Engaging the Enemy

By R. L. Keller

(Presented for the picture challenge “Vancouver,” although I changed the location to the Greek Isles)

As the submarine Seaview sat quietly on the surface amongst several of Greece’s smaller islands in the Mediterranean Sea, Admiral Nelson sat not so quietly in the Marine lab. He was staring into his microscope and muttering dark threats against the kinds of pollutants he was finding in the water samples he’d gathered on a dive that morning. Nothing new, really. Since a great many of the world’s civilizations had been born and built around the Sea it was expected to find more damage there than in other areas. But it still ticked Nelson off. Wishful thinking, perhaps, that as more and more people were aware of the damage being caused, they’d work to do more about it. Some were, of course. But… A particularly vulgar phrase slipped out just as there was a light knock on the lab door and Seaview’s XO, Chip Morton, stuck his head in. And instantly started to leave in reaction to the expression on his boss’ face!

“Chip,” Nelson called, realizing why the blond was exiting, and managed to send him a small smile as Chip very hesitantly came back but stopped in the doorway, not walking in. “You’re safe,” Nelson half-teased him. “Grumbling about the water samples.”

“Yes, sir,” Chip replied, but didn’t return the smile. “Admiral Jones on the pipe for you. Sparks will send it to your cabin, if you prefer.”

“What I would prefer…” Nelson started, and then sent Chip a grimace. That expression Chip did return and headed back to the Conn as Nelson got up and headed to his cabin.

Admiral Jones headed the Office of Naval Intelligence. Chip had a few other names for it, depending on how ticked he was coupled with how many beers he’d had. Not that he objected to the unit. He merely objected to Jones ‘borrowing’ Seaview’s captain, Lee Crane, as often as he thought that he could get away with it. Which, thankfully, was starting to be less often since Nelson had what was described by Jones’ aide as nearly a ‘knockdown, drag out’ after Lee came back once too often injured from one of Jones’ ‘little errands’.

That’s where Lee was now. Things were quiet aboard the sub as Nelson was spending a couple of weeks taking water samples from several locations amongst the Greek Islands, so when Jones had called two days ago to ask if Crane was free there wasn’t a solid reason for Nelson to say no. And while Lee had the right to decline, he rarely did. While he didn’t discuss what the errand was with either Nelson or Chip, he did acknowledge that neither, especially Chip, was overly happy that he was accepting the job. He told both that he shouldn’t be gone longer than a week, and hopefully a lot less, trying to minimize their irritation. He’d changed into what could easily be local garb, from the collection of clothes he kept in a special gear bag that went nearly everywhere with him, and Chief Sharkey had dropped him late at night with FS1 on the coast of Turkey near Babakale

Both Chip and Nelson, although neither mentioned it, was hoping that Jones was calling now to arrange for Lee to get back to Seaview; that the assignment was completed. So Nelson was doubly annoyed when the first words out of Jones’ mouth were, “Where’s Crane?” in that admiral’s demanding tone.

“How should I know,” Nelson immediately sniped back. “At the moment he’s on your nickel.”

There was momentary silence on Jones’ end. “When did he leave Seaview?”

“Tuesday night,” Nelson answered, now starting to let concern enter his tone. “The same day you called. My COB dropped him at the noted coordinates about 0130 Wednesday morning, local time.”

“His contact said that he never arrived; got a message Crane had been delayed by a couple of days. I was just notified.” Nelson once more uttered his earlier vulgar phrase. “Got that right,” Jones agreed.

“Now what?” Nelson asked.

“I have his contact start backtracking.”

“What can we do?”

“Right now,” and Nelson heard the sigh in Jones’ voice, “nothing. Too many people asking the wrong questions could make matters worse.”

“How did the contact say he’d been notified of a delay?”

“My very first question,” Jones growled. “But communications are sketchy. I wasn’t able to get an answer before we were cut off. I’ll keep trying but it could take a day or so.”

“I don’t like this,” it was Nelson’s turn to growl.

“Nor do I, Nelson,” Jones grumbled back. “Best I can do.”

“You’ll keep me posted!” It wasn’t a question.

“When I know, so will you,” Jones told him, and the connection was broken.

A different, but still vulgar, expression slipped out before Nelson hit the intercom button. “Mr. Morton,” he said reluctantly, “please report to my cabin.”

“On my way, sir” came back instantly, as if Chip had been expecting it. What he wasn’t expecting was Nelson’s explanation of the call and his expression turned dark.

“Understood,” Nelson read the expression correctly. While in total agreement, he still tried to mitigate the younger man’s anger. “But at this point I have to agree with Robert,” he referenced Admiral Jones. “We could do more damage than good if we go stumbling into a situation that we know nothing about.”

“Yes, sir.” While agreeing, there was still strong irritation in his voice. “And I gather that he’s not willing to share what’s going on,” was mumbled just loud enough for Nelson to hear.

There was absolutely no humor in the smile Nelson sent him. “I’m thinking forty-eight hours. If we’ve heard nothing, somebody’s head’s going to roll!”

“Works for me,” Chip agreed. They both nodded, and Chip headed back to the Conn.

* * * *

“What did you do that for?” the man growled at the woman as he bent over the now unconscious body of the person he was supposed to meet and take to the safehouse. He breathed out a sigh as he found a strong pulse after the woman snuck up behind the guy and coldcocked him with the butt end of her revolver. “Now what are we supposed to do?”

“He can’t know that I’m here,” the woman sniped back. “Why!” she blustered. “Why did it have to be him?”

“So?” it was his turn to snipe. “You could have just stayed out of sight. He was only going to be here a few nights.”

“My stuff is in the house. He would have recognized at least some of it. I needed time to get it all hidden.”

“So?” he repeated.

“So, guess you’ll have to carry him to the car and keep him there while I clear out my stuff.”

“We’ll carry him. This,” he pointed down, “is your fault.”

“Well then, tie him up and blindfold him. And for heaven’s sake don’t say my name!”

Still grumbling and growling, the pair trust up the newcomer. Thankfully, it wasn’t far to where they’d parked the car. And also, the newcomer wasn’t overly heavy. It helped that it was a cloudy night, so no one saw them carry their package into the house. Once there, they tossed him on the bed that the woman had been using and she busied herself removing any trace of her existence.

“What am I supposed to tell Jones?” the man asked as the woman took one final glance around before she headed out the door.

“With communications as sporadic as they’ve been, hopefully you won’t have to say anything.” He sent her a glare and she shrugged. “Tell him Crane never arrived; that he got delayed. That will throw Jones off for a couple of days. I need at least four more days, maybe five. I can only work just so fast.”

“And in the meantime?” He pointed at the still unconscious man, who they both knew to be Cdr. Lee Crane.

“He got slugged by the bad guys before you could stop it. Just keep him away from that end of town. He’s here for an entirely different reason. With any luck we’ll all come out of this in one piece.”

