

### The Gaines Agenda

By

Blaine T. Zaid

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 by Blaine T. Zaid

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

## Prelude

Robert Gaines strolls about the MGM Grand ballroom amidst the crowds attending Las Vegas' 1989 Comdex show. With the thick glasses, and the goofy look, no apparent care in the world. He nods and smiles, taking in the exhibits just as he has for a number of years. 'That's what's so wonderful about computer technology,' he thinks to himself. It keeps advancing, keeps outdoing itself, year after year. He bumps into a man wearing more formal attire.

"Oh Doug, it's you. How do you like the show," he says to the man in the business suit.

"It's great Bob, but don't you think a little bit of security would be in order? I mean look at this mess!" Doug Leavitt gestures with one arm to the noisy crowded mass of humanity in the Ballroom.

They continue on together, discussing exhibits and ideas that might be useful at Compusoft. Soon, another business suit executive joins them. "What do you think Bob? Nothing to rival our coming lineup eh?"

"I think we've got to keep on our toes guys. This industry is moving forward, and we need to make sure Compusoft is leading the way with innovative new technology that every American will want to use."

The other men look at Robert Gaines, expecting further enlightenment, but he simply turns his head forward, and heads toward the front door of the ballroom. The group of dapper businessmen are following him. Him, in the jeans and oxford shirt. Him with the skinny frame and Coke bottle glasses. Robert Gaines has already helped each one of them attain great success, and they know that much more can be expected from this computer genius.

They follow him through the revolving doors of the MGM Grand, into the hot, dry, desert air. Just as they clear the doorway, a man steps out to block Robert Gaines' path. Before any of them realize what is happening, a large tin, filled with whipped cream, is slammed into his face. He strikes out awkwardly with both arms, unable to see his assailant. Doug Leavitt and the other businessman grab the pie thrower, and tackle him to the ground. A security guard from the hotel runs over and handcuffs him. Bob cleans the whipped cream from his face.

The attacker screams, "Down with Compusoft, the Big Brother of personal computing!"

"Shit Bob! That was just what I'm talking about!' exclaims Leavitt. "The CEO of the biggest software company in the northern hemisphere cannot walk around like a college kid at the arcades. We've got to get you some kind of security team."

"I guess you're right Doug," Bob reluctantly concedes. "I wouldn't want it to be more than a pie the next time."

Doug Leavitt watches, as the attacker is led into the hotel in handcuffs. "Shit!" he exclaims once again, while shaking his head in disbelief.

## Chapter 1

Ten Years Later

It is morning, and the sun has risen, hovering low in the sky. Large areas of heavy pine forest intersperse with fields and farmhouses. Amidst a clearing in the forest, rests a large gated estate with a long cobblestone drive leading to a courtyard in front. The house has many wings, and an oblong rectangular swimming pool situated in the central core with lush foliage, and several waterfalls emptying into it.

Inside the house, Robert Gaines, CEO of Compusoft sits at a large, dark, natural wood desk in his study. He wears a neatly ironed Polo dress shirt, open at the neck, no tie, and a sport jacket. He looks thirty-five years old, with large framed glasses and blond/brown hair, and with the appearance of a former high school nerd, who has now been buoyed by the confidence that much success has brought him. Many mementos of his journey adorn the study. A blowup of a Fortune 500 Magazine cover in a glass case on the wall proclaims "Robert Gaines- Computer Whiz Kid Goes Corporate!". The desk has a large computer screen and keyboard on top. The walls of the study are dark wood paneled. Gaines, who has been typing on the keyboard intermittently, rises and walks to the Fortune 500 poster. He admires it and lets out a half chuckle, then heads out of the study and down a wide spiral staircase to the ground floor of his home. The hallway is twenty feet across, with a clay colored stone floor, and large Spanish style beige plaster arches across the ceiling.

"Good morning Mr. Gaines," "Morning Mr. Gaines," coming from two tall men in dark business suits who pass by him in the main hall.

"Morning gentlemen," he replies in a friendly tone.

The two men obviously work for Gaines, and they continue on down the hall in the opposite direction as if they are hurried.

Gaines turns into an archway to his right, entering the kitchen. Beth, his wife of two years, sits at the rectangular green marble table looking at the news paper and eating toast. She's twenty-five years old, with thick light brown shoulder length hair, a model's slender figure, hazel eyes, and a very fair complexion. She's dressed in her exercise wear, and when Gaines approaches, it's evident that she is taller than he is. He sits directly across from her at the table.

"Got any plans for today? I was thinking we could meet for lunch at Au Jourdui's," starts Bob.

"Sure Bob, that'd be great." Beth looks at him and smiles genuinely. She's relaxed and contented, very natural looking, not uptight or pretentious like many of the super rich.

"I'm playing tennis with Carly at nine. I'll call right after we're done so we can meet there," she continues.

"Sounds great!," says Bob," Oh, thank you Marta, oh that's good," as he tears into the marmalade covered wheat toast the maid set before him.

Bob finishes his breakfast slowly, not in a rush at all, chatting with Beth and reading through the Wall Street Journal. He tended to do most things slowly actually. Not as though he was an idiot, but considering all the possibilities each step of the way.

"Say Beth, looks like Rocor's heading up."

Rocor was a spin-off software company created by Doug Leavitt, a former partner in the early years at Compusoft. Leavitt and Gaines had been friends since puberty when they were co-computer nerds in high school. Together they had weathered jeers from the "cool surfer" crowd whilst negotiating the hallways at Franklin High. When Leavitt left Compusoft, he did so knowing that Bob would always welcome him back, should his venture fail. Doug's new company did well though. He assembled a team of programmers who devised more efficient and sophisticated software to operate robotic factory assembly lines. The nature of his business required proximity to customers mainly based in the Midwest and Eastern states. Rocor was thus located in upstate New York, but Doug and Bob made frequent E-mail contact, which suited their busy schedules.

Bob rises from the chair, leans over to kiss Beth goodbye, and says,

"Goodbye Marta."

"Bye-bye Bob," and "Goodbye Mr. Gaines," say Beth and Marta.

He proceeds back out of the kitchen, down the wide hall towards the garage. Entering the five-car garage from the interior doorway, there are two men sitting at a built-in desk with a computer and some walkie-talkies. Unlike the other two men, they are dressed more casually in corduroys and short sleeved knit shirts. One is taller, blond with a muscular build and a bushy mustache. The other is average height, brown hair, with a noticeable scar across his right cheek. A voice comes over one of the radios,

"Number one's clear and away."

"Roger," responds one of the men at the desk.

"Good morning gentlemen," states Bob in an upbeat tone.

"Good morning Mr. Gaines," they respond in unison.

"If it's OK, Joe'll take you alone today Mr. Gaines. I need to check the cameras out by the south corner, and Allied Alarms is coming out to install the extra motion sensors," states the muscular blond one.

The men Gaines talks to are part of his security team. Each morning, an identical bulletproofed and armored black limousine leaves either ahead of, or after him as the decoy vehicle. That car contains the two men in the suits, both ex-CIA, and heavily armed. The other two men accompany Gaines in the additional car, unarmed, but with radio communication to the CIA team. Bob prefers to have the availability, but not immediate proximity of the guns. Bob also wears a small black emergency beeper on his key-ring. When Compusoft started making the news frequently, and as his wealth became immense, he could not avoid the necessity of security. He was never completely at ease with the idea though. For one thing, he just didn't connect with these military / jock types the agency provided.

"Sure, OK Buddy," Bob replies, trying to appear friendly , and the shorter man rises to join him.

They hop in the limo, Bob in back, and the security man driving. The garage door silently opens and they roll out, forwards, down the long cobblestone drive. Bob flips open his sub-notebook computer, which had been lying on the seat beside him, and begins perusing the daily meetings schedule for Compusoft. He makes a MEMO entry,

Call Jack Eisenberg, accounting, re: new Slickfile 99 cost estimates.

The limo rolls onto the main highway, an infrequently traveled road except by the few people with homes in the area. The driver accelerates. Tall dark green pines rush by on either side.

"Do you mind if I put on some tunes Mr. Gaines?"

"No problem, just not too loud."

The driver clicks on the stereo, and an Elvis Costello tune blares out into the limo. The driver has his right arm over the front passenger seat and begins tapping to the beat and singing,

"Oliver's army is here to stay ay, Oliver's army is on our way ay, and I would rather be anywhere else, but here, to day ay, oh, oh oh, oh ohhh..."

Bob is irritated, but doesn't say anything until he notices they have made a wrong turn. The driver seems to have been paying more attention to the music than to their destination. They have entered the city but are traveling away from the Compusoft Building.

"Hey, Buddy, we're going to be late. Why don't you make a right up there and we'll double back around on Glacier Boulevard?"

The driver's head turns around. There's a scowl on his face accentuating the scar.

"Just sit back and enjoy the ride Gaines!" he says.

Bob reaches into his pocket and simultaneously presses the small buttons on either side of his emergency beeper.

The limo careens into a weedy vacant lot sending up a cloud of dust. Suddenly, the scar-faced driver turns the radio volume all the way up. Bob reflexively reaches up to protect his ears from the painful noise, and at that moment the driver sprays something in his face from a small can. He feels lightheaded, then slumps over, unconscious in his seat.

## Chapter 2

Beth reads the paper and talks to Marta as she does the dishes. Suddenly they hear a beeping noise. It's coming from the kitchen counter where Beth's keys sit. Beth jumps up and walks to the phone. She quickly dials the limo car phone number. It keeps ringing with no answer. She calls Bob's office.

"Hello, Mr. Gaines' office."

"Hello, Silvie? This is Beth. Is Bob there yet?"

"No Beth. Haven't seen'm yet. Do you want me to have him call home when he gets here?"

"Um, sure. Tell him to call right away."

"OK, bye bye."

"Bye." Beth hangs up the phone and then notices the sound of the door to the garage opening, then footsteps coming down the main hall. She feels her adrenaline kicking in.

"Marta! Something's wrong! We may have a burglar in here. Get a frying pan!"

They stand to one side of the kitchen entrance, hidden by the wall. Marta has a large cast iron pan, and Beth has her keychain can of pepper spray. Beth remembers to set off the house alarm. She runs to the back of the kitchen and punches a code into the alarm controls. A piercing bell starts sounding. She reassumes her position waiting near the kitchen entrance with Marta. The high pitched tone of the alarms echoes in their heads.

"Wait a minute Marta, maybe you better take this, and I'll take that."

They switch weapons and look back at the hallway. At that moment, the muscular blond guard rounds the corner, a nine-millimeter Glock pistol in his swinging right hand. Simultaneously, Marta sprays the pepper spray in his face, which becomes contorted with both surprise and pain from intense burning. He begins to raise the gun in his right hand. Beth slams the frying pan against the gun and hand. A shot sounds, and the gun goes flying, landing on the stone floor with a clatter. The guard screams in pain. Beth raises the iron pan, as if preparing for an overhead slam. She brings it down with all her strength, hitting the guard on the forehead with a thud. He falls backward to the floor.

"Shit!" says Beth. "It's Bob's driver. What's he doing here?"

"I don't know Mrs. Gaines," says Marta.

They run back to the alarm control panel. Beth turns on a small monitor next to the panel, and begins checking views from the video cameras scattered around the house and grounds. There doesn't appear to anyone else around. She picks up the phone and dials 911.

"Hello, we have an emergency. Elizabeth Gaines, Number One, Pine Grove Way. I think my husband's been kidnapped! Yes, my husband is Robert Gaines, yes from Compusoft."

## Chapter 3

The doorbell chimes twice. Beth and Marta watch the driver for any signs of movement.

"Go get the door Marta, I'll watch him."

Marta runs to the front door.

"Who is it?" she says.

"It's the police, Detective Sundance!"

Marta opens the door. Facing her are two policemen, one tall, with sandy brown hair and a bushy mustache, and the other shorter and balding, with extra girth around the waist.

"Portland PD mam, where's the perpetrator?"

"Come on, come on!" says Marta, anxiously.

The two policemen follow Marta to the kitchen entry. The driver is still unconscious on the floor. A small pool of blood has formed from under his right ear. The short, chubby, policeman kneels down and checks for a pulse at the wrist.

"He's alive Sundance, better call for a red and white."

The tall policeman pulls a microphone from his hip belt.

"Two Mary Alpha, we'll need an ambulance at One Pine Grove Way."

"Roger, Two Mary Alpha, how many injured are at the scene?" comes from the radio in a female voice.

"One injured, and it's a perpetrator," responds the officer into his mike.

"Roger Two Mary Alpha, one ambulance being dispatched to One Pine Grove Way."

Immediately the other policeman begins to question Beth and Marta.

"Is this the only one you saw?"

"Yes, he's one of my husband's drivers," says Beth.

"You mean like a chauffeur," says the detective revealing a trace of a Brooklyn accent.

"Yes, he's part of the Security Company. He wasn't supposed to be here now. He should have been with my husband and the other driver."

"So there's another chauffeur," says the short officer.

"Yes, there are four of them all together. Two in my husband's car and two in a second decoy car. "

"I see," says the detective, "so you were alerted to a possible intruder because all of them should have been out taking your husband to work."

"Yes," says Beth," and I think something may have happened to Bob, uh, my husband."

"Any specific reason other than this guy being here?"

"Yes, Bob and I have emergency beepers. He activated his right before all this happened," says Beth.

The doorbell chimes again. Marta goes to answer. Two paramedics come in hurriedly. The equipment in their box clatters as they run down the hall following Marta. The short detective stops his questions and they all watch the paramedics work on the unconscious driver.

"BP 190 over palp, pulse 46, respirations 8!"

"Looks like a skull fracture, pupils are equal and sluggish, let's tube'm!"

One paramedic starts an intravenous line in an arm of the driver and begins pushing in some medication with syringes. The other one gives several breaths to the driver with an Ambu Bag and then inserts a large clear tube into his mouth.

Almost instantaneously the paramedics are lifting the driver via a wooden backboard up onto their pop up gurney. They start off down the hall, and then one turns and shouts to the police officers,

"Whoever's goin with!"

"You go on Sundance, I'll take the ladies here down to the station," says the chubby detective.

Detective Sundance follows the paramedics and hops in the front of the ambulance with one of them while the other tends to the injured man in the rear.

The screaming sirens fade away as they speed off down the highway. The chubby detective begins questioning them again.

"So you hit him with the pan when he came in the kitchen here?"

"Yes," answer Beth and Marta simultaneously.

The detective leans over and picks up the pistol on the floor using a latex glove pulled out from his taught back pants pocket.

"Hmmm, a Glock. Doesn't smell like its been used today," he states, holding the gun in front of his nose and sniffing like a bloodhound.

"The gun went off when I hit him," says Beth, looking perturbed with the inaccuracy of the detective's statement.

"Oh, well, I'm gettin over a cold," replies the detective. "Lets go down to the station. Oh, and uh, bring any information you have on these characters, employment applications, anything like that."

Beth grabs her purse off the kitchen counter and looks at the detective.

"OK, let's go detective, what's your name?"

"Squabowsky mam, from an ancient Jewish Indian tribe."

Beth looks at Detective Squabowsky with concern. The other security men are probably abducting Bob, and this guy is making jokes. The detective senses her anxiety and his face turns serious.

"Let's go ladies," he says while waving them on with one arm.

They leave in a blue and white police cruiser, with Beth and Marta sitting in the back seat.

"I'm sure they'll find him Mrs. Gaines," says Marta encouragingly.

Beth looks down into her lap, contemplating. ' I'm not going to sit back and watch this happen like some helpless idiot.'

## Chapter 4

They arrive at the station. Detective Squabowsky escorts Beth and Marta up to the third floor where the stippled glass in the doorframe proclaims ' Division of Homicide Investigations.'

"Oh god, please don't let anything happen to him," Beth thinks out loud.

"Don't worry mam, we've got an APB out on the limousine. Every cop in Portland's looking for him right now. Forensics'll be going over everything with a fine tooth comb. Um, why don't we sit down and start getting a little more information. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"No thanks, I don't drink coffee," says Beth.

They rehash all the details of what happened at the house that morning. Detective Squabowsky asks for Bob's office phone number, and they call again, confirming that he did not arrive as expected. Squabowsky says that just in case anyone should return to the house, Beth and Marta should stay in a hotel downtown, and a police escort would be assigned to stand guard.

"How will I know what's happening?" asks Beth. "How can I be of any use sitting in a hotel room?"

"We'll keep you fully notified Mrs. Gaines," says Squabowsky. "It's normal to want to help out in situations like this, when a loved one is missing and all, but the best thing for your husband is to let us do our job as efficiently as possible."

Beth looks at him and thinks to herself,' There are things I know that might help Bob, I've got to get moving right away.'

The phone on the Detective's desk rings loudly. He answers it. While listening to the caller he looks at Beth as though he's sizing her up.

"Yeah, yeah, OK, I'll meet you there in thirty minutes, OK," he says into the receiver and hangs up. "Mam, we've found a limousine abandoned in an empty lot downtown. It's registered to your husband's company. I need you to come to the scene with me in case you can identify any of your husband's personal effects."

"Let's go Detective," says Beth.

They head out in Squabowsky's car. The sky above Portland has darkened with dense black clouds. A steady rain starts falling in sheets on the windshield, each wave sounding like a round of bass drums keeping rhythm to some ancient tribal ritual. The wipers drone on endlessly. Finally they pull into the area of the crime scene. Squabowsky opens his side window to speak to another cop who's approaching the car holding a black umbrella overhead.

"Better just let'er ID the car Squab, it's a mess out here, no use in catching cold," says the other officer, shouting over the noise of the falling rain.

"Any signs of what happened here Nils?"

"No sign of shots fired, no blood in or around the limo," says the officer in the rain.

Squabowsky maneuvers his car through the muddy lot toward the limo.

"Is that the vehicle your husband and the security men left in this morning?"

"Yes it is," replies Beth.

"Good, let's get you to the hotel. The car'll be towed to our yard where forensics can get a better look. Rain's obliterated any tracks there might have been....We'll have the lot searched for other clues."

"Have you got anyone identifying the men who kidnapped Bob? I'm sure the Security Company has pictures of them... And what about the one we knocked out at the house? What's going on with him? He should be questioned as soon as possible," states Beth confidently.

"We'll work on all that just as soon as I drop you off at the Meridien mam. Besides, I expect we'll be hearing from your husband's abductors soon. After all, what else could they be after, except money. He uh, didn't have any real enemies, did he?"

"Not anyone I know about that would want to hurt him," says Beth, "Unless it was some sort of a business grudge."

They head toward the Meridien Hotel. Marta is already in the room with a police guard posted outside the door in the hall. Squabowsky promises to let Beth know of any changes in the investigation immediately, then leaves Beth and Marta and the uniformed officer at the door.

"Anything you need, you just let him know, OK mam?" says Squabowsky as he exits the large hotel room.

It's a double suite with picture windows overlooking the Willamette River and a nice sitting area complete with couch, chairs and a coffee table. Beth stares out at the river and the other side of the city, wondering where Bob could be. There's a double knock at the door.

"Yes," Beth answers.

"It's Agent Garcia from the FBI to see you mam!"

Beth opens the door. A Hispanic man with a dark mustache stands with the uniformed officer. He has on a long black raincoat over a charcoal three piece suit and black cowboy boots with pointed toes. The lean, hardened look of a desperado, straight out of the old west. But when he begins to speak, his tenor voice is smooth and reassuring.

"Agent Garcia mam," he flips open a wallet showing his gold FBI badge. " We will be working with the local police to try to find your husband. I'd like to ask you some questions about him and his business if that's OK?"

"Sure, come in," says Beth, backing away from the door and walking back to the sitting area.

The agent follows her in, and the uniformed officer shuts the door to the hotel room, remaining at his post outside in the hallway.

Agent Garcia looks out the window, appreciating the fine view of the river with the dark storm clouds high above. He looks like he's contemplating something and then quotes out loud, "Un mas dia para pescar " Then he seems to snap out of a trance and turns to Beth and Marta.

"Do you know anything about the projects Mr. Gaines was working on recently?"

Marta looks quizzical, and Beth replies,

"He discusses some of the business with me, the things that he's most actively working on."

"Did you ever here about a project or anything by the name of Slickfile 99?"

"No. I don't remember anything by that name," answers Beth. "What does that have to do with Bob's kidnapping?"

"We're not sure yet. But we know a file with that name was removed from your husband's office computer last night. Our programmer says it's the only one deleted in the last twenty-four hours. May not mean anything, but we follow up anything out of the ordinary."

Marta, who had been silent throughout the conversation suddenly spoke out.

"I've seen some papers on Mr. Gaines' desk with that name written on them."

"When was that Senora?"

"Oh, it was about two weeks ago. I was cleaning in Mr. Gaines' study and organizing his desk. I stacked up papers with that name written on the cover."

"You mean with Slickfile 99 written on them?"

"Yes, that was it."

"Did you notice anything else that was written on them?"

"No sir, I just do my cleaning. I don't make any habit of reading through other people's business."

"I'm going to call and have an agent look through the house, if it's OK with you mam?" Agent Garcia directs his attention back towards Beth. She has taken off her overcoat revealing a beautiful figure wrapped tight in black Lycra intended for tennis that morning. Garcia imagines making love to Beth in the fancy hotel suite overlooking the river.

"Of course, Mr. Garcia. Do whatever you need to help me find Bob. If you don't mind, I'd like to have a few minutes to myself."

"No problem Mrs. Gaines. I'll be in touch with you."

And with that, Agent Garcia turns and leaves the two women to themselves. They hear him saying goodbye to the guard outside the room. Beth turns to Marta.

"I think we should call the police and find out if that man we knocked out is awake yet. Maybe they can get something out of him," says Beth.

"Sounds like a good idea Mrs. Gaines."

Beth pulls out the card the detective had given her and dials his number.

"Hello Detective Squabowsky. Yes. This is Mrs. Gaines. I'm calling to see if the man the other detective took to the hospital is awake yet. No. I see. OK, well let me know if there are any changes. Bye, Bye."

Beth hangs up the phone and tells Marta the discouraging news.

"He's in a coma. The doctors said he might need surgery, and he might not survive. It sure doesn't look like he'll be of any help to us."

Marta looks into Beth's eyes with compassion. She tries to comfort her, remembering the anguish of her own husband's murder, years ago, before she escaped to the United States.

"When things were looking very bad for us, me and my children, when we were trying to leave El Salvador, we decided right there that we were going to make it, and that was it. You'll think of a way to save Mr. Gaines. I know you will, because you're a fighter too!"

Beth sits down next to Marta on the couch and hugs her. She cries for a minute but then regains her composure. Suddenly, an idea pops into her head.

"I know what I need to do now! I need to call Doug Leavitt," states Beth emphatically.

## Chapter 5

Back at the Gaines' estate a flurry of activities begin. Detectives Squabowsky and Sundance are back on the scene overseeing the Portland PD forensics team and looking through the house for additional clues. The identification two of the security men had given to their company turns out to be falsified. Forensics is trying to get some fingerprints to run through the National Police File for a match. Sundance walks slowly down the main hallway with the plastered arches. He's thinking what a great lifestyle this would be, and admiring the workmanship put into the stone flooring. Sundance is the product of an old fashioned, Leave It To Beaver Style, American family. His father was a college football player, and after that became an insurance salesman. His mother was a homemaker and raised three sons. He was brought up in St. Louis, and moved to the West in search of a career in law enforcement. There have been a number of women in his life so far in Portland, but he hasn't settled down enough to commit to a steady relationship yet. His tall, muscular frame, and rugged looks, combined with a still somewhat immature personality allowed him to attract young women who were mostly just looking for a good time.

"Hey Sundance! Are we workin here or doin the Walter Mitty again?"

Squabowsky spots Sundance admiring the accommodations. Sundance looks up slowly at Squabowsky with a slight grin on his face. At that moment, the doorbell rings. Squabowsky steps over to open the door.

"Agent Garcia, Federal Bureau of Investigations," Garcia has arrived on the scene and flips open his badge to show Squabowsky.

"Come on in," says Squabowsky," Chief Becker told us to expect the feds."

Garcia enters the large doorway with both hands in his long coat pockets. He looks around, briefly acknowledging Squabowsky and then Sundance, and then seems to start taking in the surroundings. He remarks to the two detectives,

"Do you mind if I take a look upstairs?"

"No sir," replies Sundance," Go right ahead, we've finished dusting up there already. No prints except Gaines and the wife and maid. Everything looks pretty much undisturbed up there."

Garcia walks towards the staircase, his boots clacking on the stone floor. He heads up into the study where the maid had told him about seeing the Slickfile 99 papers. Standing in the center of the room, he turns around a complete revolution, taking in the entire picture. Looking through the desk drawers he finds no Slickfile 99 mentioned. He looks at the computer and then removes a cell phone from his overcoat.

"Hello, it's Garcia. Get Buzz over to the Gaines place. There's a computer here to go through. Yeah, I'm there right now. I'll be waiting."

Garcia continues sorting through the papers on and in Robert Gaines' desk. Nothing looks to be of particular interest. He takes a second glance at the "Robert Gaines- Kid Goes Corporate" poster in the glass case. 'He looks like a such a putz,' he thinks to himself, 'She must have gone for the money and the fancy lifestyle.' Then, the two detectives, Squabowsky and Sundance, enter the study accompanied by a pale, thin man wearing funny looking glasses.

"Hey Buzz," says Agent Garcia, "We've got another one here for you to check out."

"No problem Alfonso," the pale, nerdy looking guy responds in a very nasal tone.

He sits at the desk without another word, and boots up the computer. Quickly, he's typing nonstop on the keyboard. Words are flashing by on the computer screen so fast that the detectives and agent Garcia can't follow what's going on. The mirror image of the screen reflects off Buzz's glasses and he seems not to blink as he goes about the task of searching the computer hard drive and floppy discs. Suddenly, after about ten minutes, he turns to the other three men.

"Not much here Alfonso. Just the usual business programs and word processing. All standard Compusoft stuff. Some letters to various business contacts, I'm printing them now. Oh,... Wait a minute. Let's check and see if he has any E-Mail." The way Buzz lengthened the E to Eeeeee, in E-mail is particularly annoying to the others.

Buzz's fingers fly over the keyboard again. He accesses the Internet and uses the computer to check for E-mail. There's only one item, and it's timed from only two hours ago. It reads....

Hi Bob,

How are you and Beth this week?

Hope all is well.

Things are good back here. Did you see that Rocor's been heading up?

Oh, by the way Bob. I think there are some difficult problems with the Slickfile 99 idea. Namely, SECURITY. Maybe the government will be interested in the idea and you can keep it out of the private sector, under the Pentagon.

Anyway, I'm sure you've got all the angles figured out ahead of time, you always do.

Take care, Doug.

The four men look at each other. Garcia starts talking first.

"Well it seems that what we have here involves industrial espionage. Whoever kidnapped Gaines was interested in this Slickfile 99, whatever that is. And by the way gentlemen, all data regarding this document has probably been stolen. Buzz pulled the file name off Gaines' office machine but the data was all gone. We got lucky that his friend Leavitt left the message after the crooks had been through everything. Leavitt might be in danger now too. I'm sure the crooks could be monitoring Gaines' E-mail, wherever they are. I'll have our central office locate him for questioning and get him under protective custody. Why don't you boys keep dogging the physical evidence part of things? See if you can get on their trail that way, while I start investigating this Slickfile, and get talking to Mr. Leavitt?"

"Sounds like a plan," responds Squabowsky. "We're headed back to the station to see if anything comes up with the fingerprints on the national files. Good day... Alfonso." The way Squabowsky looks at Agent Garcia and calls him by his first name seems scrutinizing and kind of rude. Garcia figures it's some sort of Cops versus Feds type thing.

## Chapter 6

"Marta, there's no way we'll be able to get anything done from this hotel room," says Beth, looking out at the river as the background noise from the TV drones on.

"Well, what should we do Mrs. Gaines?"

"First of all we've gotta slip by our friend out there in the hall. Then we need a new base to work out of, since we can't go back to the house. I think I know just who to call." Beth pulls out a cell phone. "Hello, Carly? It's Beth..... You heard... Yes I'm OK, but I need a favor. Marta and I need a place to stay where we can be out of sight for a while.... The guesthouse would be wonderful. We'll be over later tonight. Thanks so much Carly. See you soon, Bye."

"Carly's having the guest house made up for us, so we're all set for a place to stay," says Beth redirecting her attention to Marta.

"That's good Mrs. Gaines, but what about that guy out there?"

"Well, we may as well do it like the movies. Let's call for room service."

Beth calls the room service number and orders enough food for five people, along with champagne. The officer in the hall is very careful to frisk the hotel boy and search the large service cart on the way in. Everything looks as it should, and he lets the boy in. Beth tips the hotel boy well enough and explains her predicament. He rolls them out under the covers of his service cart and shuts the door closed behind them. The guard nods to him as he heads down the hall toward the elevator, and he nods back. As the elevator door closes, Marta and Beth fall out from the bottom of the service cart panting after having been limited to three minutes of shallow breathing in a contorted position under the cart. The elevator dings as they reach the ground floor.

"Let's go Marta! We've got work to do!"

Marta follows Beth out through the busy lobby of the hotel. Beth glances back towards the front desk and notices Squabowsky and Sundance talking to the concierge. She hurries Marta along, tugging on her coat sleeve. They push through the revolving door together and head off with the pedestrians outside the hotel. A steady rain falls, muffling the sounds of the street.

Back at their room in the Hotel Meridien, plaster dust begins to fill the air and cover the furniture, kicked up by high velocity rounds piercing through the wall adjoining to the room next door. The Portland PD officer bursts into the room, sidearm drawn. He looks up at the wall as new holes appear, and pieces of plaster and dust fly through the air as though in slow motion. Several rounds hit his Kevlar protected chest and knock him off his feet. He fires toward the wall the bullets are coming from. Silenced rapid-fire rounds sputter through the wall. One hits the officer in the face and he slumps down, flat against the pile carpet. His blood runs out, mixing with plaster dust to form a red paste around his head.

## Chapter 7

The 757 touches down at La Guardia on time, 7:00 am. Garcia runs the case over in his mind once again before meeting the New York team. He pulls a comb through his hair and pops a mint in his mouth; appearances did matter in the Bureau, especially with a big investigation like this one. Coming up the boarding ramp he notices the two men in blue suit jackets, one holding up a sign that says Mark Jones. He joins the two men and extends a hand to shake.

"Alfonso Garcia, pleased to meet you."

The other men introduce themselves.

"Bill Waters," says one.

"Duncan Garrand," says the other.

A new navy blue Chrysler New Yorker waits for them at the curb. They get in and immediately begin to talk business.

"We've got Leavitt at the Manhattan Safe house. So far he hasn't been too helpful. Says he doesn't know why anyone would be after Gaines, except for his money," says Garrand, a tall slender man with nut brown hair and bony facial features.

"Did he give any details about the Slickfile 99?" responds Garcia.

"Not much. He says that he's only aware it was something Gaines was working on."

"We think he knows more though," chirps in Agent Waters. "And the E-mail you intercepted would indicate that he does."

The New Yorker winds through heavy traffic as they head toward the Safe house. There seem to be infinite yellow cabs and busses mixed in with the cars. After a lengthy journey, they arrive at a Ritzy looking brick faced sky-rise in Manhattan. Waters clicks a controller, and a heavy gate swings open leading into subterranean parking. A doorman dressed in a red Beefeater's outfit holds the glass entry open for them as they enter the elevator lobby. The elevator doors are of brass polished to a mirror finish. Garrand hits the button for the 44th floor and inserts a key into the elevator controls, giving it one turn and then pocketing it in his suit trousers.

"Forty fourth floor," states the elevator's recorded voice message. On exiting the elevator, there is no hallway, but instead a large reception desk protected by thick glass that goes all the way to the ceiling. There are clear glass doors in it, so that one could see the mechanical workings of the knobs and locking mechanisms. The "receptionist" addresses the men with an amplified voice speaker through the glass.

"Good morning gentlemen."

The agents all flash their badges. Waters steps forward to the desk in front of the receptionist and punches a code into the built in keypad. There's a heavy clank, and the glass door to the left becomes slightly ajar. Waters holds the door open for Garcia and Garrand. They enter and Garrand leads the way to the office where Doug Leavitt is being kept. As they enter the office, Garcia notices the same plush surroundings as the Meridien, and again with an excellent view. Several other agents also in dark suits sit around a large circular glass table. Adjacent to the table on a couch sits Doug Leavitt and his wife of twelve years, Dr. Zelda Johnson, a former Olympic ice skater turned orthopedic surgeon. Leavitt looks toward the agents and speaks with emphatic tone, "I understand that Bob's life could be at stake here, but he still wouldn't want the information on Slickfile 99 divulged to just anyone!"

"Do you have any idea where we are, and who you're with Mr. Leavitt?" responds one of the agents at the glass table sounding agitated. "This is an FBI safe house, and we are all FBI agents! You have to trust us with any information that might help your friend!"

Leavitt increases the grip on his wife's hand as they sit side by side on the navy blue, white polka dotted, cotton duck sofa. Then he suddenly turns to his wife and whispers in her left ear. She nods. He speaks again.

"I can only discuss the content of Slickfile 99 with the head of the agency."

"You mean the head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation?" responds the same agent.

"Yes," states Leavitt, "either him or the President."

The agents at the glass table look at each other, and one nods toward the door. They stand and walk out for a minute. When they return, the same agent who had been speaking looks toward Agent Garcia. " Why don't you go ahead and use the red line in the next room Alfonse, see if we can arrange for someone important enough for Mr. Leavitt here to discuss Slickfile 99 with." Agent Garcia nods and leaves the room with the glass table. In ten minutes he returns.

"We can get the second in command with our agency Mr. Leavitt. That would be Dan Kresky. He's very knowledgeable about industrial espionage issues."

Leavitt looks intensely at Garcia, "You must understand gentlemen, this topic, the Slickfile 99, is very sensitive. It could undermine our entire national security if it fell into the wrong hands."

Garcia responds, "You have to understand Mr. Leavitt. It probably already has!"

## Chapter 8

Beth and Marta take a cab to the airport and rent a white, late model, Pontiac Grand Am from Portland Rental Car. They drive back toward Beth and Bob's estate, but stop short of the driveway, parking the Grand Am on the roadside. They inch toward the edge of the driveway on foot, carefully peeking around the foliage to look up the drive toward the house. There are several cars in the drive in front of the house. One of them looks like Bob and Beth's own limousine! Three men come out the front door, apparently talking. Beth identifies them as Detective Sundance, Squabowsky, and one of the four security men hired by her husband through the agency. "We better go now Marta!" Beth whispers loudly. They drive the Grand Am further down the highway and take the turnoff to North Grove Country Estates. Beth pushes the button and speaks into the box in front of Carly's drive.

"Hello, yes, Carly, it's us.... OK, we'll just go right back to the guesthouse... OK. Carly says she's indisposed at the moment, and we should go right back to the guesthouse. The maids have already made it up, and we should be very comfortable until she comes to greet us before dinner."

Marta nods, and they enter after the electric gate rolls open for them. They head down the long drive, and to the left side of the main house, a huge English Tudor, with authentic stone work, and copper fittings to detail the roof. Past the house, and to the rear, sits the "Guest House," which resembles a nicely kept English country cottage. A maid in her black dress with white apron approaches the car and opens the door for Marta. Marta and Beth exchange pleasantries with the maid and thank her for the assistance while she helps them into the cottage. The interior is richly appointed with a fireplace in the living area, already lit and emanating a dry heat that takes the chill out of the damp Oregonian air. "We've got to make a phone call," says Beth to Marta. "But won't they trace the call to here Mrs. Gaines?" "No Marta, not if I use the cell phone." Beth whips out the cell phone and dials.

"Hello, may I have Detective Sundance please? Yes I'll hold..... Hello, Detective, this is Beth Gaines... Yes we're OK... No, we weren't in the room since shortly after I talked to Agent Garcia. What was the limo driver doing at our house today? Shouldn't he be under arrest? Oh, I see... I guess that's possible... I can't tell you where we are, I'll call you back later, bye bye."

Beth explains to Marta that the first set of limo drivers

(The armed ones) had gone fishing and later returned to the house. When confronted by the officers, they claimed no knowledge of what had happened to Robert, and their alibi's checked out. They were released with the understanding they would be available for further questions and would not leave town. She also tells Marta about the fact that their room at the Meridien was shot up some time after they left it. Marta shivers as the news of their close call sends a chill down her spine.

"Doesn't it seem funny Mrs. Gaines, that those two detectives were in the lobby when we left the hotel, and some time after that, our room was attacked. Whoever shot up the room thought we were in there. How did they know that? Who told them? I don't know Mrs. Gaines, but something just isn't right. The Policias in El Salvador were always crooked, and getting involved in things Mrs. Gaines. I think we should be very careful!"

Beth agrees whole heartedly, and the two sit in front of the fireplace on a big leather couch. The maid enters carrying silver service tea and biscuits. They relax momentarily for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, but Beth's thoughts return to Bob, and what could be happening to him. Was he still alive; was he safe or injured? They finish the tea and biscuits and decide to take a walk around the estate. As they round the corner toward the front of the big house, they spot Carly standing on the porch in a short black negligee. She is a well-tanned blond woman in her 30's with an attractive figure. She waves good bye to a tall gentleman with dark hair and a mustache. He waves back, and hops into a vintage red Ferrari parked in the circle in front of the house. He pulls away, the Ferrari trumpeting as it leaves. "Whoops!" exclaims Beth, "I guess we better go back to the cottage." They wait for Carly in the cottage, and she arrives shortly before dinner as she had promised. Beth explains the entire situation to Carly. They walk together to the main house, and sit for dinner, discussing what could be done to try and locate Bob that the police and the FBI weren't already doing.

"If they were asking you things about Bob's work, don't you think maybe someone there might have some important information," said Carly, talking in between bites of T-bone steak.

"That's a good point Mrs. Gaines. Remember the detective was asking about that Slickfile 99," adds Marta.

Beth agrees. They plan to contact Bob's secretary at Compusoft first thing in the morning.

## Chapter 9

Dan Kresky sits facing Doug Leavitt and Dr. Zelda Johnson in one of the rooms in the Manhattan safe house. "So Mr. Leavitt," he begins, "I understand that you've been a close associate of Mr. Gaines for quite some time."

"That's right," responds Leavitt matter of factly.

"Let me get right to the point Mr. Leavitt, or may I call you Doug? We're quite sensitive to the proprietary needs of major corporations such as Compusoft and Rocor. In fact, we're investigating the theft of information from major US companies on a daily basis at The Agency. So let me assure you that I understand your desire not to spread this sort of information to just anyone, but your friend Mr. Gaines is in enemy hands now. We need every bit of information that could help speed his rescue before it's too late."

Doug Leavitt looks over at his wife. She nods to him. A contemplative look comes over his face, and as he relaxes, the furrows flatten out of his brow. He begins to explain.

"Slickfile 99 was never meant to go to market. Not as its own product line. It's a sort of software additive, that's what Bob called it, that could be included with new units or added to existing computers to make information accessible to the manufacturer."

"Exactly what information would that be Doug?"

"Well, all the information in the computer, actually," responds Leavitt.

"Do you mean to tell me that the CEO of Compusoft was planning to spike the company's computer products so they could obtain information off of all the computers they sold, or which used their software?"

"Yes that's correct," replies Leavitt, appearing quite anxious. "As well, the program was developed in the form of a computer virus, one that's almost impossible to detect, and spreads rapidly to other systems."

"Certainly, with your knowledge of what this thing could be used for, you recommended against it to you friend, didn't you Doug?"

"Yes I did, most aggressively, but Bob had other ideas. He said it was necessary for Compusoft to maintain its edge. And that none of the information could be retrieved, except by Compusoft mainframe systems designed for the task. He said he'd consider my objections though, that he'd think about selling the system to the CIA or FBI instead," Leavitt speaking fast and nervously at this point turns to his wife and says,

"I knew it wasn't quite right, what Bob was planning! I even tried to convince him not to. I didn't have the heart to report him. I've known him since high school...."

Kresky's face appears flushed, and he looks away, wincing.

"With Mr. Gaines and the information on Slickfile 99 in enemy hands, we could be looking at a major security breakdown, and who knows how many other problems. Imagine. Being able to access information from just any computer system you wanted without having to break through security programs. Just like that."

Kresky picks up a telephone and dials out...

"Hello, Garcia, get right on that guy in the hospital. Let's find out anything we possibly can, and see what the doctors can do for him as well! We must question that man!"

## Chapter 10

Bob Gaines sits in a small room with a concrete floor and cinderblock walls. His right ankle is shackled to the metal chair he sits on, and the chair is bolted by all four legs to the concrete floor. A single bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling lights the room inadequately. He thinks to himself, "I've got to get out of here. What are they going to do to me? I never should have trusted those jocks from the agency." He feels in his pants pockets, and they are empty. He hears the sound of someone fiddling with the door lock. In come two men dressed entirely in black. He recognizes neither one. They are heavy set, tall men, with pale complexions and dark brown mustaches. One speaks to him in English with a thick accent that sounds Russian. "You tell us about Slickfile 99."

"I don't know what you're talking about," responds Gaines.

The Russian who hadn't spoken steps up to Gaines and backhands him across the face with a black leather gloved hand. Blood trickles from his lower lip. "You tell us about the Slickfile 99," repeats the first Russian. Gaines just looks at them. The second Russian begins punching him in the face. He tries to block the blows, and receives a crushing injury to his right hand. The first Russian speaks again, but not in English. They leave the room, slamming the door shut behind them. Several minutes later the light goes out. Gaines sits in the dark, wiping his bloody face and rubbing the injured hand. "Shit," he thinks," I'm really in trouble now. Maybe the police are coming, maybe I'll be rescued soon." He has no idea that he's in a warehouse in Texas. Outside, lay nothing but mile after mile of desert and tumbleweeds.

