Kill on Command (51 page)

Fifty meters from the beach, Sergei stopped Sean.  They both treaded water.  The rain and wind were still pounding the beach.  Both men floated up and down as each wave passed. 

“We take the next several meters very slowly.  There will be no beach patrol tonight.  The tide is too high.  We need to watch for men in the dunes, however.  Follow me the rest of the way.”

Sean swam next to him, heading north, following the shoreline and slowly making their way closer to the beach.   When they could touch the bottom, they began to emerge from the water.  Sergei gradually went to his knees and eventually he was flat on his stomach with just the top of his back and head out of the shallow surf.  Sean mimicked his every move.  The waves from the storm crashed on and all around them.  Sean spit salt water out of his mouth.   The hard Daytona sand felt like concrete under his elbows and knees.   It was completely dark.  They stayed there for several moments, not moving, just floating in the shallow surf.

Approximately, twenty meters separated the edge of the water and the relative cover of the dunes.  The sand was hard and wet from the rain.  They would not leave any footprints and if they did, the rain would quickly wash them away.  Sergei slipped off his fins, moved to a crouch, reached over and unzipped the pack on Sean’s back.  He pulled out a set of night-vision goggles and zipped the pack back up.   He removed his mask and put on the night-vision goggles, scanning the dunes from the safety and cover of the black ocean water.  He saw nothing.  Sean removed his fins. Sergei sprinted, carrying his mask and fins in one hand.    Sean was right behind him.  They stopped behind a large dune directly below a stand of tall grass.  Sergei removed his pack and handed Sean the weapons.  He held up the tranquilizer gun to emphasize which one he should use.  Sean pulled on the night-vision goggles.  It took a of couple seconds for his eyes to adjust.  Everything was bathed in an eerie, green light.  The devise picked up all of the light from the lower end of the infrared light spectrum and amplified it to the point where Sean could see.  Sean figured it was going to take some getting used to.

The rain and wind kept pounding the beach. 

Sean glanced at Sergei and concluded that he was even more terrifying with the night vision devise attached to his head.

Sergei moved to the edge of the dunes and scanned the perimeter of the house.  There were no patrols.  He didn’t see anyone on the roof either.  However, he knew they were there.  He knew someone had to have been watching.  From the bag, he removed the thermal imaging device and scanned the property.  Two images popped up and appeared to be in the front of the house.  Three more looked to be sleeping on the second floor.  There was a lone figure in what he believed was Price’s bedroom.  Just then, the last man came around the corner of the house and into the backyard.  He was walking the perimeter of the property.  Sergei sat back down and looked at Sean, then pointed at the sand.  He wrote a message in the sand with his index finger, relaying what he saw. 

Sean looked at him and then wrote “so what now?”  The rain was coming down so hard that it quickly washed away the words.

“We time his patrol.  When he passes again, we will run.”  Sergei wrote and then turned to watch the guard walk back towards the front of the house.  He looked at his watch and kept his eyes on the house.  Ninety seconds later, the guard made his way back around the house.  He looked miserable.  He had a hood on which only helped Sean and Sergei.  His peripheral vision was now non-existent.  When he turned the corner, Sergei and Sean sprinted for the house.  The rain and wind made their movements nearly silent.  Sean still was not comfortable with the goggles.  He felt they slowed him down.  Sergei moved like he was born in them. 

They stopped under the balcony and Sergei pointed to the ledge and then cupped his hands in front of him.  Sean stepped on his hands and jumped as Sergei pushed him up.  Sean caught the rail of the balcony with both hands and pulled himself up.  He peered across the patio and into Price’s room and saw no movement.  Then he looked down at Sergei, got a firm foothold on the edge, leaned down and extended his left hand. The black neoprene gloves helped with his grip on the wet railing.   Sergei jumped up and took hold of Sean’s hand.  Sean could feel the strain on the left side of his body as he lifted 220 pounds of Russian.   He pulled Sergei up high enough for him to take hold of the bottom of the balcony and pull himself up.  Both men jumped over the railing and onto the patio, which was nearly eight feet wide with a small overhang that protected a sliding glass door.  Two Adirondack chairs and a small table were on the patio.  A cigar butt floated in the water that had collected in an ashtray on the table.  Sergei glanced at his watch.  They had sixty seconds to get into the house.