“At this point in my assignment you are the bad guy,” the man muttered threateningly. “Wish I never knew you were here!”

“Same here,” she snarled back. “How was I supposed to know that my assignment would end up leading me here. We gotta both hope and pray that Jones, and especially him,” she pointed to Crane, “never find that out.”

* * * *

The last thing Lee remembered was getting dropped off on a deserted stretch of Turkey’s coast close to Babakale and melting quickly into the darkness. So, waking up stretched out on a mattress with a pillow under his head was decidedly disconcerting. He worked to remain as still as possible until he could get a handle on just what the heck was going on, but the smell of coffee coincided with a vaguely familiar voice asking him how his head was feeling and he opened his eyes. “Hurts like hell,” came out before he could stop himself, and he glanced around when there was a soft grunt from the direction of his feet. Blinking to help get his eyes to work, he finally recognized who was standing at the foot of the bed he found himself on. “Fisher,” he muttered, and tried to sit up.

“Sorry,” ONI agent Colin Fisher told him, settled carefully next to Lee, and handed him a mugful of coffee. “I was all set to meet you but I wasn’t quick enough. I saw you get nailed, and thankfully got you away before any further damage. To either of us,” came out with a heavy sigh. Lee caught it, but let it go as he continued to work on the coffee.

“We’re both safe?” he did eventually ask.

“As safe as we ever are,” Fisher sighed again, and this time Lee sent him a nod.

“Thanks,” he told the other agent.

“For getting you concussed?”

A soft snort escaped as Lee emptied the mug. “For making sure that it wasn’t anything worse.”

“Eh,” Fisher told him with a waggled hand. “You might as well lay back down. It’s nearly dawn, and we won’t be able to do anything until tonight anyway.”

“That won’t screw everything up?”

Fisher shrugged. “I hadn’t actually expected reinforcements until later today, and pretty much everything I need you for has so far been happening in the evenings.” His turn to snort softly. “Jonesy won’t know the difference.” Lee had to remind himself that that was Fisher’s pet name for ONI’s Director. “Communications are iffy at best, and nonexistent at worst.” He shrugged again. “We do the best we can.”

“In other words, business as usual,” Lee muttered.

“Yep.”

“Terrific!”

Fisher chuckled softly and gave Lee’s shoulder a soft push. “Get some sleep. Your head will feel better for it.”

Lee wasn’t quite ready to surrender. “Anything new since Admiral Jones gave me instructions?”

“He actually gave you instructions?” Fisher tried to sidestep around telling Lee the latest development. “I thought that he merely aimed you in a general direction and turned you loose, since you do things your own way.” Fisher had a broad smile on his face, and it went even wider at Lee’s instant frown. Although, Lee’s expression quickly turned sheepish at the other agent’s rather apt description of what Lee’s assignments had a habit of turning into. “Hey,” Fisher continued, “who am I to argue. You get results. That’s all that matters. And nothing that affects what we’re here to do. Thankfully,” he let out a heavy sigh. “Like I said, communications are intermittent at best. I considered it a minor miracle that I managed to ask for help, once I got here and realized that I couldn’t do it by myself.”

“But I don’t understand,” Lee persisted. “Communications in this part of the world should be fairly easy. It’s why I didn’t bother bringing a radio.”

The sigh Fisher breathed out had nothing to do with Lee’s question. It was one of the first things he’d done – search Lee for any way he could reach out to Seaview. “That’s part of the problem,” he now told Lee. “We’ve had trouble not being intercepted; can’t trust who’s listening. There’s so much uproar between Turkey and Greece right at the moment over who has jurisdiction to drill for oil where in the Mediterranean that nothing is all that safe.”

Lee finally nodded at the logic, but even that bit of movement set off more throbbing in his already aching head, and reluctantly he laid back down. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I think you’ve got that backward,” Fisher told him. “I’ll wake you if there’s any news.” With eyes that instantly closed as his head hit the pillow Lee didn’t see the relief, for several reasons, that hit Fisher’s face as he left the room.

And thankfully Lee didn’t hear the growl when Fisher discovered that he had a visitor. “What the hell are you doing back?” he wanted to scream, but it came out barely loud enough to carry across the room. “You’re the one who doesn’t want him to see you.”

“Brought you these,” and she handed him a small bottle of very small pills. “If he gets too nosy, too fast, put a couple of those in his coffee.” She did actually growl. “I know exactly what they will do!”

Fisher grinned; he’d heard the stories, although he wasn’t about to admit it. She sent him a glare and turned to leave. “Not that I want to get caught drugging him,” he told her back. “I’m more afraid of him than I am of you.”

“He’s a pain in the tail,” she snarled. “Who you’d better be afraid of is Nelson.”

“Good point,” he admitted, and tucked the small bottle in his shirt pocket as she once more melted into the night.

* * * *

This time Lee woke up all at once, totally disoriented until he tried to move and his still pounding head brought everything back. The blinds over the one window he could see told him that it was daylight. A glance at his wrist was no help; he’d left his navy-issue watch on board Seaview. But at least, when he swung his feet over the edge of the bed and sat up, it only took a moment for his vision to clear. He carefully stood up and headed out the partially open door, finding himself in what was apparently a small house. From the living room he found himself in, an open doorway led to a kitchen. There were a couple other doors, one open to another bedroom and one closed. But it suddenly opened and Fisher exited from what turned out to be a bathroom. “My turn,” Lee told him. The other agent waved him in with a grin.

Feeling almost human again twenty minutes later Lee returned to the living room, to be met with another mug of coffee. It went down in one long draught. Looking up sheepishly he was met with Fisher’s broad smile. “More in the kitchen,” he tipped his head toward that room, and Lee wasted little time refilling his mug before rejoining Fisher. “Better?”

Lee nodded, although still carefully as he sat down. “Pretty much anything was better than last night.”

“Again, sorry that I wasn’t faster.”

“Happens,” Lee told him honestly.

Fisher nodded. “Actually, I think that it might have been my fault.” Lee sent him a look. “Accidentally, for sure. But…” He paused. “Told you about the communications problems.” Lee nodded. “I think that I might have trusted the wrong person,” Fisher admitted. “That’s why the meet was compromised.”

“Happens,” Lee repeated.

“Unfortunately,” Fisher agreed.

“Jones wasn’t overly specific; just said that you needed help with an assignment. Told me who and where, but not what.” He shrugged. “Not that I’m not used to sketchy details.” They both grimaced slightly. “But at least this time I’d be filled in when I got here.”

Fisher nodded. “Got here, thought that I had what I needed, then got thrown a curveball.”

“Heard that one before,” Lee mumbled, mostly into his coffee mug.

“Oh, yeah,” Fisher agreed. “Anyway, basically I’m on the trail of a man who’s known for making threats against Navy vessels, Antonio Chicarelli.”