Next door in a large office with much computer equipment, the head Russian speaks to his supervisor by phone. "He is not talking yet. We have begun psychological methods. Yes, I think we can break him. Yes." The two go back to Gaines' cell, one comes up quickly behind Gaines and pulls both his arms behind the chair. The second one withdraws a syringe from his pocket, ties a tourniquet onto Gaines captive arm, and injects him with a clear liquid. Gaines feels his senses becoming distorted. His vision blurs and stings as the light turns back on in the room. He struggles with his arms, but is unable to move.

"Tell us about the Slickfile 99 Mr. Gaines. How do you retrieve the information? How do you activate the virus?"

Bob begins to speak, " Beth, Beth, where are you? Where are you Beth? Come with me; let's go play in the park... Oh, oh, I seeeeee, a treeeeee...."

"The serum is not working, you gave him too much!" The Russian holding Gaines' arms shouts at the other one. "Now we must wait until tomorrow!"

Just as Bob begins to open his eyes, coming out of the drug induced stupor from who knows how many hours ago, the two Russians enter the room again.

"Now, you tell us about Slickfile 99."

"Oh, oh you mean the program. Sure, sure..." says Bob. "It's a new sort of word processor combined with spreadsheet and slide making capability for business use, that we are just developing."

One of the thugs pulls Bob's arms behind him again and twists the injured right hand.

"Owww, that hurts," says Bob.

"Look Mr. Gaines, you can tell us what we need to know now, or we can make the last part of your life very painful for you, sir."

"I'm having trouble remembering right now," responds Bob. "It must be the stuff you gave me before."

"We come back soon, you remember then, or we begin stronger methods," says one of the Russians.

"Stronger methods! Shit!" thinks Bob to himself. The door slams shut once again, and the light goes out. Bob has no idea what time of day, or for that matter, what day it is. He figures that if they start giving him some food or water, at least one or two days should have passed between feedings. He stands next to the metal chair, unzips his fly, and pees off into the darkness. Maybe he can get attention from whoever might be outside this building. He begins to scream. His voice resonates with dull tones coming off the concrete walls. He can tell the sound isn't going anywhere. Soon he tires, sits back down to the chair, and begins mentally pacing back and forth within the dark confines of his cell.

## Chapter 11

Beth awakens under cool crisp white sheets in her room at Carly's guesthouse. She can't remember exactly when she fell asleep. Just that she was having some crazy dream, and that Detective Sundance and Agent Garcia and Bob were all in it. She notices the heavy sweet smell of Jasmine floating in with the breeze through the bedroom window. She breathes deeply, and relaxes for one last moment before beginning the numerous tasks of the day. "Marta's right," she thinks," we better be careful from here on out. That was a close call yesterday. After showering, Beth hears a knock on her door.

"Come in," she says.

Carly enters the room dressed in white slacks and a fuchsia knit top. "Good morning Beth. Are you holding up OK? "

"Yeah, I'm managing. I just want to do everything we can, anything that could help get Bob back."

"I wonder if there'll be a ransom note soon," says Carly.

"The FBI thinks that the kidnappers wanted something else, some program Bob was developing at Compusoft."

"Well Beth, I want to help also. You and Bob have been such close friends. Just let me know what I can do. And feel free to stay here as long as you like, Marta too. I do need to go out for a few hours this morning. But I'll be back before noon. Will you still be here?"

"I think so Carly. If we're not, we'll see you after dinner, don't wait for us."

"OK," says Carly," I'll see you in a few hours."

Beth finishes brushing her hair, and dresses in olive slacks, a black cotton shirt, and tennis shoes she had taken from the house. She goes out to the dining room to meet Marta for breakfast, and make a plan for the day.

"Good morning Marta."

"Good morning Mrs. Gaines."

"I think after we finish breakfast, that Bob's secretary should be in the office. Let's give her a call and see what she knows about Slickfile 99."

"Oh yes, what the Detectives were asking for," replies Marta.

They eat the buckwheat pancakes and blueberry syrup the maid had prepared for them. Marta finishes one cup of coffee, and they go to the family room in front of the fireplace to call Compusoft.

"Hello? This is Mrs. Gaines.... Yes, thank you, I'm sure the police will find him soon. Listen. Did Bob ever mention anything to you about a project called Slickfile 99? Hmmm, that's interesting. I was told by the police that it might be something Bob was working on. Oh well. Let me know if you hear anything about a project by that name, Slickfile 99, you can page me on my beeper, you have that number right? Yes, OK, bye bye."

The secretary Beth had just talked to flashes her phone line and dials out immediately. "Hello Mikael? Yes it's me." She looks around her desk to make sure no one is within earshot. "His wife called. She was asking about the program.... OK, I just thought you'd want to know. Ciao."

Several minutes later, Beth's beeper sounds. She answers the page. It's Detective Squabowsky on the other end asking her if everything's OK. Beth tells him that she and Marta are fine, and that they are trying to figure out who could have kidnapped Bob and what they want with him. Squabowsky, having heard from the FBI that the Slickfile 99 info stolen from Gaines' office is all to be considered classified, withholds this from Beth.

"Listen Mrs. Gaines," he says. "The doctors are operating on that bloke you cold cocked with the frying pan right now. They say we may be able to question him tomorrow. Oh yeah, and I guess I can tell you. It turns out he's a Russian national."

"Is that right?" says Beth. "Do you think they could be after some type of industrial knowledge that Bob has?"

"Well, they just could be mam. And for that reason, I think it would be wisest if you and your maid let us put you in protective custody as soon as possible. These people could have a lot of resources, and I hate to think if they found you out there with no one to protect you."

"A lot of good you've done," says Beth.

"Oh, well... Yes there was that incident at the Meridien. But we've got a lot of other places to hide you Mrs. Gaines."

At the station, another officer who had been monitoring some phone equipment, taps Squabowsky on the shoulder. He winks, and motions with his free hand to the other officers to get going.

"Uh, Mrs. Gaines. At least tell me you'll stay put somewhere out of the way for now. These people could be very dangerous," says Squabowsky.

"OK detective. We won't go far... for now. Bye bye."

Two Portland PD cars speed off toward Carly's estate after getting the trace on the phone call.

When they arrive, there's no one there. Carly accelerates down the drive when she sees the police cars in front of the house on her arrival home. She screeches to a halt in front of the house, and jumps out of her car, a white Mercedes convertible.

"Excuse me! What's going on here? This is my house!" she shouts at the officers who are walking around the outside of the main house and peering in the windows with their noses pressed against the glass.

Detective Sundance saunters up to take control of the situation, "Mam, have you seen Mrs. Robert Gaines or her maid Marta in the last twenty-four hours?"

"Well, yes they were guests of mine, actually..," responds Carly.

"Do you know where they are now? Because they could be in a great deal of danger." Sundance looks down at his cowboy boots and tries to knock a clod of dirt from the toe. "Damn!" he says, after the dirt clod leaves a stain on his new boot.

Carly's gaze is drawn down to the boot as well. "Well officer, I really don't know where they could be at this time." Carly notices that the rental car is gone from the side drive. "Your guess is as good as mine..."

Sundance looks directly into Carly's eyes and feels immediately attracted to her. He gazes down to her ample, tanned cleavage showing above the fuchsia knit top. In a daze, he doesn't manage to control the grin developing on his face. Carly, feeling irritated to be gawked at by the boyish policeman, grunts "hmmmmph." Sundance regains his composure and begins again.

"Well mam, if you do happen to see them; give us a call."

With that he turns away, trying to strike a manly pose as he retreats.

"What a joker," Carly remarks to herself, and then begins wondering about Beth and Marta.

## Chapter 12

Carly answers the ringing phone in the library where she had been reading after the episode with the policemen.

"Hello, Hi Beth, where are you two? Wait! Don't tell me, the phones might be tapped. There were a whole bunch of cops here a couple of hours ago."

"We're OK Carly. I'm going to be contacting a very influential friend of the family today. I think he can help us with our personal security, and maybe to find Bob too."

"Well, good luck Beth. I don't know if it's a good idea to come back here. Unless you want to talk to those cops again... No, I didn't think so. Keep in touch Beth."

They hang up and Carly continues reading her novel. She falls asleep until the phone rings again.

"Hello, Carly." It's a former male friend with a French accent. "I'm in town for twenty four hours. I'd really like to see you tonight... Oui, Oui, let's go to dinner at the Rafters, get some of that great Pacific Seafood... OK honey, I'll see you at nine.. Oui, at your place."

## Chapter 13

Beth and Marta are hours out of Portland driving toward the Oregon coast. Bob and Beth have a cottage there, overlooking the spectacular crashing waves of the North Pacific. The radio chatters with local news and traffic reports. Marta's head tilts forward, as she's half-asleep. Beth thinks back to the first time she and Bob went out to use the cottage. They had made passionate love several times on the giant Kodiak bear skin with the fireplace burning, and the landscape lights illuminating the white foam in the waves below the house. That was when Bob was still new to the world of the super-rich. Were there many times later on that they made love like that again? She couldn't remember. Darker thoughts cross her mind about some changes she was noticing in her husband. After the initial successes, he seemed to become so bossy and demanding; like he could run their life with the same absolute authority with which he controlled Compusoft. "Hmmmph!" She shakes her head to get out of the daze and concentrate on driving. The sky is gray and the rain has started in again.

"Do you need me to drive Mrs. Gaines?" Marta chimes in, waking up suddenly.

"No thanks Marta, I'm OK," replies Beth. "Just keep me company, we're almost there."

"No problem Mrs. Gaines. What do you want to talk about?"

"Well Marta. I'm going to call Senator William Jenkins tonight. I think he can help us out."

"Sounds like a plan Mrs. Gaines. Where is he the Senator of? "

Beth smiles. "He's a United States Senator elected by the state of Washington, Marta."

"Oh, yes. Maybe I remember him. Was he at one of those big fund raising dinners we had at the house last year? The tropical island theme party? And his wife was a black lady?"

"Yes, that's right Marta. His wife's a district attorney in Seattle. Greta. That's her name. Maybe we should talk to him through her. We might have better luck getting through that way. He's so busy with politics, I don't know if we'd ever get him on the phone at his home."

They roll to a slow stop in front of the gates at the cottage. Beth presses a button on her keychain and the gates open. They drive in and park in front of the beautiful stone faced, wooden beamed home. Beth and Marta grab their small bags and walk to the front door and enter. Beth turns on the lights in the entry. The house doesn't smell musty in the least. The weekly maid service had been there as she had ordered. There should be fresh food and milk in the refrigerator, and the beds should have freshly pressed sheets ready to be slept in. Beth looks to the large white bear's fur on the wooden floor, and wishes she were back in time.

Marta prepares a hearty meal. Eggplant parmigiana and garlic bread, with chopped salad and red wine. They enjoy the dinner, and Beth falls asleep on a big leather recliner by the fireplace. When she awakens, it's too late to call Greta and she decides to do so in the morning.

Light comes pouring into Beth's room awakening her. She stretches and slowly gets out of bed, noticing the smell of fresh coffee.

"Gooood Mooorning Mrs. Gaines!" Marta yells from the other room.

Beth goes into the bathroom and begins to freshen up. She looks at herself in the mirror and thinks she's beginning to notice some fine lines in her face. Too much worrying. She joins Marta in the living area in front of the great view, while Marta works in the immaculate open kitchen. Beth prepares herself and picks up the phone to call Greta Jenkins.

"Hello, DA Jenkins please. This is her friend, Beth Gaines. Yes, I'll hold on."

"Hello Beth! How are you doing? I heard all the terrible news about Bob. Who's taking care of you, girl?"

"Oh, I'm OK. Marta, my maid, and I are out at the cottage on the coast. We're not sure if we can trust the Portland PD, and we came out here on our own. Greta, I was wondering if there was any way Bill could arrange for some better security for us while I work on trying to figure this thing out?"

"Don't even say another word girl. I'll call Bill tonight and they'll have you surrounded by CIA by morning.... If that's really what you want."

"I don't think there's any way around it Greta. To tell you the truth, Marta and I were almost assassinated in a hotel in Portland a few days ago."

"Oh my god. Well, I'll try to get Bill to work on this for you right away. Listen, Beth, don't worry, I'll take care of it, but I have to go now. We're prosecuting a big case and there's a lot of work I need to do today. All right then, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Beth and Marta spend the day just admiring the beautiful scenery on the beach. There are few people around, being that it is midweek and during the winter. Marta remarks to Beth,

"You know Mrs. Gaines. It's not my business, but I think when this is all over, you and Mr. Gaines should start a family. Family's what makes your life really whole. Well, at least for me it is..."

Beth doesn't respond. Tears well up in her eyes as she recalls Bob's last comments about having a family. "I just want you all to myself," he said," and besides, we wouldn't want to ruin that perfect figure of yours."

## Chapter 14

It's late morning in the surgical intensive care unit at Portland's General Hospital. Inside a glass windowed room lay the man who might hold the answers to where Robert Gaines had been taken. Two Portland PD men sit on chairs just outside the room, listening to the constant beeping of the man's heart on the ecg and oximetry monitors. White gauze bandages adorn his head, and a clear endotracheal tube attached to corrugated tubing leading from the ventilator machine comes from his mouth. The ventilator adds a squishy, air piston type sound with each breath to the already melodic symphony in the room. Earlier, Detectives Sundance and Squabowsky had been in to check on the suspect's condition. They stayed long enough to be satisfied that there was no change, and left. One of the nurses, dressed in white pants with elastic waistline and white polo shirt, asks the Portland PD guards if they want any coffee.

"Sure, thanks," responds the one nearer to the blond haired, middle aged RN.

She smiles, "Will you guys stay on guard duty until they find Robert Gaines?"

The other guard responds, "We're not supposed to talk about that mam, but, yeah we'll probably be here."

The nurse smiles again, "Well, I'll be right back, you want some too?"

"Oh, yes, thank you mam," responds the second guard.

The nurse turns and walks away into the clean utility area, where the food and drinks were kept in the SICU.

Now, two more policemen of some type enter through the ICU automatic doors and approach to greet the guards outside the suspect's room. They wear dark heavy long coats, still beaded with sprinkles of rain from outside. Both are tall men, with dark mustaches, and coarse facial features suggesting old acne scarring.

"Must be FBI," says one guard to the other, chuckling. The other guard maintains a more serious composure and places his left hand on his pistol grip. The two tall men walk right up to the guards and begin to explain their purpose.

"Hi, I'm agent Beamon and this is agent Graves, CIA industrial espionage unit." The two men hold open billfolds with shining gold badges and photo ID's to prove their identity.

"We didn't get any notification of your visit today gentlemen," says the more serious of the two guards.

"There was some new information, we need to make sure the suspect still can not respond to any questions...," answers one of the CIA agents.

"If you don't mind, I'll accompany you into the room sir," responds the serious guard.

"No problem, it'll just be a quick visit," answers the CIA agent, as he steps into the room with the guard following him in.

"Sir, sir, can you hear me? Can you hear me?" The CIA agent almost screams to the comatose man. "Huh, no response I guess, let's see if he responds to touch." And with that, the CIA agent makes a fist and rubs his knuckles on the comatose man's bare chest. The guard watches attentively as the patient begins to buck and cough a little following the sternal rub. When the patient settles down the police guard notices a small abrasion on the chest, and then looking closer, the glint of a minute metallic bead under the skin in the same area. He looks up at the CIA agent and begins to speak.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to..." The tall CIA agent pulls a silenced nine millimeter weapon from his overcoat and fires point blank into the face of the startled guard, whose lifeless body slumps to the ground. With little further delay, the agent outside with the other guard withdraws an Uzi from under his coat and riddles the guard with bullets. Blood now covers both the inside and outside glass walls of the patient's ICU room. The agent in the room bends over and disconnects the ventilator tubing, just to be sure his job is done. When he does this, ventilator alarms start sounding, and two nurses come walking quickly toward the room. Both men open fire at the two nurses, whose bodies dance like marionettes before falling, due to the repeated impact of the Uzi's high velocity rounds. Several doctors enter through the automatic doors.

"What's going on here," says an older, distinguished looking one, with a gray mustache. Then their gazes fall to the floor, and the dead nurses. They try to dive for cover behind the ICU countertop, and successfully evade the first volley of rounds from the two agents. Then, out from the clean utility room comes the nurse who had offered the guards their coffee, seemingly unaware of what is going on. The two doctors motion her to go back in, but she stands, unafraid and makes eye contact with the agents who are walking toward them. She pulls a Glock pistol from a small fanny pack, and quickly executes the two doctors lying on the floor in front of her with single shots to the head; both placed exactly between the eyes. The nurse and the two agents begin speaking in Russian, hurriedly but quietly. They hide their weapons and exit through the automatic doors. The few nurses and other people outside the ICU hardly seem to notice them as they walk briskly past, and make their way out of the hospital.

Detectives Sundance and Squabowsky are among the first on the scene as the tragedy begins the investigative phase. Neither of the two guards or the two nurses had survived the shooting. Nurses called in from other shifts take care of the remaining patients one to one, with their doors closed to shut out the noise from the police entourage. Technicians are dusting for fingerprints, picking out slugs from the walls, and taking measurements.

"Get me the nurse or doctor in charge of this unit," says Squabowsky to one of the investigative assistants on the scene. "Jesus! Look at this mess! We won't be getting much out of that bloke now."

Sundance just nods and shakes his head in disbelief. The assistant comes back momentarily with a tanned, black haired physician in a white coat.

"Doctor Mark, uh, Garrison Mark," the physician extends his hand to Squabowsky for a shake. "I'm the Chief of Surgical Intensive Care Services."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," responds Squabowsky, briefly shaking his hand. "Doctor, who else could have been around to witness this?"

"Well, there are the other patients on the ward, and there should have been one other nurse here, we always have three on duty."

"How can we find out who that other nurse might have been?" says Squabowsky.

"Well, there is a nursing schedule. It's usually pinned up by the nurses lounge down the hall," answers the doctor.

"Let's go check that," says Squabowsky, and they head over to look at the schedule. Sundance simultaneously glances around at the other patients on the ward. He walks over to the room with the only patient who's not on a ventilator, and enters.

"Hello mam, I'm Detective Sundance from the Portland Police Department. We'd like to know if you saw any of what went on out there earlier, or anything else you'd consider suspicious."

"Well, I don't hear so well, and I don't see so well neither without my glasses.." The elderly Caucasian women squints at Sundance. She looks disheveled from being in the hospital and her silver hair is quite mussed. "Say, you're a good looking fellow," she continues, "Any chance you could bring that TV controller over so's I can reach it?"

"Surely mam, but we need to know if you might have seen anything unusual earlier today," as he hands her the controller.

"Well, my leg was hurting pretty bad in the morning, and I asked the nurse for my Demerol shot. Guess I must have dosed off after that."

"The pain medicine makes her quite sleepy," says a pretty and petite Filipino nurse who until this time had remained out of the conversation.

"I see," responds Sundance. "Listen, it's been real nice talking to you two." He smiles at the nurse and tips his cowboy hat to the old lady as he exits the room.

"What a nice young man," says the old lady.

"Yes he was," responds the nurse.

Back outside, Squabowsky has his assistant calling to the third nurses home, but there is no answer. He turns to Sundance as he approaches.

"The slugs look like an assortment from some nine millimeters and some type of compact machine gun. Let's call in those two other men who worked for Gaines and just be sure they're accounted for. I think we should notify Gaines' wife about this and try to get her into protective custody."

"Looks like someone beat you to it boss!" This from a cop standing in the doorframe of one of the comatose patient's rooms, watching the News on TV. They go over to see what he's talking about.

"This is John Hinckley reporting from the Oregon coast, where millionaire Robert Gaines' wife and her confidant are now under protective custody by the CIA. Since the kidnapping of Mr. Gaines, CEO of Compusoft, and the world's wealthiest man, four days ago, these two have narrowly escaped the jaws of death after assassins bullets riddled their hotel room in Portland, while they were supposedly under the protective custody of the Portland Police Department." The TV shows helicopter and ground views of the gated estate and the coastline, completely surrounded by CIA agents in armored vehicles, boats and other helicopters.

"I guess this is getting a little out of our hands buddy." Squabowsky shrugs and states gloomily to Sundance.

"Guess so," responds Sundance, who by now is really considering the merits of the cute Filipino nurse. "Maybe I can go talk to some of the other nurses, see if they know anything about this one we can't locate."

"Go to it. I'll be back at the station. Can you hitch a ride in when you're done?" Squabowsky looks at Sundance.

"No problem boss," replies Sundance, and he heads back to talk to the nurse again.

The nurse looks up expectantly as Sundance reenters the room.

"I'd like to talk to you somewhere quiet if I could for a minute or two mam."

"We can go to the lounge area detective. Will you be OK for a few minutes Mrs. Kotcher?"

"Oh you two just run along and I'll be fine," responds the old lady.

The nurse and Sundance go to the lounge and sit at an older lime green sofa in front of a small coffee table.

"What's your name mam?" asks Sundance.

"Helen Amaron," she replies, " and what is your name officer Sundance?"

"Sundance, uh, everyone just calls me that."

"Oh, I see," she says.

"Well how can I help you Sundance?"

"Did you know Debra Reis?"

"I didn't know her well. We never worked on the same shift together. I usually work nights. But sometimes we said hello, or talked for a few minutes after change of shift reports."

"I see," says Sundance. "Did you ever notice if she had any friends, anyone who came to pick her up after work, or was she married?"

"I'm not sure detective, she usually left alone, and change of shift is so busy, I really don't know. We didn't socialize outside of work."

"Helen, this may be kind of a strange time to ask this, but would you consider going out for dinner with me later this week?"

The nurse smiles and looks up at the tall cowboy. "Yes I would Mr. Sundance. Call me here in a couple days, I have to go now." And with that she runs back, with adorable little steps, to her patient's bedside.

Sundance hitches a ride back to the station with one of the other cops. They make small talk, and conjecture about who murdered the guards and nurses, but Sundance is thinking mostly about Helen the whole way back.

## Chapter 15

Agent Garcia maneuvers his Government Issue Ford sedan through heavy traffic in midtown Manhattan. Darkness has fallen, and there's an endless line of red taillights ahead. He has been assigned to travel to Washington DC to be the direct correspondent to the Pentagon regarding the Gaines kidnapping and Slickfile 99. Arrangements have been made for him to hitch a ride in an Army C141 due to leave La Guardia at 20:00 hours. He makes it on time, leaves the Ford at the Government lot, and proceeds to the military terminal. Two stewardesses in army green skirts with light brown hair neatly tucked under their military caps welcome him at the gangplank. They review his papers and invite him to board the plane. The similarity to civilian airlines ends there. A rolling ladder sits next to the passenger opening in the giant cargo plane. The giant rear cargo door has already been raised and secured for takeoff, leaving the cabin dimly lit. Garcia climbs up the ladder quickly, wincing at the loud whine of the massive turbofan engines. He hops into the plane, and meets up with the cargo crew and assorted other army personnel. They gesture him to his "seat," actually a sort of sling that you can sit in. Over the speakers in the cargo hold comes word from the pilot. "Gentlemen, secure for takeoff." Two men in fatigues push away the rolling ladder and seal the entry hatch. Moments later, without another warning, the engine noise increases greatly and the plane appears to be moving. There are no windows to look out from, however. Garcia holds tightly onto the straps of his sling seat to keep his balance as the monstrous plane lurches into the air emitting shuddering and whining noises. Looking around, the army men appear to be quite comfortable, and chat intermittently to one another. The plane levels out momentarily, then a bang issues from the right side. The noise is loud enough to draw the attention of all the men in the cargo hold. Everything rolls toward the right, and the men on the left side of the hold are thrown from their slings and sent flying toward the men on the right side, who are already pinned against the wall of the plane. Garcia now becomes the calm one; all actions around him appear in slow motion. There's something about intelligence training that does that makes a man relax and maintain composure in the line of fire, or in his possible final moments. He sighs, amidst the panic of the army men who flail about, and thinks to himself, "I guess it's too late to settle down now, isn't it lord..." Then deafening noise and the shuddering of the impact. Garcia feels sudden pressure against his chest that squeezes his last breath out of him. His thought becomes panicky, just for a moment, but then sleep sets in, comfortably.

## Chapter 16

News of Agent Garcia's death travels quickly back to Agents Waters and Garrand who still wait with informant Doug Leavitt and his wife Dr. Zelda Johnson at the Manhattan safe house. Waters turns on a television in their office area, (away from Leavitt and his wife), and scans for the TV news. A short while later the crash is televised. " An army C141 transport plane crashed into the Atlantic Ocean this evening killing all twelve crew members. The pilot reportedly radioed about possible engine failure shortly before the crash. This is the second military plane crash reported this week in the country. Reporting from La Guardia airport, Jim Nimitz, CBS News."

"What do ya think Duncan? Any chance it could've been a hit? We really can't know what they have at this point. If they've activated the program, the possibilities are endless. They could've accessed the army flight rosters, who knows."

Garrand replies," I doubt it Bill. Think about the ramifications of owning that technology. It's probably really only useful if nobody suspects you've got it, right? I mean, don't you think the Ruskies would go for the Gold rather than the Glory with this one?"

"I guess you're right Duncan. It's hard to say for sure, but you would think they'd try to score some big time cash, or maybe vital security information first."

## Chapter 17

Bob figures about two days have passed, based on water rations from his captors. He hasn't had much in the way of food, other than a few pieces of plain stale white bread. He finds himself drifting between alert and semiconscious sleep cycles frequently. By now there must be thousands of police, from dozens of agencies, all looking for him.

Light pours through the door as the two large men enter once again. "Good morning Mr. Gaines!" exclaims one of the men, still with the thick accent noted previously. "So today is, how do they say, the first day of the rest of your life. It's very simple, really. Our people are tiring of your games. You are a businessman Mr. Gaines. One of the most successful in the world, it's true." He pauses to prepare for the offer, and slurps coffee from a paper cup. "We have a deal to make with you. You will give us the information to activate the Slickfile 99 in its complete form, and we will give you your life. If you do not wish to complete the transaction, than our dealing ends here... and so does your life."

Bob hears the unmistakable click of the pistol being prepared for firing in the hands of the other man. He feels very unsettled, and considers the possibility that they could just shoot him right there. After all, if they knew about the Slickfile 99 in the first place, then they might know of other ways to get the information they needed to run it. He certainly had the resources to deal with any problems that might arise if he did get out of here and back home. There would definitely be questions about the details of his time in captivity. But how could he give them what they wanted, and still maintain a bargaining chip with which to negotiate his actual release?

"OK, I'll give you what you want. I just don't want to die, and I need you to live up to your end of the bargain, and let me go," says Bob, sounding quite genuinely desperate.

"That will not be a problem Mr. Gaines. We are men of honor. Tell us about the program, and we will gladly give you your freedom."

"The program is designed to allow the retrieval of information from computer systems carrying it in their memory. The program is always running in the background on any machine equipped with Slickfile 99."

"Go on Mr. Gaines. You have not told us anything yet, which we do not already know..."

"Slickfile 99 itself does not contain the programming necessary for retrieval of the information from the computers it infects. There is a separate program, which was written by our Level A security team at Compusoft to accompany Slickfile 99."

"And that program would be Autofile 99, Mr. Gaines?"

"Yes that's correct," replies Bob. "And because of the sensitivity of this program, the original source code was converted into an encrypted form, and then destroyed. So you can't run it until it's decoded."

"You will tell us the location of the encryption key, and we will let you go then," states the coffee drinker, placing a reassuring hand on Bob's shoulder. " We are in Florida now, you know, you could be out enjoying one of your yachts by tomorrow..."

'Yeah right!' thinks Bob to himself. "The code, as you know, is unencrypted using a large program we have at Compusoft headquarters. I can arrange for you to get the program, and test it. But, I will need someone from my company, not the police, to join us at a different location, where I will be released to my friends in exchange for the program.

"You will get us the program now!" screams the one with the gun, ramming the barrel of the pistol into Bob's ribs.

The coffee drinker reprimands the gunman," Leave him alone. This is not the way we treat our friend here, when he will work with us! Rest well Mr. Gaines, it has been a pleasure doing business with you so far. We will get back to you shortly."

The two men leave Bob, still chained to the chair, but the light bulb turns on again as they shut the door.

"For each positive response, there is a reward, like Pavlov's dogs," says the coffee drinker to the gunman.

They enter the office and place a call immediately.

"Mikael, yes, he will give us the information. It's a program to decode the Autofile 99. There's one problem. He won't do here. He knows we won't let him go... Yes, I know we have the whole system set up only here and in Moscow... Yes, but I think I know a way... OK then, OK, the organization will be proud of us Mikael... I'll send you the details on the computer... Ciao."

These newly rich men of the Russian Mafia had many tools at their disposal. They plan for a meeting at sea. One ship with their satellite linked computer systems on board, along with themselves and Robert Gaines, their hostage, to rendezvous with Gaines' contingency aboard their own private vessel. That vessel will take Gaines in exchange for the encryption software. The Gaines contingency would be unaware, of course, of the presence of a Mafia controlled Russian nuclear attack submarine in the vicinity, that would torpedo their craft along with Robert Gaines, after the validity of the software was confirmed. With control of Gaines' computer snooping program, they could expect to make billions of dollars before it could be defeated with protective software in computers all around the world.

They return to describe the exchange to Bob, in his prisoner's area. He agrees to the deal, seeing no other way out, and feeling it may be his only chance for survival. He tells the men of the one friend he can trust to make the meeting without alerting the authorities. "Doug Leavitt's one of my oldest friends. He'll do anything I ask. And he doesn't work with Compusoft, so he's probably not involved in any ongoing investigations of my kidnapping."

The kidnappers agree to contact Doug Leavitt, to arrange the meeting. Leavitt will be instructed by Gaines on whom to contact to obtain the software. Gaines will contact the Compusoft Level A specialist, who will follow his instruction to release the software only to Doug Leavitt, but at a time and place known only to Doug Leavitt and the specialist. Thus, making it more difficult for the Russians to steal the software before Bob gets his freedom.

The calls are made, and the plan is set in motion. Leavitt agrees to the rendezvous, and will use Gaines' world class diesel cruiser to meet them somewhere in the North Atlantic. The exact location is to be specified by contacts made between the two vessels, once under way. Leavitt sounds ecstatic to hear his friend's voice,

"Don't worry Bob, we'll meet you there, we'll bring you home...," he exclaims at the end of their conversation, at which point the Russian quickly disconnects the call. The Russian speaks to his comrade in their native tongue,

"Look at this guy. He's a bigger bastard than anyone else. He's got billions and billions of dollars, and he makes this program to rip off the American people, his people. He's a bigger bastard than you and me Sloka!" And with this they both break into heavy laughter. They bring Bob back to the "prison" area, which now has a bed and portable toilet. "There you go Mr. Gaines. Now you can freshen up before our meeting. You will have a guard though, so behave, or we chain you back to the chair!"

## Chapter 18

"That was good, real good Doug," says agent Bill Waters to Doug Leavitt. Waters had been listening in on the call from Gaines and his captors in Texas. They had been able to get a trace to the state of Texas, but that was all. Duncan Garrand immediately had Texas FBI notified of the probable presence of Gaines and the kidnappers in their state. Dr. Zelda Johnson, Leavitt's wife, sat on a sofa across from Leavitt and the two agents.

"Well, now that you've got a good lead on where Mr. Gaines is, don't you think that this protective custody business in unnecessary," she says.

"Not at all mam," responds Agent Waters. "Robert Gaines' kidnappers may belong to a very large organization, or possibly a foreign governmental agency. Anyone closely connected to the case could be in grave danger of kidnapping themselves, especially an affluent couple such as you two.

"I'm just not capable of being away from my practice this long," she replies. "My patients problems won't wait for the FBI to conduct a door to door search of the entire state of Texas."

Agent Garrand breaks in, "We will be happy to help you arrange coverage for your practice, Dr. Johnson. But as for the protective custody, you are in custody to protect the security of this investigation, as well as yourself."

"So what you're saying, is I'm going to be held here, whether I like it or not."

Agents Garrand and Waters look toward one another and remain silent.

"If you gentlemen don't mind, I think my wife and I could use a little time to ourselves."

Waters and Garrand leave the two in the portion of the Safe house that has been designated as their apartment while under protective custody. The accommodations would have been considered quite comfortable and luxurious to most, but Leavitt and his wife were busy people. They had long ago taken the first class accommodations they frequented for granted. They were usually preoccupied with the business of the day. Whether that be robotic factory equipment, or fixing broken bones.

"Doug, what do think Bob really had in mind with that Slickfile program anyhow," says Zelda.

"I don't know Zel. Sometimes it seems like he's so caught up in that Compusoft empire he built, that the real world and his imagination get blurred together. Of course, that's how he got so far, that imagination of his..."

Two loud knocks sound at the door to the room.

"Come in," says Leavitt.

"Oh just one more thing," says Bill Waters, poking his head into the room. "We just got the go ahead from the top. Dan Kresky, whom you spoke to in detail about Slickfile 99, cleared us for the rendezvous with the kidnappers. We'll have some appropriate clothing purchased for you to travel in, just rest up, because we're leaving for Maine in two days."

Agent Waters closes the door again. Doug turns on a small television set to the business news.

"Compusoft stock took a tumble today in the beginning of the second week of absence of billionaire CEO, Robert Gaines. Gaines' kidnapping took place one week ago at his home in the Portland area. Analysts fear that although the Board of Directors and middle management can handle the company's operations in the short term, that Compusoft may flounder without the long-term guidance of its founder, Robert Gaines. In the airline sector, United gained two dollars, while Sun West lost an eighth, with Pan Am down one, and the revamped Freddy Laker airlines gaining three sixteenths on news of a takeover bid by British Airways."

Leavitt turns off the TV.

"Do you think whoever kidnapped Bob will really bring him to us? What if they get spooked somehow, and figure out that these FBI guys are all over the place? There could be a shoot out, and we'd be stuck in the North Atlantic with no help in sight. Maybe we should refuse to go. Let some FBI agent who looks like me stand on the deck of the boat in the North Atlantic. We'll give Bob a big welcome when he gets back. After all, what can I do that's special in this situation anyway? "

"Maybe you're right Doug," responds Zelda. "That's a big risk going to some godforsaken place in the middle of the ocean to meet a bunch of terrorists. Maybe you shouldn't go."

## Chapter 19

Beth and Marta spend several days adjusting to the presence of their security force. There are men around the perimeter of the house, and on the beach and roadway. The outside team is replenished on six-hour shifts, but the two agents in the house work full time. They don't ask for much, but Marta feels compelled to cook for them and offer coffee and tea. The in house security agents are Bud Williams and Harland Appleby. Williams and Appleby were cast from the same mold, which is partly why they often worked as partners within the Central Intelligence Agency. Both remind one of slightly older versions of the Marlboro Man. Bud Williams is 50 years old, with a six foot six frame, square jaw, and thinning gray hair on top covered by a straw cowboy hat. He speaks with a Western twang, and a deep authoritative voice. His big hands make the Agency issue S and W nine-millimeter weapon look like a toy that might break should he squeeze the trigger too firmly.

Harland Appleby stands taller yet, at six foot ten inches, has a slighter build, and dark black hair and moustache. Appleby could best be described as what you'd have expected the child character in the movie "Shane" to develop into. He was a competition marksman as a teen, and still a crack shot with rifle or pistol. The two men try to let Beth and Marta go about their business undisturbed, while maintaining enough proximity to protect them, should an intruder pierce through the perimeter.

Beth decides it's time to contact Detective Squabowsky again and see what's going on with the Portland PD investigation. She calls him at the station and he answers immediately.

"Squabowsky, Portland PD Homicide Division, how can I help you?"

"This is Beth Gaines detective, I'm calling to see if you found out anything more about my husband."

"Well, I'm sure you saw the news about the hospital massacre, Mrs. Gaines."

"Yes we did, but you've got to go on. That guy may not have come out from the coma anyhow," she states.

"True enough Mrs. Gaines. Unfortunately, we're running into some barriers here with our investigation. I believe that the FBI is not being forthright with some important information pertaining to the case. You've got your own security force, so you don't need us for that... Don't get me wrong Mrs. Gaines. I'll still follow up the leads and forensics on the limo, but I'm at a definite disadvantage here when it comes to solving the case and finding your husband."

"You've got to continue to do your part Detective. My husband may still be alive out there, and something you turn up, some clue, may lead us to him. Please, just keep working with what you've got. Don't give up on Bob."

"You have my word mam. We don't give up on cases down here at Portland PD."

Beth hangs up the phone and stares into space for a moment. 'There've got to be some insiders at Compusoft involved with Bob's kidnapping if it's related to the Slickfile 99 they were asking us about.'

Beth approaches Bud Williams.

"You know Mr. Williams, I haven't heard anything about background checks on anyone at Compusoft, just the ones on my husband's personal security men."

"The FBI should have a handle on that," he replies in his deep voice, "We could call over to the Portland office and find out what they've got, if you like mam."

"That'd be great Bud. Let's do it. I need to keep piecing the puzzle together myself, to try and come up with something to track Bob down."

Bud Williams' massive hand swallows up the telephone receiver as he dials the Portland FBI office.

"Hello, this is Bud Williams. Is Agent Garcia there?"

Bud talks to the office secretary at Portland FBI, who knows him from his past work in cooperation with that office.

"You didn't hear, did you Mr. Williams," she replies in a consoling tone.

"Hear what mam?"

"Agent Garcia was killed last week in a plane crash."

"I'm sorry to hear that mam, real sorry. Can I speak to any other agents in the office?"

Beth notes a droop in Agent Williams' facial expression.

"What's the matter? Did something happen to Bob?" Beth interjects.

Agent Williams waves a big finger at her to signal "No" and resumes talking on the phone in his deep baritone voice.

"Yes, this is Agent Bud Williams, CIA. I'm interested in finding out about background checks at Compusoft regarding the Robert Gaines kidnapping."

"Can I get your badge number to confirm ID?" replies the FBI agent.

"Zero, one, seven, alpha, niner, zero, alpha," says Williams.

"Just a minute, let me punch that into the system. Ok, here we go, yes, Bud Williams, CIA, Portland, OK. Now, let's tap into Infonet, level one security. This information is limited to need to know basis only Agent Williams."

"I'm security at the Gaines' estate on the coast. Of course I need to know sir," cuts in Williams.

"OK. Just a minute, we'll need to get a trace on your line to confirm location. Are you currently at the Robert Gaines coastline estate?"

"Yes I am. Get the trace and I'll hold," replies Agent Williams.

Williams reflects on the ten years he had known agent Garcia. They cooperated on several cases over that time. The first, a drug smuggling operation working the entire West Coast from Baja to Washington State. They struck it off right from the start and became good friends during that investigation. Garcia was a pleasure to work around. Meticulous in his fact finding, he was a real professional law officer. He enjoyed solving a case, and his zest had renewed William's own enthusiasm at times. Several months ago, they fished Crooked River together. Now, another friend was gone, forever. Williams starts to reminisce about all the other ones, lost in Vietnam, but manages to suppress that train of thought.

"Yes, Agent Williams, are you still there?"

"Yes I am," the big man replies.

"We have level one clearance. Infonet item number 771, posted yesterday, two, six, ninety-nine. New York FBI reports contact with Robert Gaines and his kidnappers by phone. The kidnappers, who appeared to have Russian voice patterns, requested an exchange of their hostage, Robert Gaines, for some high-level computer software from Compusoft. New York FBI has obtained clearance to recover Gaines and capture the perpetrators. Location and time of action withheld from Infonet. Agent Williams, I know I don't have to remind you of the vital security of this information."

"Yeah, thanks a bunch, "replies Agent Williams sarcastically. 'An FBI rookie is telling a senior CIA operative about information security. What a crock,' he thinks to himself.

"Goodbye," he says.

## Chapter 20

Sundance had eagerly awaited the date with Helen Alarcon, the nurse from the hospital. He called his mother back home, the day before, and confided to her that he may have met "the right one." He wants everything to go perfectly. On the way to her apartment, he stops and picks up the dozen red roses ordered earlier in the day. They're wrapped in clear cellophane tied with a white lace ribbon. The last sunlight fades to night as he arrives at her doorstep and rings the bell. The incandescent light from behind gives her face a warm glow. She greets him with a youthful smile.

"Hello Sundance, how are you?"

"I'm fine Helen, real fine," he says, blushing.

He's so struck by her natural, innocent beauty; he's almost speechless, like a boy on his first date again. She wears an eggshell silk blouse and matching skirt, with fuchsia lipstick, mascara, and her dark brown hair braided into a princess' crown.

He holds out an arm for her, "Shall we Helen?" They gaze into each other's eyes.

"Yes, we shall," she replies, taking his arm and exiting the apartment.

He escorts her to his truck and helps her in, as it's quite high up for such a small woman. She laughs and teases him, "Your car's just like Bigfoot, Sundance."

"Well, I find it useful around Portland, with all the rain," he says.

They drive to the Cap Ferrat, a five star French restaurant downtown. A valet takes the truck, and they go inside.

Sundance pulls the chair out for her, and waits for her to sit before seating himself. She smiles.

"So how's Mrs. Kotcher," he asks.

"Oh, she's doing well. She went to the regular floor yesterday."

"She was a funny old lady," says Sundance.

Helen picks up her menu, and Sundance follows suit.

"Oh my, I never had Escargot before," exclaims Helen.

Sundance laughs, "Neither have I! Shall we try them?"

They thoroughly enjoy the snails and order the veal entrees for the main course. Sundance tells Helen about his family back home, and she tells him about hers in the Philippines. He wants to know everything about her. 'Take your time,' he thinks to himself. He was so used to the sorority girls and one night stands. He just wants to be sure not to rush in getting to know her; not to miss out on any of the experience of falling in love with one's soul mate.

