that.” Her voice oozed sexuality—whatever doubt she’d had was gone.

I had an uncomfortable image of Detective Reigart calling Elizabeth and holding the satellite phone up to the receiver.
Thought you should hear what your informant was up to, Jenna. He said you would want the information in real time.

I blinked away that unsettling thought as we rose and walked hand in hand down to the her suite. As we entered, I turned to make sure the door was closed, and clicked the pen, turning the listening device off.
My bed’s all yours, detective.
All things considered, there were worse places to be.

***

From the shadows of the main deck, Bailey watched Chase and Anna descend the stairs. She took one last drag of her cigarette, flicked it over the railing, and exhaled. The cigarette did nothing to settle her nerves. Perhaps she should get laid. The thought nauseated her as she remembered the night almost eleven years ago. Jackson Ellis. She’d cursed him every day of her life since.
He fucked Chase too
, she thought, and took some comfort in that, as screwed up as that sounded. Streak knew all along they were brother and sister, even as he convinced Chase to take the plea deal. She walked back to her room, resigned to another night of loneliness.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

I slipped from the covers
at six thirty and dressed quickly. The first rays of orange sunlight filtered in from the east-facing window, and I could tell
Anchor
had stopped. I glanced outside and saw land about half a mile away. Sometime during the past couple of hours, the captain had navigated the ship through Ocracoke Inlet, the narrow channel between Portsmouth Island and Ocracoke Island. A tall, white lighthouse dominated the rapidly brightening skyline.

The waters of Pamlico Sound were calm, and Ocracoke looked sleepy. According to my father during dinner last night, it was one of the most remote islands of the Outer Banks, accessible only by public ferry, private plane, or private boat. It was also the place where Blackbeard the pirate was killed in 1718. I took that as a good sign. I wasn’t superstitious by nature, but this trip needed all the positive mojo it could muster.

Before leaving, I kissed a very naked and still- sleeping Anna Petrov on the forehead. I slipped out of the room, still with more questions about her than answers, but I decided to trust her after considering everything. She’d done nothing to betray my trust. As far as having feelings for both Jenna and Anna, this was just something I would have to deal with if I made it off the ship alive. The main thing was to keep my focus on the job at hand.

As I opened her door to leave, I clicked the pen to turn the transmitter back on. In the ship’s hallway, I whispered, “Coming in”, and I hoped the detective was awake. I swiped my room key and entered.

“Morning sunshine,” he said, through toothpaste-covered lips.

“Morning, detective. Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.”

“How’d Jenna take your call?” I asked, already wincing before he answered.

“She was not happy, but she accepted it, and she wants you to call her,” he said handing over the sat phone. I handed it back to him and pointed to the window.

“We’re anchored off Ocracoke, so I should be able to get cell service on my phone.” I called and she answered on the second ring.

“Good morning,” I said. “I know you are probably pissed at me.”

She was quiet for a moment, but then said, “What’s done is done. Let’s just focus on why you’re there. What can you tell me?”

“We’re on the sound side of Ocracoke Island. Training starts in about an hour. It’s hard to read Sergei, but he is very anxious to get his men aboard
Gemini
. That I know.”

“What’s the plan for the rest of the day and night?”

“Around noon, we’ll pull anchor and head north up the sound. According to my father, we’ll exit Pamlico Sound at Oregon Inlet and parallel the northern Outer Banks until we are offshore Virginia Beach, sometime tonight. Then we’ll drop anchor again and do some night training.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Can you confirm that Aquatracker is working?”

“It is. We’ve got a strong signal. Stay safe, Chase.” She clicked off before I could respond, probably still angry at me bringing the detective aboard without her knowledge. After a quick shower, I called the kitchen and ordered a large breakfast, more for the detective’s benefit than mine. Food was the last thing on my mind.

***

I sat down behind my father in a black leather chair on board
Gemini
, and my first thought was that Sergei was going to steal
Anchor
and leave us stranded in a mini sub near the island, which wouldn’t have been the worst news in the world. My second thought was that I was about to have the ride of a lifetime. I turned into a little kid as I sat staring out the large and thick plexiglass windows on the front and sides of
Gemini
. I pictured us surfacing at the marina in Silverlake Harbor, while confused and perplexed Ocracokians stared at us as if aliens had just landed. The thought served to lighten my mood further as we prepared to leave the mother ship above us.

Bailey sat to my right in a similar chair, and the look on her face showed she clearly didn’t share the same enthusiasm for the excursion that I did. Her face was white, and she looked nervous.

“Hatch secured,” my father said into the small microphone attached to the headset he was wearing. With that complete, he sat back down and pressed a button to the right of a black joystick.

“I’m beginning to fill the ballast tanks with water so that when they deactivate the locking system, we’ll sink a little. Don’t want to risk damaging the moon pool or the mini.” Thirty seconds later, he gave the order to release
Gemini
.

She sank briefly and then leveled off. Dad moved the joystick to the right, and she responded with a nimble turn as dual, three-horsepower motors each powered a ten-inch propeller. Pamlico Sound was a shallow body, so we maintained our depth at ten feet for the run into Silverlake Harbor. Shafts of sunlight pierced the water, and we saw Spanish mackerel, cobia, and red drum as they swam over, under, and next to us. It was exhilarating, and I even saw Bailey smile . . . once she discovered that we weren’t going to die from lack of oxygen.

We entered the oval-shaped harbor and did two laps with Bailey and I each taking the controls for a lap. The Hamptons take Ocracoke! As dad took the controls for the run back to
Anchor,
he stopped
Gemini
and brought her to periscope depth. Her center console display came on and the screen focused on an old, thirty-two-foot schooner that looked well taken care of. Painted white with blue trim, it was tied up to a dock that had seen better days. Dad zoomed in on the boat, and we could make out the name,
Miss Sheila
, and he further zoomed in on an older man moving about between the ship’s twin masts. I imagined this man probably loved boats as much as my father did. He looked about seventy-five, with a face chiseled out of years of sun, sand, and wind—a real salt-of-the-earth type. I watched my father watch the man on the screen, and I got the sense that he envied that man. He had the one thing my father didn’t have, something money couldn’t buy. Time.

The short ride back to the ship was quiet and would be the last time the three of us would be together, alone, as a family, if we truly ever were. Part of me still can’t believe, nor accept, the events that happened later that night.