“Never heard that name,” Lee told him.

“How about Master Sergeant Anthony Carruthers?”

Lee frowned. “I thought that he was in Leavenworth; something about starting a fire aboard the ship he was on, causing a lot of damage and several deaths.”

“Yep. Until last year when a similar fire was traced to a design flaw in how some armament was packaged and stored. Apparently, he’d tried all along to say that he’d done nothing wrong, but…” Fisher shrugged. “Young JAG lawyer all but made him plead guilty.” Fisher frowned. “Carruthers, who’s now using his mother’s maiden name because of all the bad publicity over the original verdict, Chicarelli, petitioned for a new trial after the design flaw was found, got out…” Fisher sent Lee a glare, although Lee realized that it wasn’t actually at Lee, “and a month later not-so-young-anymore JAG lawyer went missing. Still hasn’t been found.”

“Oh, oh,” Lee muttered.

“And the ‘anonymous’ threats began.”

“You know that it’s him but you can’t prove it,” Lee translated.

“Exactly. I got put on his tail and traced him here. I think that he knows he’s picked up a tail, but I keep changing disguises so he hasn’t made me specifically.”

“Unless the guy from last night told him?” Lee speculated.

Fisher cringed. “Possibly, but I think that’s a whole different screw-up,” he admitted. “Totally mine. Unfortunately now it’s yours as well, but it shouldn’t affect what I needed help with.” Lee raised the expected eyebrow and Fisher continued. “Chicarelli has been keeping a low profile since getting here not quite two weeks ago. But he goes every couple of nights to a specific hotel bar. He always sits alone, but four nights ago he sat next to a small group of men who were speaking Russian. He kept his back to them but I swear he was having some kind of private conversation. He was acting like he was talking into his cell phone, but…” Fisher shrugged. Lee nodded; it was an old trick. “I don’t speak Russian,” Fisher told him. “I asked for someone who did. Was totally not expecting it to be you.”

Lee grinned. “Seaview happened to be in the neighborhood. I gather that the meetings have continued.”

“Yep. And each night seem to get a little more serious. And more worrisome, because I’ve been able to identify who seems to be the main player at the other table, a guy named Alexi Antonov. Mind you, that’s not the name on his Malta-issued passport.”

Lee’s turn to frown. “Oh, goody,” he muttered. “What is it they’re called, a ‘Golden Passport’ that Malta gives to anyone who can afford the million or so dollars to buy it, and the recipient can then travel pretty much anywhere they want to without a special visa; even into the United States, no matter who they are!”

“That’s the one,” Fisher affirmed.

“Swell.”

“Yeah,” Fisher agreed.

“This Antonov. Arms dealer?”

“Pretty much anything-you-want dealer. But small arms and explosives are a specialty.”

“Wonderful. So, I gather, I, or we, will have a drink at that bar and try to get close enough to find out what kind of deal is being made.”

“That’s the plan,” Fisher told him. “If I could trust communications better I would have tried to get close enough to tape their conversations. But I can’t trust much of anything right now. Nor have I wanted to spook Chicarelli. It’s too important, now that we have some kind of take on him, not to screw up.”

“Understood,” Lee agreed, and then got thoughtful. “Your cover, whatever it is, didn’t get blown last night saving my six?”

Fisher cringed. “Dealt with. I think,” was added almost under his breath. Lee again sent him a raised eyebrow. “Working on it,” Fisher told him. “My guess is, if it hasn’t already blown up in my face I, and you, are still a go.” Lee nodded. “Oh, and I’m using the name Cory Bishop…” He caught Lee’s flinch at the last name and raised his own eyebrow.”

The look Lee sent back was angry, but with a small shrug thrown in. “I’ll manage,” he said softly. “Bishop isn’t a popular name at NIMR.” *

“A story?” Fisher nudged.

“The last person I ran into with that last name, I beat to death with my bare hands,” came out very low, but in as nasty a voice as Fisher had ever heard from the usually soft spoken Crane, and his expression showed his surprise. “Yeah,” Lee admitted, his tone now slightly embarrassed.

“Remind me to stay on both you and your mother’s good sides.” **

Lee laughed despite himself at that reference to how the agent met Lee’s mom, and half-waved a hand. “You’re safe.”

“I’ve never seen you even close to out of control,” Fisher told him, curiosity very evident in his voice.

Lee frowned. “You’ve never been about to kill Admiral Nelson, after beating the hell out of him.”

Fisher shivered. “Got it,” he said firmly and then turned his back, not wanting Lee to see anything in his expression to even hint that he was keeping intel from Crane, or what that ‘intel’ had said about Nelson. Luckily, when he turned back around, Lee had his eyes closed. “Still fighting a headache?” he asked to change the subject.

Lee waggled a hand. “Not so much that I can’t function.”

“Nothing I need you for, for at least six hours. No reason you can’t rest.” A chuckle escaped – very much on purpose, and he hoped that Lee didn’t pick up on that. “Apparently I need to make sure I return you in one piece. I’ve always heard that Morton was the one I needed to be careful of.”

As hoped, Lee laughed. “You’re safe. He merely yells at me if I get hurt on an ONI mission; that if I hadn’t accepted the assignment in the first place it wouldn’t have happened.” His grin was shy. “Not that I don’t get hurt nearly as often on Seaview,” he admitted.

“Still think I’ll stay away from that one.”

“Wise man,” Lee told him, the grin this time had humor in it.

“Hungry?” Fisher once more changed the subject, and laughed outright at the face Lee made.

“But I should probably eat something,” Lee admitted.

Fisher nodded. “Place around the corner makes a nice Tabbouleh. I’ll go see what else they have.” He paused. “So far I haven’t been bothered. But just in case, reach your hand carefully down between the sofa cushions.” Lee nodded when his hand hit what felt like a 9mm revolver, and Fisher left.

Fisher had placed his order at what at home would be called a neighborhood diner, and was casually leaning against the wall waiting when a small figure somewhat camouflaged in baggy slacks and an oversized hooded jacket, the hood so large that it covered most of the person’s face, stepped in the front door and glanced around. The person – no real way to say male, female, adult or child – went to the counter and also placed an order to go, casually bumping Fisher as they passed, to also wait patiently leaning against the side wall. Fisher never moved a muscle, although inwardly his epithets would have made a sailor blush. Thankfully it was only a couple minutes before his order was ready and he got the heck out of there before he could totally explode! Once around the corner, one hand reached into the pocket of his jacket on the side that the person had bumped and brought out the slip of paper he found there. Antonov won’t be at the bar tonight, he read. He’s making a pick-up. This time Fisher swore out loud, although soft enough that the few people around didn’t hear it. He was still frowning when he made sure to rattle the key in the door lock to alert Lee, and called as he barely opened the door, “Me.”