Helen liked him from the start in the hospital. Now she cautiously opens up to Sundance. He seems so gentle, and caring. She wonders how a life with him would be compared to the few Filipino men she had dated. Would he be accepting of her as a whole person, and not just a wife and homemaker, as the others wanted her to be.

"Would you like desert, Madame, Messier?"

The waiter arrives after they finish the main course. They order a parfait to share, and the waiter delivers it with two extra long desert spoons. The atmosphere in the restaurant is quiet, with several other couples having candle lit dinners at small round tables set with white linens. As the parfait gets down to the bottom of the glass, Sundance watches the tip of Helen's small tongue lick her pretty fuchsia colored lips. Their eyes meet and they both lean toward the center of the table to share their first kiss over the parfait glass. It's a passionate, loving kiss, that says, 'I want you forever Helen,' and 'I'll be yours until the end of time, my Sundance.'

They both smile politely after the kiss, and look around to see if anyone had noticed. No one did, apparently, and the waiter comes with the check.

"Was everything to your satisfaction, Madame, Messier?"

They nod affirmatively, and leave the Cap Ferrat holding hands. After dropping Helen back at her apartment, Sundance tells himself in the truck, 'Yep, she's definitely the one.'

## Chapter 21

Beth interrogates Bud Williams about the conversation with the FBI. She's shocked to hear about the death of Agent Garcia, recognizing that he was the one who visited them in the Hotel Meridien. Agent Williams reveals only that, "there may be a lead to the location of your husband, but they're not sure yet," and, "we have good reason to believe that he's still alive and well."

The leakage of any information about a possible hostage exchange would surely end up in the media, and ruin any chance to recover Robert Gaines. Agent Williams knows this all too well.

In the kitchen, Marta serves Agent Appleby a slice of freshly baked apple pie with coffee.

"That sure is good, mam," says Appleby, slurping down some hot coffee.

"Well, you're very welcome," she replies. "You know, I never baked a pie until I came to the United States, would you believe that?"

"No mam, tastes just like Betty Crocker herself baked it!"

"Oh, Agent Appleby. You're teasing me!"

Beth and Bud Williams join the two in the kitchen.

"You know what I can't figure out," says Beth.

"What's that, Mrs. Gaines?" replies Marta.

"Who would have tried to kill you and I at the Hotel Meridien? I mean what do we have to do with anyone getting Bob's company secrets? And if they wanted a ransom, why would they want me (Bob's wife) dead?"

"Maybe the kidnappers didn't plan to give Bob back at all Mrs. Gaines. Maybe they wanted you and I dead, since we might know something about the drivers who kidnapped Mr. Gaines, since we saw them all the time in the house."

"That does make some sense, Marta," replies Agent Appleby.

"But there are indications Mr. Gaines is still alive and well," interjects Agent Williams.

"Well, all I can say," says Beth, "Is that the FBI, or whoever, better find Bob soon. Because the people who took him aren't going to bring him back alive. They never planned to from the start!"

The two agents look at each other, shocked at Beth's capability to make such a pessimistic prediction about her own husband's predicament.

The phone rings. Beth answers it and turns toward Agent Williams.

"It's for you, the FBI again."

"Hello."

"Hello, Agent Bud Williams?"

"Speaking."

"Would you repeat your ID once again in order to receive classified information."

Bud whispers the ID into the phone, so the others can't hear.

"Yes, um, I forgot to tell you about the background checks at Compusoft. Gaines' secretary worked for Pippin Computer two years ago, and, get this, she's a Russian national. Used fake id's to land the job at Compusoft."

"Oh, thanks. I assume your team is planning a shake down at Pippin to see if anyone appears to be tied into this?"

"Yes, it's already underway. Goodbye Mr. Williams."

"Goodbye," says Bud, hanging up the phone.

## Chapter 22

The team working at Pippin Computer Headquarters has very little to go on. They interview most of the employees, including programmers and management. Several employees state that they found something suspicious about the woman who had become Gaines' secretary. Management confirms that she was let go, after it was discovered that she falsified documents pertaining to her identity and place of birth. The Vice President at Pippin, Ben Smith, is not available for interview. Investigation reveals that he's traveling in Russia, and has some business connections there involving export of American pharmaceuticals into that country. One of the investigators phones Bill Waters and Duncan Garrand at the Manhattan safe house.

"Hi Bill? This is Mick Jaegger, Seattle. We haven't got much over here at Pippin HQ. It does seem that Gaines' secretary wasn't on the up and up here either. Got fired for faking her identity when she signed on..... Yeah, and there may be a long shot on the VP. Name's Ben Smith. He's out of the country right now, traveling in Russia. The databank says he has a registered corporation under his own name selling US Pharmaceuticals to the Russians. We'd like to follow up on that, regarding the prevalence of the mob over there these days. Other than that, not much to talk about."

"Yes, OK Mick, keep us posted on any new information through Central Comm. We'll be mobile in the next few days. Thanks."

## Chapter 23

Half way across the world, the sun rises on the great city of Moscow. Mikael observes rays of morning light pouring out around the silhouettes of ancient domed structures and newer tall buildings in the distance. From the rooftop of his "headquarters", overlooking the polluted river, he senses the begrudged awakening of the city, as the noise of cars and trucks gradually increases with the arriving daylight. Mikael appears tanned and slender, lying on a chaise lounge on the rooftop, in front of a large black bottomed swimming pool. He picks up a telephone from the small round side table and speaks in his native Russian tongue," Yes, this is Mikael. May I speak to Vice President Chernov please?"

He continues," Good morning Mr. Chernov! It's Mikael. Yes, things are going as planned. We expect to receive the full package within the week. Yes. Oh, and uh, we will be utilizing the submarine we have on loan. It is very important that the Lenin Attack will move freely, without accidental interference by the Navy. Yes, please see to it. This is crucial to our plans. The captain on board will make contact on the Navy band before embarking. Thank you so much for your assistance Mr. Chernov. The organization will not forget your generosity when the crop is reaped from our work in this matter. Good day."

Mikael redials the phone. " Yes, Niki, please see if our American visitor is awakened, and if so, escort him to the sundeck. We will be taking breakfast up here. Thank you."

The elevator door soon opens. Out walks Ben Smith, Pippin Computers VP, with Niki, a voluptuous blond woman with skin well tanned like Mikael's. She wears earth-toned lipstick, high heels, and a loose translucent gown over her leopard print bikini. Niki smiles at Mikael. Although they are not lovers, they have been sexual partners many times in the past. Mikael's requirements for the staff at the "estate headquarters" were female, beautiful, and willing to satisfy his desires, whenever they should be aroused. There were, of course, enough perks, working for the Head of the Russian Mafia, to make it worthwhile for many such women.

"Good morning Niki, and good morning to you Mr. Smith. I trust your business in Moscow has been unfettered to date."

Mikael now speaks in perfect English, with a British accent.

"Yes, as a matter of fact it has," replies Ben Smith, approaching Mikael to shake hands.

Mikael startles suddenly, and his left hand reaches down to the ground.

"Whoa boy!" shouts Ben Smith. "It's OK, I just forgot about your concerns with security. It's been a while since we last met."

Mikael relaxes, and sets his nine-millimeter back down on the cement patio deck. He smiles, revealing pearl white teeth.

"I must apologize, Ben. It's just that, well, as you know, my position here is an enviable one. I must be careful at all times."

Niki breaks out into a seductive laughter. She puts her arms around Mikael, and strokes his chest. "Don't you worry Mikael, I will take care of you," she says in Russian. She kisses him on the cheek, and then turns around, heading back to the elevator. Her high heel shoes cause her buttocks to move sensually as she walks, and both men admire her for a moment before progressing to the business at hand.

"The information on Robert Gaines acquired through your operative have proved useful Mr. Smith. As I am sure you have correctly assumed by now, the disappearance of Mr. Gaines was orchestrated by our organization. We expect to acquire much valuable knowledge from him before he is released. In appreciation, Swiss francs in the equivalent of 20 million US dollars are being deposited to your numbered account in Geneva at this very moment. You may stay and enjoy the pool here if you like. The girls should be up in a short while as well, and please feel free to contact me any time during the rest of your stay here in Moscow. I know it is quite warm, but believe me, comrade, the winters are hell here."

Both men laugh. The elevator doors open, and four bikini clad women exit to the roof top pool area. All four are tall and beautiful, with tanned breasts and abdomens, and long, toned legs.

"Hi," they say in unison. "Hello," responds Ben Smith, smiling. "Good morning ladies," responds Mikael.

"I have business in the city this morning. Please see to it that Mr. Smith has an enjoyable time here at our facility. It has been good to see you again, Ben. Good-bye."

With that, Mikael walks to the elevator and disappears, leaving Ben Smith in the company of the four women. Ben looks out to the view of Moscow and smiles.

"Well ladies, I think it's time to celebrate," he exclaims, and removes all his clothing before jumping into the swimming pool.

Each of the four women removes their top and bikini bottom. They walk to the pool, joining their visitor for a skinny dip. After chatting for a while with two of them about his business in America, he tries touching them under the water. They do not resist. In fact, they move closer to him, giggling, and whispering Russian adorations in his ear. He has intercourse with both of them in the pool. At the end of it, gasping for breath, they slip out of the water to lay down on the concrete patio.

## Chapter 24

"Hello? This is Richard Elle. Operator, please perform level one security verification on this line, and connect me to Dan Kresky at FBI offices Washington DC."

"Yes sir, please hold..." replies the CIA phone operator.

The Central Intelligence Agency has a sophisticated system for verifying phone line security, and accurate origination and destination of telephone calls. Richard Elle, having been assigned as the Mission Coordinator for the rescue of computer software giant, Robert Gaines, prepares for his first verbal contact with Dan Kresky, #2 man at the Federal Bureau of Investigation. In the past, such discussions would only have begun in person. Now, the agency has found it more cost effective to develop it's elaborate ID checking system, including voice prints and computer tracing of all phone conversations.

"Hello, this is Dan Kresky."

Richard does not respond immediately.

"Voice ID Confirmed- Daniel Kresky- FBI offices Washington DC-," states a female computer generated voice over the phone.

"Hello Dan. This is Richard Elle, CIA."

"Voice ID Confirmed- Richard Elle- Central Intelligence Agency-," states the female computer voice.

"I've been assigned to coordinate the Robert Gaines rescue, in so far as Central Intelligence, and the United States Navy will be involved," continues Richard.

"We believe Mr. Gaines was transported to Texas for several days, before being airlifted to Kazakistan, and then to an as of yet unknown Russian sea port where they plan to launch the Mafia vessel that will be involved in the rendezvous."

"Well, Mr. Elle. What can I do for you to be of assistance," asks Kresky.

"As you are well aware, Douglas Leavitt is being transported by one of your teams, uh, FBI Agents Bill Waters and Duncan Garrand, to the Naval facility, of which location you are already aware, in order to participate in the rescue operation."

"Yes, Mr. Elle. I have been fully briefed on these activities."

"Well, Dan. We at the CIA have been instructed to participate and, as I have stated, coordinate the seaward portion of this operation. In compliance with that request, which came from the President, Mr. Smithson, I would like to have a contingency of our agents join your agents, Waters and Garrand, along with Mr. Leavitt and the Naval team aboard the rescue vessel."

"We fully expected CIA to come in on this Mr. Elle," responds Dan Kresky. "All we ask is that Waters and Garrand be included in the operation. We feel that they have developed a rapport with Mr. Leavitt, and gathered bits of information about Robert Gaines and his company that might be useful in negotiations for his release."

"Oh, that's definitely no problem, Dan. We welcome their assistance. Our group of agents will meet at the rescue vessel homeport in forty-eight hours. They have been instructed to make contact with Waters and Garrand via Central Comm."

"Thanks so much for the call Mr. Elle. I presume this will all be rehashed at the Pentagon meeting tomorrow."

"You bet Dan. I'll see you there!"

The two men hang up their phones and resume their administrative activities. Dan Kresky looks up briefly at the nine-millimeter pistol hanging in its shoulder harness on the coat stand.

## Chapter 25

Meepov and Sloka blindfold Robert Gaines, and lead him out from the warehouse under cover of night into the back of a tractor trailer rig. Bob feels the warm night air, and realizes he had been in an air-conditioned environment.

"Sit down, Mr. Gaines, and enjoy the ride!" states one of the kidnappers, forcing Bob down into a soft chair they had bolted down into the cargo area of the big container truck. They then handcuff his wrist to the chair. The senior kidnapper begins to talk, but this time with a western drawl instead of his Russian accent.

"You just hunker down here for a while, partner. We'll be back in a while to take ya to the john and such, and for some supper later on."

"Where are we going?" responds Bob.

"Well now, Bobby Gaines. If you'll just sit back and relax, we're about to execute that thar deal we been talkin about the other day."

With a loud clank, the trailer doors shut, and the light shining through the blindfold disappears. Bob has the sensation of driving down the highway in a bus or other large vehicle.

"Well at least I'm going somewhere," thinks Bob out loud. "Maybe they'll get stopped by police out on the road, and that will be the end to this whole thing."

Up in the cabin of the truck sit the two kidnappers, dressed in jeans, cowboy style shirts and hats. They fit into the Texas landscape perfectly. The dark red doors have a logo, Billy Bob Hartley and Sons, est. 1956, painted in canary yellow. The two discuss their short-term plans as they head out from the warehouse facility. Speaking again in their native tongue.

"So I am thinking Meepov. When we get to Palm Beach, the organization has some guys stationed there. We'll have a little time before going on the cruise. I want to do some things before we have to leave. You know, just in case it's the last time I get to do them."

"What are you going to do Sloka?"

"Well. I want to go out on the town. You know, get dressed up really nice. I want to go dancing, and find some fine woman to make love to. Then, I want to call my wife and children to say goodbye, just in case. Then I want to drink, just a little Vodka, to make me sleep through the night before the cruise."

"Sounds good Sloka. Maybe I'll join you. But don't you worry. This won't be our last cruise. Mikael's a master. He has it all worked out to the last details. He didn't get to his position in the New Russia by bungling up his affairs. And this certainly is THE biggest deal made by the organization yet. It's supposed to make a cargo ship full of dope look like nothing in comparison. Just imagine. In the first few minutes of operation, information from computers all around the entire world will be available to our organization. Within hours, that information will be utilized to produce income ranging from uncannily well chosen business investments to blackmail and extortion on a scale never before possible."

"Yes Meepov. And as the two agents in charge of the negotiations with, and transportation of Mr. Gaines, we should do very well when Mikael pays off for this work. I'm thinking my family might like a home right here in America. I'm traveling here half the time anyway, why not. Send my daughters to private schools, and then the best universities. They deserve the best money can buy."

"That's a good idea Sloka. And I could buy a house next to yours. And each morning we would meet at the end of our long driveways to pick up the newspaper. And I'd say,'Hello neighbor, fine day isn't it!' and you'd say,'A fine day indeed, my good fellow!' "

The big diesel engine of the truck drones on as they head out down a vast stretch of Texan desert highway into the night.

## Chapter 26

While Meepov drifts in and out of sleep, Sloka cradles the wheel of the truck in his big hands and steers them down the dark road ahead. Occasionally, a car passes after flashing its brights to complain about the big rig driving only at the speed limit. They would like to make a faster pace, but common sense tells Sloka to avoid the highway patrol at all costs.

In the trailer, Bob wonders about their destination.

"Probably somewhere where they can trade me for the encryption program. Not likely that they'd try such a maneuver in the States, if we are indeed in the United States. No, they'd try to arrange the trade in some remote place, where political or geographical boundaries would make it difficult for the long arm of the law to interfere. Someplace like the mountains in Afghanistan, or in Cuba, or Russia. I can't count on being let go after they pick up a brown paper package dropped in Time Square near a pay telephone, like in the movies. It won't be that easy. This is going to be rough. They'll probably try to kill us all after they get the program. Why not? What advantage could there be to really letting me go? I've got to offer these two an incentive. I'll tell them later, that if I should make it back home, unharmed, that in addition to the encryption program that they already will have, I will arrange for an additional cash payment to them as well."

Back up in the cabin, Meepov has awakened from his nap. He notices that Sloka is beginning to drift off to sleep at the wheel. He chides him once.

"Stay awake comrade. We've not long to go before the first refueling. We'll switch places there, and then you can rest."

Sloka awakens, but then drifts off again. The truck veers to the right, and the tires vibrate on the raised reflectors at the roadside.

"Sloka, wake up! Pull over. I'm going to drive now. You are too tired."

"Yes. That's probably a good idea," responds Sloka as he slows the truck and pulls to the shoulder of the road.

Leaving the engine running, the two men open the doors to the cab, and hop down into the warm night air. Fireflies illuminate intermittently in the thicket next to the road. Meepov comments to Sloka as they meet at the front of the truck.

"Look at that! I've never seen them before. Only read about fireflies in grade school when I was a child. They're beautiful, aren't they? Like hundreds of comets, or shooting stars."

"They ARE very beautiful Meepov. But let's go."

At that moment, they hear banging coming from the trailer. Bob has managed to reach the walls with his feet, and hoping they had been stopped by police, or were at a gas station, begins kicking to attract attention.

"There's no way we can stop him unless we open the container Meepov."

"OK, let's go."

They take the keys from the ignition, and unlock the big padlock on the rear doors to the trailer.

"Mr. Gaines, Mr. Gaines. You are exhausting yourself for absolutely nothing. No one can hear you at all. So please, relax and enjoy the ride. Meepov, please see that Mr. Gaines will not disturb us again in this way!"

Meepov takes some rope from the side of the trailer and ties Bob's feet at the ankles to the legs of the chair.

"There we go Mr. Gaines. We hope that from this point on, you will have a pleasant trip. I suggest you get some sleep, as you have much ahead of you. Good evening."

With that, the two Russians turn around and walk toward the opening in the back of the trailer. Their cowboy boots knock on the floor loudly. They hop down out of the rig. Meepov prepares to lock the big doors again, unshackling the padlock from the door.

"That'll be just fine right where you are."

The baritone voice of an unexpected guest startles the two Russian Mafia men. Sloka begins to turn slowly to assess the situation, but Meepov, choosing the direct approach, draws the 9mm from under his vest and opens fire. He squeezes the trigger twice rapidly as he spins around to face the intruder. He never sees the man, who executes him with a single shot to the head. Blood pumping from Meepov's head squirts out, as his body continues to spin with it's initial intended momentum. Sloka feels the warm blood of his companion spray onto his own neck and face. He reaches under his own vest for his gun.

"Hold it right there, buddy!"

This time a different voice addresses him. There are two men, one shining a flashlight in his face. Sloka raises his arms above his head. The man who shot Meepov walks over to him, and holding a .357 magnum to his head, searches him, and removes the 9mm from under his vest.

"Where are the keys man!?" The deep voiced man with the .357 demands from Sloka.

"My friend had them, check on him," Sloka replies.

"Tommy! Come over here and check that body. Let's get those keys and get out'a here with that cargo," screams Big Jim.

Ironically, the two Mafia men had fallen victim to a pair of home grown, one hundred percent American, highway robbers. The man with the flashlight, Tommy, who is Big Jim's son in law, approaches the back of the truck and slowly swings open the doors to the trailer.

"There ain't nothin in thar Big Jim!"

He screams in surprise to his father in law.

"No, no, wait a minute."

The beam of the flashlight falls upon Bob, strapped into the chair in the front end of the trailer.

"Well looky here! Who have WE got here?"

Tommy hops up into the trailer and approaches Bob. He shines the light on him and then breaks out into laughter.

"Who are you? Can you help me? I'm being held hostage by these men!" Bob screams to Tommy.

Tommy makes no reply and runs to the back of the trailer to report his find to Big Jim.

"Jim! Jim! You won't believe it! You just won't believe it! We've got Robert Gaines in there. That kidnapped bigtime computer executive they've been reportin on the news every night! We're gonna be rich!"

Tommy notices something's wrong. Big Jim topples over backwards onto the ground, and Sloka raises a pistol. Sloka had disarmed Big Jim, and stabbed him through the heart with a boot knife while Tommy was in the trailer. Tommy grabs for his own holstered pistol. A single shot pierces the night, and Tommy's body drops to the ground. Sloka looks around to see if any passerby had noticed them. There are no cars anywhere. He lifts each body onto the back of the trailer, and ties them to the side rails inside with some rope.

"I'm afraid you will have to share this compartment with some additional passengers, Mr. Gaines. But, they shouldn't inconvenience you in any way," says Sloka to Bob.

Bob's anxious mood changes to depression, as he realizes his potential rescuers must have been killed. Sloka padlocks the doors to the trailer shut, once again. He pours thick, syrupy motor oil from a can out onto the bloody asphalt and mixes the substances with his boot. He changes his bloody clothing inside the front cabin, and wipes his boots, before heading out again. Sloka is a professional. He will perform his duty, and deliver his human cargo to Palm Beach on schedule. The truck drives on carrying two passengers and three corpses, while the fireflies continue to signal their luminescent beacons in the warm night.

## Chapter 27

Beth, Marta, Bud, and Harland sit drinking coffee in the breakfast area of the Oregon coast cottage. Still under "siege" by the Feds providing the security Beth had requested from her affluent friend in Washington, they are loathe to attempt any sojourns away from the cottage. That would entail being followed by a huge security consortium that just wouldn't fit into this small coastal town's usually quaint atmosphere. Bud and Harland have pretty much stopped thinking about Robert Gaines, and are concentrating on the security aspect of the case only. Marta tries to provide for the group with her expert cooking and conversation, and Beth is still ruminating the facts of the case, over and over in her mind. She starts talking out loud to the group once again.

"OK, let's go over the facts one more time. Bob disappears on his way to work two weeks ago. Two of his limo drivers are involved, and one tries to finish me and Marta off. That one's dead now, assassinated in his hospital room by unknown persons. Someone tries to kill Marta and I again at the hotel in Portland. Obviously, whoever kidnapped Bob didn't want Marta and I to divulge some information we might have. What could we have known that would affect them, other than having interacted with the two limo drivers many times? I don't know guys," Beth continues, "All I see is some big conspiracy to kidnap Bob, but no real hint at all about who's behind it."

"I didn't want to say too much," interjects Harland Appleby. "There do seem to be some links in the case to suggest that there's some sort of a Russian connection. Mr. Gaines' secretary was hiding her identity as a Russian national, and one of Pippin computers' executives, whom she had worked for in the past, has business dealings in Moscow."

"Well that's just fantastic, Harland. So what you're saying, is that we may be up against some Russian spies, or even the Russian Mafia, for all we know," says Beth looking dejected.

The four of them let out a collective, exasperated, sigh, and their gaze settles out the window toward the view of the ocean.

"What the HECK is THAT?!!!"

Harland screams out loud.

"It looks like one of those hang gliders, Harland," answers Agent Williams.

"Well I don't like it Bud! He's coming straight in from the water. He must have a motor on that thing or he wouldn't be able to fly so far out."

The motorized hang glider, with its single occupant grows larger as it approaches the beach below the cottage.

"OK," Bud faces Beth and Marta. "Let's get you two to the front bedroom area, in case this guy makes it all the way in!"

Bud escorts the two women to the master bedroom as Harland picks up a mobile radio off the kitchen counter.

"This is unit 1, requesting backup. We have a visual on an incoming aircraft on the West Side of the cottage, making an approach over the beach."

"Problem Unit One. We have the chopper down for fueling at this time," comes crackling back out of the handheld radio.

"Get the ground crew to spot him from the beach. Take him out if necessary. And send us some reinforcements including a sniper to help out in the back yard up here! And get that chopper back up ASAP! There may be more airborne targets on the way."

"Roger Unit One. We have the ground crew preparing to make contact with target."

Harland steps outside into the back yard. He hears the bullhorns from below on the beach.

"This is the FBI. Turn around immediately and head due South. You have entered a restricted airspace. Repeat, turn due South immediately, or we will be forced to shoot you down."

The hang-glider passes half way over the beach without changing course. Harland cocks his weapon, and glances to his left, as a group of FBI Agents joins him. They're dressed in flack jackets, and the sniper carries a large rifle with telescopic site.

"This is the FBI! Turn around immediately, or we will be forced to shoot you down!" The bullhorn repeats a warning.

"OK guys. Let's get a visual on him with that telescopic and see if he looks civilian or if he's got any weapons or anything else suspicious." Harland didn't intend to let the intruder threaten Beth or Marta, yet he was a still a little cautious. With this being a seaside recreational area, he'd hate to give the go ahead to take out some vacationer's teenage son or something.

The sniper raises the large rifle, steadying it on the shoulder of a companion agent. He states calmly and quietly, "It's a man, he's loaded, he's got a weapon cradled in his lap."

"Take him out!" Harland issues the command. The sniper takes a cleansing breath and prepares to fire on the glider, which now is close enough for them to hear the engine quite loudly. At that moment, the FBI helicopter swoops down from behind them and blocks the path of the hang-glider.

"Land on the beach immediately!" Now a warning ensues from the black helicopter's bullhorn.

The glider pilot takes hold of his weapon and fires on the chopper. Rapid-fire hits the chopper's front window. Harland and the FBI men in the back yard see the red splattered window on the chopper as it spirals down, landing on the beach below.

"Shit!" says the sniper. He's killed one of our men in the chopper." With that, the sniper lets loose with one round though the head of the glider pilot. The pilot's arms hang loose, but the stable aircraft continues its course toward them. The agents all open up with a hail of gunfire, but the glider rapidly approaches the yard, now flying pilotless.

"Everybody out, everyone out! Get Bud and the girls out of here!" Harland shouts the orders, figuring that the glider may be rigged with explosives. They run to the front of the house, and leave, packed into the Jeep Grand Wagoneer that the agents had just pulled up in.

A crackling comes over Harland's radio.

"This is chopper one alpha. We had to land on the beach. This guy must be some kind of a nut, he fired on us with PAINTBALLS!"

"No shit! PAINTBALLS," utters one of the agents in the Jeep.

Appleby interjects.

"Roger, Chopper One Alpha. We're glad to hear you're OK. Let's get the bomb squad to check the area where the target landed."

The bomb squad men find no explosives attached to the glider. There was just a corpse with a mangled head, and the paintball rifle still in its arms. The ultralight had crashed on the slope just below the back yard.

Later that night, back in the cottage, Marta, Beth, Bud and Harland watch the seven o'clock news on TV.

"This is John Hinckley reporting outside the seaside mansion of Compusoft CEO Robert Gaines. The scene here is one of relief, and of a strange tragedy, adding yet another bizarre twist to the story of the disappearance of Robert Gaines earlier this month. We have learned that earlier today, a lone assailant, named Henry Himmelstein, staged a bizarre attack on the now heavily guarded estate where Robert Gaines' wife is in protective custody. We don't know much about Henry Himmelstein yet; only that he once was arrested in Las Vegas for attacking Robert Gaines with a whip cream pie in the face, and that now, he is dead. FBI Agents spotted Himmelstein making an approach from the ocean side of the estate, aboard a motorized ultralight. After grounding an FBI helicopter using a paintball rifle, Mr. Himmelstein was shot in the head, and killed by an FBI sniper. We have video of the scene from the air, after Mr. Himmelstein crashed into the hillside below the Gaines estate."

The video shows an aerial view of the back of the cottage. On the hillside sits a crumpled ultralight with letters stenciled on the top of the wing in red, "COMPUSOFT = BIG BROTHER."

## Chapter 28

One thousand kilometers from Moscow, on the Baltic Sea exists the town of Riga. There, the "Lenin Attack" submarine is being prepared for voyage. This SSK Kilo Class submarine was produced for the Russian Navy as an anti-submarine and anti-surface ship vessel. The 2300-ton sub has six torpedo tubes, and capability to engage two targets simultaneously. Powered by a 5500 hp diesel motor, she also carries electronic countermeasures, and surface to air missile capability.

Captain Cruschev diligently supervises the crew as they prepare for launch. He leans back in his control room chair, reflecting on how lucky he and his crew have been as he taps a pencil on the navigation table. With the "democratization" of the former Soviet Union, many subs have been dry docked and dismantled. Those operating under the auspices of the Russian fleet have been lucky to have funding for maintenance of safe operating conditions and to pay the crew. But, this was no ordinary sub, or crew. Although technically still part of the Russian Fleet, the sub was owned and operated by the Russian Mafia, and the crew handsomely paid to perform their duties at sea. When the writing was on the wall for the demise of the Russian armed forces, Cruschev had felt it was his duty to preserve the active operation of his sub and well-trained crew. After his politician friends continued to beg forgiveness; "Just too little money to go around;" they would say, he marketed his services to the Mafia and the rest was history. (Several other submarine and ship captains would mimic this maneuver after hearing the story.)

He smiles upon hearing the sounds of the last missile entering the sub through the rapid loader. His second in command reports to him in the control room.

"We're loading the last provisions, Captain. Time estimate for departure readiness is ninety minutes. All crew are present and accounted for, and our diesel tanks are full."

"Very good lieutenant," responds Cruschev. "See to it that we are under way in that time then. We are embarking on a longer voyage, and can expect the likelihood of combat conditions."

"So then, it's not just another delivery run this time, Captain?"

"I will brief yourself, as well as the rest of the officers, after we are under way."

"Very well, Captain."

And with that, the lieutenant salutes and turns to continue his duties in preparing to set sail. Walking though the galley on the way to top decks, he shouts out, "Make sure the kitchen is well stocked Cookie, we'll be more than an overnighter for this run!"

"Yes sir!" emanates back from the kitchen (in Russian).

One hour later, Captain Cruschev and the Lieutenant check in the crew one by one on the roster. This was done very carefully in the Navy, and even more so on an Attack Submarine, where each man performed critical aspects of the operation of the vessel.

After the last crew checks in and goes to his duties below, Cruschev and the Lieutenant talk out on the conning tower. The Captain savors one more breath of natural air, drawing it into his lungs deeply, as though he were smoking a fine tobacco.

"This will be our most challenging mission yet Lieutenant. The risks will be high, but the rewards great, shall we succeed. We will be escorting a Mafia surface vessel during rendezvous with an American ship. A valuable cargo will be transferred between the vessels. We will be charged with remaining undetected, and protecting the Mafia ship as necessary."

"Sounds like a simple drug transfer to me Captain. What's so unusual about this one? "

The wind blows by the two men as the sub pulls out of port, and a large ship's horn sounds on the water. Seagulls hovering above examine the sub, looking for any chance of a feeding as it departs. The Captain smiles.

"This is no drug run my friend, and I have reason to at least suspect that the American ship may also be escorted by a United States Navy Submarine as well!"

"I see," replies the Lieutenant. Although trained specifically to do warfare with other submarines, this was certainly the most challenging and potentially deadly exercise they could engage in.

"Would you like me to repeat this briefing to the other officers sir?"

"Yes, please do Lieutenant. I will be in the control room going over things with our navigation team. After you...." The Captain gestures for the Lieutenant to go below decks, and then follows him down. A burly mate tightens the outer and inner hatches after them, sealing Captain and crew together in the giant, black rubber covered, double hulled structure that would carry them toward their mission in the North Atlantic.

## Chapter 29

Russian Vice President Chernov sits with legs crossed having tea with his two visitors at the Kremlin. All wear three piece business suits. Violin music plays in the background. He smiles and engages them in quiet, almost whispered, conversation amidst the plush surroundings. Mikael tells me that the estimated take during the first ten minutes of the operation are estimated to be in the billions. Chernov's old friend, Grinkoljya, a "liaison" between the Russian government and the Mafia sips his tea and whispers back.

"Yes comrade, and it is felt, that if all goes well, there will be a minimum of seven to ten days operating time with which to take advantage of the special information. You can imagine the kind of returns we would be talking about here!'

"Most impressive, old friend. Can I be absolutely assured of the security of my privacy in helping out with these affairs? Should the business at hand become exposed in public, are we well covered on this one?"

Grinkoljya responds excitedly, "Oh yes, oh yes! There are certainly no worries in that regard. No, no. Mikael has assured me that all the arrangements are paperless, and that only myself and himself are even aware of your direct involvement in assisting these business plans."

"Well, very good then. To our success!" Chernov raises his teacup in a toast, and the other two men join in.

"I'd toast with Vodka," says Chernov, "but just look what's happened to our President!"

The other two men laugh and sip their tea. They rise after drinking and shake hands, making no noise as they walk on the fine carpets to exit the building.

## Chapter 30

While Mikael's "Headquarters" are in Moscow, his family home is not. The day after meeting Ben Smith, Mikael goes home to be with his wife and children. They live in the countryside outside Tula, two hundred kilometers south of Moscow. The large estate is both gated, and guarded at the perimeters by numerous security men. Natasha, Mikael's wife, greets him in the circular drive along with their four children, ages three to eleven. Natasha could easily have rivaled any of the women at Mikael's Mafia Headquarters in physical beauty, but unlike them, was also an intellectual and spiritual phenomenon. She is very moral, having no knowledge of Mikael's true occupation, and being under the impression that he is a successful industrialist. (Which is also true because of legitimate businesses Mikael has invested in to launder Mafia money.) Mikael smiles at the sight of Natasha and the children's glowing faces.

"Give daddy kisses hello," says Natasha to the children, as Mikael hops out of the black limousine. The children crowd around him eagerly.

"Well Hello my little ones! How are my favorite children in the whole world doing today?"

Mikael puts his arms around the kids and Natasha, and they all go inside the house through the massive front entry. Mikael tells Natasha about his week in the city, and produces some small gifts for the children. He seems quite different from the day before at the headquarters. Although quite debonair in both locals, here at his family's home, he is relaxed, and not on edge like before. They take lunch in the garden, with full service from their estate staff.

That night in bed, after making love with Natasha, Mikael lay ruminating about the upcoming events. 'Could the exchange at sea be such a good idea. It really shouldn't matter. Once the encryption program is radioed to Moscow, it won't matter at all what happens at sea. The computer team will get the programs up and running, and it will be up to me to direct the most efficient use of the program to produce the highest monetary returns in the shortest amount of time. Even with the knowledge of the leak of the Slickfile 99, governments and institutions all around the world would take a considerable amount of time to be alerted, and then to protect themselves from it.'

Mikael drifts to sleep feeling assured that the plan would be very successful, no matter who tried to stop it.

## Chapter 31

Ron Haas addresses a group of deputy US District Attorneys, along with two visitors, Dan Kresky, and Mick Jaegger, from the FBI. His assignment as a US Special Prosecutor in charge of investigating illegal business practices in the computer industry, has earned him the notification by the FBI that there may be significant illegalities involved regarding the Slickfile 99 program secretly produced by Compusoft. Ron's appearance is rather striking, at six foot- nine inches tall, and being very fair, with blond, crew cut, hair, and invisible eyebrows due to his Nordic heritage. He's in his mid fifties, with many years of prosecuting experience under his belt. The Deputy Attorneys watch him intently, and take notes on their legal pads as he speaks.

"What FBI Co-director Kresky, and Agent Jaegger have reported to me, is that Compusoft, under the direction of its founder and CEO, Robert Gaines, has developed a sort of software that when included with its' other software packages, would allow Compusoft or possibly other individuals to access information from the main memory of computers using the software. As we are all aware, Compusoft provides operational software to ninety percent of computers in use on the planet today. So this could result in theft of information and invasion of privacy on a massive scale."

Dan Kresky interjects, "The reason that myself and my colleague, Agent Jaegger, are here today is not simply to support the validity of these allegations. As you are all aware, Robert Gaines, the CEO of Compusoft, has been missing and presumed kidnapped since the beginning of this month. It is of the utmost importance that there is no leakage of information with regards to the Slickfile 99 case, even in as so much as verifying the existence of Slickfile 99, or the possibility of prosecution by the United States Government against Compusoft Corporation." The Deputy Prosecutors nod affirmatively to Dan Kresky in agreement. Dan continues to speak. "For this reason, we need you all to sign affidavits of nondisclosure regarding this case. Anyone, and I repeat anyone, violating the agreement will not only no longer be employed by the United States Government, but will also be prosecuted for Acts of Treason." The attorneys stare in amazement and silence. Ron Haas breaks the silence, in support of the FBI Co-director. "I've got you all in here because you're the best of the best. We need to investigate these allegations thoroughly, and make a tight legal case before we're even required to notify Compusoft of our intent to prosecute. Because of various operations ongoing in the FBI to rescue Robert Gaines, who will be a codefendant in our case, we will meet with Mr. Kresky periodically, and cooperate in such a way as to avoid interfering with one another." "That's right," chimes in Mick Jaegger, trying to participate in the briefing as best as possible. "And when, and if, Mr. Gaines is located, we expect your case to proceed as any other, without our further involvement. Uh, other than to provide information as witnesses." "OK then." Dan Kresky passes the stack of affidavits around for the U. S. Attorneys to sign. They all sit, reading the agreement, before signing and returning them to him. He turns to Ron Haas, who has been watching the others read the agreement. "Uh, Ron. We'll need one from you too." The tall blond Haas wrinkles his brow. "Of course. Yes, of course." He takes one off the stack for himself. Kresky and Jaegger look at each other, and nod approval at their participation in the meeting.

## Chapter 32

The next day, an important telephone call takes place. The phone rings at the secretarial desk for Prosecutor Haas' office. The secretary answers the phone. "Hello, Special Prosecutor's office, may I help direct your call?" "Yes, this is the Secretary to Mr. Smithson, the President of the United States of America. We would like to request computerized confirmation for this call to be placed to Prosecutor Ron Haas." "OK, one moment please." She presses a button on the phone to speak to Ron Haas in his office. "Hello, Mr. Haas. This is Betty. I have the office of the President on line one requesting computerized confirmed ID conversation with you." "That's fine, Betty. Go ahead and connect me. Hello? Mr. President? This is Ron Haas speaking."

Then the system's female gender computer voice chimes in.

"Voice ID Confirmed- Ronald Haas- Special Prosecutor's Office," it says.

"Hello Ron, how are you?" says the President.

"Voice ID Confirmed- President Harold Smithson- White House, Oval Office," chimes in the computer.

"I'm fine Mr. President. How can I help you today?"

Ron Haas and the President were not close acquaintances, so Ron cuts right to the chase.

"Oh, I've been reviewing one of your cases that came across my desk this morning. The one involving Compusoft Corporation..."

"Yes Mr. President, we've just begun investigating those allegations, so there's not much to report right now. We are under agreement with the FBI to provide the utmost informational security in this case."

"Yes, yes, that's good, very good. Uh, Ron. Well, you see, in the interest of national security, myself and my advisors in the Pentagon feel that the timing isn't right for the action against Compusoft. There's a possibility that any hostility against that Corporation at this time could prove detrimental to our interests here at home and abroad."

"I see," responds Haas, somewhat dumbfounded. "Then you want me to disband the team working on that for now, if I hear you correctly?"

"Yes, that's right Ron. And, uh, let the team know that those nondisclosure affidavits you all signed will be held on file and enforced as though the case were proceeding."

"Yes Sir, Mr. President. Then we will postpone the case for now. And you can be sure that myself and my attorneys will release no information, as agreed."

Although it didn't all quite make sense to Haas; he was an employee of the United States Government. He had no intention of raising the ire of his Commander in Chief. And besides, the office was busy. There were many other cases on the shelf waiting to be investigated. Being in the legal business for so many years, he couldn't help thinking of potential cases as a commodity, like barrels of oil or pork butts. Some were lost, gained, and traded on a daily basis, and business went on as usual.

## Chapter 33

At the Manhattan Safe house, things are going according to schedule. Bill Waters and Duncan Garrand brief Doug Leavitt and his wife, Dr. Zelda Johnson, on the planned sequence of events.

"We'll be flying to Maine in the morning," says Agent Garrand. "The yacht and crew will be waiting for us at the naval shipyard. All we have to do is get on board and go get your friend back."

"There's something we need to discuss," interrupts Zelda. "Doug and I have discussed this, and we feel that it's too dangerous. You can't make him go if he doesn't want to, and he does NOT."

"Well, Doctor Johnson," replies Bill Waters,"We certainly don't force civilians to participate in operations of this kind, and if that's your decision, Mr. Leavitt, then we will have to respect it. We do anticipate though, that due to the level of sophistication of the people we are dealing with, that we will not be able to deceive them using a double. The likelihood of successfully rescuing your friend, Robert Gaines, will be greatly reduced."

Agents Waters and Garrand stare at Leavitt in silence for a moment. Garrand then adds,

"We have a very good safety record under these conditions Mr. Leavitt. I really don't feel that there's a significant chance of physical harm coming to you in this operation. We have extensive support in this scale rescue." He chuckles, "We're really never alone out there."

Doug Leavitt turns to his wife.

"Zelda, I know you don't think this is a good idea, but Bob's done so much for me. There are also important business ramifications if Bob were not to survive this thing. I think I've got to go."

Zelda breaks down into tears, and Doug tries to comfort her. Duncan Garrand hands him a box of tissues.

"Then we're all set then. We'll leave in the morning," says Waters, and the two agents leave the husband and wife alone again.

Outside in their office, Waters and Garrand talk privately.

"I really didn't like doing that," says Agent Waters.

"Neither did I," responds Garrand. "It really sucked didn't it? This could be one of the most dangerous operations in the history of the FBI! Well, we have our orders. Convince Leavitt to participate, and report to the Naval Shipyard at Portland tomorrow."

"Let's get some rest. No more lounging around the Safe house after tonight!"

## Chapter 34

Jim Rutgers was not an old time sea captain. Not like the others you might see puttering around Coastal Maine in their wooden lobster boats. More of a golden boy actually. He graduated at the top of his class from Annapolis, had a masters in computer science, and had raced offshore speedboats as a teenager growing up in a wealthy Long Island family. The ability to earn a living was guaranteed by his family's fortune, and the one thing that his father had always impressed on him was to foster honor and respect for their family name. "Honor and respect Jim, that's all I ask of you," he'd often said.

Jim's dad died ten years ago a happy man. He had witnessed the impressive military and academic career of his son, and was also blessed with grandchildren born of his two daughters and of Jim's wife Karen. Now, Jim Rutgers, U.S. Naval Sea Captain, sits at the dinner table with Karen and their two kids, enjoying a home cooked meal before heading out on a most unusual voyage.

