Killing Chase (7 page)

Muted booms woke me from
an otherwise shallow, fitful sleep. Listening devices and a Russian woman working with the FBI had me twisting and turning all night. I rolled over in the mostly dark room and glanced at the clock. It read 9:04 so I tossed the covers back, stumbled groggily to the window, and raised the privacy shade to see if we were engaged in battle with the Bahamian Navy. Blinding sunlight assaulted me, and I lowered the shade halfway.

After I brushed my teeth, I threw on some shorts and a t-shirt and went to investigate. Perhaps Super Agent Viktoria Durov was leading an FBI raid on the
Anchor Management
. I discounted that immediately. Outside, the booms were louder, and I climbed stairs in search of the source. The staff I passed weren’t panicking, so I assumed there was nothing to worry about.

I heard laughter as I reached the sun deck. My father, Sergei, and Anna were on the helipad, each holding expensive-looking black shotguns and wearing headphones and black sunglasses. A man in khakis and a blue polo sat behind a squat, stainless- steel trap thrower.

“Pull!” said my father.

The man pushed a button on the device and an orange disk flew out, arcing high over the rolling Atlantic. Dad waited a second, raised the gun, and pulled the trigger. The disk was blown into several pieces, and my father lowered the shotgun.

“Good morning, Chase. Did we wake you?” Anna asked as I sauntered up beside her.

“Good morning everyone. No, I’ve always been able to sleep through gunfire,” I smiled.

Dad decided to needle me. “I can’t believe you are just now waking up. It’s,” he paused to look at his watch, “nine fifteen already. Hamptons are early risers.”

“Perhaps Chase had a late night,” said Sergei, eyeing me suspiciously.
Ears everywhere.

“For the past seven years I’ve slept on a two-inch mattress and been awakened at four thirty-five every morning for breakfast and to have my name checked off a list. Perhaps you can cut me some slack and indulge me this one morning of sleeping in.”

“Would you like some smoked cheddar or havarti with your whine, Chase?”

“Okay, dad, it’s too early to match comic wits with you. Does your chef know how to make omelets and French toast?”

“Oh-god-no. He was just a sandwich maker at Subway before I brought his talents on board,” he said sarcastically.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Anyone wish to join me?”

“An omelet sounds wonderful. Destroying clay targets makes a woman hungry,” Anna said.

We dined outside on the salon deck and were deep into our Denver omelets when I casually mentioned my hot-tub encounter with Viktoria.

“That sounds exactly like her,” Anna said.

“I got the impression Mr. Durov thought I was up to something with the ‘late night’ comment,” I said, fishing for a response.

“He knows Viktoria’s proclivities. I will let him know that nothing happened. Nothing happened, right?” she said tentatively.

“Of course not. I was flattered, but that’s not how I operate.”

“Okay, I believe you.”

“So, he doesn’t trust his wife. Does he have her followed?” It would be good to know if he did. I’d hate to be seen walking into her hotel room tomorrow.

“I’m not sure. As I said, they have an arrangement to which I’m not privy. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but did you consider having sex with her?”

“That isn’t exactly a fair question, Anna, but I’ll give it a shot.” I took a moment to decide how to answer. “I’ve basically grown from a teenager into an adult while in prison. I haven’t seen many women in seven loooonnnng years. So was I attracted to her sexually? That’s a big 10-4. Any normal male would be.”

“So what will you do tonight if you are soaking in the hot tub and she shows up again, wearing nothing but two strategically placed strands of dental floss?”

I guess I will have the cleanest teeth on the boat, Anna,
was the smartass answer I dared not give, though she probably would have laughed.

“Perhaps I need a chaperone to accompany me so that doesn’t happen. Know anyone willing to volunteer?”

Anna blushed and offered a shy grin. I was already picturing her in a bikini.

“I will have Dmitri join you. Just give me a call when you are ready, and he can meet you at either tub. Does that work?”

“Dmitri sounds like a great idea,” I said, zero enthusiasm in my response

“I offer help and you do not seem to appreciate it,” she pouted. A moment later she laughed and touched my arm. “You should see the put-out look on your face. Were you looking for another answer from me?”

“It’s just that Dmitri might not be the right person for the job.”

“Can you think of anyone who could handle the job?” she asked.

“I think you would be perfect for the position, Ms. Petrov.”

“And what position would that be?” she whispered.

“I’m not sure what to call it, but it calls for flexibility. Can I count on you? Can Mr. Durov count on you? We’re trying to save a marriage here.”