“Okay,” came back, although Fisher still opened the door with some care. “Problems?” Lee asked when he saw Fisher’s expression.

“Hopefully just a delay,” the agent muttered, walking into the kitchen and placing the bag he carried on the table. “Simit and mercimek corgasi,” he told Lee, who had followed him, indicating the sesame seed-covered flat bread and lentil soup he took out.

“Sounds perfect.” Lee grinned shyly. “Smells perfect, too,” he admitted, and they both tucked into the simple meal. A few mouthfuls later, Lee sent Fisher a raised eyebrow.

“Got word that Antonov won’t be at the bar tonight.” He shrugged. “I might still go, just to keep up the act. And keep tabs on Chicarelli,” he added, and Lee nodded. “No real reason for you to go,” he continued, “if you’d rather stay hunkered down here.” He sent Lee a small grin. “But no reason you can’t wander along with me, either, if you want.”

“Might be better if we were seen together before we actually need to be there.”

“Works for me,” Fisher agreed, and the rest of the meal was eaten mostly in silence. Fisher was grateful that Lee hadn’t questioned where he got that bit of intel. He wasn’t totally sure how he would have answered. To be honest, he wasn’t totally sure why it was so important to the woman that Crane not find out she was here. Inwardly he shrugged. Sometimes it was better not to know these things!

Lee admitted, both to himself and to Fisher, that he felt a good deal better after the meal. He did relax most of the afternoon but was decidedly ready to stretch his legs as evening approached. He ended up being glad, however, when Fisher drove them most of the way because after only half an hour in the smoke-filled hotel bar his headache, never completely gone, steadily worsened. He sent Fisher a quick nod when the other agent noticed, but waved off the suggestion that they leave. He did, however, only have one drink, nursing it while Fisher enjoyed a second.

With nary an outward sign Fisher still managed to point out Chicarelli when he entered the bar just as Fisher was served his second drink. Lee admired the other agent for several reasons, and had learned a great deal from him at the various training sessions they had attended at the same time. Lee tried hard to be just as casual, and apparently succeeded as Fisher sent him a small grin. Not an impressive man, Chicarelli was perhaps 5’10”, slender but starting to develop a middle-aged ponch. Sandy-haired, he didn’t quite fit in with the more dark-complexioned locals. Fisher had at least stopped shaving over a week earlier, he’d mentioned as he gave Lee a quick lookover before they left the house. But with his Mediterranean complexion Lee fit right in. Now, they ‘didn’t’ watch as Chicarelli seemed annoyed when he walked in, and decidedly irritated when he left twenty minutes later.

“He apparently didn’t get the memo,” Lee said so softly that it barely carried the couple of feet to Fisher.

“I’m still a little surprised that I did,” Fisher told his drink, only loud enough for Lee to hear.

“Wondered about that,” Lee admitted. Once more the man never seemed to move a muscle but Lee still got the impression of extreme irritation. And had the feeling that Fisher knew that Lee knew. But neither said a thing; they merely finished their drinks in casual silence and meandered back to where Fisher had parked. That was when Lee told Fisher that he was glad that they hadn’t walked the entire way – just over a mile. When they got back Fisher offered to make coffee, but Lee settled for a couple of aspirin and stretched out on the bed.

And was totally embarrassed when he didn’t wake up until the next morning! Fisher merely sent him a broad grin and asked how his head was doing. “Still firmly attached – unfortunately,” Lee muttered, then grinned softly as Fisher flinched. “Chill,” he told the other agent. “It is, actually, better.” He sent Fisher a bit of his shy smile. “That sleep was probably the best thing for it.”

Fisher finally nodded. “Been there, unfortunately.”

“Sort of comes with the territory.”

“I still feel bad that I let it happen.”

Lee shrugged and headed for the bathroom. When he came out they both walked around the corner for a breakfast of cheese, eggs, tomatoes, and cucumbers, with a side of pisi, a sort of fried dough. Fisher grinned at Lee. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he accused Lee. “All this time I thought that you were a light eater. Yet you’re ordering like a native.”

Lee sent him a shy look. “We, or at least I, missed dinner last night,” he said. “And I’ve spent enough time in this part of the world to recognize what I like and don’t like.”

“There’s leftovers for lunch, but you’re ordering dinner,” Fisher told him firmly, they both grinned, and tucked into the simple but delicious meal.

As they left the small restaurant Lee hesitated, and Fisher sent him a look. “Safe to walk around?” Lee asked.

“Sure. Well,” he hedged, “mostly. Enough tourists around this time of year, locals from inland who head for the coastlines, one more won’t be noticed.”

“Getting restless,” Lee admitted, and missed the flinch Fisher didn’t quite get covered.

Fisher pointed ahead. “The sea is that way if it’s open water you’re missing.” It was also the very opposite direction of where the woman’s assignment had taken her.

Lee nodded. “Thought that I could smell it.”

“You’re feeling better?” Fisher asked carefully. “With luck I’m going to need you this evening.”

Lee chuckled. “I promise not to go too far,” he teased. Fisher grinned as well and Lee took off, missing the shudder that went through Fisher as he turned toward where he was staying and sent a silent prayer that the woman, who he’d been surreptitiously keeping an eye out for, was nowhere in the vicinity!

He would have been totally torqued if he’d realized that the teenager in the fishing hat and dark glasses that all too casually meandered after Lee was in fact the woman, her long dark hair tucked neatly into the hat. At one point Lee, casually looking around, glanced her way but instantly dismissed her. Thankfully, and it was her turn to bury a shudder as she realized that she’d allowed herself to get closer than she’d intended.

She hadn’t intended coming this way at all but the person she was tailing had chosen this direction this morning so she had to get creative. She’d nearly screamed out loud when she realized that Crane and Fisher were just leaving the restaurant as her target walked past. Neither man seemed to take notice of the rather nondescript older gentleman. She knew that that could also be a ruse but Fisher, while knowing in a general way why she was here, didn’t know her target; she’d carefully kept that from him, and in truth he’d not really wanted to know. She silently seethed as both her target and Crane angled toward the harbor section of town.

Lee didn’t walk far, or fast. His headache was down to merely annoying but he was all too aware that he was here to help Fisher, not indulge his own wants or needs. He was still on alert, and casually took note of the older gentleman who’d passed by as he and Fisher were exiting the small eatery. There was nothing special about the man; nothing that set off Lee’s sonar. Or in this case radar, he teased himself since he was on land, not sea. But as they both seemed to be headed in the same general direction Lee kept an eye on him, just because. He did think that the man kept an eye on Lee as well and did his best to ignore the man, not wanting to give any indication that he thought the man anything other than out for a morning stroll, the same as himself.