"I'm gonna be honest with you guys," he says, looking them straight in the eyes. "This one's a little more dangerous than my usual cruise. Now of course I can't tell you any details, as usual, classified and all that jazz, but, just remember I love you both, and listen to your mom while I'm gone."

"OK dad," respond Jim's eleven year old son and thirteen year old daughter in unison. They were both good kids, very studious, and not into drugs or gangs like a lot of the city kids are these days. The family finishes dinner and Jim talks to Karen in the kitchen while the kids watch TV and do their homework.

"This isn't a normal voyage Karen. We're going on a rescue mission. There's some possibility of combat conditions according to my briefing."

"I know you'll do your best Jim. I'll be thinking about you every minute while you're away."

Karen puts down the dishtowel and wraps her arms around Jim's waist. She looks up into his eyes.

"Just give me a kiss, Jim, and promise me you won't take any unnecessary risks." Tears well up in her eyes.

Jim kisses her and affirms," I promise honey, no top gunning. Me and my crew will get in there, get the job done, and get out, ASAP."

Those are not hollow words from Jim Rutgers. He knows how to get in there and get dangerous jobs done, and he's done it before. They go to bed early, as a sea captain always does the night before a voyage is to set sail.

## Chapter 35

Dock Ten at the Portland Naval Shipyard has a most unusual appearance the morning of the voyage. Proximal to a monstrous, gray naval gunship docked at the end of pier ten, floats a gleaming white world class cruising vessel. A one hundred and forty-foot small ship named the Sunshine II. Her lines are so smooth; she looks more like the Star Trek Voyager to Jim than any BOAT he's been aboard recently. The vessel belongs to none other than Robert Gaines, and was commandeered at it's home port, and sailed to the Portland Naval Shipyard unbeknownst to anyone, including Beth. The radar and other navigational instruments are already adequate for the voyage to the North Atlantic, and the Navy crew has been spending most of their time fitting pedestal mounted machine guns to her decks, and running through pre-cruise readiness checklists.

Jim approaches the gangplank, and nods to the crewman saluting him.

"Good morning Captain Rutgers," says the crewman.

"Good morning. As you were," responds Jim as he walks past, and up the plank. Gulls hover and squawk in the background.

Jim's navy blue coat with brass buttons looks quite dapper as he boards the Sunshine II. He could just as easily have been a guest to the owner, there to enjoy a dinner party with his wife, and socialize with the other well to do. How odd it seems to Jim to be boarding such a vessel with the intent of heading her out into the North Atlantic on a military mission. A crewman walks up alongside Jim, and guides him to the Bridge entrance on the port side. They climb a flight of stairs up to the Bridge, which is fully windowed, offering an excellent view of the bow and forward decks.

"Mr. Piedmont, how are you?" says Jim to a man working over a large chart table with a pencil and ruler.

The man looks up. "Just fine Captain, just fine. I've worked out our course electronically, and was just setting her up on paper for your reference. Of course the final waypoints are unavailable to us at this time, as per the briefing."

Mr. Piedmont has long sideburns, and unlike Jim, actually DOES look like a Maine Lobsterman. One would have expected him to hold a pipe, but he didn't. Jim and Mr. Piedmont had worked together on Jim's first commission aboard the USS Montgomery. Jim knew of no better Chief Navigator than Mr. Piedmont. Sure, with all the gadgetry on board these days almost anyone could aim you to your next waypoint. Mr. Piedmont, however, was able to interface geographical objectives with military and weather information to get you there in the most reliable and strategically advantageous way possible.

From the intercom system comes an announcement in the Bridge.

"Agents William Waters, Duncan Garrand, and Mr. Douglas Leavitt are reporting at the gangplank for boarding Captain."

"Roger. Have them escorted to the Bridge," responds Jim, as he begins to peruse the chart prepared by Mr. Piedmont.

Moments later Duncan Garrand, Bill Waters, and Doug Leavitt arrive at the Bridge.

"Hello, I'm Duncan Garrand, and this is Agent Bill Waters, FBI."

"Nice to meet you two," says Jim. "I've read about the extent of your involvement in the case in our briefing. The CIA contingency is already on board." Jim extends his large hand to shake with the three men.

"Basically, we're going to get you there for the rendezvous, and hopefully, back here again," continues Jim. "Our Navy Crew is prepared for ship to ship warfare, should the need arise. According to the briefing, however, all activities aboard the enemy vessel, uh, those regarding the hostage exchange, will be carried out by yourselves, and/ or the CIA team on board."

Jim looks to the three men. Garrand and Waters nod affirmatively, and Doug Leavitt smiles nervously back at the Captain.

"Very well then gentlemen," continues Jim. "Please make yourselves at home while we prepare to sail, and let us know of anything we can do to assist you. Please show them their quarters so they can settle in."

Jim gestures to the crewman to help them to their bunks. The Sunshine II has numerous quarters for crew, and the twelve CIA men had all been assigned crew bunks prior to the arrival of the two FBI men and the industrialist. These three, however, were given the second master suite available near the stern; with the Captain occupying the first master suite on the stern.

The FBI men seem surprised when entering the cabin.

"Wow! What a deal," says Garrand.

"Well, at least if we're goin, we're goin in style," says Waters.

There are two full size beds, with dark wood frames to match paneling on the walls, and a sofa bed, already pulled out and made up.

Doug Leavitt gets a far away look on his face all of a sudden.

"I can remember some good times on this yacht with Bob. Oh, it must be five or six years already since we cruised the Caribbean together with our wives. Time flies. You blink and another year's gone."

The two FBI men shrug their shoulders, unable to offer the older man solace. They unpack their bags and go for a walk around the boat to meet some of the crew.

## Chapter 36

The passengers disembarking from Rainbow Voyager at the West Palm Beach Cruise Center in Florida haven't the slightest idea that the ship is not always engaged in the tourist business. They are tired, and ready to go home again after a delightful cruise in the Southern Caribbean. Forklift drivers move their tons of luggage into the disembarkation area, where the passengers must identify it, and take it to a truck waiting outside for tagging and transport to the airport in most cases. The scene is noisy and chaotic. Other forklift drivers load food and supplies on palates onto the ship for the next cruise. Typically, this process of disembarkation, restocking, refueling, and embarkation of a new group of passengers on their cruise holidays will take from six to twelve hours before the ship sets sail again. On this occasion, the ship will rest overnight before leaving on the next cruise. The next group of passengers will not be on holiday. On the guest list are, among others, Robert Gaines, Sloka, and a host of other Russian Mafia operating out of the Palm Beach area. About an hour after the last passengers have left the terminal area, a tractor-trailer rig pulls up to the entry gate at the cruise center dock. Sloka inserts his magnetic key card into the device at the service entrance, and the gate opens. He pulls the big truck in, very close to the Rainbow Voyager. Several men run to greet him as he lowers his tired body out of the truck cab and back to the ground. They speak to him in Russian.

"Good to see you comrade," says one of the men. "Where is your partner, uh, Meepov isn't it?"

"He's in the back," says Sloka solemnly, "He didn't make it. We had some trouble on the way."

"Where's Gaines," says another one of the men excitedly, "He's OK isn't he?"

"Yes, he's OK," answers Sloka, looking quite exhausted. "He's in the back, they're all in the back!"

The men follow Sloka to the back of the truck and he unlocks the trailer door. A stench emanates as the doors open, due to the decay of the three bodies, and the fact that Bob, not being let out of the chair frequently enough, had soiled his pants.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Gaines," says Sloka. "We will get you out of here and cleaned up now. This part of your journey is over."

Three men untie Bob, who appears delirious and very weak. They walk him to the ship and up the gangplank. Still blindfolded, they take him to an inside cabin with no windows and allow him to shower and clean himself with supervision.

The bodies of Meepov, Tommy, and Big Jim, are also loaded aboard the Rainbow Voyager to be buried at sea.

Bob feels disoriented and only half awake as he enjoys his first warm shower in weeks. A Mafia man sits on the bed in his cabin, watching to make sure he doesn't try to escape, or commit suicide.

"Where am I," shouts Bob out to the guard, almost as though he was talking to his wife from the shower.

"I'm not at liberty to tell you that right now Mr. Gaines. I am only here to guard you and take care of you until you are released."

"Then, I AM going to be released," says Bob.

"Yes sir. As soon as we get what we need, you will be free to go back to your wife and your company that miss you so much right now. That's why it's very important for you to cooperate, Mr. Gaines. To make this last part of your journey a pleasant one."

Bob didn't want to imagine anymore unpleasantness after the long ride in the putrid trailer rig. He makes his special plea to the guard.

"What's your name?"

"My name is Herman, Mr. Gaines."

"Well Herman. Herman, I just want you to know," still shouting from the steaming shower, Bob continues. "I want you to know Herman. That if I am to make it out of this situation alive. And I really do get back to my wife and my home, that there will be an extra million dollars in it for you. That's a million bucks Herman. A million bucks, from me to you and no one else will know about it. Just remember that Herman."

"I will take you up on that offer in the future, Mr. Gaines. It is time for you to get dressed now. Dinner will be arriving shortly."

## Chapter 37

Sloka, meanwhile, has freshened himself up as well. He has no intention of staying aboard the ship all night prior to setting sail on a long cruise, and sets out to have a good time in the clubs of West Palm. He feels a sense of relief at no longer being solely responsible for Robert Gaines. After Meepov died on the road that night, a new thought kept popping into his mind over and over on the way to Florida.

'Just get the job done and over with. Just get the job done and over with.'

He no longer had the same excitement about all the money he would be expecting when the Slickfile program was put to use by Mikael in Moscow. He was used to violence as part of his job, and the murders had brought his mindset back to one of working. Before that, he had felt wrapped up in a wonderful adventure of grand proportions, like being in a James Bond movie. But he didn't remember seeing James Bond with blood on his hands.

Now, he just wants to go out and drink some Vodka, and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman. First, he stops to call his wife in Moscow. He takes out the MCI Calling Card and punches in the code to the pay phone on the street.

(In Russian)

"Hi Mama. It's Sloka. I'm fine, how are you? How are the children? Let me say hello to them first. Hi baby, how are you? Daddy's going to be coming home soon. I love you. Give me your mama. Hi mama. We're leaving on the ship tomorrow morning. I think I'll be back in Moscow in about three weeks. Yes, I love you too. Goodbye."

Sloka had been a destitute farmer before joining the Mafia. His wife was a simple country woman, and unlike Mikael's wife, she did know what he did for a living. But a living was a living, and Sloka had provided better for her and the children than any of her friend's husbands who were still trying to make ends meet from farming.

Sloka drives his BMW "company car" to the nearest dance club he can remember in West Palm. He valet parks and walks into the club, surveying the flashing colored lights and undulating crowd of dancing people. He thinks about his family and heads straight to the bar so he can loosen up a little. The bartender thinks he recognizes him as one of the Russian contingency in town.

"Will that be a Vodka Comrade?"

"Yes, make it a double Stoli please," answers Sloka. "With ice."

The Russians rarely used the term, 'On the Rocks' like the Americans and Cubans did. The bartender looks at Sloka for a moment.

"You look like you got a lot on your mind. If you don't mind me sayin so."

"Oh," says Sloka," I just broke up with my girl. You know how it is."

Sloka sips on the cold, clear, Vodka. He asks for a second one.

"You know buddy. There are a lot of babes out there eager to party tonight, in my estimation. Better to drown those sorrows in pussy than one too many Vodkas."

The bartender references to the crowd at the dance floor, which does seem to be quite plentifully supplied with beautiful smiling women. Sloka downs the second glass of Vodka. Feeling more relaxed; he thanks the bartender and heads down to the dance floor. He holds a hand out to one of the many women standing on the side, a tall blonde secretary down in West Palm to escape the cold in Boston for the weekend. They join the crowd, hopping and swaying to the loud punchy beat. After a few moments of dancing, Sloka and the woman are both smiling and really getting into it. They take a liking to one another, in a physical sort of way, and she takes him back to her hotel room. They have a few drinks, and after she's a little tipsy, she begins to tease him.

"Bobby," she says. Sloka had told her his name was Bobby. "I think its time you and I got down to a little bit of the wild thing. What do ya say Bob?"

Sloka looks at her as she begins to undress. He's gets up off the bed, and pulls his own shirt off. She approaches him, naked. He notices her very fair skin, just like most Moscow girls.

"You must be from the cold," he says. "No tan."

She smiles a red lipstick smile and kisses his forehead. He kisses her belly, and they go on to several rounds of vigorous sexual intercourse.

"You can stay tonight, if you want," she offers.

"Thanks love," says Sloka. "I have to go. I'm working in the morning."

She watches as he dresses himself in the dimly lit room.

"Goodbye Bobby," she says, sounding unhappy to see him leave.

"Goodbye," says Sloka.

He leaves the hotel and heads back to the Rainbow Voyager to go to sleep.

## Chapter 38

To avoid suspicion, the Captain on the Rainbow Voyager always pulls her out of harbor at the same time of day, whether the cruise is for vacationers, or for the Russian Mafia. Sloka awakens as the throaty horns sound the ship's separation from the dock. Occasionally, when the business at hand was in warmer climates, members of the Mafia would come aboard with their wives or girlfriends just to enjoy the cruise. This time, there are fewer passengers, as the mission objective is being highly guarded, and those who are aware of the destination don't want to go there. Sloka looks around at his cabin. It's a mid level cabin with a small balcony, queen sized bed, dresser, and TV. He gets up and opens the sliding door to the balcony. Balmy Florida sea air gently blows into the room. The large horns sound again, and people from an apartment house at the waters edge wave and bang pots and pans, as is the custom when cruise ships leave West Palm. Sloka steps out onto the balcony and waves to the people.

Captain Hezmannov's voice comes over the loud speaker in Sloka's cabin. (In Russian)

"Welcome Comrades. This is Captain Hezmannov. I hope you will enjoy your cruise on the Rainbow Voyager. As you are aware, our destination will be in the North Atlantic Ocean. Please follow safety precautions and avoid the outside decks when we are in rough seas, as we have lost several passengers overboard in these conditions. The ship's doctor will dispense medications for nausea to any who need them. Meals will be confined to the main dining room ONLY for this cruise, and by the schedule seen on your cabin dressers. Please be prompt, as the waiters will not take late dinner orders. Thank you, and enjoy the cruise. Oh, and please limit target practice to the pistol range on the Caribe level or to the skeet shooting area on stern of the Aloha deck. Thank you."

Sloka dresses himself and exits his cabin to take a walk on the open decks. Because they were leaving in the morning, there would be at least one day of nice weather to enjoy outside as they sailed out of the southern latitudes. After a brief stroll, he chooses a chaise lounge to enjoy the sun. Falling half-asleep while basking, he notices a woman in a swimsuit taking the chaise next to his.

"Hello," he says. "My name is Sloka. I haven't met you before."

"My name is Myrna. I'm the Captain's daughter."

Sloka is momentarily taken aback. How could he have the misfortune that such an exquisite woman lying next to him be the Captain's daughter of all people? They could have made beautiful love together in his cabin that night. He decides to engage her in cautious conversation.

"Well, do you sail with your father often? I've been on several cruises here on the Rainbow Voyager, but don't remember seeing you before."

"I sail on every voyage with my father, Mr., uh Sloka. I'm his only child, and my mother died ten years ago. You've not seen me before because daddy never let me out amongst the passengers. Now that I'm eighteen, he says that I must learn to take care of myself."

"I see," answers Sloka. "If there's anything I can do to help you, or amuse you, let me know."

"Daddy really doesn't approve of all this you know. He doesn't like his ship being used by criminals. Oh... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that you are a criminal, I mean..."

"It's OK Myrna," answers Sloka realizing the mind inside the beautiful body is only that of a young girl. "We are ALL, by the strictest definition of the word, CRIMINALS aboard this ship. Our goals and objectives DO involve the breaking of the laws of many countries. But remember Myrna. What we are all doing here will help preserve the Mother Country Russia. Someone HAS to do things to bring money into the country. After all, the economy is in a shambles. You realize that don't you?"

Myrna smiles politely and nods affirmative.

"I'm sorry Mr. Sloka. I shouldn't have said anything."

She regrets having started his tirade, and doesn't buy his false logic about helping the "Mother Country" either.

"Well, it was nice to meet you. I think daddy needs me, or something..."

She gets up and leaves Sloka at his chaise. He watches her firm, young behind as she walks away and shakes his head. The Captain's voice comes over the loud speakers.

"Breakfast will be served in the main dining room at this time. All those interested will please attend."

## Chapter 39

Back at Dock Ten, the Sunshine Two prepares to set sail under partly cloudy skies and mild temperature.

"All clear for launching Mr. Piedmont?" says Captain Rutgers.

"Affirmative Captain. Clear to launch!"

"All hands on deck prepare to launch! Castaway all lines now!"

Jim gives orders over the PA system to release the ship from the dock. The helmsman works the thrust levers and wheel of the small ship adroitly, much like truck drivers make backing up their cumbersome big rigs look like child's play. Sunshine Two eases away from the dock with her Navy crew, CIA and FBI men, and Doug Leavitt, friend of the ship's owner, all aboard.

Seagulls squawk and hover as she silently leaves port passing some lobster boats and people sunbathing on their small yachts along the way. A child on the beach with his parents watches her elegant silhouette while his father remarks,

"I wonder which one of the Kennedy's owns that one Mary," in his Boston accent.

Captain Jim surveys the horizon through the large windows of the bridge room. A large cargo ship lies at thirty degrees. Jim thinks about Karen and the kids for a moment, then turns to Mr. Piedmont.

"Carry on to the first waypoint Mr. Piedmont. I'll be discussing some of the mission details with our law enforcement passengers in the Dining Room if you need me."

"Very well captain," responds Mr. Piedmont sounding quite proper.

Jim heads back to the large dining room located on the main deck amidships. There's a large wooden floor, which was often used for dancing at the parties held by Robert and Beth Gaines in the past. Numerous booths with pedestal mounted tables surround the floor at the perimeter of the room. This allowed the guests to view both the dance floor and the ocean view outside while seated for their meals. At the forward end of the room, there's a larger table, where Robert and Beth would sit with their close friends or business associates, as the case may be.

Jim takes a seat at the large head table, and within seconds, several of the CIA men, along with FBI Agents, Bill Waters and Duncan Garrand, enter from one of the side doors.

"Good afternoon gentlemen," says Jim, smiling at the men confidently.

"As we've agreed on our voyage itinerary, we will be holding a meeting here each day to discuss developments in the mission, changes in mission objectives, and to interface with one another and integrate the Naval and law enforcement aspects of our plan."

The men all sit down at the large head table with Jim. Jim begins by explaining the planned route into the North Atlantic, and that his radiomen were monitoring the requested frequency, as well as other frequencies known to be used by the Russian underground.

"I am aware that you all have your own satellite based equipment on board for keeping in touch with your agencies. If you experience any problems with your own equipment, do not hesitate to ask for help, as we have several experienced radio technicians aboard who can help you," Jim continues.

The slight drone of the ship's engines can be heard in the background. One of the CIA agents makes the first gesture from their contingency.

"We're honored to be aboard with you Captain. We're all acquainted with your past record of successful campaigns at sea, and we have the utmost trust in your ability to get us where we need to go."

"Well. Thank you Agent, uh..."

"Rothman, sir," the CIA man fills in for Jim.

Next, Bill Waters voices one of his main concerns.

"We've promised our intermediary, Mr. Leavitt, and his wife that his safety would be guaranteed during the mission."

Jim nods affirmatively, and prepares to speak, when one of the CIA agents interrupts. Seated immediately to the right of the diplomatic Agent Rothman, this agent has different qualities. He's a tall and muscular man in his late forties, with a Charles Bronson like roughness to him, and the strong odor of cigar smoke emanating from his breath; very reminiscent of a commando from the film Small Soldiers.

"Look, let's not pussy around with this OK? We all know what's at stake here, and the mission briefing, which was cleared by Richard Elle from our end and Dan Kresky from the FBI end, clearly states that we will do whatever is necessary to successfully take possession of Robert Gaines from his captors."

"And I don't think any of us would disagree with that, but," begins Bill Waters. The big CIA man interrupts again.

"Buts, schmuts! You know and I know that if the Russians are expecting Douglas Leavitt the Third to come aboard their stinking ship and deliver the god damned software, then Douglas Leavitt the Third's gotta do it, or they're gonna buggout and kill Gaines and maybe some of us too!"

Bill Waters and Duncan Garrand look downward, both feeling more guilt than before at having convinced Leavitt to join in the mission.

"Why don't we all take a breather," suggests Captain Jim, trying to soothe the atmosphere. "You can clarify that point specifically with your superiors at home later today. There's another element to our mission that you may not all be aware of. I have been informed that we will have the ability to link up with USS Ranger, a Los Angeles Class Nuclear Attack submarine patrolling the North Atlantic at this time. Ranger will serve as our guardian and maintain contact on encrypted channels during the voyage. This could prove especially useful, should the kidnappers provoke a battle at sea."

"What if the boat the kidnappers have is a sub as well?" asks Rothman.

"We feel that's very unlikely at this time," says Jim. "However, the Ranger carries a very sophisticated assortment of countermeasures, and is very difficult to detect by enemy sonar due to the latest in underwater stealth technology."

The CIA men nod, seemingly impressed with this information. Jim adjourns the meeting, and they agree to meet after dinner for further discussions. The burly CIA agent withdraws a cigar from his shirt pocket and uses it as a pointer to address Bill Waters as they leave the meeting. He bares his yellow stained teeth as he states rather fiercely,

"You guys are here to help out with Leavitt, I know. But when the shit hits the fan, and we're going in for the kill, I'm in charge! I don't want any FBI style fuckups, like that Montana escapade. I've got three ex-Navy Seals who're gonna be in that fuckin freezing water when this goes down, and I've gotta take them into account too. So, if I were you, I wouldn't make any more promises I couldn't keep to Douglas Leavitt the Third!"

## Chapter 40

One day after the departure of Sunshine Two from the Portland Naval Shipyard, President of the United States of America, Harold Smithson, addresses a large group of military advisors at the Pentagon. The details of the mission to rescue Robert Gaines are discussed, but without any mention of Slickfile 99 and the possible prosecution of Compusoft for criminal business activities. President Smithson presents the more technical military aspects of the plan.

"Having been forced to use a civilian vessel in order to comply with the kidnappers demands, we needed to look at a support structure which could ensure the safety and reliability of the mission. An AWACS Radar tracking aircraft with submarine detection will monitor the operation area continuously until mission objectives are achieved."

The President seems quite proud of his CEO position as Commander in Chief of all branches of the US military. He smiles as he talks, and uses a laser pointer to show the group diagrams of the North Atlantic with little pictures representing the various boats, planes, and submarines potentially involved. He continues.

"Linking up with the Radar air support and the team aboard the Sunshine Two, will be USS Ranger. Ranger, as most of you know, is a state of the art, Los Angeles Class, nuclear attack submarine equipped with the latest in countermeasures and underwater stealth technology. Admiral White from the Navy, and Commander Mackie from the Air force, feel that the combination of the Ranger sub and the Radar tracking plane will allow us to keep continuous surveillance over the mission area, while maintaining a very low profile. Should things break down out there, the team aboard Ranger would come to the assistance of Sunshine Two, making any sea going battles short, and to the point."

"If I may Mr. President?"

Richard Elle asks to address the group. President Smithson nods OK.

"The CIA team aboard Sunshine Two is highly specialized. There are three ex-Navy Seals who will help with any in water rescue necessary, and also serve as liaisons between the Navy crew running the ship and the other CIA agents involved. Most of the agents have assisted in Israeli counter-terrorism efforts in the recent past and are what we call in the CIA, primed for action. The unknown factor here, of course, is the type and size of the kidnapper's vessel, and the experience of her crew."

President Smithson addresses the group again.

"Before we go on to the matters in Iraq, I'd like you all to take a fifteen minute break while I discuss some of the more tedious final details of this mission with Mr. Secretary, Mr. Elle, and Admiral White."

The large group adjourns for drinks and refreshments served in the foyer outside the pentagon meeting room. Inside, President Smithson engages the Secretary of State, the FBI man, and the Head of the Navy in friendly conversation before moving on to his main agenda. He turns to Admiral White.

"Because of the impact a flub up could have on this administration, I need to be included in the most minute decisions Manford. In fact, I'd like to keep in direct contact with the crew aboard the Ranger via the Red Alert phone system."

"That system is usually reserved for potential nuclear conflict Mr. President. Don't you think I could relay any messages via our normal communications with the sub?"

"I see your point Manford. However, in this case, I'd like Mr. Secretary, or myself to be able to communicate with the Sub Commander directly. We'll be interfacing with so many people in intelligence and such, so that I think any time delays would be inappropriate with regards to communication."

The Secretary of State nods in agreement with the President and says,

"That's right Manny. We think that if Jimmy Carter had exercised this kind of control in Iran, the hostage rescue would have played out completely different."

Richard Elle might have appeared to be concerned to someone who knew him well, but to the men present he is just sitting and listening quietly.

"Well, as always Mr. President, you can expect the full cooperation and support of the United States Navy. We'll do whatever we can to accomplish the mission objectives safely and quietly in cooperation with the other agencies involved."

"Good then. OK," says the President as he pats the Admiral on the shoulder of his ornamented white jacket.

"Let's get on to Iraq. Ethel?" He gestures to an older woman in a business dress who has been sitting in the wings.

"Please invite the rest of the group to join us for the topics on Iraq."

## Chapter 41

"Hello this is Richard Elle from the Central Intelligence Agency. Is Dan Kresky there? Yes, I'll hold."

"Hello, Dan? This is Richard."

"Do we need voice id for this call?" asks Agent Kresky.

"No, not for this Dan. It's just that yesterday the President met with the Secretary of State and myself in private chambers. He told me about the case against Compusoft and what Ron Haas' team was gearing up for based on information your agents obtained from Douglas Leavitt."

"Yes, well I'm actually not at liberty to discuss those matters Richard, and that's on orders from the President himself!"

"I understand Dan. But anyways, what the President and the Secretary of State have communicated to me is, that there were potential applications for the alleged software that the United States Government could have used in counterintelligence work."

"No wonder!" exclaims Agent Kresky.

"No wonder what?" replies Richard.

"Oh nothing, nothing.... I just realized that I forgot something important at home."

"Well. In any case, the President informed me about the letters of confidentiality signed by all the investigators. He had me sign one too. He wants level five security on this issue, and it won't be all over just because we rescue Robert Gaines, or even if Gaines doesn't make it out of this alive."

Dan decides he can't bluff around with the CIA man. He says,

"If you know about the nature of the Slickfile 99 program, then you must be aware of the potential implications of our government condoning its implementation Richard!"

"Yes, I am aware, and I'm concerned too. But we've got to support the President on this, at least for now. We've got to get the mission objective accomplished, if possible, and worry about the political stuff later. Agreed?"

"Well, yes Richard. We'll plan to maintain the highest level of security with regards to the information obtained here at the FBI."

"Good... Then I'll talk to you later. Bye."

Dan Kresky isn't quite sure what to make of the call from Richard Elle at the CIA. Was he supporting the President because he was told to do so, or was he in on the Slickfile 99 deal from earlier on? Was the United States Government, including the Oval Office, supporting the contamination of the nation's, even the WORLD'S, computer systems with this undetectable virus that would render them vulnerable to invasion by unwanted, prying individuals at any time? It's difficult to fathom. Never the less, Dan decides to carry his pistol routinely from this point on. There were too many gray zones and too many players with questionable motives in the game now. He'd seen other guys go down under similar circumstances before, and he doesn't want to become one of them.

## Chapter 42

Robert Gaines is not allowed out of his cabin during the journey aboard Rainbow Voyager for fear that he would jump overboard, or try to signal for help to any passing ships or airplanes. He spends the day talking to his guard, Herman, a gaunt and bearded Moscowite in his mid thirties. Bob realizes that he is just now, after two days aboard the ship, coming out of a delirium induced by exposure to the heat, terrible odor and poor ventilation of the trailer rig he had traveled in.

Herman seems to be quite a lonely person to Bob after some discussion. After the death of his mother in Moscow, he had only an alcoholic father left and a brother in the Army who was never around. So, Herman went looking for opportunity, and for young men in the new Russian economy there was none. Factories were closed or operating at reduced production. Every office job he called for said they weren't hiring and hung up on him. Then, one day in a bar, he had heard another drunken young man bragging about his personal success.

"You factory stiffs are all pathetic!" shouted the intoxicated teenager wearing an Italian business suit. "I work in the organization, and in the organization we work to make money, real money, not some crappy stipend that's not enough to feed the kids and pay the rent."

"You're full of shit!" shouted another bar patron enjoying his last Vodka before heading home to family after work.

"Oh yeah?" responded the teenager. "Come outside and see my Porsche and then tell me who's full of shit! What did you come here in? Probably a horse and buggy, eh?"

The teenager held the door to the bar open for any interested persons to come look at his fancy sports car. Several men went out and were dumbstruck, looking at the beautiful black Carrera 4. Herman was among that group, and as they filed silently back into the bar, he caught the attention of the proud Porsche owner.

"Excuse me sir," he said meekly. "I'd be very interested to learn how I could get involved in your organization."

This really boosted the ego of the Mafia teen, whose judgment was quite impaired at the time. He reached into his pants and pulled out a scrap of paper, scribbling on it with a gold pen drawn from his shirt pocket.

"Here, call this number and ask for Mikael. Tell him Beeno gave you the reference."

Herman had taken the number and placed the call later that week. He didn't know it at the time, but Beeno had been executed for handing him that phone number in the bar. Mikael was infuriated at the security breech. On the other hand, Mikael had admired the ingenuity of the teen that managed to get the number to call him. He liked Herman's naiveté, and felt he would be very trainable within the organization. Thus, Herman went to work for the Russian Mafia, and as instructed by Mikael, was always careful to abide by the code of security and secrecy.

Herman now turns to question Robert Gaines about his own life.

"What makes you do what you do Mr. Gaines? You're already one of the wealthiest men in the world. Why do you do what you do?"

Robert begins to lecture from his spot lying on the bed.

"Well, I enjoy the computer software business tremendously. It's been by passion since I was a teenager, and I never really went into it for the money per se. Now I enjoy a leadership role in running my company, as well as in the philanthropic community in the United States."

"No. That's not what I meant Mr. Gaines. I mean with all the wealth and success that you just mentioned, why did you come up with this idea to steal information off computers from the customers you depend on?"

"Steal information?" Bob appears appalled. "No person at Compusoft, including myself, has ever conceived of stealing information from our customers. The software you're referring to was simply designed to allow customers, at their own choosing, to upload personal information to our Compusoft system that would help us in designing specific applications for them and their businesses!"

"Is that so Mr. Gaines," replies Herman skeptically.

"That's right Herman. That's all there is to it! There's nothing unethical going on at my company, that I am aware of, nothing whatsoever."

## Chapter 43

Aboard Robert Gaines' Sunshine Two yacht, the men remain somewhat segregated, aside from the daily meeting with Captain Rutgers. The CIA team begins simulated takeover scenarios, using the Sunshine Two herself as the mach enemy ship. The ex-Navy Seals even test out their equipment in the small pool aboard the ship. Duncan Garrand and Bill Waters discuss the aggravated remarks from the CIA assault leader after the first meeting.

"That guy's really a hot head," says Garrand, while he and Waters sit and play poker in their cabin; Doug Leavitt having been taken for a tour of the bridge by one of the crew.

"Yeah, but the problem is, he's right. We never should have painted that picture of absolute safety to Leavitt and his wife in order to get him to come along on this mission."

"Well, it's for the good of the country Bill. And besides, if we couldn't convince him, they just would have sent someone else over to the Safe house who would have. It's not like it was our decision to make in the first place."

On the bridge, Mr. Piedmont proudly displays the myriad of electronic gadgetry and machinery used to navigate the ship to Douglas Leavitt. Captain Rutgers, the FBI and CIA men had all agreed that Leavitt should be treated as a 'cruise liner guest' while en route, in order to keep him from fixating on the mission and getting so frazzled that he would freeze up and make mistakes when the important moments came.

"Oh that's quite fascinating Mr. Piedmont. So essentially, you're using the same GPS positioning system that we use in industry, but without the inaccuracy built into the civilian numbers," says Leavitt.

"That's precisely correct Mr. Leavitt. Yet at the same time, each Naval vessel still carries compass and sextant, and all navigators are trained to do their work completely without electronics, should the need arise."

"Incredible," remarks Leavitt.

He's enjoying the conversation with the colorful Mr. Piedmont, but is really not so impressed with the Bridge. His own work at Rocor, involving the computerization of huge automated factories was so complex compared to this, and he'd been aboard Sunshine Two before anyhow. He tries to keep the conversation going though.

"Now the submarines, they must really be complex, eh Mr. Piedmont?" says Leavitt.

"I wouldn't know sir. I've never set foot in one, really."

Mr. Piedmont seems to take offense at the implication that a submarine is somehow more sophisticated than a ship. He then continues the tour.

"Now if we look over here, you'll notice that she's equipped with a bow thruster for docking and such. She's really quite a nice vessel, for a civilian craft."

Leavitt agrees and looks about, enjoying the spectacular water view from the bridge. Suddenly, a green light flashes on one of the control panels on a stack of equipment, which has been placed in the bridge area.

"Special radio equipment," remarks Mr. Piedmont. "Couldn't do this mission with marine band and ship to shore alone."

A radioman flips one toggle switch on the panel, and sound begins to come from the equipment. It's a female computerized voice, similar to the 'telephone time lady,' only she's saying something different.

"Ranger seeking Sunshine, Ranger seeking Sunshine, Ranger seeking Sunshine. Ranger seeking Sunshine, Ranger seeking Sunshine."

"It's a radio beacon from the sub," explains Mr. Piedmont. "She'll repeat that over and over until we respond with an encrypted message from our unit here."

The radioman flips some more switches and begins typing on a keyboard. Just as Jim Rutgers arrives back at the bridge, the radioman looks over to Mr. Piedmont.

"Well, maybe that will conclude our tour for now," says Mr. Piedmont, trying to remain cordial.

"Thank you. It was quite interesting. Nice to meet with you Mr. Piedmont."

Mr. Piedmont and Doug Leavitt shake hands, and a crewman escorts Leavitt off the Bridge. The radioman turns the volume up, and a real human voice comes across the airwaves.

"Hello Sunshine! This is USS Ranger. We now have you on our screen and will be prepared to link up at 0h three hundred GMT tomorrow."

"Roger Ranger. This is Captain Rutgers from the Sunshine. Good to hear you're out there. We're hoping you can just tag along for the ride!"

"Roger that Captain. We'll be on this secured channel from now on. If we can't reach you for any reason, we'll get a second message through on the alternate, or on standard satellite if necessary."

"Roger Ranger. We're about 2 hours out from the first waypoint at this time. According to the briefing, we should be expecting some coordinates from Red Star in the next forty eight hours."

"Very good Sunshine, just keep us posted. Ranger, out."

The mission briefing had designated the enemy vessel as "Red Star" since there was great suspicion that the kidnappers were of Russian origin. Captain Jim smiles and looks out to the water. Somewhere down there was 362 feet of underwater killing machine working on his side of this conflict, and it felt good to know it.

## Chapter 44

Beth, Marta, Harland and Bud sit facing the view from the family room in the Gaines' coastal estate. Marta has tea and pastries prepared, and they enjoy them while talking about the recent events. After the hang-glider attack, Bud and Harland decided that the cliffside location of the estate had provided an excellent natural barrier, allowing ground assaults only from one side of the estate.

"Can you believe that Beth," says Harland. "That guy tracking your husband for all these years since the pie attack. He really must have been crazy, pathetic, really."

"I guess it's the cost of being successful," responds Beth. "You've always got the world watching you, and there are a lot of nuts in this world."

"You can say that again Mrs. Gaines," says Marta. "It's just too bad there were no clues to Mr. Gaines whereabouts."

Bud yawns and gazes out the window. The ocean looks dark and choppy, with some clouds moving rapidly toward them. Beth looks out as well. Tears well up in her eyes.

"I just wish this whole thing would be over already," she states, crying. "I'm sick and tired of not knowing what's happened to Bob, even if he's still alive or not, and I'm sick and tired of not being able to do a damn thing about it."

Marta puts an arm around Beth's shoulder to console her. Harland looks very serious for a moment, then speaks in his deep bass voice.

"I think we know each other well enough now that I don't need to keep any secrets from you Beth. Just promise me that you won't communicate what I'm about to tell you to anyone outside of this room."

Beth nods affirmatively, a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes.

"You too Marta?" says Harland.

Marta nods ok as well.

"Beth, your husband, as far as the Federal Bureau of Investigation knows at this time, is still alive."

Beth looks directly at Harland, eager to hear what was known about Bob's state of being. Harland continues.

"About five days after Mr. Gaines was kidnapped, a contact with individuals claiming to hold your husband hostage was made. According to their instructions, a meeting was requested aboard ocean going vessels in the North Atlantic. Based on this, and some other tidbits of information the CIA has gathered, it is believed that a Russian faction is responsible for the kidnapping."

"So, what you're saying, is that Bob's ok, right? They're going to go pick him up from the kidnappers on a boat and give them how ever much money they want?" Beth responds.

"Well, partly," says Harland. "It's not money that they want, according to the demands. They apparently asked for some kind of high level software produced by Compusoft. I'm not sure what that software is though..."

"It all makes sense now!" Marta exclaims.

"Remember when that agent was asking if I'd ever seen anything that said Slickfile on it? I bet that's what the kidnappers were looking for. Maybe they needed Mr. Gaines to somehow get access to the information on his computers at work."

Harland interjects, "Oh, and there was one other thing, Beth. Your husband's secretary was a Russian national, and also worked for Pippin Computer at one time. There's an executive with Pippin computer who has some ties to business in Russia, although I'm not sure how he's connected to all this."

"I just feel so much better being let in on what's going on," says Beth with a big sigh. She dries her tears with a napkin and takes a sip of the hot tea.

"Promise me you won't keep any more secrets from us Harland. I need to know what's happening. Even if I can't do anything, at least it'll help me keep my sanity."

"We'll keep you as up to date as we can from here on in, Mrs. Gaines," says Harland.

"Thank you Harland. Thank you Bud."

Beth's mind races to thoughts of Bob being held on a rusty old tanker ship in the middle of the Atlantic. 'Now at least there's some hope. Maybe he'll be back home soon. Maybe we'll talk about things and start a family.'

## Chapter 45

The CIA team assigned to follow Ben Smith in Moscow has little trouble finding him. A quick scan through the accounts of the city's five star hotels brings up his name right away. Two agents, posing as husband and wife German tourists, check into the same hotel to begin surveillance. It's a grand, old structure built during the reconstruction of Moscow following the Second World War. The female agent is an attractive blonde woman in her early forties; the other, a tall man in his late forties with thinning brown hair and a Roman nose. They approach the desk trailing one piece of rolling luggage each.

"Good afternoon," says Heinrich to the man at the desk.

"Please, may we check into our room?"

"May I have your name sir?"

"Yes, it's Handleman, Heinrich and Olga."

"Very nice to make your acquaintance Mr. and Mrs. Handleman. Would you like to pay for your room with credit or cash?"

The hotel man was used to cash paying Mafia members bringing their girlfriends there for romantic escapes recently. In fact, other than the occasional businessmen, and tourists like these two, this comprised most of the hotel business since the fall of the communists.

"That will be credit. Please apply it to my Visa." Heinrich hands him the card. The hotel man stamps a credit slip and points to the elevator.

"That's the way up. Here's the key. Your room is on the ninth floor, with an excellent view of the square. I think you'll be quite pleased."

"That's very kind of you sir, but would you perchance have a room on the sixth floor?"

The hotel man looks at Heinrich quizzically. Heinrich bends over and whispers to him.

"The wife and I are celebrating our anniversary, and our honeymoon was on the sixth floor. I just wanted it to be the same."

The hotel man winks at Heinrich.

"No problem sir. And have a wonderful evening!"

He hands him another set of keys. Heinrich and Olga head up the elevator to the sixth floor, the same floor that Ben Smith is staying on.

Once inside the hotel room, they unpack a specialized set of equipment. Heinrich begins checking some small electronic bugs, while Olga hooks a tape recorder and black box device to the telephone in the room. She puts on a set of headphones and listens to see if Ben Smith's telephone signals, a few doors down the hall, may be detectable.

"Shhhh, shhhhhhhh!" she exclaims.

"I think I hear'm."

She listens intently as Heinrich watches her face.

"Bingo! He's going to dinner with some other guys from Pippin tonight at the Excelsior Hotel Restaurant. Now you can get the taps ready!"

They plan to split up. When Ben Smith leaves for dinner, Heinrich will stay behind and plant the bugs in his hotel room. Olga will follow him to the Excelsior and try to listen in to his conversations there using a sound amplifier device.

Later that evening, after keeping constant watch on the hallway, they spot Ben Smith leaving his hotel room. Olga puts on her overcoat and high heels and follows him down to the lobby. She sits in a chair looking out at the street scene, and has the doorman hail her a cab after Smith leaves.

"Take me to the Excelsior Hotel," she says in broken Russian.

The cabby speeds off down the cobblestone street with the suspension of the car rattling away, and pedestrians and bicyclists doing their best to avoid his erratic path.

Back in the hotel, Heinrich walks casually down the hallway, stopping in front of Ben Smith's door. He "freaks" the lock using a small pick device and enters the room. It's dark, and he reaches for the light switch when a Russian female voice calls out.

"Hey baby. Did you forget something? Come back to bed with Ginger. Let's make love some more."