“Sure, but you may not even want to soak tonight.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to need to soak tonight.”

We finished our breakfast and flirty banter and parted ways. We planned the ship tour for after lunch at one. Back in my room, I showered, shaved, and checked the ship’s information on the television. The
Anchor Management
had sailed five hundred nautical miles and had another hundred twenty to go before reaching Nassau. Our estimated time of arrival was still three p.m.

There was no way to find out how Viktoria Durov came to work for the FBI, short of asking her, and I wouldn’t do that on the boat. Tomorrow I would find an excuse to leave, alone, and join her in room 627.

While I was out, an aluminum suitcase had been delivered to my room. In it were all manner of high-tech goodies still in their boxes. An iPhone, iPad, and an extremely thin IBM laptop were the main items. I had read every technology magazine I could get my hands on while in prison, so I was familiar with most everything. I began opening boxes and charging batteries.

Beneath all the gadgets was a thick envelope. Inside was cash, car keys, and a North Carolina driver’s license, along with a letter from my father letting me know that everything in the suitcase should be considered a gift and that I was under no obligation to pay him back, ever. I counted ten thousand dollars in crisp twenties and hundreds. Hank Hampton was making a concerted effort to improve our relationship. If only he knew that money or gadgets wasn’t the answer. Still, having just had Christmas in March, I should be looking for things to head south between us sooner rather than later.

We entered the turquoise waters
of Nassau Harbor shortly before three p.m. and slowly cruised down the waterway toward our berth at the Marina at Atlantis. A massive cruise ship, the
Allure of the Seas,
sat alongside a pier to our right. It made the
Anchor Management
look like a two-person paddleboat. Dad informed me that it was currently the largest cruise ship in the world, a scant two inches longer than her sister ship, the
Oasis of the Seas
. To our left was a small spit of land that protected the harbor from the Atlantic. Dotted along its length were expensive-looking, colorful stucco homes set amongst vibrant tropical greenery.

As our group stood along the railing of the sun deck, I sipped a frozen mojito, and the alcohol reminded me of that fateful December night when two lives ended.
Two lives ended?
I know that sounds callous, because I have an endless supply of oxygen, a beautiful woman next to me, and I’m sailing on a beautiful ship to a tropical location. I believe for the first time since I killed Cam Tanner, I felt guilty. In prison, I was serving my time and I felt bad for me. This was different, and I wondered if it was a feeling that had staying power. My mood darkened, and Anna noticed.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine. It’s just, sometimes I’m reminded of the past,” I said, as I sat the drink on a small wooden table and looked away.    

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Thank you, Anna, but no. I would rather enjoy the present instead of reliving the past. What’s done is done.”

“I understand,” she said, although her body language suggested otherwise. She turned away from me and took in the sprawling, pink-stucco structure known as Atlantis, as the boat turned towards the marina.

“Anna, I’m sorry. You’re here to relax and have fun, not hear about my issues.”

“Chase, let me clue you in on something. Russian women like to make their own choices and not have them dictated to us.”  

“I thought you were Americanized?”

“Yes, but some things from your heritage stick to your bones and soul.”

“Okay, then maybe I will bore you with it later.”

“See, now that wasn’t so hard,” she said. It was easy to be smitten with Anna Petrov. She was the type of woman that men would want to bare their souls to. For me, that was best done in small doses.

We watched the activity from our perch as dock workers prepared to tie us up. A long finger pier, designed for mega yachts the size of
Anchor,
would be our home from now until six p.m. Saturday. The ship’s stainless steel gangway was maneuvered into place, and two men dressed in Customs uniforms waited to board.

“Anna,” I said, after the others had walked downstairs, “maybe you’re aware that my father is trying to play matchmaker, or maybe you aren’t. Either way, I wanted you to know that it was solely his idea.”

“Chase, do you enjoy spending time with me and talking to me?”

“Well, I was hoping to pair up with Dmitri and talk clothes and Russian pop culture, but he’s the shy, quiet type. I guess you’ll do in a pinch, Anna.”

“Good, so let’s just see what happens. If I didn’t like being around you, trust me, you would know it. Don’t assume anything about me.”

“Fair enough.”

We went down to the main deck where the Customs agents inspected passports and photo IDs and the guests filled out immigration forms. Once Customs cleared the boat, we were free to leave and explore. The ship’s lone security officer manned the entrance to the gangway and would be there until everyone was back on board.