As they got close to the harbor Lee found a place to sit and watch the activity, casually noting that the older man continued walking around the next corner. Like most such places in the world, the area was alive with birds. Different varieties, of course, but similarities abounded. Mostly he watched a family of ducks of some sort meandering here and there, the parents apparently teaching the half dozen ducklings how to hunt for food. A sudden grin split his face as he thought back on an incident that happened shortly before he and his mother got word that his father had been killed. His maternal grandfather had still been alive and occasionally took Lee on outings, often going to a sort of farmyard turned petting zoo. On that particular visit a broody hen was busy keeping track of over a dozen fairly newborn chicks. They were out in the yard learning how to scratch and peck at the grain that had been tossed out for them. Young Lee had nearly driven his mother to distraction, and his grandfather to tears of laughter, by spending the next several days pretending to be a chick in his own back yard. His grin was apparently infectious as he caught several people now grinning back, although having no idea why, and he nodded and grinned even more. It spread again when one of the ducklings happened to snag a bit of sea grass and it started a game of ‘catch-me-if-you-can’ with the rest of its siblings.

Lee estimated that he’d sat for nearly an hour, surprised that he’d managed to sit quietly and still for that long. He admitted that he’d enjoyed the bit of people and animal watching but it was time to get back before Fisher came looking for him. And then had a moment of indecision and suspicion as he stood and discovered the older gentleman he’d seen earlier was just walking into view, again seeming to not have a care in the world, from the direction he’d gone earlier and head back the way they’d both come. Lee pretended to once more watch out to sea until the man was several dozen yards away before he casually took another glance around and also headed that direction. Lee matched his pace, not so much not wanting to catch up to the other man but because that man’s pace suited him as well. He had absolutely no idea that the woman, now dressed once more in baggy pants and oversized hoody, matched them both. Lee was relieved, although he wasn’t sure why he was even nervous to begin with, when the man walked past the corner where Lee needed to turn to return to the small house with barely a look left and right as he crossed the street. Lee had caught sight at one point of the whoever-it-was in the hoody, after they’d crossed to the other side of the street he was walking on. But nothing caught his attention from that direction, or triggered his radar, and the person was ignored as he knocked softly on the front door. He thought that there was an almost invisible flash of ‘something’ on Fisher’s face as he opened the door, and raised an eyebrow as he entered. But Fisher merely smiled. “Have a good walk?” came out casually.

“Actually, yes,” Lee admitted, letting the moment go. “I love the water,” he told the agent, “be it ocean, sea, lake, whatever. It’s where I find peace.”

Fisher snorted. “Heard a thing or two about some of your more interesting bits of ‘peace’.”

Lee waggled a hand. “Yeah, well…” He sent Fisher one of his shy smiles.

It caused Fisher to laugh outright. “Jonesy made an offhand comment one day…” he started. “Don’t want details,” he told Lee seriously, before a grin came back, “but something about hating turtles.” Lee couldn’t stop the snort that came out. “I gathered at the time that it had something to do with you.”

Lee didn’t even try to stop the burst of laughter that came out but did control it fairly quickly. “One, I could tell you but you’d never believe it! And two, it ended with a good agent gone bad.” Fisher frowned and Lee nodded. “But yeah,” and a bit of the grin came back. “Admiral Jones has good reason to distrust turtles.” *** A soft snicker once more escaped.

“Another time for someplace quiet and an abundance of hard liquor?” Fisher asked.

“When we’re both retired, and Admiral Jones can’t find us!”

“That good?” A sparkle hit Fisher’s face.

“And I’d appreciate you never mentioning it anywhere it can get back to either Admirals Jones or Nelson,” Lee told him honestly.

“Understood,” Fisher nodded. He gestured toward the kitchen. “Hungry? There’s soup and bread.” He grinned at Lee’s instant frown.

But Lee did end up nodding. “Probably should eat,” and he followed Fisher into the kitchen.

* * * *

Chip stopped himself from flinching at the look Nelson had on his face as he came down the spiral stairs and braced himself, his ‘XO on Duty’ expression firmly in place. “Sir?” he asked respectfully as Nelson all but stomped up to the chart table.

That one word seemed to sink in, and Nelson’s expression softened as he stopped next to the younger man. “Nothing new,” came out under control. He knew that Chip knew he’d just gotten off the call he’d placed to Admiral Jones’ office.

“They still haven’t found Lee?” Chip asked softly, not wanting to alert the rest of the crew that their Skipper was somewhat missing.

Nelson shrugged. “Robert wasn’t in the office. His aide had been authorized to tell me, if I called,” and the fierce look made a brief return before Nelson once more corralled it, “that they haven’t been able to reach Lee’s contact; communications are still sporadic. He did say, however, that in this case no news is probably good; that bad news was more likely to be reported.” He shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure how that could be, but I guess we take what comfort we can from that.” A quick grin crossed his face. “And we are both fully aware of Lee’s luck when it comes to these kinds of things.”

“Dumb luck,” Chip mumbled not quite to himself. “With an emphasis on ‘dumb’.”

Nelson was stopped from laughing outright at Chip’s opinion of Lee’s continuing to accept ONI assignments by Lt. Chris James’ return from whatever he’d been up to. As James came to stand on Chip’s other side, Nelson gave him a quick nod and again looked at Chip. “It would appear, Mr. Morton, that you’re now free to get some lunch,” he said with a small grin, totally back under control from his snit at not being able to yell directly at Admiral Jones.

“Yes, sir,” Chip acknowledged the all-but-order. Officially giving the Conn to James, his usual Second during Seaview’s day, he followed his boss out the aft hatch toward the Officers’ Wardroom.

* * * *

Lee’s choices for supper, which he and Fisher ate a bit early at the local diner so they would have more time at the hotel bar, was Turla, a sort of thick meat and vegetable stew, and Borek, pastries filled with meat, caramelized onions, and bell peppers. “Gotta hang around you more often,” was Fisher’s comment after his first few bites. Lee merely grinned and tucked into his own portions. Chatter was light, and only about things totally unrelated to work. Lee gave Fisher a few ideas for foods that he’d enjoyed in other parts of the world and Fisher happily jotted them down in a small notebook he carried. He caught Lee giving the spiral bound notepad a look and grinned. “Strictly for important things, like remembering my nieces’ birthdays.” Lee nodded and went back to the discussion.

They did kibitz a bit about whether or not to drive to the hotel. Lee would have preferred to walk, now that his head wasn’t pounding so badly. But he agreed with the other agent, who would rather have the car parked somewhere close by just in case they were in need of immediate transportation. They also decided to go a bit earlier than Fisher had been, so that neither Chicarelli or Antonov and his pals would have reason to believe that they were followed there. It meant taking a big gamble about where to sit. But Fisher noted that the Antonov group usually tried to sit in one general area, against the wall where they could keep watch on the rest of the room. Lee and Fisher both acknowledged that it’s the tactic they both used – for exactly the same reason. So they chose tonight to sit more to the middle, with Fisher’s back to the target tables so that Lee would be facing them. Lee wasn’t happy about having his back to the majority of the room but trusted Fisher to have that covered. They were both armed, but all weapons were carefully concealed.