Heinrich's shocked. He hadn't counted on Ben Smith having company left in his hotel room. The woman sounds sleepy, or maybe drunk, so he decides to try and explain his way out of it. Speaking in fluent Russian,

"I'm sorry mam. It's the room service come to make your beds and freshen the linens. We thought you and your husband were out for the evening."

"You silly boy! Ben's not my husband, he's my lover, sort of..."

The woman is really a high-class prostitute recommended to Smith through the concierge. She does sound intoxicated to Heinrich.

"I'll just drop off the fresh towels in the bathroom then mam. No matter about the linens for now."

He slips into the bathroom and plants one of the bugs inside a cabinet near the door. Hopefully it would pick up conversation in the bedroom as well as the bathroom.

He slips back out into the dark room, brushing against the foot of the bed. A hand reaches out and grabs his thigh. He jumps back, startled, and reaches inside his jacket for a pistol.

"What's the matter sonny? Wouldn't you like to come have a little free time with Ginger? I can make you feel very good!"

"I'm sorry mam. I really must go about my duties."

"Oh poop," she replies with slurred speech. "Goodbye then sonny."

Heinrich leaves her and takes the elevator down to the lobby in order to follow Olga to the Excelsior. He hails a cab on the street, and arrives there fifteen minutes later.

He enters the dining room at the Excelsior and a waiter approaches.

"Can I help you sir?" says the waiter in Russian.

Heinrich dons his German tourist routine, starting out in German, then converting to broken Russian.

"Bitte, um, Lets see. My wife should be here already. I'm meeting her. She's blonde, and about this tall."

He gestures with his hand, and the waiter recognizes he's talking about the woman he put in the back corner table near the window one half hour ago. He brings Heinrich to her.

"Oh hi honey," she says in German.

"Have you been waiting long, my love?" Heinrich replies.

"No, not too long. But I'm really starving. It smells just delicious in here!"

The waiter smiles, having understood the German word for 'delicious.' He leaves them to peruse the menu.

"Any luck with the shopping today honey?" says Olga.

"A little," replies Heinrich. "But not all that I'd hoped for."

The waiter returns, and they order the stroganoff and pork loin entrees. Heinrich can see Ben Smith sitting half way across the restaurant with two other men. They're drinking red wine and laughing and celebrating quite a bit.

"Is it going well for you today, my love?" says Heinrich.

"Quite well, actually," says Olga, holding her right hand to her ear in order to cover the small hearing aid and protect it from the background noise in the restaurant.

Olga listens in to Ben Smith's conversation with the other men via her "electronic parabolic ear."

"... So we sent her over there, and we couldn't even believe our luck!" exclaims Smith to the other men. "She ends up as the secretary to none other than Gaines himself!"

Ben laughs drunkenly. "She gave us the whole deal. Everything we needed to know to make this all happen. Believe me, we couldn't have imagined what we were going to stumble into when we first sent her there."

Another man at the table interjects, sounding more serious than Smith.

"What we're looking at back at the distribution side of the business is a possible boon for Pippin products in the marketplace. Marketing feels that any negative publicity for Compusoft at this time would have a potential ten to fifteen percent impact with consumers in the coming one to two financial quarters."

Smith looks the other man in the eye and says, "Griffy, I know it's hard for you to take off your analyst's hat and just enjoy the fucking victorious nature of the moment, but please try. We are all going to do very well with this deal, so relax and enjoy!"

The other man at the table with Smith starts laughing again, and raises his goblet for a toast. They clink their glasses full of expensive wine and empty them.

The waiter arrives at Heinrich and Olga's table with steaming hot entrees. They enjoy a delicious meal and observe, as Ben Smith and the two other execs from Pippin pay their bill and leave the Excelsior.

## Chapter 46

At Olga and Heinrich's "Honeymoon suite," the two CIA agents take turns sleeping, while the awake agent monitors the solitary bug left in Smith's bathroom. While Heinrich snores on the bed, Olga rolls her eyes as she listens to Smith and Ginger begin yet another sexual interlude.

"All right Ben honey. Take Ginger one more time, any way you like," says the prostitute, in English.

Then, there's no sound, followed by panting and moaning, and the bedsprings creaking rhythmically. The woman screams quite loudly for several seconds. Then it's quiet again.

Olga startles a bit when her beeper alarms on the night stand in their own room. Heinrich reaches over and grabs the beeper.

"It's Moscow Central COM," he says sleepily.

"They want us on Tango One frequency."

Olga takes off the headset and removes a walkie-talkie size radio from her suitcase. She pushes the transmit button and observes the satellite repeater returning her signal.

"MCC this is Olga. Please confirm."

A voice comes back through the radio.

"Good evening Olga. This is MCC. Please enter your five digit code followed by the pound sign."

Olga punches in the numbers on her keypad and stands by.

"Olga. Do you hear me?"

"Yes MCC. Please go ahead. We are monitoring the subject at this time."

"Very good Olga. We have orders from the director. He doesn't like your character being in the picture. The director wants you to write him out of the script tomorrow."

"Please confirm MCC. We are to write our character out of the script tomorrow?"

"Confirmed. Have a good evening. Sorry to bother you at this hour."

CIA orders to agents in the field still use deceptive language, like in the old spy movies, just in case somehow, someone manages to receive the scrambled satellite signals and decode them.

For Olga and Heinrich, Ben Smith was their character. 'Writing him out of the script' meant that tomorrow's sunrise would be his last. Olga and Heinrich are not cold-blooded killers, like KGB or Libyan agents. They are sworn agents of the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States of America. They take their jobs very seriously, believing, at least hoping, that their actions will help preserve democracy. It's with this spirit of serving their country, that they continue to monitor Smith's room via the bug, while preparing the equipment that would be used to assassinate him in the morning.

## Chapter 47

As requested by the kidnappers in their demands, Sunshine Two has begun identifying herself on marine band at regular intervals after crossing the forty-degree meridian. The radioman sounds bored as he announces their call sign every hour on the hour.

"This is Sunshine Two, this is Sunshine Two, identifying, and out."

He gazes ahead at the combination of digital and analog readouts on his equipment. This time, a voice returns over the radio.

"Sunshine Two. Are you looking for Mr. Goodbar?"

"Affirmative. This is Sunshine Two, looking for Mr. Goodbar, over."

"All right then. This is your next waypoint. Please proceed to sixty degrees north at fifteen degrees west of Greenwich. Do you understand Sunshine?"

"Affirmative. Waypoint is sixty, six zero, degrees north at fifteen, one five, degrees west. Over."

"Affirmative Sunshine, you may carry on. And please continue your hourly identification. Thank you, that will be all."

The radio goes dead once again, and the radioman calls to the Captain on a separate microphone.

"Captain Rutgers, Captain Rutgers! We have contact with Red Star! Please report to the Bridge!"

Mr. Piedmont addresses the radioman.

"Say, what were those coordinates again old man?"

"Sixty degrees north and fifteen degrees west Mr. Piedmont."

Jim enters the Bridge area, and Mr. Piedmont turns to address him.

"Looks like we'll be heading her into some weather old boy! Sat-Nav shows a category three brewing in the vicinity of our next way-point!"

The radioman hands a slip of paper to the Captain.

"Here's the coordinates, sir. We just made contact after the last hourly radio identification call out."

The Sunshine Two has already begun to rock quite noticeably in the large swell of the Atlantic. Jim's legs bend slightly to compensate as he responds to the men.

"You know what to do Mr. Piedmont. Give me three routes, along with probabilities of hitting the worst parts of that storm, and time estimates to destination. We'll review that in one hour. Meanwhile, I want you to get back on the radio to Ranger and make sure she picked up those coordinates!"

"Aye, Aye, Captain," says Mr. Piedmont saluting.

"Roger Captain," says the radioman.

Jim surveys the horizon. Nothing but miles of endless sea, but he was used to that. He wonders how well his Navy men, the CIA team, and the FBI will all work together under the stress of a rescue operation carried out in giant ocean swells. It reminds him of the time he helped rescue other sailors in the doomed Trans-Pac race. It was one thing to pull victims from the sea who'd capsized an old, unseaworthy, vessel trying to escape Cuba, or kids who'd taken their small Boston Whalers too far away from the Vineyard in search of bigger fish. But seeing the terror on the faces of overboard crewmen in the Trans-Pac was different. They were all trained and seasoned sailors like himself. Yet, the force of the storm had broken their masts like matchsticks, and killed their fellow crewmen indiscriminately. In the fury of the moment, many had forgotten the most important rule of survival on the open ocean. If at all possible, stay with your boat. Stopping to rescue the other boat's crewmembers had probably cost Jim's yacht the win in that race, but to win without honor was no win in Jim's book. The men he pulled out of the water that day were spent, physically and emotionally. 'I mustn't let the men here on this mission get worn out on the way,' he thinks to himself. 'They've got to be in top physical and emotional health when we need them to perform their duties in the rescue.'

Jim looks over Mr. Piedmont's shoulder as he works out possible routes to the waypoint.

"If we have to take a little longer to minimize the time we spend in the swell of that storm, then let's do it Mr. Piedmont!"

The navigator replies, slowly.

"Yes Jim. Well, then I think we'll be best off following this more Northern course on the way in."

He points to a line drawn in red pencil on the cartographic map.

"Very well then, Mr. Piedmont. Make it so."

## Chapter 48

Olga listens intently to Ben Smith saying his farewells to Ginger, the Russian prostitute, via the bug Heinrich had planted the night before.

"No need to rush out Ginger. Listen, even if you want to stay one more night here on me, it's no big deal. I really enjoyed your company, uh, and oh, your money's on the night table right there."

Ginger replies,

"So you won't be coming back then honey? Ginger will miss you, lots."

"No, I'm afraid not Ginger. My business here is over. I'm having breakfast with some colleagues, and then its back to the States, right away."

Olga whispers to Heinrich,

"He's leaving, he's going to breakfast, and then he's flying back to the States."

"OK then, we'll have to get him before he makes it to the airport. There'll be too much security there," replies Heinrich.

Olga and Heinrich put on their overcoats and black leather gloves. Heinrich checks the condition of his silenced nine-millimeter weapon one last time and places it in his shoulder holster. Olga has a small handgun in her purse, but her weapon of choice is a light composite plastic assault rifle that she carries on the inside of her long coat.

They leave their room and wait a minute before pushing the elevator button, just as Ben Smith exits from his own hotel room into the hallway. Olga looks down the red carpeted hall at Smith. He smiles at her, and she smiles back, planning to fire on him with the assault rifle as soon as he gets a little closer. He's carrying a briefcase and a piece of rolling luggage. Olga tenses, as she prepares to make her move. Just before the barrel of the assault weapon clears her coat, a young child explodes into the hall, laughing and running toward Heinrich and Olga.

"I get the front seat this time!" screams a second little blond boy, running out into the hall. Then the children's parents follow, locking their hotel door, and turning to join the kids at the elevator.

"Good morning," says the man to Heinrich, smiling politely.

"Good morning," replies Heinrich, looking at Ben Smith, who has now also joined them for the elevator ride down.

The elevator doors open, and Olga, Heinrich, Ben Smith, and the vacationing family ride down to the lobby together.

Ben Smith approaches the hotel man's desk, holding out his key.

"I trust you had a pleasant time here, as usual, Mr. Smith?" says the hotel man.

"Very pleasant indeed. Ginger was so refreshing!" replies Smith.

"Will you be returning again during your stay in Russia Mr. Smith?"

"No, I'm afraid not Boli. It's off to the Excelsior for one last meal, and then I'm back to my family and business in the States!"

Olga and Heinrich, who were standing in the lobby watching the traffic on the street, head out the front door. They hail a cab, and tell the driver to get them to the Excelsior quickly, as they were late for an important meeting over breakfast. They race down the cobblestone streets in the old black cab, arriving at the Excelsior in less then ten minutes. Heinrich pays the cabby, and includes an extra generous tip. They enter the hotel lobby and head into the restaurant again. Olga notices the same two men who met with Smith the night before. She whispers to Heinrich,

"He's going to show. Those are the same two from last night."

"OK then," replies Heinrich. "Let's get a window seat for this one, shall we?"

They approach the kiosk and ask to be seated by the window for breakfast. Perusing the menu, they notice Smith coming into the restaurant and checking his luggage with the host. Smith approaches his business partners, greeting them with handshakes before sitting down at the table. Outside the restaurant window, Heinrich observes the busy morning street scene. Two motorcycle officers sit at the corner watching traffic, while enjoying steaming hot coffee in Styrofoam cups. Olga taps Heinrich on the knee urgently and whispers to him.

"He's looking right at us. He must recognize us from the hotel."

"OK then," replies Heinrich. "Let's write him out of the script."

Olga and Heinrich stand and turn casually to the table with Smith and his friends. Olga smiles at Smith, who returns a smile to the pretty, blonde woman. Heinrich pulls his nine-millimeter out and fires three rounds into Smith's torso. Screaming commences, and china clatters to the floor as the other customers in the restaurant dive for cover. Smith, apparently wearing body armor, gasps for breath and reaches for his own shoulder holster. Olga can read the lips of the man Smith had chided the night before, saying,

"God damn it! I knew it. I knew it...."

Olga opens fire with the assault weapon, and Smith's two colleagues fall, bleeding, to the ground. One round appears to hit Ben Smith in the right eye, but doesn't knock him down. He screams out at the top of his lungs,

"You bitch! You god damned bitch!"

Smith levels a revolver at them. Heinrich takes aim and fires one round, hitting Ben Smith between the eyes. Smith's head snaps backwards, and his body falls to the floor.

"Let's go!" shouts Heinrich to Olga in German, as he turns and kicks out the glass from the window beside them. They jump out onto the sidewalk, holding the weapons at their sides. The crowd outside seems not to have noticed the ruckus inside the restaurant. They walk slowly, trying to blend in, toward an alley entrance they can see half a block away. Then, the host from the restaurant runs out the front doors of the Excelsior, screaming,

"Get them, get them! There's been a murder in the hotel!"

He gestures towards Olga and Heinrich. The two motorcycle officers throw down their coffees and hop aboard the bikes. Olga and Heinrich start running, and manage to turn the corner into the alley. They run down the dim alleyway as far as they can before hearing the sound of the loud motorbikes turning the corner. Following Agency protocol, Olga and Heinrich lay down flat on the floor of the alley, aiming their weapons as though on a battlefield under heavy fire. Each knows to take aim at the man on their own side of the alley, left or right, without having to discuss it. Heinrich fires first at his target. Two rounds hit the officer's helmet, knocking him off his bike, which slides down the wet alley, engine still running. The second rider slams on his brakes to avoid hitting the loose motorcycle. His own bike goes down, and he ducks behind it, firing shots from a small pistol down the alley at Olga and Heinrich. Olga sprays a volley of rapid-fire from her assault weapon back down the alley at the officer, who screams out suddenly, in Russian,

"OK, OK! I give up!"

He throws his weapon down the alley, so they can see, and heads off, running, in the opposite direction.

Heinrich aims his pistol, but Olga stops him.

"Let him go! Let's get out of here!"

They run down the alley, exiting onto another busy street with their weapons hidden again. Heinrich hails a cab, and they leave the scene, headed toward a safe house used by CIA agents in Moscow who suspect that they may have been identified. Luckily, the Moscow cabbies chain-smoked, so their driver cannot smell the strong odor of fresh gunpowder emanating from them due to his own cigarettes.

Later that evening, Russian news reports the death of Ben Smith at the Excelsior Hotel. The shooting was "felt to be related to intra-mafia warring regarding money laundering operations tied in with Smith's pharmaceutical business in Moscow."

## Chapter 49

The Lenin Attack sub has maneuvered to within 36 hours of the planned rendezvous site. Captain Cruschev sits in his armchair on the "Bridge," the navigational and warfare command center of the submarine, overseeing the operations of the crew. A weapons specialist checks video systems used to view targets, as camera equipped torpedoes or missiles approach them. Two crewmen monitor dials on the control panel showing the sub's depth, nautical speed, engine rpm, temperatures and fuel status, and the fill levels in the sub's ballast tanks. The Lieutenant enters the Bridge area and addresses the Captain.

"Captain Cruschev, sir!"

"Yes Lieutenant."

"We have communication from Rainbow Voyager on the secured frequency just five minutes ago in the radio room. She estimates arrival at the meeting place in forty-eight hours."

"Very good Lieutenant. Then we should be able to meet her there when she arrives. As a precaution, we will go on full alert status one hundred and fifty kilometers out from the meeting place. I want all electronic sensing and countermeasures in use beginning at that time."

Some of the more sophisticated electronics aboard the vessel take up extra crew time for operation, so it is routine for their use to be limited to known high-risk situations, or when the more basic devices, such as sonar, detect possible enemy vessels in the vicinity.

"Very well captain. I will alert the crew to your orders," says the Lieutenant.

Cruschev looks the Lieutenant straight in the eyes and puts a hand on his shoulder while he speaks to his trusted colleague.

"Lieutenant, we have had a good life on this sub, haven't we? While other submariners have been sent home, unpaid, and unemployed, we have continued to sail around the globe and prosper! We still fly the flag of Mother Russia proudly each time we pull back into port! Our crew goes home to their families with wallets full of cash to feed and clothe their wives and children!"

"Yes captain. All these things are true. But why do you ask for my validation?" asks the Lieutenant.

"Because these things come at a price Lieutenant! And up until now, in the last two years that we sailed together, we haven't really had to pay that price. It's been small change for a crew trained to fight in sea going battles, to do the minor errands we have performed. No risk! But taking risk is the price we eventually have to pay up to earn our keep with the organization. Tell the men NOT to relax this time. Tell them to be on edge, as when they first performed their duties fresh out of the naval academy, and had something to prove. We have grown fat and lazy with no real challenges, no real risk. This mission will be different, because the stakes are higher. So tell them to remember, Lieutenant. Remember their wives and children at home, and their favorite smells and sounds topside, when they perform their duties on THIS voyage."

The Lieutenant nods affirmatively to Cruschev, who drops his hand and winks in a friendly way to break the solemn tone of his own message. The captain turns to the Navigator and issues an order.

"Drop our speed to 10 knots. We'll conserve fuel and make a more cautious approach. We don't need to beat the Rainbow Voyager to the area too far in advance anyhow."

"Aye, aye, captain!"

At precisely the same time, coming from a more westerly direction, the captain and crew aboard USS Ranger are dealing with some of the same issues. Also traveling submerged, and keeping in touch with their sister vessel, the Sunshine Two, Ranger has one distinct advantage. The AWACS radar-tracking plane will provide additional information unavailable to most foreign militias, let alone kidnappers. In charge of the Ranger submarine, is Captain Kevin Washington. His background differs greatly from golden boy, Jim Rutgers, captain aboard Sunshine Two. Kevin hails from a black-American, middle class family. His dad was a moderately successful grocery store owner in Louisiana, and his mother, a devoted housewife. Together, they raised five children during difficult times in the south, and sent each one on to college. Kevin was the only military man in the family though. With older brothers and sisters practicing the law and medicine, he felt the pressure to excel at his own chosen career. And he had. Captain Kevin Washington was the first and only black-American to command a nuclear submarine for the United States Navy when he took his commission aboard Ranger. Part of his method for rising through the ranks in the Navy was his ability to act in a professional manner at all times while on duty. This didn't mean that he wouldn't go out and have a good time after hours, or that he was an emotionally detached person. It's just that while he was working, Kevin was all business. Pleasant, but business only.

Captain Washington issues orders to the Helmsman and Dive Officer on the bridge.

"Bring her down to 1000 feet for the approach to the way point. We'll come in at 15 knots from a southwesterly vector."

"Roger Captain!" reply the two men simultaneously.

"We're expecting the arrival of the AWACS in the next eight hours. They will provide us with an initial aerial recognizance, and locate possible target vessels before we're near the way point."

The Chief of the Watch, a burly mate trained to run the ballast control panel aboard Ranger, comments to the captain.

"We're in good shape for tanks captain. All valves are working one hundred percent."

"Thanks Chief," replies Captain Washington, who makes a check mark on his operations clipboard. "Oh, and please inform the radio room. I will be expecting the possibility of incoming calls from the Pentagon on the red phone, according to the mission briefing."

## Chapter 50

At the Oregon coast cottage, Bud Williams has been maintaining daily contact with his FBI connection in Portland by phone. By virtue of this frequent contact, he's able to get more information about Robert Gaines' situation than previously. Bud makes his daily call from the phone in the kitchen, so he doesn't get distracted by the others and the TV in the family room.

"Yes, this is Agent Williams. How's it going Rob? Just called to get the update of the Gaines' case. Yeah, sure, I'll wait for you to get the trace on my line...."

"OK, now, let's check Infonet," replies the FBI agent, who was getting quite used to providing Bud with his daily update.

CIA protocol doesn't allow for unnecessary access to information, so Bud's own agency won't tell him much about it, since he was only in charge of protecting Beth Gaines at the estate on the Oregon coast.

"Let's see, yesterday's entry. OK, Waters and Garrand are aboard a yacht traveling in the Atlantic to meet the suspected kidnappers. It says here, that the vessel being used is Robert Gaines' own personal yacht, but that there's a Navy team running the ship, and some other support craft going along as well."

"Hmmm, interesting," replies Bud. "Is there anything about when they expect to make contact with the kidnappers?"

"Let's see, there's some stuff here about a CIA team being assigned to handle the exchange in cooperation with Waters and Garrand."

Marta enters the kitchen and asks Bud if he'd like some coffee. He puts his big hand over the speaking end of the phone and whispers to her,

"I'll be back out in just a minute Marta. I've just got to finish this phone call."

"OK, Mr. Williams, you just come out when you're ready.'

Marta leaves him to himself again in the kitchen.

"Well," continues the FBI agent on the phone, "It looks like our agents aboard the rescue vessel don't know exactly when they're going to meet the kidnappers. The Navy crew is listening for instructions from the kidnappers on marine radio, and no one aboard knows exactly where, or when, the rescue will take place."

"Well, thanks again, Rob," says Bud.

"Yeah," responds the young FBI agent, "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Same time, same place," says Bud, in his baritone voice.

He hangs up the phone and goes out to tell the others what little information he had gleaned from the conversation.

"There's not much additional info today Beth," says Bud while sitting on the couch and accepting a cup and saucer from Marta.

"The FBI reports that the rescue team is en route to rescue your husband. They don't know exactly when this will occur, because they're following radio instructions from the kidnappers. Most likely, they'll get sent to several different locations, so the kidnappers can observe them before making the actual rendezvous. They'll want to make sure that there's not an entire armada coming to blow them out of the water. The rescue vessel is your own yacht, Beth, which was commandeered and sent to Maine, where it was outfitted for the voyage."

"The Sunshine Two! I can't believe it!" says Beth incredulously.

"Well, I guess that should comfort Bob, when he sees Sunshine pulling up to take him back home. But there are other ships involved in the rescue, aren't there Bud. I mean, you can't expect to undertake such a dangerous mission just with a pleasure yacht."

Bud replies, "The FBI guy did say that there were several other vessels involved, but there weren't any details about that."

"Well, I've got another idea," says Beth. "If we need to get more information about the rescue operations, maybe my friend Greta can help us get it. Her husband's a Senator from Washington State. He has a lot of connections in the White House."

Harland Appleby chimes in to comfort her,

"Yes, that's it Beth. We'll stay on top of the whole thing from start to finish. It'll be just like you were out there yourself, helping to rescue Mr. Gaines with the others."

Harland smiles at her, and sips his tea. There's a cookie crumb stuck in his moustache that looks funny when he speaks. Marta smiles, and brushes the crumb off with a white napkin.

'Oh how I hope this one does work out all right,' thinks Harland to himself. After all, most hostages held outside of the United States were never recovered. At least not alive.

## Chapter 51

Mikael has just finished reading the morning paper at his Moscow Mafia headquarters. He's outside on the chaise by the pool, wearing a black leather jacket over a sweater, as the weather has started to turn colder. He had heard the news about the assassination of Ben Smith on the radio in his car on the way back to Moscow. Reading the news paper accounts, and seeing the photo of Smith and his colleagues sprawled out on the floor of the Excelsior's dining room, just made him even more furious. On the way back from his family home, upon hearing the news, he was at first shocked, then analytical, and then angry. This had to be an act of aggression by the Moscow Police, yet Chernov had assured him that there would be complete governmental cooperation. Everything was to be "hands off," as far as the Moscow Police and the Russian Army were concerned.

'Drawing attention to Moscow and the Russian Mafia with the murder of a prominent American computer executive could not have worse timing than right now,' thinks Mikael to himself, clutching the newspaper so tightly that it would be considered ruined to any others who might wish to read it.

A cold wind blows at the back of Mikael's neck and he looks up at the sky, where dark rain clouds are beginning to accumulate. He cannot control himself, and he grabs the phone to call Chernov.

"Hello, is Mr. Chernov in? Yes, this is a friend of his, tell him its Mikael. I'll hold."

"Hello Mr. Chernov. This is Mikael. Listen, I have to tell you that I'm very disappointed and dismayed right now. I thought we would have the utmost cooperation and clearance for our people regarding the matters you are involved with."

Chernov replies, "I haven't the slightest idea as to what you are referring to Mikael. The Lenin Attack has successfully disembarked without hindrance, I am told, and is on the way to assist in the operations at sea."

"I'm not talking about the submarine Mr. Vice President!" screams Mikael into the phone.

"I'm talking about the god damn fucking Moscow Police executing Benjamin Smith in the fucking dining room of the most popular international hotel in Moscow!"

"Oh is that what you're so perturbed about?" replies Chernov, now upset about the way he is being addressed by this criminal.

"Well Mikael," says Chernov, matter of factly.

"My understanding of the events, and correct me if I'm wrong, is that Smith was murdered by two German hit men working under contract with your very own organization! It was the Moscow Police who attempted to assist your friend, and to apprehend the attackers."

"That's absolute bullshit and you know it!" replies Mikael.

"I do not have to listen to you addressing me in such a way!" screams the Vice President, contorting his face so that his plump pink cheeks bulge out accentuating his jowls.

Mikael recalculates his approach to the Vice President. He either has no knowledge of the circumstances of Smith's murder, or he will not reveal it to him. 'It would be best not to anger him further, if the plan is to continue on schedule. I must calm down myself and smooth this out.'

"I'm sorry Mr. Vice President," says Mikael. "It's just that with the Police being at the scene at the time of the murder, it all seemed so likely. I don't know. Maybe we have a wildcat out there in the organization, or maybe it was a foreign hit, who knows. I think what we need to concentrate on now is completing the transaction, which as you know from your meeting with Grinkoljya several days ago, will be highly profitable for both of us."

"Now that's what I like to hear Mikael. Go ahead then, get back to work, and make it all happen!" says Chernov, wiping his brow with a white handkerchief and hanging up the phone.

Mikael calls Niki up to the deck. She arrives via the elevator, and steps out to greet him.

"Come here my pet," says Mikael. "Sit on my lap."

Niki approaches and follows his request. Mikael puts his arm around her and looks at her brown eyes and purple lipstick. She's wearing a black leather miniskirt and dark silk stockings.

"What's the matter Mikael?" she asks.

Niki always had a soothing effect on Mikael that few other women, including his wife, were able to achieve. Probably it was because she was so close to him in the business, and knew most of the intimate details of his life. Mikael smiles, appearing very relaxed suddenly and says to Niki,

"Nothing's the matter love. Just kiss me."

They embrace and exchange a prolonged kiss. Niki begins to unbutton her blouse, but Mikael stops her.

"Not now pet," he says between kisses. "There's work to be done."

Mikael picks up the phone again and dials another call with Niki on his lap.

"Hello, this is Mikael. How are you doing? Everything is fully operational then? That's fantastic. I expect you will be receiving the transmissions in two to three days from now. Keep your men on alert at all times though. I'll call you twice a day from now on. Thanks."

Mikael hangs up the phone. The technicians at the computer lab are ready and awaiting the radio transmission from Rainbow Voyager that will enable them to activate Slickfile 99 and begin invading computer systems around the world.

"Everything is going well then?" asks Niki, raising her eyebrows and smiling an impish smile.

"You're so cute!" exclaims Mikael, kissing her again. "Let's go inside. It's getting too cold to be out here."

## Chapter 52

With Sunshine Two rocking back and forth in eighteen-foot swells, Captain Rutgers leads the group of agents into the ballroom for the evening interdisciplinary meeting. The men hold onto the tables along the way in order to keep their balance. Every one wears layered clothing now, to protect against the frigid cold temperatures and water spraying over the sides of the ship. The ex-Navy SEALS in the group look comfortable, as does Jim and a couple of the CIA men who have boating experience. Jim chides the rest of the group.

"I told you guys to use the scopolamine patches with the first signs of sea sickness. It's not worth being macho when it comes to the sea. I need you all in good shape when we reach the objective."

Jim plunks a handful of flesh colored patches on the table for the pale looking men. Some take him up on it, and paste them behind their ears.

The boat takes a particularly hard roll toward starboard, and two of the men are thrown out of their seats. They reassemble themselves and Jim tries to begin the meeting.

"OK, let's get down to business. We've been maintaining contact with the USS Ranger. She's eight hours ahead of us on route to the first waypoint. The AWACS plane should provide excellent recognizance of the area as well, before we arrive. It's expected, from a naval military standpoint, that we will be given several different waypoints before actually meeting the kidnappers. The seas will be getting rougher as we get closer to the objective. I've instructed our navigator, Mr. Piedmont, to provide us with the shortest course through the storm in the area, to spare those of you who don't tolerate this sort of thing. I can tell you that this ship is built to tolerate the current conditions structurally, and is powered adequately to navigate through the storm. It's the human element that we need to be more concerned with."

Just as Jim completes this sentence, one of the men stands up and runs toward the lavatory door. They hear him retching and vomiting as they continue the meeting. Jim's seeks to reassure the men that the boat will not be in excessive danger of sinking in the larger swells ahead. He realizes this may be slightly over optimistic, but wants to avoid a panic among the members of the team being exposed to such extreme conditions for the very first time. While he does anticipate a great deal of danger navigating into the heavy weather, his crew is well trained for it, and the ship is top notch as well.

"Because of the risk the extreme weather will be adding to our voyage, we will be conducting an additional man overboard drill, as well as a lifeboat drill, tomorrow morning at oh six hundred hours."

The commando-like CIA man, Agent Griggs, who had argued with Garrand and Waters at one of the previous meetings, sits with his muscular arms crossed in front of him and an unlit, partially spent, stogie between his teeth. He addresses the captain.

"What exactly is our ETA for the first waypoint Captain Rutgers?" he says in his gruff voice.

"Mr. Piedmont places us there in exactly, let's see, 52 hours," replies Captain Rutgers, looking at his watch.

"Well, being that we're getting much closer," continues the CIA commando, "I'd like to lay down a little bit of the game plan from our perspective."

Waters and Garrand look visibly concerned about the CIA man's military aggressiveness.

"Don't worry boys," he says, looking right at them. "These plans were all reviewed and approved by our strategic planning team back home! Now, as we all know, we're dealing with a sophisticated group of kidnappers here; possibly even a foreign government supported entity. When dealing with hostage rescues, the agency likes to divide operations up into four critical elements. And those elements are?" At this point, the commando points a finger to one of his men, who answers enthusiastically.

"The four critical elements of hostage rescue are! One, target acquisition, visualize or identify all possible enemy personnel. Two, placement! Position agents in the most advantageous way possible for the situation. Three! Acquisition! Acquire physical possession of the hostage! Four! Escape and suppression! Remove the hostage from the site of rescue and suppress enemy attack or pursuit!"

"Very good, very good," says the commando leader, smiling with the stogie still in his mouth.

"Now, Captain Rutgers, we will be depending heavily on you and your crew for elements one and two of the aforementioned. Obviously, it will be your naval military skills that will position us close enough for target acquisition and enable us to place our skin divers in the water close enough to swim to, and board, the enemy vessel. In high seas, my men can travel safely up to one half mile in the water with all their gear and still find an enemy ship once its location is known. They each carry a personal GPS, as well as night vision equipment, Arctic water wetsuits, and an electric Aqua-scooter with magnetic docking capability."

Captain Rutgers responds, "That shouldn't be any problem, as long as Red Star doesn't escalate the meeting to a war at sea as soon as she spots us."

"Once aboard Red Star, the Seals will remain undetected while providing recognizance information by radio to the team still aboard this ship. In addition to the deck-mounted machine guns the Navy has provided, our CIA ordinance aboard ship includes two laser guided hand held rocket launchers, with rounds capable of penetrating double steel-hulled vessels. Should there arise a necessity to defend the ship without the help of the Ranger submarine, then these weapons could be utilized."

More retching sounds come from the lavatory area. The commando leader, who has the full attention of all the men at the table, continues speaking.

"In terms of step number three, acquiring physical possession of the hostage, Mr. Gaines, we will be presented with three choices. One, we could exchange Mr. Leavitt and the encryption software for the hostage. Two, take Mr. Gaines from Red Star by force, if the Seal's recognizance supports such action. Three, utilize the Seals to covertly remove Mr. Gaines from Red Star without a fight, and without giving up Mr. Leavitt, or the encryption software."

"And what if we do have to send Mr. Leavitt aboard Red Star? What happens to him them?" interjects Duncan Garrand, still feeling guilty about dragging him along on the dangerous mission.

The men around the table all look to the commando leader in anticipation of his answer.

"If the Seals feel it is feasible, they will try to rescue Mr. Leavitt, after the hostage is safe. That's the best I can get you right now on that issue."

The two FBI men nod appreciatively. Between the Seals, and the submarine in the vicinity, there should be some way to get Leavitt out if he's stuck aboard Red Star.

Captain Rutgers breaks the silence, "OK everybody. Let's not forget those lifeboat and man overboard drills later on!"

The men file out of the ballroom, bending their legs like surfers to keep their balance aboard the pitching and rolling pleasure yacht.

## Chapter 53

A green light flashes on the radio panel, signaling an incoming message by secured frequency aboard Ranger. The radioman responds from his post in a small room, walled with metal plates and rivets.

"Ranger, go ahead, over."

"Roger, Ranger. This is Arrow," a young man's voice answers back.

"Go ahead Arrow, we read you ten by ten."

"Ranger, we've been scanning the area in a two hundred mile circumferential pattern about waypoint one, and we've got a second submarine on our scopes closing in on the area at roughly your same rate of speed, over."

"Repeat message, Arrow. You said there's another submarine approaching the waypoint? Over."

"Roger Ranger. We have another sub on our scopes at this time. I am sending her coordinates to you digitally, now."

"Shit!" says the radio operator aboard Ranger. "Excuse my language, sir. It's just that we weren't expecting this. Captain Washington has cleared the area with the pentagon, and we were guaranteed no NATO or other allied subs would be near the waypoint."

"Roger Ranger. We just spot'm and report'm from up here. I suppose your Captain will have all the answers, over."

"I suppose you're right, Arrow. Thanks for the report, over."

"Roger Ranger. And, by the way, the Knicks made the playoffs. Over."

The radioman smiles and says, "Thanks Arrow! Over."

The life of a submariner involves deprivation from the goings on in the world above, and it is well known among naval aviators, that any little bit of news would be welcomed when contacting them.

"Arrow, are you still there? Over."

"Roger Ranger."

"Please transmit digital location on that other sub cue thirty minutes, over."

"Roger Ranger, will transmit location of secondary submarine, labeled as vessel A. Repeat, will label second sub as vessel A, over."

The radioman can hear the drone of the AWACS engines over the speaker. It's a welcome variation to the monotony of his small air-conditioned room aboard the submarine.

"Thanks again Arrow. Over."

"Roger Ranger. Over and out."

The submarine radioman sits forward in his chair and grabs the microphone to call to the bridge.

"Radioroom to the bridge, over."

"Roger radioroom. This is Captain Washington on the Bridge, over."

"Captain, you're not going to believe this one! The AWACS guys have a fix on another sub on the way into the waypoint!"

Kevin Washington looks downward in silent reflection, momentarily, then squeezes the microphone button.

"Roger radioroom. I'm coming over now to discuss this information, over."

"Roger Captain, I'll be waiting."

Kevin knows that important discussions should not be held over the PA system in the submarine. Crewmen tended to leave out bits and pieces of information when they weren't talking face to face. He walks down the long passage to the radioroom and enters. The radioman salutes him. Kevin looks him right in the eye.

"At ease son," says Kevin. "We're not at some official ceremony now. We're all dependent on one another down here. Every one's as important as the other. That's what makes a submarine run smoothly in times of crisis."

"Yes captain," replies the radioman, dropping his salute.

"Now, let's get down to business. Play me the tape of your last contact with the AWACS please."

"Yes sir."

The captain listens to the recording of the discussion with the AWACS crew. He puckers his lips and issues orders to the radioman.

"Get the AWACS on the secured frequency, ensign."

"Yes sir. Arrow, this is Ranger, over."

"Go ahead Ranger, we have your signal ten by ten, over."

"Arrow, this is Captain Washington. Is there any signature on that sub? Can you get us a rough size estimate? Or tell whether she's nuclear or not?"

"She's too deep for that Captain. We're just barely able to pick'er up based on changing densities. Over."

"I see Arrow. Well, if there's any change in that status, anything more you can tell us about that sub, for god sakes, let us know!"

"Roger that captain. This is Arrow, over and out."

Kevin says,

"Pay extra attention to the sonar on the way in, ensign. And let's activate the new long range scanner as well, see how it works on a live target."

"Roger captain."

Then, a red handset on the radio panel lights up and alarms.

Kevin picks up the phone and answers.

"Hello, this is Captain Washington aboard Ranger."

"Hello Captain. This is Admiral White. How are things going aboard Ranger?"

"The crew's in good spirits sir. We were in port just a month ago, so the memories are still fresh. And we're all geared up and ready to participate in the rescue mission."

"That's good captain. Great to hear that your crew is doing well. Listen. I've just had a briefing with President Smithson," says the Admiral, his tone suddenly turning more serious.

"Well there's something I think you ought to know first," interrupts Captain Washington.

"What's that captain?"

"We've been alerted, just in the last hour, of the presence of another submarine headed into waypoint one," says Kevin.

"Oh. Well. We're also appraised of that situation here in the Pentagon, Kevin. That's actually why I called you," says White.

"Go ahead. I'm listening," responds Washington.

"The President feels, and I must say that I concur, that we've got to handle the issue of the second submarine very carefully."

"Yes, I'm still listening," says Kevin with a dismayed look on his face.

"The likelihood of that other sub belonging to another nation's naval force is very high, if not one hundred percent, Kevin. We don't want to have an international incident tangled up in this rescue mission, not if we don't have to."

"So what course of action would you recommend, to avoid international incidents, that we take sir?"

"The President and I just want to keep a handle on the whole situation, Kevin. Go ahead and track the sub. By all means, if she threatens you, do what you have to. But otherwise, and I really don't think she should be detecting your presence with that underwater stealth gear loaded onto Ranger, leave the second submarine alone."

"What about the risk to the rescue vessel topside, Admiral?" asks Kevin incredulously.

"We'll weigh that risk together Kevin. Just don't fire on the sub, ok? If you feel it's necessary to fire on that other sub, then give me a call first. Is that clear captain?"

"Yes, that's clear Admiral White," answers Kevin, and although he would have slammed down the phone in civilian life, he places it calmly back on its holder on the radio panel. Always the professional.

## Chapter 54

Mr. Piedmont confers with Captain Jim Rutgers and the radioman aboard Sunshine Two about a signal seen on surface radar in the command bridge area. He addresses them, while leaning over a map, with a pencil in one hand and protractor in the other.

"She's about eighty nautical miles southwest of the waypoint, Jim, and paralleling our course. We first spotted her during the night last night. She entered our screens from a southerly direction and looks to be headed the same way we are."

"Assuming she's the Red Star, and judging from her current rate of progress, how far ahead would you place her, time wise?" says Jim.

"I'd say about five or six hours," responds Mr. Piedmont.

"Have you tried to make radio contact?"

"Yes sir," answers the radioman. "I've been trying to call on her hourly on the requested frequency, with no responses. From the image on the scope I'd say she's a large surface vessel, considerably bigger than us, but not as big as an oil tanker."

"Well," says Jim, "There's really no need for us to play these guessing games. We've got the AWACS boys up there round the clock. Let's hear what they have to say about it. Can you ring them up?"

Rain mixed with ocean spray pelts against the forward windows in the bridge area. The radioman flips some switches, and prepares to call for the AWACS team.

"This is Sunshine Two to Arrow. Sunshine Two to Arrow, over." He lets go of the microphone button, and in moments a response comes crackling over the radio speaker.

"Go ahead Sunshine, this is Arrow, over."

"Yes, Arrow. We have a large surface vessel on our radar screen headed toward the waypoint on a course parallel to ours, over."

"Yes, sorry about that Sunshine. We were just preparing to call in a full report, over."

"So you've got her on your scopes? Over."

"Yes, Sunshine. We're tracking the vessel, she's at coordinates to follow, over."

"Jim looks down at the red LCD digital readout on the radio panel. Numbers appear, representing the longitude and latitude of the vessel in question."

"That's her," says Mr. Piedmont, checking the position on the radarscope versus the numbers sent from the AWACS plane.

"Yes, that's the one we're watching, over," says the radioman.

"It's kind of an odd thing too," responds the AWACS man. "We got a visual on her with our telescopic cameras. Over."

"Is she heavily armed?" asks Jim.

"No sir. Actually, she's a cruise ship! Over."

"No shit!" says Jim. "Pardon my French. Can you back trace her course based on satellite, over."

"Yes we did sir," responds the AWACS operator. "Now there's a lot of cloud cover over the Atlantic in the last forty eight hours, but from what we've got, we think she's out of Florida."

"They never got him out of the States!" says Jim, thinking out loud.

"Go ahead Sunshine?" says the AWACS operator.

The boat pitches hard to starboard. Jim and Mr. Piedmont crouch down to keep their balance, and the radioman grabs a handle on the radio panel to keep from spinning around in his chair.