Sergei looked through the sliding glass door.  No movement.  He could see Price sleeping soundly.  He pulled on the sliding glass door slightly.  It was unlocked. 

“Idiot.”  Sergei thought.  “Price is one of our top security people and does not lock his own door.”

In ten minutes it would be “was”.

Pavel had done his job.  No alarms.  The two crept into Price’s bedroom without effort and most importantly, without resistance.  The bedroom was a modest size, the walls covered with pictures of Price meeting important people.  The room was completely silent except for Price’s snoring.  Sergei moved carefully across the tile floor to Price’s bedside and knelt.  Sean was standing directly behind him.  Sergei put his hand over Price’s mouth.  He woke up immediately. 

“Make a sound and I will kill you.  Nod if you understand,” Sergei whispered. 

Price nodded and Sergei slowly removed his glove-covered hand from Price’s face. He didn’t protest or make threats towards Sean and Sergei.  He knew they knew who he was.  People just don’t stroll silently into a CIA deputy director’s second story bedroom un-detected.  Price had a good idea who was standing in his room.  The look of them chilled him to the bone.  They were black-clad figures with ominous night vision equipment strapped to their heads. A dark cloud of death was hovering around them.  It was clearly Waters’ experiment and the Spetsnaz soldier.  He told himself that he should have seen this coming. 

“Where is your safe?” Sergei asked. 

Sean was puzzled.  “Why the safe?  What the hell?”

Price nodded to his University of Florida diploma mounted over a desk.  Sergei got up and Sean moved over closer to Price and put his hand back over his mouth and violently pushed him back into the pillow.  Price’s eye went wide.  He knew who Sean was and the details of all of the assassinations.  Price knew Sean would take this all very personally.  It was just who he was.  Price feared his wrath.  The gore.  The blood.  The unfettered violence. 

Sean turned to watch Sergei.  Price had given up.  He did not resist. 

Sergei removed the diploma to reveal a safe.  He took off his waterproof pack and placed it on the desk.  He entered a code from memory and opened the safe.  Waters’ files and notes had details on everything, including the combination to the safe.  Inside there were three thumb drives and what looked like $500,000 in cash, all stacked neatly in the safe.  The files on the Disposable Patriot program were lying on top of the cash.  He took out the thumb drives and placed them in a smaller bag and sealed it.  He removed the classified files as well and then took a stack of the cash.  It looked like $75,000, which he stuffed in the bag and zipped it up.  He closed the safe and replaced the diploma on the wall.  He then walked softly over to Price.

“Kill him, Sean,” Sergei said.

“You. .  .You. .   You said you wouldn’t kill me,” Price babbled.

“That’s right.  I’m not.  He is.” 

Sean put his hand back on Price’s mouth.  Sergei handed him the syringe.

“You should not have come after my friend,” he said, jabbing the needle into Price’s neck.  Sean continued to hold his hand over Price’s mouth.  The chemicals took effect almost immediately.  Price died shortly there after.  Sean fluffed his pillow and straightened the sheets.  It needed to look like he died in his sleep. 

“That’s too good for him,” Sean whispered.