They almost got lucky. Antonov and three other men came in as Lee and Fisher were just being served their second drinks. They chose a table off to Lee’s right, and therefore harder for Lee to casually look in that direction as he ‘visited’ with Fisher. But then Chicarelli came in and sat with his back to Antonov, basically facing Lee with only a so far empty table between. Both agents studiously avoided looking in that direction, for all practical purposes discussing what they wanted to visit in and among the Greek Islands. As there started to be low voices from that direction Fisher took over the majority of the conversation, speaking so quietly that he was basically mouthing the words, letting Lee eavesdrop as much as possible.

And for the most part it worked. Lee couldn’t hear everything that was said; there was too much noise from the rest of the room. But he did have to be extremely careful with his facial expressions as Antonov started making demands and Chicarelli wasn’t happy with what sounded like the asking prices having been raised. Off and on Lee would send Fisher a grin and mouth a reply, a couple times giving a hand gesture or two, and Fisher would do the same, both seemingly oblivious to the more and more heated conversation two tables away.

Both agents had been nursing their second drinks, and Fisher had just ordered another round when a disgusted Chicarelli slammed money down on his table and stormed out. Since pretty much everyone within half a dozen tables glanced his way, both Fisher and Lee did as well and caught a particularly pleased look on Antonov’s face. He and his cohorts exchanged several comments, finished their drinks, and also left. Fisher pointed an eyebrow at Lee.

“We sit tight,” Lee said softly, and smiled at the waitress as she brought their drinks. Once she’d left, Lee continued. “There’s a meet, but closer to 0200 hours.”

“Did you catch what was being exchanged?” Fisher asked.

Lee frowned. “You would no doubt have caught it if it weren’t for their strong accents. Cyclonite and Semtex,” he named two extremely powerful explosives.

“Terrific.”

“Got that right,” Lee agreed and took a healthy swallow of his drink.

“The meeting spot?”

“I’ll need a map.” Fisher nodded. They both sat for a few more minutes, then ambled out and back to the car. Once they were back at the house, Fisher brought out a map of the immediate area and Lee searched until he found what he was looking for. Putting a finger at the spot, he caught Fisher’s slight flinch and sent him a rather pointed eyebrow.

Fisher knew that Lee had instantly caught the reaction, and came up with the best answer he could think of. “Not the greatest part of town,” he tried to get out naturally. It was, in fact, exactly where the woman wanted to keep Lee away from!

“Dangerous?”

“Depends on your definition,” Fisher muttered not quite under his breath, and sent Lee a slightly sheepish look. “They never make it easy, do they?”

Lee knew that Fisher was hiding ‘something’ but chose not to push. He trusted the other agent as he trusted few people, especially in his alternate profession as an ONI agent. The two had spent enough time around each other that Lee was comfortable that, if Fisher was choosing to keep some intel to himself there was a very good reason. “Difficulties?” He did need to know what could affect him personally.

Fisher pondered that, and Lee didn’t push. He could try to leave Lee at the house but one, knowing Lee, that wouldn’t go over well at all. And two, if whatever conversations went on at the meet were still in Russian, he needed Lee to translate. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, he let out a heavy sigh. “Yes,” he admitted. “And unfortunately, I have very little control over 90% of them.”

Lee shrugged. “Sounds like business as usual.”

Fisher snorted. “Oh, yeah,” he agreed. “I’d prefer to case the area but we don’t have the time.” Lee nodded. “Guess we head that direction and do the best we can to keep our heads down.”

“Works for me.” They both headed to their respective bedrooms to change clothes.

By 0045 they were tucked into the best hiding spot they could find closest to what Lee had identified as the designated meeting spot, a warehouse behind a business of some sort, at the corner of two streets. On the drive over Lee had asked for Fisher’s preferred outcome. The other agent shrugged. “I can’t have Chicarelli arrested; he hasn’t done anything provably wrong.” Lee nodded. “I’d love to take out Antonov as well. Same restrictions. What I’d like to do…” he sent Lee a frown, “and what I can do…”

“Yeah,” Lee agreed to the unvoiced limitations on their actions.

“The best outcome would be documenting the exchange, follow the explosives, and catch Chicarelli in the act of trying to use them.”

“Understood,” Lee told him. “That’s why the camera in your pocket.” He sent Fisher a smug grin; Fisher hadn’t mentioned it.

“Smart aleck,” Fisher muttered, but sent Lee a quick nod and a grin. “I’ve also got a small tracking device to plant on the explosives if we get close enough. But I’m not holding my breath that we get that lucky.”

“That would be way too easy,” Lee agreed.

Other than the business, which seemed to be some sort of market, the area was primarily residential. The warehouse didn’t appear to have any windows, at least that they could see from their location in the alley across the street, only solid walls. Lee was the first to spot a potential problem. This hour of the night nearly every house and building was dark except for one – the house straight across the street from the market. At precisely 0130 the couple of lights still on went out, but the front door opened and a man walked out. With everything dark it was hard to tell, but Lee was fairly sure that it was the older man Lee had been walking near when he went to the harbor. A particularly vulgar phrase slipped out of Fisher’s mouth when Lee pointed that out, and Lee shot him a glare.

“Keep your head down,” came Fisher’s order. Lee stiffened but nodded, and they both watched the man take from his pocket what must have been a key, or keys, and unlock the door of the market and go inside. No lights came on there, however, until a small one in the very back of the building.

“Odd time to be doing bookkeeping,” Lee whispered offhandedly. Fisher grumbled something unintelligible and Lee was wise enough not to have him repeat it. But he knew – and knew that Fisher knew that he knew – something else was going on. Lee wouldn’t ask unless it affected what he was here to do. The fact that Fisher wasn’t sharing spoke volumes, but as curious as Lee was he’d keep silent. For now.

* * * *

If Fisher was having silent tantrums, they were nothing compared to what thoughts were going through the woman’s mind when she realized that she had company. So far she was pretty sure that neither Fisher nor Crane had spotted her. But she was still going to kill Fisher for allowing Crane anywhere near the market!

On the other hand, she realized that this could be an extremely advantageous time to get into the old man’s house. While she was fairly sure that what she wanted was in the back of the market, this might be her one opportunity to be certain. That thought calming her down slightly, she altered her night’s endeavors.

* * * *

Lee and Fisher didn’t have much time to ponder their individual options for dealing with both their individual and shared dilemmas. Only a few minutes after the lights came on in the back of the market, a small delivery truck pulled into the alley between there and the warehouse. Nothing changed as to lights in the market, and no one seemed to come out from there, but two men exited the cab of the truck and opened the back, where three more jumped down. The back door appeared to be locked, and four of the men entered the warehouse, leaving the fifth leaning casually against the door they’d disappeared through. The brief time the warehouse door was open, it showed only minimal light from within.