"There's some other important information, Sunshine, over," says the AWACS man.

"Go ahead Arrow," responds the radioman, shouting to overcome the noise from intensifying rain being blown onto the forward windows of the bridge."

"We think we've got another sub down there, over."

"You mean you're tracking the Ranger, over," still shouting.

"No. Negative, Sunshine. We are in direct contact with Ranger, but we think we've got another submarine coming into the waypoint from a northeasterly direction. Coordinates to follow. Over."

Mr. Piedmont and Jim look downward, as fresh coordinates appear on the red LCD readout. Mr. Piedmont immediately plots the other submarine's position on his map.

"We're definitely all headed for the same general vicinity, Jim," says Mr. Piedmont, looking up from the map with a concerned look on his face.

Jim issues orders to his radioman. "Thank the AWACS guys, and let's see if we can make contact with Ranger again."

"Thanks for the update, Arrow. We'll be checking in with you regularly, over."

"Any time, Sunshine. We'll keep you posted on any course changes with those two vessels. This is Arrow, your eye in the sky, over and out."

"Sunshine, over and out," says the radioman, now turning up the volume on a second system used to contact the submarine.

"This is Sunshine. Ranger, do you read? This is Sunshine. Ranger, do you read?"

"Roger, Sunshine. This is Ranger, go ahead," comes crackling back from the radio speaker.

"Ranger, are you advised of the possible presence of the second submarine? Over."

"Roger, Sunshine. Arrow is reporting coordinates of that vessel to us cue thirty minutes. Over."

"I don't need to tell you that we can not have that submarine interfering with the rescue effort," says Jim into the microphone. "We will be depending on you to keep her out of it!"

"I will relay that message to the captain, sir," says the radioman aboard Ranger.

"Uh, let me speak to the captain directly, please," says Jim.

"Just a minute sir," responds the Ranger radioman, who grabs his public address system microphone and calls to get Captain Washington off the bridge. Moments later, Captain Washington enters the radioroom.

"Hello, this is Captain Washington, over."

"Hello, captain. This is Jim Rutgers, aboard Sunshine Two."

"Yes captain. How can I help you?" responds Washington.

"We've just been advised of the probable presence of a second submarine in the vicinity."

"Yes sir. We're also following her," answers the submarine captain.

"Do you anticipate any problems with keeping her away from the rescue area? Over," says Jim.

"Everything we have aboard Ranger is state of the art Captain Rutgers. There's not a submarine in use today that can claim superiority to this one when it comes to warfare."

Kevin wishes to assure Jim that he will let no harm come to them from beneath the waves. He has enough experience in the politics of the Navy not to mention the discussion he had Admiral White about the other submarine.

"The weather's quite rough up here," says Jim.

"So we hear. Over," responds Kevin.

"We may need you to assist in the event of any men overboard during the rescue. Over."

"No problem, Captain. We're with you one hundred percent."

Captain Washington looks downward, concerned about the Admiral's request to handle the other submarine in a hands off fashion. If an enemy sub were to get anywhere near the area, there would be the constant risk of a torpedo attack on the boats above.

Then, another of the marine radios aboard Sunshine suddenly crackles to life. The radioman turns up the volume, so they can hear above the storm.

"Sunshine, are you listening? Sunshine, are you listening?"

The radioman first tells Captain Washington, aboard the Ranger submarine, that they will contact him later, so that he can attend to the contact with Red Star.

"Roger, this is Sunshine!"

"Sunshine. I trust you have us on you're navigational screens by now? We are tracking you as well. This is the leader of the group responsible for returning Robert Gaines to your possession. We will need your utmost cooperation in order for the following meeting to be mutually successful. Do you understand?"

"Roger, we read you loud and clear, over," says Captain Rutgers into the microphone. "What is it that you want, besides the encryption program, over."

"If there are any, and I repeat ANY other vessels identified in the vicinity of the meeting place, then the deal is off, and Mr. Gaines will be executed and buried at sea. If there are any other types of irregularities, then Mr. Gaines will be executed, and buried at sea. If we simply cannot find you at the requested time and place, then Mr. Gaines will be, in fact, executed and buried at sea. Do I make myself clear?"

The voice is that of Captain Hezmannov aboard Rainbow Voyager. He seems, to Jim and the others, to be reading the message, as though he were a newscaster on TV. There was no emotion in his voice, even when the content called for emphasis. They do not know this is because he IS reading a script. A script put in front of him by the ruthless men of the Russian Mafia standing with him in the bridge area of his once proud cruise ship. Jim and his crew could not know that this man too, was being held hostage, and that given his choice, the Rainbow Voyager would be shuttling vacationers around the Caribbean Sea, instead of carrying the Mafia men and their hostage into this godforsaken weather.

Captain Jim speaks into the microphone again.

"Yes, that's very clear sir. We mean to make an honest exchange for Mr. Gaines, and that is all. Over."

"Very well then. Carry on your current course of travel. Please maintain your monitoring of this frequency and your regular identification calls. We shall be meeting you shortly. Good day."

"He's definitely got a Russian accent," says the radioman to Jim.

"Hmm," says Jim, and he turns to leave them to their duties.

## Chapter 55

Captain Hezmannov glances across the bridge area at Sloka and Sloka's boss. They appear to be conferring about their plans for the hostage exchange, along with the ship's radio operator. Then, two more Mafia men enter the bridge. Behind them, are large, black pieces of rolling luggage. They simultaneously tip their bags onto the floor, and begin unpacking. Three laptop computers are removed and placed on the work area next to the radio station. There are also what appear to be various types of disk drives in metal cabinets, and numerous cables that the two men begin hooking to the computers and drives, and to the ship's radio as well. Hezmannov stands by his first mate, who steers the big ship using several sliding thrust control levers. The Rainbow Voyager, like the Sunshine Two, has begun to pitch and roll in the heavy swell, although much less, due to her larger size, and underwater stabilizers. A young woman enters the bridge. It's Hezmannov's daughter.

"Hi daddy," she says in Russian.

A smile breaks across Hezmannov's previously expressionless face.

"Hi Myrna! How are you doing today, daughter?"

The young woman smiles, revealing her gleaming white teeth.

"I'm doing fine daddy. I beat the purser at pool again. Of course the balls were rolling around kind of funny." She giggles, and sways her hips with the roll of the boat.

Sloka notices her from across the room, and leaves the men setting up the equipment in order to say hello.

"So this is your daughter captain?" says Sloka.

"Yes, she is," replies Hezmannov, his smile fading when he looks at Sloka eyeing his daughter.

"We had a nice conversation the other day out on the deck. Before the weather turned so bad," says Sloka.

Myrna blushes, and looks to her father. Hezmannov replies,

"I think you should be keeping your mind on your work Mr. Sloka. This is a very serious mission for you, I understand."

The Mafia man immediately realizes he's being insulted. He reaches for Myrna, grabs her, and kisses her on the lips. She screams,

"Oh! Oh my god!" and spits on the floor in disgust.

She wrenches herself from Sloka's grip and backs away, standing behind her father. Captain Hezmannov's face turns bright red.

"Please. Restrain yourself! She's only a child, and my only daughter!" says the captain.

Sloka finds himself unprepared to deal with the captain's civility. If he would have thrown a punch instead, he would have shoved his pistol under the captain's chin, and let him know who the boss was. At that moment, the men working with the computers on the other end of the bridge call to Sloka.

"Come. Come. We're ready to test the equipment!"

"I'm sorry you feel about me the way you do, captain. I understand though. I have children at home myself," says Sloka to the captain. He returns to the men at the radio panel. The two men who brought in the computer equipment are typing feverishly on their laptops.

"OK. Go ahead and key up on the test frequency," says one of the men to the radio operator.

The radio operator flips some switches, and turns his microphone off, to eliminate noise from the room in their transmission.

"OK," says the second man, "And I'm entering the test password, and we're waiting..." the men are all silent.

Then, both of the color screens suddenly flash to show new displays with all sorts of moving graphic bars and numbers, that Sloka doesn't know how to interpret.

"Bingo!" shout the two computer operators together.

"We've done it, we've done it boss!" one says to Sloka.

"What? What's happened?" he asks.

"We've sent a test message in Compusoft's programming language to the computer room at home. They have received the message, and successfully used it in their computer system over there."

"So now we are ready to send them the encryption file when we get it?" asks Sloka.

"Yes," answers one of the men, while the other one continues typing away on his laptop. "And we will be able to verify from the mainland that the program is working pretty quickly too."

More than a thousand miles away, in the Mafia's Moscow computer laboratory, a celebration is being held at that very moment.

"We've got it. We've got the test. We're half way there!" screams a technician from his computer terminal. Looking down on the six technicians in the "pit" are three Mafia bosses, all dressed in dark business suits and wearing Italian shoes. One of the bosses produces a large bottle of champagne, and begins pouring glasses for the others. He says,

"To success!" and pours the champagne.

They toast, clinking their glasses, and smiling. The leader shouts down to the technicians in the pit.

"When we finish, we'll all be drinking champagne. Don't you worry! But we need your brains clear for now!"

A young programmer looks up at the Mafia bosses and smiles. He has been promised a handsome payment, should the mission succeed.

All the pieces of Mikael's plan are now in place. The boats heading for their rendezvous, where the encryption program will be obtained and sent via radio satellite to the computer lab. Once confirmation of the validity of the software is obtained, the Lenin Attack will fire her torpedoes from below the surface, destroying the Sunshine Two, along with Robert Gaines and his rescuers. Unbeknownst to the Mafia men aboard Rainbow Voyager, Mikael has also ordered the Lenin Attack to destroy that ship as well. This way all loose ends will be tied up. Mikael will direct the operation in Moscow without worrying about the possibility that the United States military could apprehend Rainbow Voyager. He knows all too well, how important it is to simplify. The key to the success of a major operation such as this one, is to use whatever resources are necessary. Then get back to basics, with only a few players "in the loop."

Aboard Rainbow Voyager, Sloka orders the men to remain at the ready, with their computer equipment, in the bridge area. He doesn't want the possibility that technical problems might arise from breaking down and then setting up the equipment again. Sloka turns to Captain Hezmannov. Myrna has left the bridge. He says to the captain,

"Listen captain. Just get us where we need to go ok? I won't make any problem with you and your daughter. This is a very important mission. Can you just get us where we need to go?"

"Don't you worry Mr. Sloka. I will get you there," answers the captain.

## Chapter 56

Beth steps out of the shower in her master bathroom at the cottage and puts on a white cotton terry robe. She bundles a towel around her long brown hair, like a turban, and walks over to the king-size bed. Standing in front of it, she feels unhappy to be going to sleep alone again. She lies down on the cool cotton sheets, and begins thinking of making love to Bob in the past. Bob had proposed to her soon after they met, and they had a celibate courtship of only four months. He had told her so many times, after they were married,

'I can't believe I'm here making love to a woman as beautiful as you. I never would have imagined it, Beth.'

She would respond to him, 'Well you're a pretty beautiful person yourself honey.'

'I'm just a nerd Beth. A successful one, yes. But even out of all the successful nerds around the world tonight, I'm the only one making love to the most beautiful woman in the universe.'

And the fact was, that Beth truly was a very attractive woman, and that without his success, Bob would have had little chance even to get to know her, let alone marry her.

Suddenly, the phone rings, breaking Beth's dreamy train of thought as she lay on the bed. She reaches over, begrudgingly, and answers,

"Hello, Gaines residence."

"Hello, Mrs. Gaines? Beth Gaines?"

"Yes. And if you're a reporter, I really can't talk right now, ok? It's time for bed where we are."

Beth had been hounded by phone calls from reporters on a daily basis, since the news of her protective custody at the Oregon compound became public knowledge.

"I'm no reporter Mrs. Gaines. My name is Hank Schwartz, and I'm an assistant to Harold Smithson, the president of the United States of America."

"How do I know you're who you say you are?" responds Beth. She feels sleepy, and doesn't want to go through the whole rigmarole of getting out of bed, getting Harland or Bud, and waiting for them to perform their identity confirmation rituals over the phone yet again.

"Well let's see," says the man. "I have intimate knowledge of the goings on at your estate there. As a member of the presidential team, we get updates from every working employee of the FBI, CIA, and all of the armed forces. Let's see," Beth can hear him typing on a computer keyboard.

"OK now," he continues. "You are in the protective custody of the Central Intelligence Agency. Your in house agents are Harland Appleby and Bud Williams, two seasoned veterans of the agency. They aborted an attack on your estate by one Henry Himmelstein last week. The FBI has a helicopter and a team of men guarding the outside of your estate. When Mr. Himmelstein tried to attack, you were removed from the area in a Jeep Grand Wagoneer belonging to the FBI. You were kept out of the estate for exactly four hours, during which time a bomb squad removed Mr. Himmelstein's body and ultralight craft. When you returned to the estate, your maid, Marta, prepared veal chops with rice and spinach that you, Appleby and Williams consumed around eight PM. It was decided by the agents, that it was safer to stay at the estate than to move to another location, because the attack by Himmelstein was most likely an isolated event, unrelated to your husband's kidnapping. Do I need to continue on, Mrs. Gaines?"

"No," replies Beth. "I guess that's good enough. What do you want?"

"Well, firstly, Mrs. Gaines, I'd like to offer my condolences on behalf of myself and the president with regards to your husband's current situation."

"Thank you Mr. Schwartz. And we understand that the government may be in the process of rescuing Bob any day now?"

"I'm really not allowed to talk about any ongoing operations, Mrs. Gaines. I did want to ask you about something that just might help us to rescue your husband though."

"Fire away Hank! What can I do to help?"

"Well. The kidnappers made reference to some sort of software in development by your husband's company, named Slickfile 99 or something like that. Did you ever hear your husband discuss such a project? Do you know what it is?"

"No I don't know about it Mr. Schwartz. We were asked about it previously during the investigation though."

"We? Who's we?" says the man.

"Me and Marta. Marta lives with us in Portland, so naturally the detectives, uh, Garcia I think it was, asked her about things too."

"Did Marta know anything about the program Mrs. Gaines?"

"No. No she didn't."

"Oh, well. No need to be concerned," says the man on the phone. "We just thought it might help us a little, but it's probably really not critical to the rescue mission."

"Well, Marta and myself will think more about it Mr. Schwartz. Where can I call you if we come up with anything?"

The man gives her a telephone number that she jots on an envelope on the night table.

"Please let me know of any developments in the rescue, will you Mr. Schwartz?"

"Sure, no problem Mrs. Gaines," says the man. "Good night."

'For some reason, I feel like I've just been interrogated like a suspect,' thinks Beth to herself. She turns on the TV to relax, no longer sleepy after the conversation with the president's assistant.

Hank Schwartz now discusses the conversation with President Smithson on his private line in the White House.

"She sounded quite sincere Harold. I really don't think she knows anything about the program. She says that their live in maid didn't know anything about it either, and that they were asked about it earlier in the investigation of her husband's kidnapping."

"OK, I'm really trusting you on this one Hank," answers President Smithson. "Remember, that program will be useless to the United States Government, or anyone else for that matter, if the whole thing hits the evening news!"

"I know, I know Harold. Don't worry. It's all under control. It's all under control," Schwartz speaks in an artificial soothing tone of voice.

"OK Hank. Good job. Good night then."

"Good night Mr. President."

Next, the President dials out on the private line to Admiral White's home.

"Hello? Manford?"

"Who is this?" says the Admiral. "It's one o'clock in the morning!"

"Manford, wake up. It's Harold, remember me? I'm the head of all the armed forces?"

"Oh. I'm sorry Harold. I was fast asleep. What's going on? Are we at war?"

"No. No we're not at war. It's about the rescue operation in the Atlantic. We have information to support the idea that the Slickfile program may be salvageable for use by the United States Government. Apparently, there are very few people who know much about it, including Gaines' wife."

"So, you want me to keep Captain Washington on his leash then Harold?"

"That would be good for starters. You realize the importance of this technology, don't you Manford?"

"I think I do, yes."

"Well to gain its use, I'm afraid we may need to do some damage control in the Atlantic," says the president.

"What kind of damage control were you thinking of Harold?"

"I'm thinking that we can't risk letting Gaines return here. That the safest thing would be to let the Russian sub blow Sunshine Two out of the water once Gaines is on board. Then, Ranger takes out the enemy sub and Red Star as well. That way we only have a few AWACS boys and the Ranger crew to deal with, and they can all be given affidavits to sign when they return home, ensuring the secrecy of the project."

"I don't like it Harold. We've got Jim Rutgers out there captaining Sunshine Two. Are you going to call his wife to offer her condolences and her husband's Purple Heart? And what about the CIA and FBI men on board?"

"You know, as well as I, Manford, that if any of those men were not willing to die in the line of duty for their country, then they wouldn't be out there on this type of mission in the first place," says the president, sounding quite serious.

"You're the chief Harold. I don't like a plan that sacrifices our officer's lives. You know I was at the invasion of Normandy, Harold? Always hoped I'd never have to send another officer to slaughter like that. Well. Just call the shots like you always do, and I'll make sure our Navy performs to the best of its ability, as always Harold."

"Now that's what I needed to hear, Manford. It's of the utmost importance to our nation's welfare and security. I'm glad I've got your cooperation."

"Yeah, sure Harold. Good night," says the admiral, hanging up the phone on the president.

Smithson dials him right back.

"I'm serious Manford. I need to know if you'll back me on this project or not?"

"I'll back you Harold. Of course I'll back you. Now put down the phone and get some sleep."

"OK then, I've got your support," says the president, reassuring himself. "Good night Manford."

"Good night Harold."

Click.

## Chapter 57

Beth's awakens to a chorus of songbirds singing outside her window and glances over at the alarm clock.

'Shit, it's almost ten o'clock,' she thinks to herself. 'I better get up and tell Bud and Harland about that phone call last night.'

She rolls out of the king bed into her slippers, and goes to brush her teeth and hair in the bathroom. Jeans and a sweater comprise her outfit for the day, and she sets out to see if the rest of the house's occupants are stirring yet. When she enters the family room, Bud and Harland are already there, and Marta's serving coffee and hot rolls with scrambled eggs to the two hearty eaters. Bud has a little bit of scrambled egg in his moustache and Beth looks at him with a smirk.

"Hey, let me in on the joke so I can laugh too, little sweetheart," says Bud, smiling at her.

Beth points to her own upper lip, and Bud gets the picture, wiping the egg off his face with a napkin.

"There's something more important that I have to discuss with you guys though," says Beth.

"What's that?" replies Harland, looking at her with a concerned expression on his face.

"I got a phone call last night, just after I went to bed. It was a man named Hank Schwartz, an assistant to the President of the United States."

"Well why didn't you give a holler to Bud and I," says Harland. "How do you know that guy was who he says he was?"

"He knew all the details of what's going on here. He even had access to the reports that you two file with the CIA on your daily activities," says Beth.

"Just a minute," says Harland. "Before we go any further talking about your discussion with this man, let's see if we can get a verification on who he really is. Hold on Mrs. Gaines, this'll only take a minute or two."

Harland picks up the telephone off the coffee table, and dials a number.

"Hello operator?"

"Yes, this is Agent Appleby, I'm on the Gaines' estate protection project, and we need to get a trace on a phone call from last night."

"I thought they could only do that while you were on the phone," Beth whispers to Bud Williams.

"Normally, that's true Beth," he whispers back, "Except that Harland's talking to the CIA phone operator. We've had the lines here recorded and traced twenty four hours a day since we arrived."

Harland begins talking to the operator again,

"Yes the call was at approximately, uh," Harland looks to Beth to fill in the time.

"Eleven PM," says Beth.

"Eleven PM," says Harland to the CIA phone operator.

"Just a minute sir," replies the operator.

"OK now," she continues. "We have a trace on that call, as well as voice id confirmation for the caller. Identification reads as Hank Schwartz, Washington D.C. Would you like to hear the recorded conversation agent Appleby?"

"Yes I would mam. Please play it to me."

Harland listens intently to the full length of Beth's conversation with Hank Schwartz from the night before, and thanks the operator before hanging up the phone.

"Well it looks like the man was who he says he was, Mrs. Gaines, but I do question his motives," says Harland to Beth.

"That's so odd that you say that Harland. When I got off the phone with him, I had the immediate sense that I had been interrogated, like some kind of suspect or something."

"He evidently had a keen interest in that Slickfile 99 program he was asking about," says Harland.

"I wonder why?" asks Beth.

"Something just doesn't make sense with this rescue mission either," says Bud.

"That's right," says Marta. "Why would the United States Government send a pleasure craft to meet some terrorists in the middle of the ocean, when they could just trick them and capture them out there?"

"It does all sound kind of unlikely," adds Harland. "Let me try to call this guy back at the number he gave you, and ask him about the Slickfile program."

Harland dials the phone again, and waits for an answer.

"This line has been disconnected," says Harland to the others, mimicking the telephone company recording.

"OK," says Harland, "Now let's try to get a hold of him the CIA way."

Harland dials again, this time using the number received from the CIA phone operator as the trace on the call from the night before. Again, he waits for an answer.

"Hello, this is Agent Appleby with the Central Intelligence Agency. I'd like to speak with Mr. Hank Schwartz please." Then he whispers to Beth and the others, "I've got his office on the line."

"Hello, Mr. Schwartz? Yes, this is Agent Harland Appleby. I gather you're familiar with who I am and what I'm doing this month?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I am," responds Schwartz, on the other end. "You must be calling regarding the phone call I placed to Mrs. Gaines last night?"

"That's right," answers Harland, "We were just interested to find out what the significance of this Slickfile 99 program was in your mission to rescue Mr. Gaines."

"Oh, nothing, really, Agent Appleby. It was just an incidental. Just an incidental, and that's all," says Schwartz.

"Incidental to what?" asks Harland.

"Well, at the beginning of the investigation into this kidnapping, an Agent Garcia from the FBI brought it up to us, along with a laundry list of other incidentals, most of which have turned out to be useless. And I'm quite sure that this Slickfile thing is just another useless incidental as well."

"Oh, I see," says Harland. "Well, keep us posted of any changes. And, uh, by the way sir, your other telephone number is no longer in service."

"Goodbye Mr. Appleby."

Schwartz hangs up on Harland, not wanting to try to explain why he gave a bogus telephone number to Beth.

He then calls the president direct to the Oval Office.

"Hello Mr. President?"

"Yes Hank, what is it?"

"Well, I don't think it's really too important, but one of the CIA agents over at the Gaines estate called up asking about the program."

"You mean he was asking about Slickfile 99?"

"Yeah."

"What did he ask you Hank?"

"He just wanted to know why I wanted to know about it."

"What did you tell him Hank?" asks the president.

"I told him it was on a checklist of things we were looking into, and that it probably was nothing important."

"Good. Good job Hank. Don't talk to them anymore if they call you. Just tell your secretary to tell them you're away on business."

"OK Mr. President. No problem, no problem," answers Schwartz.

"No Hank! It is a problem, it's a big problem," shouts President Smithson back at him. "You should have been more subtle about your investigation. Now you've alerted none other than a CIA agent that something may be amiss! Don't you see Hank, if the cover gets blown on this then it's over, all over for this project!"

"I'm sorry Mr. President," says Schwartz, sheepishly. "I won't talk to them again."

"Goodbye Hank. Just keep a lid on it, OK?"

Meanwhile, Beth, Harland, Bud and Marta have been brainstorming. They decide that Beth should call Greta Jenkins to see if her husband, the senator, could fish up some more details about what has been going on with the rescue mission. Beth calls Greta's office, but she's not in. She leaves a message for Greta Jenkins to call her back as soon as possible.

## Chapter 58

When the phone rings later that afternoon, Beth's sure that Greta has gotten her message and is returning her call. She can't wait to see if Bill Jenkins can pull some strings and get the inside story on what's happening with Bob's rescue. She picks up the phone and begins speaking prematurely.

"Hello? Greta? Is that you?"

"No mam, it's Detective Squabowsky from the Portland PD. Remember me?" says the chubby detective with the Brooklyn accent.

"Oh. Yes, Detective Squabowsky, of course. How are you doing?" answers Beth, somewhat surprised to be hearing from him.

"How are you doing Mrs. Gaines? Holdin up ok? I know it must be very difficult, with Mr. Gaines still missing and all, and I have to confess, our investigation back here in Portland's going nowhere. Oh, at first we thought, Sundance and I, we'll beat them. We're the best detectives on the force. We'll solve the crime before the big agencies can do it. But they really shut us down ya know. Clapped the lid on anything and everyone related to your husband's kidnapping. Finally the young cowboy and I just threw in the towel and went on with other investigations. And that reminds me Mrs. Gaines, about the reason why I called to chat with you today."

"And what would that be," answers Beth, sounding perturbed at Squabowsky's rambling on.

"Well, it's Sundance. He just got married last Sunday, and if it weren't for this whole business with your husband being kidnapped, he wouldn't have met his bride in the first place."

"How is that, exactly?" asks Beth.

"You see Mrs. Gaines. When that perpetrator that you and your maid laid out cold with the frying pan got whacked in his hospital bed, Sundance and I showed up at the scene to investigate. Well, while we're there, Sundance asks this cute little Filipino nurse out on a date, and the next thing you know, BAMMM! They're getting married."

"Give Detective Sundance and his bride my sincerest congratulations Detective Squabowsky. I'm sorry to seem impatient, it's just that I've been waiting for an important call pertaining to my husband all day."

"I understand how stressful this must all be for you Mrs. Gaines. I just wanted to tell you about the wedding. You see, it was so beautiful, and I can't really talk to anyone here about it since they were mostly at the wedding anyways."

"Ok, tell me about the wedding detective," says Beth, resigned to the fact that she will have to humor Squabowsky's sudden urge to communicate with her.

Beth settles in comfortably on the couch, and gazes out at the ocean in preparation for the detective's story.

"Well first of all, you've got to have a picture of Helen. That's his bride. She's just as petite and sweet as you could imagine, and she's from the Philippines. She looked like a real doll in her white wedding dress standing up there with Sundance at the alter. She comes up to about his chest, being so small and him being so tall. Helen has a whole bunch of little cousins, oh about five to eight-year-olds. So she has them form a whole little platoon of flower children, not just one or two, but the whole bunch of them. I'll have to send you a picture Mrs. Gaines, because when they were done walking down the aisle, it was like a carpet of white flower petals had been laid out by angels for Helen to walk on."

"That sounds quite beautiful," says Beth dreamily, thinking about her own wedding in comparison to what was being described to her. When she married Bob, both their families were there, but also a huge number of celebrities, computer business executives, and other people she didn't really know.

"So anyhow, the service was short, and after they gave their vows and kissed, there was a reception and luncheon. I met a lot of Helen's family, and Sundance's mom and dad for the first time. And that brings up one other thing. His parents didn't seem completely thrilled. I mean, they smiled and went along with the ceremony and all, but afterwards, after Sundance introduced them to me and people were mingling. His mom takes me aside and whispers in my ear. 'Imagine,' she says, 'What our Sundance could find in a little waif from the third world like she is.' And I just nodded, but I thought to myself, 'What a stuffy old broad. Good for Sundance that he could decide on a bride that satisfies him rather than his bigoted mother.' The lunch was just fantastic Mrs. Gaines. They had food stations with three different entrees, and the best desserts I've had in a year. After the meal, people were really dancing. I mean having a great time. There were a lot of young doctors and nurses from the hospital where Helen works. The DJ got as many people out on the floor as he could, and they did the limbo to some Jamaican music. Sundance didn't stand a chance at limbo," Squabowsky laughs.

"It sounds like a great wedding. I'm glad you told me about it detective," answers Beth.

"Yeah it was...," says Squabowsky plaintively. "I'm thinking of doing some dating again myself. Start working on a real life outside of this cops and robbers world I've been stuck in for so many years. So I wanted to ask you a favor, uh, if I could, Mrs. Gaines."

"Shoot. What is it?" says Beth.

"Well if you think of any nice women you know in their forties.... Maybe someone who wouldn't look down on a cop whose had a few too many doughnuts recently. Let me know."

Beth chuckles and says, "Be careful what you ask for detective. I know a lot of people in Portland. Seriously though, I will definitely keep it in mind."

"Thank you Mrs. Gaines. It was good to talk to you."

"It was good to talk to you too, detective. Bye bye."

## Chapter 59

Finally, later that evening, the break in the case that Beth has been waiting for changes everything in one fell swoop. The phone rings. She answers while the others continue watching the news on TV.

"Hello, Gaines residence," answers Beth.

"Hi Beth, its Greta. I'm so sorry I couldn't call back sooner, but I'm really busy. Anyway, I talked to Bill today during the day, and he made some phone calls on your behalf."

"Yeah, so could he find out anything?" asks Beth.

"Ok Beth. I think you better sit down for this," says Greta.

"Oh no!" Beth cries out. "Please don't tell me he's gone, I won't be able to stand it!"

"He's ok Beth. Now get a grip for a second, because I have some very important information to tell you."

"Ok, go ahead," says Beth, wiping her tears. "I'm OK now."

"Bill's got a connection in the FBI, someone very high up. This person, whom Bill says can be trusted, told him that there's some sort of information embargo being put on the whole situation with Bob's kidnapping. Supposedly, a bunch of federal prosecutors were all sworn to secrecy about it. He said that there's some proprietary information created by Compusoft that the government might be protecting, a program called Slickfile."

"That's it!" exclaims Beth. "That's the same thing I was asked about by some assistant to the President who called yesterday."

"What was his name Beth?"

"Uh, it was Schwartz, Hank Schwartz!"

"Not to be disrespectful to President Smithson Beth, but that Hank Schwartz is really one of his worst henchman."

"What do you mean Greta?"

"Oh, just that its well known around DC that when the President has something really dirty to take care of, Hank's the man."

"Well tell me more about what the FBI guy said," says Beth.

"He said that there seems to be more interest in protecting the Compusoft software that's involved, and that if he were Bob Gaines, he wouldn't be counting on the United States Government to get him out of this predicament."

"Is there anything else Greta?"

"Not really, but Bill's FBI friend promised to keep us posted every step of the way. He said that the rescue meeting is due to occur in the North Atlantic within the next thirty-six hours. I gotta go Beth, but I'll call you back in the morning."

"Thanks Greta, bye."

Beth feels a second wind of energy coming on. Although the news is bad, at least she has some real information to work with. She fills in the others on the conversation with Greta.

"Sounds to me like a cover-up of sorts," says Harland.

"I agree," says Bud. "And I hate to say it, but if there are secondary interests involved, then your husband's chances could be diminished out there. Remember, that a hostage exchange has oh, a five to ten percent chance of being successfully carried out under the best circumstances."

"Now there's no need to make the little lady even more worried," interjects Harland, looking at Bud disapprovingly.

"No, no. It's ok," says Beth. "We need to approach this logically, not emotionally. There's only a small window of opportunity which we must take advantage of to help Bob."

"No offense mam," says Bud, stroking his moustache. "But how are we going to help your husband from here on the Oregon coast?"

"Well I'm surprised at you two!" exclaims Beth. "You're the CIA men, and you need a socialite housewife to help you figure this one out!"

The two CIA agents' jaws drop wide open at Beth's sudden candidness.

"Let's hear what you have to say Mrs. Gaines," says Harland.

"Ok, hear me out guys, Marta. We know we've got some secondary interest here, the Slickfile program, that the Oval office may have an eye on right?"

The others nod affirmatively.

"We also know that the FBI informant who talked to Senator Jenkins feels that a cover-up is going on."

They nod again.

"If we break this story to the news media, then we can have an effect on the outcome in several different ways," continues Beth.

Bud and Harland seem to light up all of a sudden.

"That's right," says Bud, "The little lady's got a point there."

"But if we break it too soon," continues Harland, "Then the kidnappers will abort and it's all over."

"Break it too late," says Bud, "And the deal's already done. If somebody doesn't see fit to have Robert Gaines survive this thing, then he'll already be dead."

Bud turns to Beth.

"It's all in the timing with these things Mrs. Gaines. You've got to get a hold of your friend Greta again. We need to know exactly when the hostage exchange is occurring."

"If we break the story to the news media right when the whole thing's going down, then anyone in US politics who might not have Mr. Gaines' best interests at heart will back down to avoid the bad press that public exposure would bring," says Harland.

"You're a genius Mrs. Gaines," says Marta to Beth, smiling hopefully.

Beth calls Greta back at her home, while the others listen in.

"Hi Greta, its Beth again. Sorry to bother you."

"No bother at all honey, what's up?"

"The CIA agents working with me here at the cottage have a plan to help Bob's rescue. But to make it work, we need to know exactly when they're meeting with the kidnappers out there in the Atlantic."

"Well, Bill's home now. He just walked in the door. Let me ask him if he thinks its possible."

Greta puts the phone down and goes to talk to her husband, the senator. Beth thinks she can overhear him putting up some kind of fuss about "putting his own neck on the line with this."

"Hi Beth?"

"Yes Greta."

"Consider it done. Just stay by the phone, I won't call you until I know what's going on out there, ok?"

"Ok. Thanks Greta, I know you're really busy and everything."

"Are you kidding girl? When my best friend's husband has his life on the line, we make time around here. I'll be calling you."

"Bye."

## Chapter 60

Mr. Piedmont and the radioman listen intently to a voice coming over Sunshine Two's radio system, trying to filter out the noise from rain pounding the windows of the bridge. The ship is pitching front to back now. Captain Rutgers has been forced to follow the direction of the large swell to avoid risk of capsizing or taking on water.

"Sunshine are you listening? Sunshine are you listening?"

"Roger, this is Sunshine, over," shouts the radioman into the mike.

"I am the captain of the vessel carrying Robert Gaines. We are altering your instructions for meeting us. Do you read, over?"

"Roger we read. May we assign you code name Red Star for the rest of these communications, over?"

"Red Star, ok," answers Captain Hezmannov, sounding quite unemotional as previously. Sloka and the computer men are there with him, as well as his navigator, and the first mate.

"Go ahead Red Star," says the radioman.

"Yes," continues Hezmannov. "You are now required to maintain your current position. We will approach your vessel with an estimated arrival time of ninety minutes. If you do not maintain your current position, we will not be able to meet with you, and the exchange will be cancelled indefinitely. Is that clear?"

"Roger Red Star, we will maintain our current position to the best of our ability. It's a little rough out here, over."

They listen for a response, but there is none. Mr. Piedmont grabs the microphone to page Jim to the bridge.

"Captain Rutgers to the bridge, Captain Rutgers to the bridge, immediately!" he exclaims.

Jim arrives at the bridge door a few moments later. Cold wind and rain blow into the room when he enters.

"Sorry guys. We were out there going through the lifeboat and MOB instructions one last time with the CIA guys."

"That's ok Jim," says Mr. Piedmont sounding quite serious. "We've just been informed by Red Star that we must remain in the current vicinity. They say they will be approaching our vessel in ninety minutes time!"

"How far out from waypoint one are we, Mr. Piedmont?" asks Jim.

"Still several hours yet, Jim. Based on the last coordinates from the AWACS boys, the foreign submarine is here, and the Ranger reports her location as being here," Mr. Piedmont points to his navigational map, showing Captain Rutgers the locations of the other vessels involved.

"That doesn't give us much time to prepare," says Jim. The radioman nods in agreement.

Jim grabs the microphone to call to the others on board Sunshine Two.

"This is Captain Rutgers. Will all members of the voyage not currently involved in running this vessel please meet in the dining area immediately! Repeat, all members of the rescue mission not currently indisposed, please meet in the dining room immediately!"

Jim leaves the bridge and heads directly for the ballroom area. He takes a seat in the middle of the main table as the first of the CIA men, as well as Bill Waters and Duncan Garrand, begin to arrive. Jim notices four of the men are in wet suits with hoods pulled over their heads. The commando CIA leader says to Jim,

"We're already aware of the ninety minute ETA captain. We've been monitoring all radio frequencies with our own equipment."

"Good," says Jim. "So for anyone else, who may NOT be aware, we have been asked to maintain our current location by Red Star. The kidnappers say that they will be approaching our vicinity in ninety minutes."

"Will the submarine be with us?" asks Bill Waters.

"Yes, Agent Waters. I will also remind you all of the presence of the unknown sub. Ranger should take care of that end of things, but just keep it in mind."

The commando leader, Griggs, speaks up again in his gravelly voice.

"Because of the possibility of the second submarine being involved, we will be unable to use the aqua-scooters. She could detect the prop wash, and spot our divers. Thus, we will need to get as good a vector as possible on Red Star's incoming route. The four SEALS will hit the water immediately, maintaining radio contact as needed. They will spread out over a half mile radius, hopefully giving the best chance that one will be able to successfully board Red Star and provide recognizance."

"What's the survival time for your divers?" asks Jim.

"They could stay in freezing water for twelve hours in those suits captain. The fatigue factor in these conditions would cut that at least in half to six hours. But the water temp now is in the forties, so the duration would be a little longer."

"Ok, well that should be plenty of time, if they don't toy around with us and call new coordinates an hour from now," says Jim.

"If they call new coordinates, all we can do is call the divers back in and start all over again," answers Griggs.

Jim looks at the faces of the men seated around the table. They appear tense, ready to go into action.

"Why don't you two go get Mr. Leavitt ready?" says Jim, looking at Waters and Garrand. "There's not much time. Brief him as to what to expect. Let him know that we're all in this together and that he's part of the team."

"Right captain," says Bill Waters, nodding to his partner. They get up and leave the meeting. On the way back to their cabin, Bill mentions to Duncan,

"Better get on the radio quickly, one last time, and let Kresky know that the whole thing's about to go down."

"Roger that," answers Duncan, emphatically.

Aboard Rainbow Voyager, Captain Hezmannov makes radio contact with the Lenin Attack sub, while Sloka oversees every aspect of the operation on the bridge of the big cruise ship. Robert Gaines remains locked in his cabin, under constant guard.

"We are heading due South and should cross your coordinates thirty minutes before arrival at the meeting place," says Captain Cruschev to Hezmannov on the radio. Hezmannov answers,

"Very good captain, we will use oh seven five oh as the backup frequency if we cannot contact you on this one for any reason, over."

"Affirmative, oh seven five oh as the backup, over," answers Cruschev. "We will transmit our coordinates to you via the encoder every fifteen minutes. Obviously, be very careful not to mention any coordinates on this frequency, just in case Uncle Sam is listening. Over."

"Affirmative. Over and out." says Hezmannov.

Aboard Lenin Attack, the crew hurriedly prepares for the possibility of battle. The torpedo-men man their stations. Captain Cruschev reviews checklists to make sure no item is overlooked. The Lieutenant walks the length of the submarine, checking in with all stations to assure readiness. He enters the "bridge" area, where Cruschev sits reviewing a chart with the chief navigator.

"All clear for battle Lieutenant?" asks the Captain.

"Yes sir. All men are at their stations, and there are no damage reports at this time."

Cruschev takes the microphone and addresses the entire crew.

"We will be sure that all electronic countermeasures are in place at this time. Expected linkup with our sister ship is in approximately twenty-eight minutes. At that time, we will rig for silent running, and follow her in to the location where she will be meeting an enemy vessel. We will adhere to full wartime protocols beginning in twenty-eight minutes. If you have any questions at any time, do not hesitate to contact myself or the Lieutenant via videotext, using the closest terminal to your station. Good luck to all of you!"

Unlike World War Two vintage subs, these men carry out their battles in bright fluorescently lit work areas more reminiscent of an office, then a boat. Wearing white collared shirts and neckties, they prepare to go about the highly technical business of submarine warfare.

Aboard Sunshine Two, the radioman and Mr. Piedmont receive an incoming message from the AWACS team just moments later.

"Sunshine, do you read. This is Arrow."

"Go ahead Arrow, we read you ten by ten, over."

"Yeah, are you following the signal identified as the unknown submarine? Over."

"Roger, Arrow. Looks like she's headed due south to meet up with Red Star before they get here, over," says Mr. Piedmont.

"Roger Sunshine. Just wanted to be sure no one forgets about her. Over."

"Thanks Arrow, we're right on top of it. We are reading all your transmitted coordinates without difficulty. Over."

"Arrow, over and out."

"Sunshine, over and out."

Half way across the globe, the phone rings at the Oregon estate. Beth Gaines reaches from her bed to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Beth?"

"Yes."

"It's Greta. Sorry to wake you up so early, but it's time! Bill got a call from the FBI informant. He says that the rescue team will be meeting with the kidnappers at sea in about forty-five minutes!"

"Thanks Greta!" answers Beth excitedly. "I have to go now! I'll call you back later, we have work to do here!"

"Good luck Beth. I'll talk with you later," says Greta, sounding hopeful.

Beth jumps out of bed and puts on her thick terry cloth robe and slippers. She runs and knocks on the doors of the others.

"I want you all to help me out with this. We've got to call as many news stations as we can. We'll use the extra phone lines so we can all call at once. If the story breaks on the east coast in the next ten or fifteen minutes, any politicians and their henchmen should hear about it right away."

"Let's get right to it," says Harland Appleby to his partner.

"The little lady's got a plan! All we need to do is execute!" says Bud Williams.

They go straight to the telephones.

"Hello? Is this NBC news? Yes this is Beth Gaines, the wife of the kidnapped millionaire Robert Gaines. Yes, it is. I have a very important news story to report. At this very minute, my husband's kidnappers are meeting with an American team of negotiators in the North Atlantic Ocean to try to arrange his release. Yes, I have confirmation from a very reliable source that this is true."

In the kitchen, Harland talks to the CIA press liaison on call.

"Hi. This is Agent Appleby. I'm assigned to protection for Beth Gaines at her Oregon estate. We need to arrange for a media release, and right away!"

"Yes, it's ok," says Harland, "Go ahead and verify identification."

They go through the CIA routine Harland had used previously when contacting others about the case, in order to verify one another's identity.