Sergei did not respond and moved towards the door.  He looked outside and then down at his watch.  He figured the guard would be passing in twenty seconds.  Sean stood in the bedroom glaring at Price’s still warm corpse.  The twenty seconds felt like twenty hours.  Finally, Sergei quietly slid back the door and stepped outside.  It was still pouring.   He could see the ocean beyond the dunes, but no guard.  Sergei peered over the side and then motioned for Sean to follow.  Both men hopped over the railing and then gently dropped to the ground.  Sergei put his hand on Sean’s chest to prevent him from running.  They waited a moment and then Sergei nodded.  They sprinted back to the dunes.  Sergei repacked the weapons and handed his night-vision equipment to Sean to do the same.  Both of them fastened the packs tightly to their backs, grabbed their masks and fins and sprinted for the water.  The waves crashing against the shoreline did not make entering the water easy.  When they were chest deep they pulled their masks back on, slipped on their fins and began swimming back to the boat.  Sean’s adrenaline was really flowing.  He made it back to the boat a little ahead of Sergei.  He stopped and treaded water about twenty meters from the boat.  Sergei’s weather report was accurate.  The storm had subsided slightly, but the boat was still going to be tough to board.  Sergei stopped and treaded water next to Sean. 

“Grab the railing on the right side of the stern and swing yourself up onto the platform!  You need to time the waves!  I’ll go first!”  Sergei set off for the boat and did just what he described.  He made it look easy.  On the boat’s deck he waved for Sean to follow.  Sean swam up to the side of the boat, but again his timing was off.  The ocean was going to slam him into the side of the boat.  He recovered and was able to swing himself up but not as gracefully as Sergei had.  Once on the platform, he felt Sergei grab his arm and haul him on board.  Sean spit what felt like a pint of ocean water out of his mouth onto the deck.  Both men entered the cabin.

“Good job,” Sergei said, as he removed the waterproof pack.  Hearing “good job” from Sergei was like winning a medal anywhere else.

“Thanks.”

“It was important to complete this without any collateral damage.” 

“What was this all about?  What was in that safe?”

“This.  It’s useful intelligence.” He held up the thumb drives.  He left the classified files on the program Sean was part of in the bag.

Sean turned away from him.  He was pissed. 

“These men needed to be eliminated.  They were a threat.  They needed to pay for their actions,” Sergei explained as he took out the stacks of cash.  Sean spun around.

“You robbed him?  Come on!”   Sean protested, raising his arms in the air.

“It’s yours,” Sergei said, pushing the money across the table.

“I don’t want that fucking money!”

“You need it.  Take it.” Sergei wanted to help Sean but his gesture was backfiring.  He knew Sean needed it.  Waters and his team had emptied Sean’s bank account the moment they knew he had escaped from the hospital and was on the run.  Sean walked across the cabin and pointed to the shower between the bedrooms.

“This piece of shit work?”  He did not wait for an answer and went into the shower.

Sergei watched him go.  He stood there for a minute and glanced at Sean’s backpack on the floor of the cabin.  He picked it up, carefully packed the cash underneath all of Sean’s clothing in the bag and placed it back on the floor.  He put his hands on his hips, stared at the floor and took a deep breath.  He thought he was getting old and soft in his old age.  He picked up a rag from the sink and carefully wiped the paint from his body, but did not bother getting dressed.   He would only get wet again.  He went back out into the rain, to the upper deck and started the engines.  He flipped the switch to pull the anchor up, pushed the throttles up and headed south for Ponce Inlet.  It was not easy going and the sea was still thrashing the boat.

Sean heard the anchor being pulled up and the engines start.  “Good!” he shouted.  “Let’s get the hell out of here.” 

The shower did not have hot water, but there was soap.  Sean scrubbed the paint off with a soapy washcloth and washed his hair with a little travel size shampoo that was in the stall.  He could feel the boat fighting the ocean and the waves were bouncing him around in the tiny shower.  He stepped out of the shower, dried off and put his dry clothes back on.  They smelled, but he had nothing else to wear.  He felt as if there still was sand all over him.  He sat down in the main cabin.  He was not sure what was next.  Were they going to try and kill him?  Should he just jump over the side and swim for it?  Sergei was right.  He was going to have to come to terms with what had happened to him.  How he handled it would define him.