For the next two hours, Anna and I walked the meticulously landscaped grounds. She snapped pictures of everything with her phone, and as we walked on the edge of the water, an older couple passed us, stopped, and asked if we wanted our picture taken together.

“Yes, thank you,” Anna said, throwing her arm around my neck. I reached down and picked her up, surprising her. It felt good to hold her, though maybe things were moving a little fast.

“You two must be on your honeymoon?” the lady inquired.
Things weren’t moving that fast.

“We are; we just got here,” Anna said, and she surprised me with a kiss on the cheek.

As we continued our walk afterward, Anna giggled and said, “When I kissed your cheek, you had the same look on your face as your father did during our practical joke yesterday evening.”

“I haven’t been kissed by anyone in forever, especially by someone like you. So, how come you don’t have a boyfriend?” I asked, although I thought I knew the answer.

“I date, but I’ve never had the time to devote to a relationship. It will happen when it happens.”

We walked back to the ship, and I thought about inviting her to my room, but again I stopped. If seven years had taught me anything, it was patience.

During the walk, I’d located the Coral Towers amongst the many high rises that comprised Atlantis. I decided that tomorrow morning I would leave the boat around ten thirty on the pretext that I was going for a run. I wondered if the FBI was already here in Nassau with eyes on the boat. I assumed someone, in addition to Viktoria, would be in the room for tomorrow’s rendezvous, maybe Schmidt himself, but hopefully not in the same cheap black suit.

After dinner, the Durovs, Dmitri, and my father left the boat for the high-dollar baccarat tables at the resort’s casino. Anna asked if I was going, and I was tempted to pull out my stash of twenty- and hundred-dollar bills.

“Gambling is not my thing. Besides, I’m not exactly rolling in money. Maybe I’ll go to the movie room and start catching up on seven years of missed movies. Are you going out?”

“No, I think I’ll just stay on the boat and relax, maybe get a massage.”

“You’ll be happy to know you are relieved of chaperone duty since Viktoria is off the boat.”

“Chase, you mistake what I said.”

“How so?”

“After you and I relax in the hot tub, you are going to give me a massage.”

“In that case, I’ll try and listen more closely next time to your cryptic sentences. By the way, I like your idea. Have I told you that?”

“You just did.”

“Right. Spa pool in twenty minutes?”

“Fifteen and don’t be late.” she playfully ordered.

The spa pool was located aft on the salon deck. The lights were dimmed for privacy. Like the spa pool on the sun deck, this spa also had blue track lighting and padded headrests.

I made it there in ten minutes and had just taken off my robe when I heard a wolf-whistle. I looked up and Anna had a big grin on her face, with a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other.

“Are those abs real?” she asked.

“After six weeks of regular food, you will be able to call them flabs,” I said as I hopped in the hot, frothy water.

“All right, I’ve been waiting twenty-four hours to see you in a bathing suit, so I’m going to need you to take that robe off,” I said as I sat back on the curved spa seat and watched her expectantly.

“Is that right?” she said, smiling at me, as she watched me watch her disrobe. Most things in life that you build up end up disappointing you; however, seeing Anna disrobe was totally worth it and then some. She had the body of a dancer, lithe and limber with just the right amount of curves. Anna tossed the pink robe over a stainless-steel curved chair and turned back to me as she put her black hair up in a ponytail. Her bikini was a mix of red banding on the top and bottom with little blue swirl patterns in between. Nestled between her breasts were two white decorative buttons that I could not stop looking at.

She entered the water, promptly straddled me, and clasped her hands behind my head.

“Do you like?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t think Dmitri could pull off this look, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She playfully rapped me lightly on the head. “You know what I mean.”

“You are very beautiful and sexy and so many other naughty adjectives that come to mind.”

“You have good grammar skills,” she said, coming closer as her lips found mine. I put my right arm behind her, pulled her in closer to me, and ran my hand down her smooth, wet back. My heart rate sped up as her tongue probed my mouth.

“Are you always this forward, Ms. Petrov?”

“I am when I know what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

“A little more privacy, for starters.”

***

Eighty yards away in a copse of Bermuda Olivewoods, the watcher peered through night-vision binoculars and observed the couple frolicking in the tub.
Chase, you are a busy boy
. She found herself aroused and a little embarrassed at the voyeuristic act of watching the two intertwined, half-naked bodies. Her love life was nonexistent—the job demanded it—but soon her part would begin. A pretend boyfriend was better than no boyfriend.