"Ok now," continues Harland. "We would like to issue the following press release, immediately. At this time, in the North Atlantic Ocean, a CIA team is negotiating the release of kidnapped millionaire, Robert Gaines. It is believed that Mr. Gaines is in good condition currently, and if all goes well, he will be expected home in the United States in forty-eight hours. Oh, and uh, add in one more thing. Let's see. It is believed that the President of the United States of America, Harold Smithson, is involved in coordinating the rescue effort."

"Ok, let's see if I have it down correctly," says the press liaison. "They're meeting in the North Atlantic to try to rescue Robert Gaines. He's thought to be in good condition at this time, and the President of the United States is helping to coordinate the rescue."

"That's good enough," says Harland. "Now get that release out right away. It's very important that the public knows what a good job we're doing!"

"No problem Agent Appleby. You can expect this to hit the news here in Washington DC within minutes!"

"Atta boy!" exclaims Harland, hanging up the phone.

Sure enough, within five minutes of Beth and Harland making their calls, the story hits television and radio news flashes not only on the East Coast, but the West Coast as well.

Hank Schwartz catches the story immediately. He always has CNN running in the background in his office. He picks up the phone and places an urgent call to President Smithson.

"Hello Harold?"

"Go ahead, this is President Smithson," answers the president.

"It's Hank, Hank Schwartz. You won't believe what I just saw on the television news."

"What Hank? What is it now?" asks the president, sounding irritated.

"Someone's breaking the details of the Robert Gaines rescue operation. It's on all the channels!" Hank flips through all the local stations using his remote control.

"How do you think that should change our approach Hank?"

"They're reporting that you are in charge of coordinating the rescue! If anything BAD happens, anything BAD to Robert Gaines, or anything BAD to any of our agents or vessels out there, its going to reflect poorly on YOU Mr. President!"

"Shit Hank! You're absolutely right. What can I do? I better get on the horn to Admiral White and Commander Mackie. Let them know to do their absolute best out there!"

"I think that would be prudent Mr. President. We can't afford a dip in the poles this close to the primaries."

"Ok, Hank. You've done a good job this time, finally. Good pickup. Well, let me call the warlords right away, before we have a mishap out there," says the president.

"Good bye Harold," says Hank, and they hang up their phones.

The president dials immediately to Admiral White's office.

"Hello, this is the president. Please give me Admiral White, right away!"

"I'm sorry sir, he's not in at the moment. Can I take a message?"

"No, thank you. I'll call him on his portable."

Smithson redials to Admiral White's cell phone number. White's at a café having lunch with some foreign dignitaries.

"Hello, this is Admiral White," he answers, sounding very official.

"Manford? It's me, the president!"

"How can I help you Mr. President?" says the Admiral, smiling at his guests from Luxembourg.

"Remember our conversation the other night?"

"Yes Mr. President, I do," answers the admiral solemnly.

"Well forget it. Forget it all! Just help your men to do the best damn job they can to rescue Gaines. We don't want any screw ups. No fatalities if at all possible, and for god sakes don't lose any ships out there!"

"Yes sir!" answers the admiral. "We will do everything in the Navy's power to accomplish a successful rescue!"

"Goodbye and good luck," says the president, hanging up the phone in disgust. 'Oh well,' he thinks to himself, 'better to get out intact while we still can, than to push the limits and risk being politically ruined.'

He turns on the television monitor in the Oval Office, just in time to see another one of the news flashes.

"Repeat, It is reported that at this very moment a rescue effort, coordinated by the president and his military commanders, is underway in the North Atlantic, in an attempt to rescue kidnapped billionaire, Robert Gaines," says a male newscaster wearing a suit and tie.

Two of the ex-Navy SEALS manage to obtain a visual location on the large cruise ship, Rainbow Voyager, as she heads in to meet with Sunshine Two. They begin swimming above water toward the vessel, using the large swells to their advantage by riding them. Each man has a helmet and protective padding built into the wet suit as body armor. Rainbow Voyager approaches rapidly, and when they can make out the lettering on her bow through the drenching rain, they submerge themselves and breathe from oxygen enriched air tanks. They watch the ship slow down and come to a relative stop in the high seas. SEAL One signals to SEAL Four to approach the ship. With extra long swim fins, they swim in and latch on to her, using large magnets attached to their diving belts. A huge swell smashes them against the side of the ship. SEAL One calls to SEAL Four via headset radio.

"You ok there Rawhide?"

"Yeah. You ok Richie?"

"Let's secure these tanks then."

"Roger."

The two divers harness their tanks to the side of the ship using magnetic devices. Then, each one tosses a small grappling hook upward by swinging it on a nylon cord. The hooks catch the rail above, and the two men climb the cords, peeking first over the edge of the deck floor, and then jumping onboard Rainbow Voyager. Two Mafia men wearing plastic ponchos with rifles come around a corner, heading toward the SEALS, who spot them immediately. The Mafia men have their heads tipped forward to take advantage of the hooded ponchos, and do not see Richie and Rawhide.

"Let's get around the other side there!" whispers SEAL One to SEAL Four, pointing to some tables in front of a dining area at the stern of the ship.

They hustle out of view and radio back to the commando leader, who now sits in the bridge area with Mr. Piedmont and Captain Rutgers aboard Sunshine Two.

"Sunshine this is SEAL One! Do you read, over!"

"Roger Richie. This is Blue Leader. Go ahead."

"We're highly exposed out here Griggs! They've got a couple guys with semiauto's patrolling the deck, and that's all we've seen so far."

"Who's with you Richie? Are all the other SEALS aboard? Over."

"Negative. Rawhide's here, but we don't know where Thompson and Hammer are. Over."

"Well, do your best to get some recognizance. See if you can locate Gaines. Over."

"Roger Griggs. Gotta go now."

SEAL Four, also known as Rawhide because he took a round in the buttocks while flying an Apache chopper over the Korean DMZ, yanks on SEAL One's arm. They high tail it down a stair well near the swimming pool in the central area of the ship. Luckily for them, one of the glass doors is unlocked, because they can hear the two guards heading their way.

"Let's get in out of the cold," whispers Rawhide, sarcastically. The two frogmen enter into a foyer and push the button for the elevator. It opens immediately, and they jump in, withdrawing small black plastic pistols and cocking them simultaneously.

"Shall we try Aloha Deck?" says SEAL One, whose real name is Richie.

"Roger that!" answers Rawhide, and they head down into the bowels of the ship aboard the stainless steel paneled elevator. The doors open, and they stand facing Captain Hezmannov's daughter, Myrna, who opens her mouth wide in preparation to scream.

Rawhide lunges forward and wraps his black rubber gloved hand around her face before any sound comes out. He pulls her back into the elevator and the doors close again. Richie keeps pushing the Aloha button to prevent the elevator from leaving to another floor, but this causes the doors to open and close repeatedly.

Rawhide looks at Richie quizzically.

"What should we do with her?" he asks.

"Maybe she can help us!" answers Richie, "But we've got to get her somewhere else. Check her for keys."

Rawhide searches the teenager's pant pockets and comes up with a plastic card key, but there's no room number written on it.

"Ok mam," says Richie with a Southern drawl, looking straight into Myrna's frightened eyes. I'm going to go through some instructions very quickly now. If you want to stay alive, you need to listen and answer quickly by nodding your head. Do you understand English?"

Myrna nods her head affirmatively, along with Rawhide's right hand, which is still wrapped over her mouth.

"Good. Now listen closely. Is that the key to your cabin?" asks Richie.

She nods affirmatively again.

"Is there anyone else in your cabin now?"

She shakes her head side to side.

"Ok mam. All you've got to do is take us to your cabin. We will not harm you in any way as long as you cooperate with us. Is your cabin on this level?"

She nods yes.

"Remember, you will not get hurt, as long as you follow my orders and do not try to deceive us."

She leads them to her cabin, halfway down the hall on the starboard side of the Aloha deck, amidships. Her father had assigned that as her personal cabin because there is less rocking effect from the ocean swells when one is located at the middle of the ship. They enter and close the door. Richie checks the bathroom for any possible guests, but there are none.

"If I take my hand off your face now, will you promise not to scream?" asks Rawhide.

She nods yes, and he lets her go.

"Who are you?" asks Myrna, on the verge of tears. "My father and I are hostages on this ship. I mean, this is his ship, but it's a cruise ship, and my father's the captain. Thugs from the Russian Mafia have forced him to shuttle them around for their business. If he does not cooperate, they will kill him."

"Slow down, slow down, little lady," says Richie. "If that's the case, then we're just who you wanted to see. I can't go through any details, other than to tell you that we are working against those men who've high jacked this ship. Anything you can do to help us, will help you and your father out of the predicament you're in. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I think I understand. You're Americans aren't you? Oh thanks god, thanks god!" Myrna exclaims, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Ok now, uh what's your name, little lady?" asks Rawhide.

"Myrna," she says, wiping the tears off her cheek with both hands.

"Myrna. Do you know if a man named Robert Gaines is being held prisoner aboard this ship?"

"You mean Robert Gaines, the CEO of Compusoft, and the richest man in the world?" asks Myrna.

Rawhide smiles.

"That's him. Is he here?"

"I really don't know. They don't talk much about what they're doing when they come on board. But I did see that up on the bridge, where my daddy controls the boat, that the head thug is there, along with some men using computer equipment attached to the ship's radio."

"Then this has got to be the right ship!" exclaims Richie.

"They're getting ready to upload the encryption software as soon as they get it. With the size of this vessel, we'll never find Gaines if she doesn't know where he is. Do you have any idea where they might hold a hostage on this boat Myrna?"

Myrna gasps, "I just don't know. There are too many cabins on the ship to keep track of."

"Ok Myrna. Just sit down for a minute over there."

Rawhide and Richie whisper to one another quietly, and decide to call back to Sunshine Two.

"Blue Leader, do you copy, over? Blue Leader, do you copy?" says Richie over the radio.

"Roger, this is Blue Leader, over," Grigg's voice announces over Richie's and Rawhide's headsets. "Have you heard from Thompson and Hammer?"

"Negative, Blue Leader. But we are having some success aboard ship here. We have a hostage who appears willing to help us out. She's the captain's daughter, and claims that she and her father are being hijacked by the Russian Mafia."

"Does she know where Gaines is?" asks Griggs.

"Negative. The ship's too big. She has no idea," answers Richie.

"If you trust her, and only you two can make that judgment, see if she can get a hold of any handy talkie that the crew might be using aboard Red Star. That way you might get some ears on what's going on there. If you don't trust her, you may need to acquire the radio on your own. No, wait. Wait a minute. No need to trust her. The radioman aboard Sunshine says Arrow can pick up any handy talkie traffic from above. We'll patch through to you any significant conversation we pick up aboard Red Star. Do you understand? Over."

"Roger Blue Leader. No need to scout for the crew's radio. You will forward local traffic to us over the headsets. Over."

"Roger SEAL One. Where are you? Over."

"We're holed up in a cabin now, sir," says Richie.

"Well, just stay there until you receive further orders. We don't want to risk blowing the rescue before it starts, and it doesn't sound like you can find Gaines, anyhow. Over," says Griggs.

"Roger, Blue Leader. We will continue monitoring. Over."

Beneath the surface, aboard USS Ranger, Captain Kevin Washington has been called to the radio room once again.

"Admiral White for you on the red phone, sir," says his radioman, handing Kevin the telephone.

"Hello, Kevin?"

"Yes Admiral"

"Just calling for a progress report son. How's it going out there?" asks the Admiral in a patronizing tone.

"Well. Things are fine so far, sir. We are dogging the foreign sub. We're pretty sure, based on her signature, that she's Russian. Probably a Kilo class, eight seventy-seven or something similar," says Kevin.

"Then you've got her outsmarted and outgunned from the get go, right Kevin?" says the Admiral.

"Yes, that's right sir. And we're keeping a good distance, a non-aggressor, recognizance only pattern, sir."

"That's something I was meaning to mention," continues the Admiral. "We've got a change in tactic Kevin. Intelligence feels that you may need to be more aggressive that originally planned, so..."

"So what sir?" asks Kevin.

"So use everything you've got, as needed, and at your own discretion, Kevin. We're counting on you to help get Robert Gaines and the men trying to rescue him back home safely."

Captain Washington breaks into a broad smile. "Well that's the best news I've heard all day sir! We really wanted to be of as much assistance as we could down here."

"Good luck Kevin. And remember, minimize casualties if at all possible."

Kevin hangs up the red phone and shakes his head. 'One minute it's one thing, and the next minute it's just the opposite. It's gotta be politics,' he thinks to himself.

## Chapter 61

Hank Schwartz and President Smithson are not the only politicians intently following the rescue story now being cataloged hourly by the news media. In Moscow, Vice President Chernov sits in a drawing room watching the American news reports via satellite television. An ivory and gold antique telephone rings on the table beside him.

"Hello, Mr. Chernov? It's Mr. Grinkoljya here to see you."

"Send him in please," answers Chernov.

Grinkoljya enters the room and approaches to greet Chernov. The two men hug one another, as is their custom, and sit down to talk. Chernov opens the conversation, speaking quietly to his friend.

"I've been watching the news reports from America," he points up to the television monitor, where a reporter is now discussing the inclement weather in the area of the North Atlantic where the "hostage negotiations" are taking place.

"I've been watching as well," says Grinkoljya. "They say that President Smithson is organizing the rescue of Mr. Gaines, so I'm quite concerned that the whole thing has gotten entirely out of hand. We could be risking an international incident at this point, and there will be no way to maintain our anonymity if we should try to cash in on the deal as originally planned. With this much focus on the events before Mikael has secured the program and made it work, I'd say the likelihood of success is very low."

"Very low indeed," says Chernov. "And we can't predict exactly what the Mafia will do when things start to go sour. Are you confident that your contact, Mr. Mikael, is the only Mafia boss involved in the transaction?"

"Mikael represents himself as the leader of the entire organization at this point. He has promised that only himself, and the necessary individuals to actually carry out the operation, are aware of its existence."

"If what you say is true, Verti, then I believe I know our safest course of action," says Chernov, looking up at the television.

"What would you suggest, comrade?" asks Grinkoljya.

"Allow the government to take over the operation, in a limited fashion. I will have Mikael arrested and thrown in prison this morning. We will find out where his computer facility is, here in Moscow, and have our agents wait there to see if the program is indeed radioed to the facility. If it is, we will try to use it ourselves for a time until it is discovered. Then, we will simply shut the operation down, and that will be that."

"Very clever. Very clever indeed comrade," says Grinkoljya. "Rather than waiting for a payoff from the Mafia, we'll run the program ourselves."

"Exactly!" exclaims Chernov. "I'm going to have Mikael picked up right away, so that none of the others will even suspect he is missing, and the operation will continue on its course, whatever that course should be."

"Would it be any problem for me to obtain a new home and identity, comrade?" asks Grinkoljya. "You see, I've been working as the liaison with the Mafia for four years now, and I can tell you, they're quite violent. I wouldn't last a day when they figure out I've betrayed them."

"I believe we've got the perfect island getaway in Curacao waiting for you my old friend. How would you like to rent peddle boats on the beach for a while?"

"Sounds absolutely delightful!" exclaims Grinkoljya.

A servant brings tea on silver service to the doorway. Chernov motions him in. The waiter serves the two men tea, and leaves them to chat in the drawing room.

"It's absolutely incredible with what efficiency the American news people will find things out and report them!" says Grinkoljya.

"You can say that again," answers Chernov, shaking his head while he sips the hot tea.

The motorcade sent to arrest Mikael doesn't even bother to stop at the front gates of his Tula estate. Instead, an armored vehicle leading the group smashes through the gate at high speed. Two guards at the entrance open fire, and a truck following the armored vehicle stops abruptly. Five troops wearing helmets and bullet proof vests hop out and fire upon the guards. The quiet, peaceful sounds of late morning in the Russian countryside are pierced by the louder pop, pop, pop of automatic weapons fire. Before succumbing to his wounds, one of the guards manages to activate the alarm system, thereby alerting Mikael, and the other guards around the estate, that an emergency is occurring.

Mikael, who is eating brunch with Natasha and the children in a central courtyard, puts his coffee down immediately, and ushers them inside the house. To increase their chances of survival in the event of an attack, Mikael has had the wine cellar outfitted with a heavy steel door, and hardened concrete walls. The entrance to the staircase leading down to the cellar is not at all obvious, being located in the food pantry off their large kitchen. Huge cylinders of compressed air and an isolated ventilation system assure that they could theoretically survive, should the house be burned or sprayed with chemical weapons.

"Come on now children, we're going down with mommy for a trip to the cellar," says Mikael, trying not to scare them. They run down the short flight of steps into the wine cellar.

"Do you think it could be the Mafia?" asks Natasha, thinking about reports of home invasions by Mafia gangs she heard of recently.

"I don't know honey," says Mikael, playing it cool. He swings the heavy metal door shut, and turns a big metal wheel to seal them in the cellar. Next, he runs to one of the large air tanks and opens the valve. At a small desk in the back of the cellar, he turns on a thirteen-inch video monitor, and flips through the channels. Natasha and the children watch too, as scenes of their estate grounds flash on the screen. Three of the guards are pinned down behind brick pillars in the driveway, trying to defend the house. Men in helmets are spreading out, trying to get a good angle to fire on the guards. Then, a large explosion sounds, and pieces of brick are flying everywhere. Some sort of artillery has been used to shell one of the pillars, killing the guard hiding behind it. The other two guards raise their rifles in the air. Then, they throw them down, and come walking out from behind the pillars with their hands up. Suddenly, they turn and begin running back towards the house. The men in helmets open fire, and the guards fall to the ground. Natasha places a hand over each of her children's eyes.

"Don't you worry my little ones. It's just make believe. Just the television."

There's nothing Mikael can do but sit and wait. Hopefully the men will not find them.

"Come children, let daddy tell you a story. It's about a little boy and a friendly dragon named Puff."

Mikael begins telling them the story of Puff the Magic Dragon. They can not hear anything from outside the room because of the reinforcement in its structure. Thirty minutes goes by, and Mikael finishes the story. The children fall asleep on Natasha's lap. Mikael goes back to look at the security monitor again. He scans the outside areas, and there's no one there. He scans the driveway, and there are no vehicles, the inside of the house, and there are no soldiers.

"I think the intruders have left us," says Mikael, "Our hideaway worked after all!"

He runs to the front of the cellar, and peeps through a glass lens embedded in the heavy metal door. There's nothing but darkness in the pantry outside. He spins the wheel and slowly pushes the heavy metal door open, advancing out into the pantry with caution. Before Mikael can react at all, two men wearing night vision goggles grab him from behind, and slam him up against the shelves in the pantry. He feels handcuffs being snapped around his wrists, and one of the men speaks excitedly to the other in Russian.

"You see there! You don't catch a sneaky mouse with hand grenades. You need to set a trap!"

Mikael shrugs. They had simply located his hideaway and waited for him to come out in the darkness, sending the rest of their forces to hide somewhere outside the estate.

"Who are you?" asks Mikael.

"We are officers from the Russian Army, Mr. Mikael. And we have been sent to arrest you in the name of the State of Russia for crimes committed as the acting head of the Mafia in Moscow!"

Natasha, who had slowly approached the front of the cellar with the children behind her, cries out in astonishment.

"What are you men talking about? My husband has no involvement with any sort of organized crime, let alone the Mafia! He's a successful businessman, with a wife and children. I demand you release him until we can contact our family attorney."

"Didn't have the guts to tell her, eh Mikael?" says one of the soldiers, a blond man in his twenties.

Mikael puts his head down in shame.

"Oh Mikael! Tell me this isn't true, that you haven't been lying to me all this time!" cries Natasha.

Mikael can not respond. The lights in the kitchen turn on, better illuminating the pantry. Two more soldiers arrive.

"You'll need to come with us as well, Madame. You and the children please. Come on, let's go now, we don't have all day for this."

And with that, the most powerful man in the Russian Mafia and his family are herded off to a converted KGB facility in Moscow for detention and questioning.

The bosses at Mikael's computer center in Moscow are flabbergasted when the army arrives there. They kick the door down, and a dozen Russian soldiers carrying automatic rifles come stomping into the facility, placing them all under arrest. The soldier in charge of the team issues commands to the programmers and technicians still seated at the desks in "the pit."

"You will continue to function as previously required by your bosses here! As long as you cooperate, none of you will be held responsible for your prior affiliations with the Mafia. We fully understand the scope of your mission here, and that will remain the same!"

As he shouts the orders to them, a fellow soldier oscillates his rifle back and forth, pointing it at each of their faces. The chief programmer speaks up for the group.

"We will continue to perform our duties as we were asked to, as long as you are truthful, and let us be after this is over with."

"Very good then!" shouts the army leader. "Back to work!"

## Chapter 62

As if on cue, the rough seas engulfing Sunshine Two and Rainbow Voyager begin to subside, turning into a much gentler six foot swell with a steady drizzle, rather than sheets of rain.

"Just what the Captain ordered," says Mr. Piedmont, glancing over to Jim.

"That's right sir," answers Jim. "I don't see how we could have made any kind of exchange between the vessels in that weather!"

Jim had been alternating with the wheelman in order to give him a break from the grueling task of keeping the vessel headed perpendicular to the giant ocean swells.

The radioman shouts out suddenly.

"Ok, listen up Captain, I'm switching you over to speaker. We have communication with Red Star."

The radioman flips a switch, and pulls off his headphones.

"Sunshine do you read? Sunshine, do you read, over."

"We read you loud and clear, go ahead," says the radioman into his microphone.

"Good. We will now be sending one of our launches over to your vessel. You will be required to hand over Mr. Douglas Leavitt, along with the encryption discs for the program. If we detect that you are trying to deceive us, or act uncooperatively at any time, the deal is off!"

"Ask him about Gaines," whispers Jim to the radioman.

"What about the return of Mr. Gaines to our possession? When will that happen?" says the radioman into the microphone.

"Mr. Gaines will be returned to you after we verify the disks," says Hezmannov over the radio, being prompted by Sloka.

"Tell him no dice," says the cigar smoking CIA commando leader, Griggs, who has reappeared in the bridge area carrying a small radio that is simultaneously receiving the transmission from Red Star.

Jim nods "ok" for the radioman to take orders from Griggs.

"That's a negative Red Star," says the radioman into the mike. "We need to receive possession of the hostage, Mr. Robert Gaines, in exchange for Mr. Leavitt and the disks. Not afterwards. Over."

There's a long pause, then a response from Captain Hezmannov.

"Ok, no problem. Mr. Gaines will be aboard the launch. When we receive Mr. Leavitt and the disks, he will be released to you, and the launch will return to our vessel. We will not release Mr. Leavitt to you until we have verified the disks authenticity. The launch will be loaded with high explosives. Should you try to take Gaines without handing over the disks and Mr. Leavitt, the launch crew will detonate it, destroying both themselves, and your vessel. Do not underestimate their ability to make this sacrifice, as their families would be handsomely paid should this occur."

Aboard Rainbow Voyager, in the small inside cabin where Robert Gaines has been held and guarded, the phone rings. Herman picks it up.

"Prepare him now. We're going to make the exchange!"

Herman takes a black roll of duct tape, and wraps one length around Robert's head, covering his eyes, and in fact, taping them shut. He then places hand cuffs on Gaines' wrists behind his back, and says to him,

"It's been a pleasure to know you Mr. Gaines. You are a very powerful man, I am aware, and I would like you to remember your offer, as I am about to release you."

Bob can't believe his ears.

"Oh, oh my god. Of course, of course," says Bob to his guard. He's feeling quite ill after vomiting for nearly forty-eight hours straight in the heavy seas.

"I will call on you Mr. Gaines. I will call on you to honor your word. So you remember when I call, that the Russian Mafia has ways to get to someone who breaks a deal."

"I'll remember! Don't you worry!" exclaims Bob. "This 'being kidnapped' thing hasn't exactly been a picnic, you know."

Herman smiles, knowing that Gaines can not see him, and says brusquely,

"Ok, let's go now Mr. Gaines."

He pushes Robert Gaines out the door of the cabin, holding on to the handcuffs in order to guide him down the hall.

They take an elevator down to one of the lower decks, where an opening in the side of the ship allows boarding onto the motor launch.

The launch speeds away immediately, bobbing quite a bit in the swell, due to its smaller size. A crewman at the wheel of the launch speaks to Herman in Russian.

"You will march him over to them when I tell you to. Otherwise, just stay put right there."

Herman feels some loss of control, as the situation now becomes orchestrated by these seafaring men's ability to operate the launch, and dock up with Sunshine Two. Two mates sit toward the rear of the launch. One appears to be holding some sort of an electronic device.

In about ten minutes, Bob notices the pitch of the motor lowering, as they approach Sunshine Two. The captain says something in Russian.

"Prepare for docking and immediate exchange!" he shouts into the microphone.

"He's saying that they're ready to dock and make the exchange, Jim," interprets Mr. Piedmont for Jim and Griggs aboard Sunshine Two.

The three of them look out the starboard side and view the approaching launch.

"Ok, it's defensive status only at this time!" says Griggs into a handheld radio. "I don't even want any of you guys visible unless shit breaks lose. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir. Yes sir. Yes sir. " answer some of the CIA men via their handheld radios.

Now Jim talks to some of his own men via walkie-talkie.

"Prepare to allow docking at starboard. Receive her ropes and tie her off. Agents Waters and Garrand will deliver Mr. Leavitt and his package to the gangplank. Allow him to cross over, only after Mr. Gaines has boarded this vessel. Is that clear."

"Roger Captain," answers the first mate, who will be orchestrating the exchange.

"Agents Garrand and Waters will be responsible for identifying Mr. Gaines. Do not, repeat, do not wait for them to give you a go ahead. As soon as Mr. Gaines boards our vessel, help Mr. Leavitt across the plank, and release the launch."

The experience of the Navy crew aboard Sunshine Two, and the crewman aboard the launch allows rapid docking to Sunshine's starboard side. An aluminum plank with railings lowers to bridge the gap to the motor launch. Herman watches, as a crewman aboard the launch grabs Gaines by the shoulders, heads him up the steps to the plank, and screams at him.

"Walk straight ahead! Hold the railings!"

With his eyes taped shut, Bob holds on to the side rails for dear life, and walks straight ahead toward what is supposed to be freedom. He can smell gasoline fumes from the motor launch, mixed with the smell of the sea. The drizzle wetting his face and arms feels like a cool shower. One that would hopefully wash away the terror of the past month in captivity. He takes another step forward off an edge, and begins falling, but several pairs of arms grab him in front, stopping the fall. Next, someone removes the duct tape, exposing him to the first sunlight he has seen in a long time. It blinds him, and he winces to decrease the glare.

"It's him! It's Mr. Gaines!" he hears someone shouting. Then a familiar voice calls to him.

"Good luck Bob! Say hi to Beth for me!"

It is the voice of Doug Leavitt, shouting as he is being whisked onto the gangway carrying a small case full of computer diskettes.

"Cross over, NOW!" shouts the first mate to Leavitt.

Doug looks back at Bob one last time, noting how pale and thin he is, then walks confidently across the aluminum gangway to board the motor launch. He feels euphoric at the thought of rescuing his best friend, and thus only slightly saddened by the realization that he himself might not survive the upcoming events. There was the comfort of knowing that the SEALS were aboard Red Star waiting for him. Waters and Garrand had told him that they were there, and would assist in his rescue, if need be.

In the motor launch, Herman tells Leavitt to close his eyes, and wraps another piece of the black duct tape around his head. The crewmen help sit him down in the launch, and they speed away, back toward Rainbow Voyager with the precious cargo. Herman opens the small package and radios to Sloka on a walkie-talkie.

"It's full of CD's, Sloka."

"CD's? What the fuck?" exclaims Sloka in Russian.

One of the technicians working with Sloka on the Rainbow Voyager bridge turns to calm him down.

"Relax, relax comrade. They're CD ROMS. The encryption program could be quite complicated, requiring storage with higher capacity than standard discs."

"Ok, it's ok," says Sloka to Herman over the radio. "It's just another kind of disc."

Sloka's hand trembles from a surge of adrenaline. He never felt as nervous as he does now, with the thought of so much money being so close at hand. He gives orders to the Rainbow Voyager radioman.

"Bring up the submarine. I want to talk with them now!"

"Yes sir," responds the radioman, who flips some switches and turns some dials before speaking.

"Lenin Attack, Lenin Attack, this is Rainbow Voyager. Do you read us, over?"

"Yes, go ahead Rainbow Voyager. This is Lenin Attack."

"Comrade Sloka would like to speak directly with Captain Cruschev please."

"Just a minute... Ok, go ahead."

"Captain Cruschev, this is Agent Sloka. We are in possession of the goods we were seeking from the American vessel. I need you to prepare yourself in the event that something should go wrong, uh, that I will issue the orders to you to torpedo the American vessel."

"Repeat once again Mr. Sloka. You wish us to prepare to sink the American vessel."

"Yes Captain Cruschev. That will be all for now. Please be ready to sink her, when, uh, if I call the orders to you."

"We will be ready," answers Cruschev.

## Chapter 63

Captain Cruschev contacts his Lieutenant in preparation to put the Lenin Attack into full battle mode.

"Tell all the men to prepare for possible battle conditions Lieutenant. I want you to stay here in the control room, where we will coordinate the sinking of an enemy vessel shortly."

"Very well captain," responds the Lieutenant, who sits down at a terminal and issues the battle warning via a teletext message to all crewmembers.

All around the big black 877EKM Kilo Class submarine, the teletext screens flash bright red with the battle warning printed in black letters.

Had Mikael not been arrested earlier in the day, he would have seen the newscasts on television, and possibly warned the men in Lenin Attack that the situation had gotten more complicated. But Mikael is incarcerated in Moscow, recovering from the torture session that yielded the location of the computer center to his captors. They had been particularly brutal, and getting the information from him required the combination of drugging, and beating.

Captain Cruschev issues the first orders for positioning the large diesel sub.

"Bring the bow around to seventeen degrees and let's get a look at the sonar! She should be dead ahead."

A mate works various levers to control the submarine's thruster mechanisms. The sub changes position smoothly and silently in the cool depths beneath Sunshine Two and Rainbow Voyager.

"Affirmative captain. We have seventeen degrees from previous heading!"

Another mate wearing headphones and looking at a large computer screen communicates to the captain.

"We have her on our scopes captain. Range is at point seven seven kilometers, but she's moving slowly in a northeasterly course."

"Close range to point five kilometers and then parallel her course!" says Captain Cruschev.

"Affirmative captain," answers the man working the thrusters, who gives the sub some forward throttle and asks the sonar man to "call out the range for me in tenths please."

The Lieutenant issues a message to the Countermeasures Control booth via teletext.

"Do you detect any vessels other that the enemy surface ship and Rainbow Voyager? Please respond immediately."

The Lieutenant sits, tapping a pen on a pad at the console. He glances over at Captain Cruschev, who seems to be deep in thought. Finally, an answer comes back flashing on his computer terminal.

"The screws from the enemy vessel and Rainbow Voyager are pretty loud. We don't detect a third surface vessel, and we can not comment on the possibility of any other submarines in the area other that to say that there are no large moving submerged objects at this time."

"Thank you. Please contact immediately if status changes," types in the Lieutenant.

Aboard the USS Ranger submarine, Captain Kevin Washington has been following the position of Lenin Attack for the last hour, with assistance from the AWACS plane that has been flying undetected, high above the clouds. He signals to his radioman.

"Give me the mike and bring up Arrow, we need to confirm something."

"Arrow this is Ranger over. Do you read?"

"Roger Ranger, we read you ten by ten over."

"Arrow, my sonar man believes we have the enemy submarine positioning for possible attack on Sunshine Two, over."

"Could be Ranger. We've got that sub closing its distance to Sunshine to within one nautical mile at this time, over," says the AWACS crewmember.

"Is Captain Rutgers aware of this? Over."

"Negative Ranger. We're just detecting that movement in the last few minutes, over."

"Roger Arrow," says Kevin. "That's all we need to know."

Kevin puts down the microphone and motions to his second in command.

"Sound the alert to man all battle stations! We're gonna take out that sub! Get me Sunshine on the radio!.... Hello, Captain Rutgers. This is Captain Washington aboard Ranger. We have the unidentified submarine vessel positioning for possible attack on your ship, over."

"What course of action do you recommend Captain Washington? We're counting on you to take care of things down there."

It's Jim Rutgers answering the urgent call from Captain Washington.

"Maintain your current heading Captain Rutgers. We don't want anyone to think you're trying to make a run for it. If they don't suspect a problem, they'll take their time to line up a sweet shot to finish you off."

The part about lining up a sweet shot doesn't really hold true, as current technology would allow the enemy sub to squeeze off a winner at any given moment, but Jim gets the idea anyhow. Just play it cool and let the boys aboard Ranger do their job.

"Roger Ranger. We will maintain our current heading and rate of travel, over."

"Ok Captain, then we'll get to work down here. If we detect any torpedoes we'll give you the earliest warning we can," says Kevin.

'A lot of good that'll do,' thinks Jim to himself before signing off.

"Roger Ranger. We know you'll do a perfectly awesome job down there, over and out."

Aboard Sunshine Two, Griggs radios to the two SEALS aboard Red Star (Rainbow Voyager) to let them know of the problem brewing under the sea beneath them. The SEALS, Richie and Rawhide, agree to remain in hiding aboard the cruise ship, and help to rescue Doug Leavitt before it is discovered that the computer software is bogus and nonfunctional.

Captain Kevin Washington issues orders to prepare to fire on the enemy submarine. The sonar men aboard Lenin Attack cannot detect Ranger because of her superior countermeasures and low signature profile.

"Point the bow tubes right at'er," whispers Kevin to his wheelman. We don't want even the slightest chance of going to a second volley. That's it."

Kevin watches a pictorial of the Ranger and the locations of the other vessels, including the other submarine, on a high tech computer monitoring system. Still whispering, and looking intently at the screen, he issues the orders to fire.

"Set'em not to detonate above three hundred feet. And, fire tubes one through four, now."

"Torpedoes away, one, two, three, and four!" comes back over the intercom to Kevin from one of the gunner's mates in the torpedo room.

They have programmed the sophisticated weapons not to detonate should one miss, and stray toward the surface near Sunshine and Red Star. Kevin and the crew wait expectantly. For submariners, firing a torpedo at a surface target is like pulling the handle on a slot machine. All they need to do now is watch to see if they hit the jackpot.

Aboard Lenin Attack, Captain Cruschev, the Lieutenant, and all the crewmembers look at each other in astonishment and terror as the Automated Torpedo Detection system alarms with its soft Russian female voice. They had not suspected anyone was hunting them.

"Incoming from ninety degrees. Warning, warning. Incoming torpedoes ninety degrees. Incoming. Incoming."

Red lights mounted at the ceiling level flash on and off. Captain Cruschev screams into his microphone.

"Countermeasures. Deploy countermeasures!"

"Countermeasures away!" comes back over the microphone, as a crewman programs the sub to fire small grenades into the surrounding water. These will explode, dropping metal fragments that can cause incoming torpedoes to detonate too early.

A thunderous explosion sounds from the bow of the Lenin Attack, and the entire double hulled submarine shudders and groans. A frantic crewman calls to Cruschev on the intercom.

"This is countermeasures! The torpedo room and the front compartment are flooding! We're sealing them off!"

Two mates in the countermeasure area slam the heavy bow door shut, trying to ignore screams from injured crewmen still trapped in the flooding compartment. They turn the metal wheel to seal it off, and return to their duties trying to prevent another torpedo from hitting the sub. More clusters of shrapnel are ejected. Then, another torpedo strikes Lenin Attack, this time at the rear, near the engine room and drive systems. Another explosion rocks the submarine. By this time, however, the men in each of the four compartments have sealed their own watertight doors. The Lenin Attack is capable of remaining afloat with two of the four compartments flooded. In sub to sub warfare, or when depth charges are anticipated, these doors are routinely sealed to ensure the best chance of survival.

Captain Cruschev talks quietly and solemnly to the crewmen with him in the bridge area.

"Check the power now please. See if we have any thrust."

Beads of sweat roll off their faces as the crewmen move their levers back and fourth.

"There's no power with the main, and no power with the reserves either, captain," says one of the submariners after several seconds of futile efforts.

"Radio Rainbow Voyager please. Tell her that we're disabled, then blow all the ballast and bring us to surface. There's nothing we can do now but save ourselves and the surviving crewmembers."

The radioman flips his switches and turns some dials.

"No luck sir!" he exclaims. "All radio systems are down as well."

"Blow the fucking ballast then!" screams Cruschev, now losing his cool demeanor.

They can hear the massive rushing of compressed air bubbling into the ballast tanks and forcing out water in compartments all around them. The disabled submarine floats slowly toward the surface. Two of the four torpedoes that had been sent to kill them swing back around for a return run, but then lose power, and drop harmlessly to the ocean floor, as Lenin Attack is now above three hundred foot depth. With no propulsion, the large sub drifts in the strong ocean current as it floats upward. Lenin Attack breaks the surface several miles away from where Sunshine Two and Rainbow Voyager are currently positioned.

Aboard USS Ranger there is jubilation. Kevin radios back to let Captain Rutgers know that the threat from below is over.

"Sunshine this is Ranger, over."

"Roger Ranger, this is Sunshine, over."

"Captain Rutgers. We are happy to inform you that the enemy submarine has been successfully disabled by our torpedoes, and that the AWACS boys have them floating on the surface several miles away from you."

"Roger, Captain Washington. That's fantastic. Is there any chance they could fire their ordinance from that location, over?"

"Well, we had two hits on her, with the first one at the bow. Most likely her torpedo tubes have been destroyed. Arrow also reports she's spilling diesel fuel all over the place out there, so I'd say that's an unlikely scenario," answers Kevin.

"Well good job then," says Jim over the radio. "Thanks a million guys. We're going to proceed with our end of the mission then. Please remain in close proximity, in case we end up with men in the water up here, over."

"Roger Sunshine. We will be cruising the area between your vessel and Red Star, over."

"Thanks again! Sunshine is over and listening," Jim signs off in order to prepare for the upcoming events.

The encryption disks have been concocted in cooperation with Compusoft programmers to keep the other side working for about thirty to forty minutes before discovering that they won't function. Agent Griggs knows there is very little time to coordinate a rescue of Douglas Leavitt before things get violent between Sunshine and Red Star (Rainbow Voyager). FBI agents, Waters and Garrand, are relieved that with Robert Gaines already aboard Sunshine Two, the CIA men have no objections about focusing on Leavitt's rescue, as well as the seizure of Red Star and arrest of the kidnappers. After Robert Gaines has freshened up and relaxed a little, Waters and Garrand begin to ask him a few questions in the comfort of their large cabin.

"So, Mr. Gaines. We were just wondering. What exactly is the purpose of this Slickfile 99 program that the kidnappers are so desperately trying to acquire?" Bill Waters asks.

## Chapter 64

Griggs calls Rawhide and Richie, the two SEALS hiding aboard Red Star with the captain's daughter.

"Richie! Rawhide! Do you read? This is Griggs! Over!"

Richie answers for them.

"Roger, we have you ten by ten Griggs. We're still in the captain's daughter's cabin. What's going on with that submarine? Over."

"The enemy sub's out of the picture. USS Ranger torpedoed her and she's floating disabled, a few miles from here, drifting in the current. Over."

"Great," says Richie. "We've planted some remote detonation devices here in the cabin. We don't know where Leavitt is at this time, over."

"Ok, Rich. It's gonna be your call on this one. Do you really buy the girl's story about the captain and her being hostages in this situation? Over."

"We can't be absolutely sure sir, but she seems very naïve and has cooperated with us so far."

"Well, it breaks every rule in the book, but on the other hand, that ship's bound to be crawling with Russians. Your odds won't be too good trying to search the ship for Leavitt. I say, and this is only if you think you can trust her, send her out to do some recognizance, find out where Leavitt is, then you can go for the rescue. Over."

"And if we don't trust her, sir?" says Rawhide, interjecting into the conversation for the first time.

"If you can't send her out to spy, then I'd recommend letting Leavitt fair for himself for a while. We'll be coming in to seize Red Star soon anyhow, and if Leavitt's still alive we'll save his ass then, over."

Jim and Mr. Piedmont, who are in the bridge area with Griggs, watch him chew his stogie as he gives direction to the two SEALS. FBI agent, Bill Waters, whose been listening in with his partner, Duncan Garrand using their own radio gear, comes running into the bridge area. He begins yelling at Griggs and pointing his finger at him. Water's hair is covered with beads of water from the drizzle outside.

"That sucks Griggs, and you know it! Leavitt's a civilian who agreed to put his life on the line for this operation! He's done his part, now you can't just hang him out to dry. You know fucking well that when those kidnappers find out the disks are no good, he's gonna be in deep shit over there!"

Waters pauses to catch his breath. Griggs takes the stogie out of his mouth with right hand and answers Waters' attack with great restraint.

"Agent Waters. May I remind you that we are on the same side in this conflict? I have to arrive at the safest course of action for three Americans, and possibly two other hostages aboard that ship. If my men go out there, willy nilly poking about, then they're likely to be discovered. When that happens, they're going to end up getting killed or captured. Then, Leavitt, and possibly the two SEALS will be usable as hostages to prevent us from seizing the ship! Don't you see it? The unknown presence of the two SEALS aboard Red Star is our best weapon."

Waters' face drops. He realizes that what Griggs says is true, and that he himself is placing too high a priority on rescuing Douglas Leavitt, which could in fact jeopardize the greater goal of the mission. He gives a faint-hearted salute to Griggs, and leaves the bridge area, returning to his cabin to continue questioning Robert Gaines about the kidnappers, and other issues.

"We've got the disabled submarine on sonar Jim," says Mr. Piedmont to break the silence. "She's distancing herself quite nicely thanks to the current."

Griggs calls out for Richie and Rawhide again.

"Ok you two. We need a decision now! In about twenty minutes the kidnappers will figure out that those disks are no good."