“Antonov and his crew,” Lee voiced the obvious.

“That truck might not be all that big,” Fisher observed, “but with what Chicarelli wants, it wouldn’t have to be to carry enough firepower for a dozen explosions.”

“Yeah,” Lee growled angrily back. “I’d love to sneak around, come down the alley from the other end, and take out that guard. At least we’d know for sure what’s in the truck.”

Fisher pondered that. “And plant the tracker. That would be a plus. Although, when they discover that the guard has disappeared…” He shrugged.

“There is that,” Lee agreed. “It’s only another fifteen minutes or so until Chicarelli is due. The guard looks about my size. If I go take him out and change places, maybe I can also then be close enough to hear what goes on.”

Every ounce of Fisher’s logic told him not to let Crane out of his sight. And yet, it was an extremely likeable plan. He took a deep breath, sent a quick look skyward, and handed Lee the small tracking device. “I’ll keep the camera. If a flash happened to go off at the wrong moment…” He returned Lee’s quick nod and Lee melted into the darkness. What am I doing? Fisher chastised himself silently. But he had an assignment to complete. He was well aware of Crane’s abilities, and this plan made perfect sense. He shrugged again and hunkered down further into the shadows, awaiting developments.

Lee wasted little time scooting through the neighborhood to get to the other end of the alley. There was one moment of panic when he set off a dog in someone’s back yard, but he scurried faster and was several houses away before the owner would have had the time to awaken and go check. Thankfully, by that time the dog quieted and Lee made it to the other end of the alley without further incident.

From there he was hit with another obstacle; there wasn’t anything between him and the guard to mask his advances. Swell, he growled silently. I was expecting at least a trash bin or two. Okay, so we do this the hard way. Staying small and as close to the same wall of the warehouse that the guard was leaning against, Lee started a careful, silent, walk forward. Some days you get lucky, he told himself almost to his target, who had so far remained facing the end of the alley they’d driven in. And some days you have a great partner, Lee grinned. As he got within about six feet of the guard Fisher, who could no doubt see Lee, did ‘something’ to make a small noise, further turning the guard toward the street. Lee made short work of the man, then wasn’t quite sure what to do with him, with no hiding places. After relieving him of his jacket, thankfully big enough that Lee could wear it over his own light one, and the cap that the man had thankfully been wearing, he quickly trussed up the now unconscious man, moved him around to the front of the truck, and laid him as close to the far front tire as he could. That would have to do for now. If Chicarelli also drove into the alley his headlights might make the man visible. All Lee could do was hope for the best and take up the guard’s previous position, his head down so that the bill of the cap covered as much of his face as possible.

Listening at the door proved useless; Lee could hear absolutely nothing coming from inside. Knowing that Fisher could see him he shrugged, and presently saw the other agent head his direction. Lee tossed him the small tracking unit and Fisher tried to open the back door of the truck but it was locked tight. Then Fisher walked to the other side away from Lee and he heard soft scratches, as if Fisher were picking a lock. Must be a loading door on that side of the truck, Lee guessed. He hadn’t paid that much attention when he’d dragged the guard around. That was brilliant, Crane, he chastised himself. Fisher was quick; very little time passed before Lee saw Fisher pick up the guard and move him to the other end of the alley, around the corner and out of sight. Then he took a position in the shadows at that end. Lee sent him a nod and slouched against the wall in as close an approximation of what he’d seen the guard do as he could.

And none too soon; Lee no more than found a comfortable way to stand that would show relaxed but allow him instant movement than a door opened on the other side of the truck, at the back of the market, and the old man appeared. He nodded to Lee but said nothing, saving Lee from having to respond, and entered the warehouse as if he belonged. Which he no doubt does, Lee told himself and went on even further alert, if that was possible, than he already was.

With no real way to be sure, Lee was still thinking that the proposed meeting time of 0200 hours had come and gone. Still no sign of Chicarelli, and no sounds coming from the warehouse, Lee glanced toward where Fisher had disappeared and gave a shrug. What now? was the obvious message. Barely a shadow moved, but Fisher appeared once more at the front of the truck.

“Not sure,” the other agent whispered as Lee left the wall and joined him. While he did want to monitor whatever was going on, he also knew that he should be getting Crane as far away from whatever the woman was up to in this area as possible. He blew out a large breath. “I’d really like to stick around a bit longer, but getting the tracker planted was a huge bonus. There’s enough explosives in that truck to take out several ships if placed in the right – or wrong – places!”

“Ouch,” Lee muttered.

Fisher frowned. “Understatement of the century,” and he glared at Lee.

“Safer than what I wanted to say,” Lee told him with an ever so slight grin, and Fisher nodded back.

The bit of silly was interrupted by a brief change in the light still showing in the back of the market, as if someone had walked in front of the source. “What the…” Slipped out before Lee could stop it. What came out of Fisher’s mouth wasn’t even close to polite, and Lee sent him a firm look.

“There’s another operative in the area,” Fisher reluctantly admitted. “Nothing to do with this,” and he sent a quick wave at the truck. “At least, we didn’t think so. But when the old man went so knowingly into the warehouse…” He shrugged.

“Anyone I know?” Lee asked. “And can they be trusted?”

“Who the hell knows,” came out so low that Lee wasn’t sure he was meant to hear it. Nor did Fisher indicate which of Lee’s questions he was answering, assuming that he was actually answering either.

But anything Lee might have tried to say got stopped by a car on the street driving very slowly by without any headlights. “Chicarelli,” he guessed. He returned to his post as ‘guard’ and Fisher once more melted away. Lee couldn’t see the light in the back of the market; from where he was, the truck was in the way. He contemplated moving slightly but decided against it. The guard would no doubt know the players and not be surprised. Lee needed to act accordingly, and forced himself to relax once more against the wall of the warehouse next to the door.

It wasn’t a terribly long wait. A vehicle – Lee assumed that it was the same car because there was no sign of headlights – parked just out of sight on the street side of the warehouse. Lee heard a door open and close quietly, and a man appeared carrying a small duffle bag. By build it was Chicarelli, although in the dim light of a half moon it was hard to tell. Whoever it was hesitated when he entered the alley, apparently uncertain if he should go to the light in the market or the door being guarded in the warehouse. Lee straightened up but still kept his head tilted down to cover as much of his face as possible and the man moved closer. Now identified as Chicarelli, Lee nodded toward the door he was ‘guarding’ and Chicarelli entered without knocking. As the man would have pushed the door shut behind him Lee braced it ever so slightly, leaving it unlatched with a tiny crack he was hoping no one inside happened to notice, and listened intently.