"We've talked with her sir. She says she'll do her best. We're going to send her out for a ten minute look only. Then she'll come back to the cabin, with or without the information. Over."

"Roger Richie," says Griggs. "And tell her that she and her father will receive full amnesty and a home in the states if things work out, over."

"Roger sir. We already did. We'll get back to you in ten minutes, over."

"Good luck, over.'

Richie shakes hands with Myrna and wishes her good luck on the mission. He looks directly into the teenager's eyes to try to detect if any sign of betrayal or anger, but he sees none. She straightens her blouse and fixes her hair, trying to look natural as she exits the cabin out into the hall. Rawhide has instructed her to check the bridge area first, as it is likely that the kidnappers brought Leavitt there directly, along with the software. She walks the length of the ship to the forward elevators and rides up to the recreation deck, exiting in front of the swimming pool, which is now empty. She was used to seeing sunbathers lounging around the pool, sipping mixed drinks with paper umbrellas in them. The ship looks desolate and unfriendly without vacationers to lend it their relaxed and happy aura. She turns away from the pool, enters a doorway facing the bow of the ship and walks past the Pizzeria entrance, down the hall toward the Command Bridge, where her father normally ran the ship. A man standing in front of the bridge entrance walks toward her and, before she can say anything, grabs her small white wrist.

"Oww," she exclaims, then continues in Russian. "That hurts! I want to go see my father."

"Your father's busy now!" says the man dressed in army fatigues. "Go back and rest in your cabin. You'll be able to see him later."

Myrna sees that there will be no bargaining with the man. She plans to go back out and around the front of the ship to see if she can catch a glimpse of Douglas Leavitt from the outside.

"Ok," she says, and the man lets her go.

She walks back down the corridor, glancing into the Pizzeria. Seated there, with black tape over his eyes, is the man she was sent to look for. Another man, a Russian she recognizes from the previous days aboard ship, sits at the round white table with him. They are talking. The other man is Herman, who has been asked to sit watch over Leavitt in the Pizzeria while the technicians work at their computers in the bridge area under Sloka's watchful eye.

Myrna heads back to the elevator, and directly to her cabin, keeping in mind the American soldier's warning to return within ten minutes. She encounters no one in the halls, and opens her cabin door using the card key as instructed by Richie. She doesn't see them in the room, but they see her, and roll out from under the bed, and in the closet. She giggles and says,

"You guys are something else."

"Ok Myrna," says Richie. "Just tell us quickly, did you find him or not?"

"Ok, I saw him for sure. He's in the Pizzeria, which is right in back of the bridge area where my father runs the ship. There's a man guarding him, and there's another soldier guarding the entrance to the bridge area. He can see the Pizzeria also."

"Is there any other entrance to the Pizzeria Myrna, other than in that hallway?" asks Rawhide.

"Yes, there's a revolving door facing the swimming pool, but it's usually locked when the Pizzeria is closed," she answers.

"Sounds risky Rich," says Rawhide. "He's sittin in there right near the bridge, where there's bound to be a bunch of those kidnappers. If we get into a shootout, it'll cause a whole ruckus and everything'll go to hell and a handbasket real quick."

"I agree Rawhide," answers Richie. "Let's call Griggs and tell him we'll wait it out until the rest of the team gets here."

"Good deal," says Rawhide enthusiastically.

Richie picks up his hand held radio and calls Griggs.

"Sunshine do you read, this is SEAL One, over."

"Roger Richie, go ahead," answers Griggs in his gravelly voice.

"The captain's daughter's back. She's located Leavitt in a small eating area located directly behind the bridge of the ship. There's one guard with him, and one guarding the bridge, over."

"So it sounds too risky for you two to go after him now," says Griggs.

"Yeah, we think the proximity to the bridge is a big negative factor. We want to wait until you get here with the rest of the team, over."

"Sounds reasonable," answers Griggs. "Make sure your radio batteries aren't low, we don't want to lose contact just when we're coming in, over."

"Roger," says Richie. "We've got extra batteries with us, don't worry."

"You guys are like a couple of boy scouts, always ready," says Griggs, joking.

"Roger Griggs, we'll be listening, over."

"Ok, sit tight," says Griggs. "We'll get back to you two shortly."

"I wonder what happened to Thompson and Hammer?" Richie asks Rawhide.

"I guess we'll have to assume the worst for now buddy," Rawhide says.

Richie looks down to the floor in thought. He hopes the two other SEALS did not meet their fate in the rough seas out there.

In the bridge area of the cruise ship, Sloka begins to get impatient with the programmers working on the software brought over by Doug Leavitt. He stands over their shoulders, watching the computer screens flashing with commands and numbers, but doesn't have any idea of what's going on.

"Is it working yet guys? We need to make sure the program is ok before we bid our farewells to the Sunshine Two over there."

He gestures toward the direction of Sunshine Two with his large hand.

"We're working on it as fast as we can Mr. Sloka. The first two disks have been received by the center in Moscow, but we're having some trouble transmitting the third and fourth," says one of the programmers.

"Trouble transmitting? What do you mean, is there something wrong with this radio system?" asks Sloka.

"No sir, it's not the radio, it's that we're having trouble with the files becoming corrupted in the unzipping process. We don't want to transmit them until we fix this, so that the information will be useful at the Moscow center," says the other programmer to Sloka.

Sloka turns to the radioman.

"Get me Sunshine Two on the radio, NOW!" he commands.

"Sunshine Two, this is Rainbow Voyager, do you read, over?"

"Roger Rainbow Voyager, this is Sunshine Two," says the radioman.

Mr. Piedmont and Jim watch the Sunshine radioman make initial contact, then Jim takes the microphone.

"We are experiencing a problem with the computer diskettes!" screams Sloka into the microphone in English.

"You will instruct my technicians how to fix the problem now, or we will begin by killing Mr. Leavitt."

Griggs, who is listening in as well, radios on the CIA frequency to Richie and Rawhide to keep them posted on this latest threat.

"Um, hold on a minute," says Jim, "Let me see if we can get someone who knows about computers over here to help out. We really just thought we would only have to deliver these things, not offer product support."

There is radio silence for a few minutes, then Jim gets back on the mike.

"Uh, Red Star, Red Star are you listening?"

"Go ahead Sunshine, this is Red Star," answers the Russian radioman.

"Yes, uh we have someone onboard whose pretty literate in computers. He'd like to try to help you out with the program."

"Who is he?" asks Sloka.

"Well it's Mr. Gaines himself sir. He's the founder of the company that wrote the software you know."

"Put him on, now!" Sloka orders. "Here, I give him to my technician to speak."

Robert speaks with a trembling voice into the microphone. He realizes that he must stall the programmers onboard Red Star long enough for Doug Leavitt to be rescued.

"Let's see now, uh what seems to be the problem with the encryption software sir?" asks Robert.

One of the technicians answers, speaking English with a Russian accent.

"We are unable to unzip the files on disks three and four Mr. Gaines. They are becoming corrupted in the process of unzipping. We did repeat this step several times.'

"Ok, now you realize that disks three and four contain bin hex files, whereas disks one and two contain programs written in C language and visual basic don't you?"

"Yes we are aware of that Mr. Gaines. How do we unzip the binary files without corrupting them?"

"Well it really should work just the same as disks one and two," says Robert, "Are you sure you don't have some kind of bug in your own software?"

"Just like Compusoft support when you call from home," says one of the Russian programmers to the other. They turn to Sloka and say in unison,

"We think he's bullshitting us Mr. Sloka."

Sloka's face turns bright red, then purple. He takes a deep breath in and out to calm himself down.

"Get me Lenin Attack on the radio right away please," he says to his radioman.

"Lenin Attack, Lenin Attack, this is Rainbow Voyager, do you read?" says the radioman into his microphone.

They wait. There is no response from Lenin Attack.

"Raise them again," says Sloka.

The radioman calls for Lenin Attack once more on the secret frequency, and then again on the backup frequency, but there is no response.

"Just in case they can hear us, and can not transmit back, let me send them a message," says Sloka, holding out his big hand for the microphone.

The radioman holds out the mike and looks at the gray drizzling sky outside through the tempered pane glass windows on the bridge.

"Lenin Attack, this is Agent Sloka. If you hear us, please proceed with the torpedo attack on the American vessel. Repeat, if you hear this, please proceed to torpedo the American vessel."

Sloka hands the mike back to the radioman. Captain Hezmannov and the others watch him as he proceeds to pick up a pair of binoculars to observe Sunshine Two. He sits for a minute, watching, expecting Sunshine Two to be blasted out of the water momentarily. Nothing happens. He calls to the soldier guarding the bridge door.

"Get all your men up on the bow here with their weapons. When I give the go ahead, begin firing at that ship."

One of the programmers continues talking with Robert Gaines on the radio, and getting nowhere with the software problem. A group of soldiers collects outside the bridge, near the bow of Rainbow Voyager on the port side. Most have automatic rifles, but two carry large grenade launchers.

"Fire!" screams Sloka to the men, as he himself begins firing his pistol at Sunshine Two.

Jim Rutgers receives an urgent call from his crew.

"Captain Rutgers, Captain Rutgers. We are receiving small weapons fire from the direction of Red Star! Shall we return fire, over!"

Jim looks at Griggs, who announces his plan matter of factly.

"Tell the crew to take a few potshots at the Russian ship, but nothing too serious. I'll radio my SEALS onboard Red Star to attempt a rescue of Douglas Leavitt and the two hostages. We'll give them ten minutes or so to do whatever they can do, and get off the ship, back into the water."

"Then what?" says Mr. Piedmont.

"Then we order them to stop firing and allow us to seize the ship. If they don't cooperate, we have Ranger blow them out of the water," says Griggs.

Jim issues the commands to his Navy crew, and they uncover one of the deck-mounted machine guns and take an occasional shot at Red Star.

Griggs radios to Richie and Rawhide.

"Ok, you boys are on! You've got ten minutes to rescue Leavitt and whoever else you can, then we're gonna give them the chance to surrender. If they don't, Ranger will torpedo the ship and send her to the bottom."

"We'll catch you in ten minutes then," says Rawhide, who then turns to issue orders to Myrna.

"Ok, now you've got to lead us right to where they're holding Mr. Leavitt. Go ahead and step out into the hall now, walk toward the elevators, then waive us on if the coast is clear."

Myrna leaves the cabin and starts walking toward the first set of elevators. She sees no one, and waives for them to follow her. Richie and Rawhide follow her about thirty paces behind, one of them facing forward, and one backwards. She leads them past the first set of elevators, and toward the second, more forward set she had ridden up to the pool previously. Just as the elevator door opens, a soldier in fatigues enters the corridor behind them from one of the cabins. He looks quite excited upon spotting the SEALS, and swings around, trying to get back into his room. Myrna puts her small white hands over her face. Rawhide kneels down, steadying his right arm on one knee and fires silenced rounds at the soldier. The first round hits the Russian Mafia man in the stomach. He looks down in shock at his wound, then the second round hits him in the head, and he falls dead to the floor.

"Should we clean up?" asks Richie.

"No time!" exclaims Rawhide. They push Myrna into the elevator and hit the button for the pool level.

"Now get a hold of yourself," says Richie to Myrna, holding her shoulders and looking into her eyes. "Everything's going to be just fine. We've just got to get to Mr. Leavitt, and we'll be taking you off this ship!"

"But what about my father?" cries Myrna, now in tears.

"The team coming in after we leave the ship will arrest everyone onboard," says Richie. "We'll be able to sort your father out of the mess at that time. If he's cooperating with the Mafia, then they'll have no reason to hurt him before then, and besides, he's running the ship."

The elevator doors open wide, revealing the view of the empty swimming pool. As they step out, they can hear the gunfire coming from the port side of the ship.

"Come. This way," says Myrna, leading them to the starboard side windows that look into the Pizzeria.

Herman notices Myrna outside the windows, and comes through the revolving door to ask her what she's doing. He looks backwards to keep an eye on Doug Leavitt, his new hostage.

"Hey, aren't you the captain's daughter?" asks Herman. "You shouldn't be out here right now, there's a gun battle going on with the American ship over there!"

"Drop Myrna!" screams Richie, and she falls to the deck of the ship.

Herman reaches for his pistol, but is gunned down by Richie and Rawhide simultaneously. Then, Rawhide runs through the revolving door and grabs Douglas Leavitt. He peels the tape off Leavitt's face and tells him quickly.

"We're American CIA agents here to rescue you! Come with me!"

He leads Leavitt back outside. They step over Herman's bleeding body on the way out of the Pizzeria. Apparently, no one heard the noise of their encounter with Herman due to the shooting going on by the soldiers at the port side of the ship. Richie and Rawhide uncoil ropes from black backpacks, and place inflatable vests on Myrna and Doug Leavitt. They lower them down into the sea below, and then follow down the ropes themselves. They are on the opposite side of the ship from where they had left the diving tanks on arrival to Red Star. Richie takes out his handheld, as the four cling onto the ropes at the ship's waterline.

"Griggs, do you read?" Richie calls desperately into his small radio.

"Roger, this is Griggs, who's this?"

"It's Richie, SEAL One! We're in the water holding onto the ship. We can't get to our diving tanks, and we have Leavitt and the captain's daughter with us!"

"I've got good news for you Richie! Over," says Griggs.

"It's no time to joke around now sir. What's going on?" asks Richie.

Rawhide, Leavitt, and Myrna look at Richie, as they tread water, and grip the ropes hanging from the banister supports above. Each ocean swell threatens to slam them into the ship's metal hull.

"Thompson and Hammer made it back to Sunshine. They got caught up in the current and lost their radios when the waves were so big initially."

"That's great sir, but how's that going to help the predicament we're in now?" asks Richie.

"Well, Richie. It just so happens that I sent Thompson and Hammer back out a while ago. They're bivouacked near the stern of Red Star with the aqua scooters, and should be able to hear us talking right now. Boys? Got your radios this time?"

"Uh, yes sir! Yes sir!" exclaim Thompson and Hammer, entering the radio conversation for the first time.

"We're just below the bridge area at the waterline on the starboard side," says Richie.

"Get to them fast," says Griggs. "The kidnappers are starting to lob grenades at us with a launcher. I'm not sure how much longer our luck will hold out."

Indeed, there have now been several close calls, with explosives landing in the water close to Sunshine Two, and a few rounds of small arms fire that have damaged the hull.

"We're on the way sir!" say Thompson and Hammer, as they lower into the water and rev up their aqua scooters.

They travel around the perimeter of the ship and pick up the two stranded SEALS and their rescued hostages. With three persons holding onto each scooter, they float along on the surface away from Red Star. About a minute later, they call back to Griggs.

"Griggs this is Richie, do you read?"

"Roger Richie, what's going on?"

"We're away from the ship, with Thompson and Hammer on the aqua scooters. Wait a minute. There's a launch leaving Red Star and coming in our direction. Think up something fast sir. We're dead meat out here."

The four SEALS and two hostages watch as one of the motor launches speeds away from Red Star in their general direction. Richie and Rawhide bring out their pistols, and prepare to fire on the launch.

"Ok guys. Just sit tight right where you are. We've got your location via transponder, and the USS Ranger is going to surface nearby to pull you out of the water," announces Griggs.

The motor launch appears not to notice them in the water, and heads out in a slightly different direction, passing them, apparently trying to escape the scene all together.

Several minutes later, the massive conning tower of USS Ranger breaks the surface. Thompson and Hammer smile and throw high fives to one another. Some sailors unload a small dinghy, and launch it off the conning tower, which motors over to pick them up.

Onboard Sunshine, a new voice comes in over the standard shipping emergency channel. Captain Rutgers and the other men listen intently.

"Mayday, mayday. This is Captain Hezmannov of the Rainbow Voyager. Does anyone hear my signal?"

"Roger Captain. This is Sunshine Two, US Naval forces, over."

"I am aboard a launch with my crew. We have escaped the Rainbow Voyager, where we were held hostage by the Russian Mafia. We are heading due north, but have limited supplies. Can you assist us? Over."

"Roger Captain. We have another vessel in the area that can assist you. Please distance yourself from Rainbow Voyager as much as possible at this time. United States forces are about to seize the ship."

"Ok, thank you. We will head out a couple of miles and begin a circling pattern, over."

"Roger Captain. You do that, and we'll get back to you."

Griggs takes the microphone and radios to Rainbow Voyager, no longer diplomatic in his conversation.

"Any one listening aboard ship? This is Sunshine. The party's over! Throw down your weapons and stop firing on us, or we'll blow you out of the water!"

The radioman on the bridge of Rainbow Voyager sticks his head out the door and shouts down to Sloka and the men firing upon Sunshine.

"It's the Sunshine on the radio! They say they're going to blow us up if you don't put down the guns and stop firing on them!"

"Blow us up, my ass!" says Sloka, who has produced a bottle of Vodka, and is taking swigs of it, in between firing rounds at Sunshine Two. Some of the other soldiers are drinking as well. One of them found the way into the bar area by the pool, and liberated all the Stoli he could carry.

"Get me a rocket launcher!" announces Sloka. "Let me show them who's going to get blown out of the water!"

He takes another large gulp of Vodka, trying to numb the feeling of defeat that has crept into his head. He shoulders the large metal lube brought to him from below the deck by one of the soldiers, and takes aim at Sunshine through the cross hairs. He pulls the trigger, and a loud hissing rocket speeds away, leaving a vapor trail behind. Several seconds later, a massive explosion sends plumes of seawater up one hundred feet into the air just off Sunshine's bow.

"I don't think we should allow this to go any further, Agent Griggs," says Captain Rutgers.

"In agreement," responds Griggs, and they radio to Captain Washington on USS Ranger to torpedo Rainbow Voyager as soon as possible.

On arrival to Ranger's conning tower in the dinghy, Richie and all the others are told to hob into the submarine quickly. They needed to submerge and begin firing torpedoes at the cruise ship. Myrna breaks into tears.

"Her father's aboard the ship. He's the captain," explains Richie to a tall burly submariner.

The conning tower hatches are sealed. Diving alarms sound, and the Ranger heads back into the depths, as the rescued men and woman are led into the recreation room to dry off and warm up.

Myrna looks at Richie and speaks philosophically.

"Daddy would never have wanted to watch that ship go down without him anyhow. It was his life. We lived our entire lives on that ship, after momma died."

She begins crying again. Richie tries to comfort her as best he can.

"There's a lot of neat things to see in the States you know. Have you spent much time at port there?"

She continues crying.

In the control room of the submarine, Captain Washington issues the commands.

"Fire tubes one through four. Allow surface detonation on first pass only!"

"Torpedo one, two, three, and four's away!" answers a gunner's mate from the torpedo room.

Kevin watches Rainbow Voyager through his periscope. Plumes of water, mixed with fire explode amidships. Then, another explosion at exactly the same location. The ship literally breaks in half, with both parts sinking into the North Atlantic in less than five minutes time.

"Bravo Ranger!" says Captain Rutgers on the secured frequency.

The men aboard Sunshine line the deck facing Rainbow Voyager, and watch the spectacular events of the huge cruise ship's sinking. They can just make out the tiny figures of people jumping into the water from the ends of the ship before the two halves fully submerge.

Through his periscope, Kevin can see many people, along with debris, being sucked down into the water in a big vortex that formed where the ship had once been.

Kevin downs the periscope, and goes to the recreation room to greet his new passengers.

"You must be Myrna, the captain's daughter?" he asks, looking at the weeping girl.

She looks to him, but says nothing.

"Well, I'm Captain Washington, of the US Navy, and I have some good news for you. Your father and some of his crew escaped the ship aboard one of the launches before we torpedoed her. We're going to pick them up right now."

"Oh my, oh god. I can't believe it. Is it true Captain?" asks Myrna, wiping the tears from her face.

Kevin smiles. "Yes it's true Myrna. Your father's alive and well."

Myrna approaches Kevin, and hugs him. He laughs and appears embarrassed in front of the other men.

"We don't normally do much hugging aboard the submarine," he explains.

## Chapter 65

Onboard Sunshine Two, everyone is greatly relieved. Still stationed in the command bridge area, Griggs asks Jim,

"Based on your naval experience, Captain Rutgers, shouldn't we swing by that disabled sub and try to pick up the survivors?"

"No Agent Griggs. I believe we should just let them drift. We'll radio her location out on the marine distress channel and let the Russians pick her up themselves."

"I would definitely agree, Jim," adds in Mr. Piedmont. "We don't know who they represent, the Russian government, or if they're just a rogue group. Better to forget about them, and be on our way back to port."

"Well, we've got Gaines and Leavitt back," says Griggs. "And we have the Russian Captain and his daughter to question. I guess there's not much use in pursuing the submarine crew. She didn't actually get a chance to fire on us either. Which means technically, there was no interference by the second submarine with regards to our mission. There is only our hypothesis that they intended to torpedo this ship, which they did not do."

"Turn her about!" orders Jim. "Take Mr. Piedmont's coordinates for the fastest way home!"

The mate at the wheel smiles, and says, "Aye, aye, Captain!"

In the suite previously occupied by the two FBI agents and Douglas Leavitt, there is now present, the owner of the small ship himself, Mr. Robert Gaines.

"She sure doesn't look like a pleasure craft with those fifty-caliber machine guns mounted on the decks!" exclaims Robert, looking out the window.

"The Navy crew's managed her quite well," says Duncan Garrand. "You wouldn't believe the surf they had to go through to get to you. I was sure the boat would flip over, and we'd all be drowned!"

"She's as sturdy as they come though," adds Gaines. "Custom built in Maine, actually."

"Why not buy the best, when you can afford the best?" quips Bill Waters.

Gaines smiles at him, squinting, due to his missing glasses, and says,

"Listen, Agent Waters. You two don't mind if Doug and I spend a short while chatting alone, do you? We're very old friends and haven't seen each other in quite a while."

Waters and Garrand step back away from Gaines and Leavitt. They whisper to one another.

"He hasn't been charged with anything, yet. I guess there's no reason to prevent them from talking. Right?" asks Waters.

"I agree Bill. After all, we don't know when, or if, anything will come of the Federal Investigation. It's his boat, and he's been through quite an ordeal. I say let him talk to whoever he wants to, and the prosecutors can sort it all out later."

Waters speaks louder to address Gaines and Leavitt now.

"Yeah sure. Catch up on old times. Have a few laughs. We'll go see what's happening up on the bridge."

Waters and Garrand leave the two businessmen to talk on their own in the master suite.

"How've you been Bill? Pretty tough this last month I guess. Did they treat you poorly, torture you?" asks Doug.

"It was NOT fun Douglas old man. I can tell you that!"

Bob doesn't feel comfortable revisiting the more unpleasant parts of his kidnapping experience just yet. He changes the topic to something that's been on his mind since the rescue.

"Doug? Do you remember a month ago, just before I was kidnapped, we sent a few emails back and forth about the Slickfile 99 program?"

"Yes I do Bob? What about it?"

"Well, obviously, with the kidnappers trying to get the encryption software, and with the United States Navy coming to rescue me, the government's got to know a lot about it by now. Wouldn't you think?"

Leavitt places a hand on Gaines' shoulder and looks him straight in the eye.

"You're my oldest and best friend, Bob. I can tell you that Waters and Garrand, who brought me here from New York, were fully aware of the technical function of the program. They questioned me about it before we left for Maine. Probably you should not discuss it at all for now. Wait until you've had some rest, and a good long talk with your company attorneys. Maybe they'll recommend a deal to share the technology with the government."

"Oh god," says Bob, sounding tired. "So it sounds like we're in for a another battle with this thing. Well, that's why Compusoft's got the best legal department in the business. There's always someone out there ready to complain. 'You're not allowing other businesses to fairly compete with your company Mr. Gaines,' or 'Compusoft includes programs with its operating system that can't be removed from the desktop Mr. Gaines.' What a bunch of whiners! Compusoft competes in an open market economy, and we don't use any business practices that any of the other Forbes five hundred haven't used a million times before us!"

"And that's exactly why you should just try to relax and recuperate from this whole ordeal, and not worry about it for now, Bob," says Doug, trying to comfort his friend.

"It's hard for me to relax when my life's work is being threatened like this Doug. I have a responsibility to the shareholders as well, and you know what that's all about big guy. How's Rocor doing in the month I've been gone?"

"Pretty well, actually. Anyway, Bob, I just want you to know that you can expect all the support you want from Zelda and I, once we get back to the States. You've held up Zelda's practice until now, you know." "What's that all about Doug?" asks Bob. "Well they've got us in this sort of safe house for the FBI in Manhattan, right. So they tell Zel and I that we're really not free to go anywhere in order to protect us, as well as the security of the case to solve your kidnapping. She was furious," Doug chuckles. "She just couldn't stand the idea that she'd have to let someone else do the surgeries on her patients for a few weeks." "I don't blame her," says Bob. "I can't stand the thought of what management may have done back at Compusoft without me there!" There's a knock on the door. Bob gets up to answer, but feels dizzy, and sits back down on the foot of the bed. "You all right, Bob?" asks Doug.

"Yeah, I'm just a little weak and dehydrated still, I think."

Doug answers the cabin door. Its Captain Rutgers.

"We're going to be having a special lunch in the dining area in honor of your return, Mr. Gaines. I'd be pleased if you two would attend."

"We'd be honored to captain," answers Bob. "We'll be there right at noon. Let's see, which would be how long from now?"

"Thirty minutes Mr. Gaines," answers Jim. "We'll see you there."

When Bob and Doug arrive in Sunshine Two's dining room, all the CIA men, as well as Bill Waters, Duncan Garrand, Mr. Piedmont and Captain Rutgers are seated and awaiting them. They stand up as Gaines enters the room. He and Doug take the two front seats at the head table, which have been left open for them, and the group applauds, and then seats themselves. Captain Rutgers stands up first to introduce the guest of honor.

"In case any of you don't already know, this is the man who we all came out here for, on this wild ride, to bring back home. Mr. Gaines, on behalf of the Navy crew who staffed this mission out of Portland, Maine, I would like to welcome you back to your ship, and to freedom."

"Thank you so much. Thank you all, so much," answers Bob, with a tear coming to his eye.

Next, the CIA commando leader, Griggs stands up to address the group. He's clean shaven, and minus his usual cigar butt.

"Mr. Gaines. My name is Agent Griggs, from the Central Intelligence Agency. I'd just like to introduce you to my four agents who come to us from the US Navy SEALS. These are the guys who were in the water out there, and covertly boarding the Russian vessel you were held captive on, in order to help coordinate yours and Mr. Leavitt's safe return."

Griggs turns to his right, and gestures with his right hand, pointing out the four young SEALS.

"Richie, Rawhide, Thompson, Hammer. Please stand up and be recognized. You have earned it," says Griggs.

The four young divers stand and smile, as the group applauds them. Doug Leavitt claps loudest and longest, remembering the moment when Rawhide removed the tape from his face on the ship, and told him he was being rescued.

"Before we go on to lunch, our radioman has one more duty to fulfill," says Captain Rutgers.

The radioman approaches Robert Gaines with a small handheld radio.

"Mr. Gaines. We have your wife on the line for you from Oregon."

Bob takes the radio.

"Hello Beth? I'm fine honey. How are you? Have you been ok through all of this? I love you too. You won't believe this. I'm actually here with the entire rescue team in the dining room of our yacht. They're throwing me a luncheon. I missed you too, honey. Ok, I'll call you back in a little while after the lunch."

Beth is crying as she talks with Bob for the first time in a month.

Bob gives the radio back to the radioman, and thanks him. The men dig into the food in front of them, not quite up to the quality Bob would normally have aboard Sunshine, due to the fact that the Navy supplied it. On the rest of the voyage back to Portland, the meals are less ceremonious. Bob makes several more calls to Beth at the Oregon cottage, but they can't really talk normally over the radio system. Beth decides to fly out to meet Bob when he returns to the Portland Naval Shipyard. She will meet him right when he gets off the boat. Zelda Johnson, she tells Bob, has been released from protective custody, and also plans to be there for Doug's homecoming.

In Moscow, the programmers in "the pit" at Mikael's computer center are arrested and hauled off to prison after they fail to activate Slickfile 99. The center is completely gutted on the inside, and all the equipment removed by the army, to ensure that no one would ever know what went on there. Living up to his word, Russian Vice President Chernov sees to it that his friend, Grinkoljya, receives a new identity and place of residence somewhere in the world outside of Russia. A new, "up and coming" young boss from the Mafia in Moscow fills Mikael's place in the organization. He takes over residence in the "Estate Headquarters" there, in fact, where Niki and the other girls who had serviced Mikael so well in the past, elect to stay on in their same capacities.

At the Oregon coast estate, Beth, Marta, Bud and Harland spend a nostalgic last day together. They had been through so much in the last three weeks that they felt like a family. Marta and Beth prepare a special dinner for their final night together.

"You know Mrs. Gaines," says Harland Appleby between bites of turkey and stuffing. "You really know how to make a difference in the way things happen. You're one special lady."

Beth smiles and blushes.

"We really did it didn't we? Who knows what would have happened to Bob if we didn't intervene at the right time?" she says.

"That's right, Mrs. Gaines. You did a good job!" adds Marta.

The next morning, Beth would leave for Maine to meet her husband, and Marta would travel back to the Portland, Oregon home to clean up and prepare for Mr. Gaines arrival back there. Bud and Harland have some time off coming, and plan to do some fishing, among other things.

## Chapter 66

One week later, Sunshine Two trolls into Portland Naval Shipyard at Dock Ten. Continued storms in the Atlantic have caused the Navy to abort their original plan to link up with an aircraft carrier nearby to send Robert Gaines and Doug Leavitt home by plane. Because of this, Zelda Johnson and Beth have had ample time to talk with one another, and even drove around the Maine coast a little bit doing some sight seeing. Zelda, the orthopedic surgeon, and Beth, the supermodel wife of the wealthiest man in the country, stand bundled in long coats and sweaters to fend off the cold wind blowing in off the water. A contingent of naval officers, along with some other men also stand inside the gated entrance to the dock, while a guard fends off the news reporter's frequent requests to walk down the dock to get a better view of the boat when it arrives. Cameramen shouldering television video equipment arrive as well. Their accompanying vans raise tall poles with satellite dishes ready to beam the first sounds and pictures of Robert Gaines' return to America into every home in the country. The cameramen focus on Sunshine Two, moving slowly toward Dock Ten, with the navy crewmen visible on her deck preparing to throw their lines out.

A news anchorman and his crew jockey for position to catch the boat in the background as he gives his initial report.

"The scene is one of both jubilation and relief here today, as multibillionaire, Robert Gaines, pulls into harbor aboard his private yacht in Portland, Maine. It was exactly one month ago, when Gaines was kidnapped from his Oregon home by men he employed as security agents. We have learned that his kidnappers most likely belonged to the infamous Russian Mafia, an organization that has brought a rain of terror recently to the economically ravaged former Soviet State. The navy crew operating Gaines' yacht, reportedly survived hurricane conditions in the North Atlantic Ocean in order to complete the rescue, and Mr. Gaines may have been close to death when they finally hauled him to safety aboard the Sunshine Two. Mrs. Elizabeth Gaines, well known to many viewers for her modeling career, declined to speak with us today. She can be seen here waiting at the docks for her husband, along with Dr. Zelda Johnson, wife of Douglas Leavitt, the CEO of Rocor Corporation, and a long time associate of Robert Gaines. Let's watch as the ship makes port."

The reporter gestures toward the dock area. The giant gray battleship remains tied down there in exactly the same spot as when Sunshine Two set sail. The cameraman focuses on the two women waiting for their husbands to return from the sea. Then the yacht pulls alongside the dock, and huge ropes are dropped and tethered down. A mechanized stairway lowers from Sunshine's starboard side to the dock.

It takes several minutes for the first voyagers to begin coming down the stairway to exit the boat. These are some navy crewmen carrying the fifty caliber machine guns in canvas storage bags. Next, Mr. Piedmont and the radioman come down carrying their travel bags. Griggs and his CIA men file off the boat quickly with their gear, and then finally, Robert Gaines and Doug Leavitt appear. Bob squints, looking down at the people below, his long, uncut hair blowing in the wind. The group on the dock cheers, and Bob and Doug wave to them before descending the staircase to the dock.

Beth and Zelda rush up to greet their husbands. Beth and Bob embrace one another and exchange kisses.

"I honestly thought I might never see you again, Bob," says Beth in between kisses.

"You don't know how close to the truth you were, honey," answers Bob. "It was really horrible. But I'll tell you about that later. More kisses please."

Bob puckers up for another kiss, and they begin to walk down the long pier toward the exit gate with Doug and Zelda. The navy men have cleared a path through the crowd outside the gate, so that Bob and Beth can leave the dock without being harassed by reporters. Just as they near the gate, someone calls out to Bob.

"Mr. Gaines, wait up a minute! There's something we have to talk to you about."

It's the two FBI agents, Bill Waters and Duncan Garrand. There's a third man with them, whom Bob doesn't recognize as having been on the yacht. Bob and Beth stop walking and wait for the three men to approach them.

"It's ok honey. They're just two of the agents that were on Sunshine for the rescue mission. They brought Doug out here from New York," says Bob to Beth.

"Oh, they're the ones Zelda was telling me about," answers Beth.

The man Bob doesn't recognize walks ahead of Waters and Garrand. He approaches to shake Bob's hand, and introduces himself.

"Hello Mr. Gaines. I'm Dan Kresky. I work with agents Waters and Garrand in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I'm very pleased to meet you sir. I'm a big fan of your products, actually."

Bob smiles, but feels confused about the purpose of their meeting here on the dock.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kresky. But just what is it I can do for you right now? I'm not feeling so well after all this, ya know," says Bob, holding onto Beth's shoulder to stay warm in the brisk wind.

"Well just forty-eight hours ago, Mr. Gaines, Ron Haas, a US Special Prosecutor delivered some documents for my perusal. He told me that he's planning to file a case against Compusoft involving conspiracy to commit fraud and theft of information from unsuspecting US citizens."

Bob looks perturbed.

"That's all very nice, Mr. Gresky, is it? But I have one hundred and twenty seven attorneys back at corporate headquarters who can field inquiries of this type. Why are you bothering me right here, now?" he asks.

"When we combined the information obtained during our own investigation with that from Mr. Haas' office, one thing became perfectly clear to us at the FBI Mr. Gaines."

"And what was that?" asks Bob.

"That you are personally involved in an elaborate scheme to commit fraud against the American people, Mr. Gaines."

Beth holds her hands to her face, and looks as though she's about to vomit. Waters and Garrand step forward, and begin the arrest process.

"Put your hands behind your back Mr. Gaines," says Bill Waters, who cuffs them, as Bob obliges.

Duncan Garrand reads Bob the Miranda rights.

"You, Robert Gaines, are hereby being placed under arrest for the crime of conspiracy to commit fraud. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up this right, anything you say may be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford one, one can be appointed for you."

"Just let's get out of here so I can post my bail and end this charade," says Bob. "I just want to go somewhere comfortable and get some sleep for a while."

Bob sounds disgusted, and he lets the two FBI men who had been his roommates aboard the yacht know it. Many questions begin stirring in Beth's mind, but she knows well enough not to say anything in front of the FBI men that might incriminate her husband. To Bob's chagrin, the bail hearing is set for the next morning, and he must spend his first night on land sleeping alone on a cot in the Portland City Jail. A team of five Compusoft attorneys are there by the morning. They post the one million dollars bail ordered by the federal judge, and file immediate motions to allow Bob to return home to Portland, Oregon, and to be tried in that city. By six p.m., Bob and Beth are on a corporate jet, heading back towards home.

## Chapter 67

Bob lobbies Beth at home, trying to explain that the Slickfile 99 program was only designed for marketing purposes. She has a hard time believing it, and becomes depressed, having recurring thoughts that she can not trust the man she married. He seems to have become so much more wrapped up in the financial part of his work than he used to be when they first met. Back then, he was excited about the technology, and the chance to deliver it to the average American consumer. But in the year before the kidnapping, it seemed that all he ever talked about was money, and his responsibility to "the shareholders." One night, before bedtime, she bursts out at him.

"What about your responsibility to me, honey?" asks Beth. "I know you still love me, but you seem to be getting lost in some sort of giant game you're playing there at your company."

"You don't understand Beth. It's at a whole different level when you're where we're at with Compusoft now. I'm determining the direction of an entire culture. Generations of children will learn what my educational team programs for them to learn. I can't miss out on this opportunity, and to fully appreciate the needs, the wants of the people, I need to know something about them Beth. That's where the Slickfile program came in. We wanted to learn something about our customers that we couldn't get by having them fill out one of those consumer profile cards they get with our products."

"I guess the problem is that there's a fine line between what your saying and stealing people's private information, isn't there Bob? Says Beth.

"We never intended on STEALING anything from anyone!" exclaims Bob.

"Well honey, I certainly hope that your corporate attorneys can convince the judge of that, because you standing up there telling everyone that you're directing their entire culture sure isn't going to cut it!" shouts Beth.

Bob storms out of the bedroom and goes to sit at his desk in the den. His computer is gone, confiscated by the government for their case against him. He kicks his feet up on the big wooden desk and reclines the luxurious armchair. He rests his head on top of his folded arms on the desktop and mutters to himself,

"Why can't they just give me a break? I'm just trying to make my business a success."

Looking at the "Whiz Kid Goes Corporate" Forbes cover on the wall, Bob falls deeply asleep.

Beth peeks in the den door, and seeing him there, covers him gently with a small blanket. Looking at his sleeping, boyish face, she can not side against him. She still feels too much love for the man she struggled so hard to bring back home.

'He's just stubborn,' she thinks to herself. 'Stubborn and misunderstood. A wonderful, but eccentric man, and still the man that I want to spend my life with.'

"Bob?" she asks, placing her head on his shoulder from behind.

"What honey?" he replies, still half asleep.

"We're gonna make some serious changes in the way you do things in the future," she says.

"Sure honey," he answers. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Bob."

THE END

## Index

Characters:

Robert and Beth Gaines - CEO of Compusoft and his wife

Doug Leavitt- Old friend of Gaines, head of Rocor Inc.

Dr. Zelda Johnson- wife of Doug Leavitt, ex Olympic skater, surgeon.

Marta- the Gaines' Housekeeper

Detective Squabowsky- Portland PD

Detective Sundance- Partner of Det. Squab.

Port. PD Chief Becker

Helen Amaron- Nurse and girlfriend of Sundance

Carly- Tennis partner of Beth Gaines

John Hinckley- Reporter at the Oregon coast cottage.

Jim Nimitz- newscaster.

Garrison, Mark MD, Chief Physician, SICU

Mrs. Kotcher- ICU Patient, old woman.

Beamon and Graves- fake names of assassins in the ICU.

Debra Reis- Missing ICU RN- assassin.

Buzz- Computer whiz for FBI

Limo Drivers- four of them.

Highway truck jackers- Tommy and Big Jim

Meepov and Sloka- Bob Gaines' Captors in Texas

Herman- Guard of Bob Gaines on the Russian ship Rainbow Voyager.

Mikael- Russian Mafia leader

Niki- sexy female assistant to Mikael, at the "estate Headquarters"

Four women staff at Mikael's Mafia "estate headquarters".

Natasha- Mikael's wife.

Russian VP- Chernov

Verti Grinkoljya- "liaison" between the RM and the Russian government.

Beeno- Russian Mafia teen in the bar with Herman in the past.

Heinrich and Olga Handleman- Man and woman CIA team to follow Ben Smith in Moscow.

Ginger- Prostitute staying with Ben Smith in the hotel in Moscow.

Boli- Hotel desk man in Moscow where Ben Smith stayed.

President of the USA- Harold Smithson

Hank Schwartz- assistant to Smithson who calls Beth to interrogate about her knowledge of case.

Garcia, Agent- FBI

Dan Kresky- #2 at FBI

Richard Elle- CIA coordinator for rescue operation.

Mick Jaegger- Seattle FBI investigating Pippin Computer

Bud Williams and Harland Appleby- CIA security at Oregon Coast cottage.

Rob- Bud Williams' FBI connection in Portland.

Commander Mackie- Head of the Air force

Admiral Manford White- Head of the Navy

Rothman- One of the CIA agents on Sunshine Two.

Bill Waters and Duncan Garrand- FBI New York Agents

Senator William Jenkins- Washington State senator

Captain Jim Rutgers- US Naval Sea Captain in charge of yacht, Sunshine II

Karen Rutgers- Jim Rutgers' wife.

Griggs- CIA agent with commando like approach, aboard Sunshine II

SEAL One- Richie

Two- Thompson

Three- Hammer

Four- Raw Hide

Mr. Piedmont- Navigator aboard the Sunshine II

Capt. Kevin Washington- commander of the Ranger sub.

Ron Haas- US Special prosecutor who begins case against Compusoft.

Betty- Secretary for Ron Haas.

Greta Jenkins- wife of William

Ben Smith- VP Pippin Computers

Ken Griffon- "Griffy" another Pippin executive meeting with Ben Smith in Moscow.

Captain Cruschev- in command of Lenin Attack nuclear submarine.

Captain Hezmannov- in command of Rainbow Voyager ship.

Myrna- Captain Hezmannov's daughter.

Bob's Secretary- Double agent against him

Henry Himmelstein- pie thrower/ estate attacker, anti Compusoft lunatic.

Vessels involved in the rescue operation:

Red Star- Code name for kidnapper vessel given by US forces.

Sunshine Two- Gaine's yacht being used for the rescue.

Lenin Attack - Russian Mafia submarine, Kilo class variety.

Rainbow Voyager- Russian Mafia cruise ship with Gaines on board.

Arrow- Code name for the AWACS plane.

Ranger- US Los Angeles Class submarine.

## About the Author

Blaine T. Zaid, is a practicing anesthesiologist in Los Angeles, California. The Gaines Agenda was written as the tech boom was blossoming and the internet was starting to become more and more populated. Many facets of the book came to pass after its publication or became major media issues, such as the phenomena of spy ware and the Russian involvement in internet crime.