“You’re late,” was growled in heavily accented English. Lee assumed that it was Antonov.

“It wasn’t easy getting the extra funds. If you’d told me earlier…”

“I had to pay more,” Antonov cut him off with a growl, but his next sentence came out with what Lee guessed was a smile, from the intonation. “As a businessman I must pass on my overages to the clients.” There was a mumbled ‘something’ before Antonov continued. “But I was able to also add a small, extra amount to both items you requested. I think that you won’t have a complaint once I show you.”

“Where?” Chicarelli demanded.

“The money?”

Lee heard what he assumed was the duffle bag being tossed on a table. “It’s all there,” was growled. It was easy now for Lee to recognize Chicarelli’s voice – in English there was very little accent.

The silence lasted several minutes before a different voice said, “The count is correct,” in Russian. The voice had an ‘old’ flavor to it, and Lee wondered if it was the older gentleman from the market.

“Back your car into the alley close to the truck. Bela and Fritz will help you load. They know which part of the shipment is yours.”

Damn, Lee muttered silently. What if Fisher planted the tracker in the wrong part of the load. He instantly abandoned his post and scurried into the darkness to update Fisher.

* * * *

As expected, the woman didn’t find what she was after in the old man’s house. That was one reason she’d never searched it while the man took his daily walks, not to mention that she could more easily have been seen by neighbors. And during the days there were always people in the market, making it impossible to check there. She only gave a quick cursory search before heading to the market, thinking that she would hide out in the dark until the old man went back to the house. She was totally torqued to discover him just headed out the back door as she entered a small door on the side. The fact that he left lights on meant that he could come back at any time, totally messing up her plans. Not to mention the other two men she knew were in the vicinity. While she didn’t want to screw up Fisher’s assignment if she could help it, he and Crane better not get in her way!

Working quickly, she attacked the old man’s computer with a practiced hand, grateful that he’d left it turned on; another sign that he would soon return and she rapidly scanned through the files and folders. She knew basically what she needed to download to the small but powerful thumb drive she plugged in, but she’d also grab anything else that looked even remotely interesting. The man was, quote unquote, retired KGB. She didn’t believe a word of that propaganda; no telling what intel he was hoarding as possible leverage for his ‘retirement’. She realized that what she should have done was bring an external hard drive and transfer everything but she hadn’t thought far enough ahead for that, and now mentally kicked herself where it would do the most good.

Sounds of a vehicle of some sort – probably a car – came softly to her ears and she scrambled even faster to get what she’d come for. The old man was suspected of being the transfer point of funds between any number of terrorist groups, each side protecting him from the others. It was hoped that the flow could be circumvented, or stopped all together. She and Fisher had tossed around a few ideas after they’d accidentally discovered that their assignments ended up taking them to the same small, out of the way, town. Neither really believed that the two missions were totally connected but anything was possible. She and Fisher had agreed to keep to their own agendas.

And then Crane had to show up, she grumbled silently, and made her fingers work even faster.

* * * *

Fisher nearly exploded when Lee explained why he’d abandoned his post. “That’s just…” He couldn’t seem to find the right word to cover his disgust.

“Agreed,” Lee nonetheless muttered back.

“Any ideas?” Fisher asked.

“You get the car and follow Chicarelli when he leaves?” Lee suggested.

“What about you?” Fisher really didn’t want to leave Lee alone; unsupervised, as it were. There was absolutely no telling what the man would decide to do.

“I shouldn’t have a problem getting back to the house. It’s what, about three miles? An easy jog, especially if I hang out somewhere until morning when I won’t be quite so out of place.” He sent Fisher an easy grin.

Fisher forced himself to return the expression but inside he was screaming bloody murder. “Not sure that I want to leave you alone when they discover the guard missing,” he settled on.

Lee shrugged. “As long as they don’t see me, they don’t have anything to shoot at.” Fisher could only shake his head.

“Then you work your way back to where we were originally. There’s more cover there.” Lee nodded. “I’ll wait until I get a flash you’re there, then I’ll take off.” Both men carried small pen lights. Lee sent him another nod, stripped off the guard’s jacket and cap, and took off. It took an extra minute because he needed to bypass the house with the dog. When he got to where he needed to be, two men were already helping Chicarelli take boxes from the truck and store them in the car’s trunk, using what little light came from the trunk light and a bit from the open door into the warehouse. Two more men were looking around with flashlights, probably trying to find the missing guard. Lee totally understood why they weren’t calling out – too many houses around and the last thing they wanted, Lee was sure, was an audience. With them in the way Lee didn’t dare signal Fisher so he simply crouched down in the shadows and hoped that Fisher realized why and took off to get his car.

All the activity of shifting boxes was going smoothly so Lee was surprised when there were suddenly raised voices. Still not loud because of the need for privacy, obviously, but loud enough that some words traveled across the street to Lee. Chicarelli wasn’t happy when the flow of boxes into his car trunk stopped, apparently demanded more, and Antonov was just giving him an angry wave away with his hand when they were interrupted by the two men who had wandered down the alley looking for their comrade. They came charging back, the guard practically being dragged between them still shaking an apparently aching head. That conversation Lee could hear no part of but Chicarelli was still making demands. Three pistols suddenly pointed at his face put a stop to his part of the conversation for several seconds. Then Lee saw his mouth moving again, but he was no longer speaking loudly or waving his arms around in a threatening manner. Antonov was mostly ignoring him, talking to the still groggy guard and looking around. Lee hunkered even further into the shadows.

Lee once more noticed, and apparently was the only one who did, a quick change in the light coming from the back room of the market. A wry grin hit Lee’s face, thinking about Fisher’s reaction and his reluctance to answer Lee’s questions about the other agent. Something more to discuss with Fisher in a dark bar after several long drinks, and he grinned softly.

Whatever discussion was going on across the street, Antonov apparently decided to take it back inside the warehouse. But this time he left two guards outside!

* * * *

The woman panicked slightly when she heard activity start up in the alley. There was more on the old man’s computer than she had expected to find. She spared a few seconds while one of the downloads was running for a guarded look out the window and swore silently when she realized what was going on. The whole flippin’ world, and we have to end up in the same small town in Turkey at the exact same time, she growled silently and returned to the computer. She risked another glance when the voices stopped, and saw most of the men head back into the warehouse. One guard remained, standing between the two vehicles. She didn’t spot the second, standing on the other side of the truck near the warehouse door. She did give half a thought to where Fisher and Crane might be.

A half-smoked cigarette in an ashtray by the computer, and a book of matches next to it, sent a brief flash through her brain about perhaps ending both her’s and Fisher’s assignments – permanently. Common sense told her that probably wasn’t a really good idea; there were too many houses close by that could also be affected. She was already on Crane’s list for rather spectacularly, if accidentally, blowing up explosives. She’d just as soon avoid a replay of that lecture.

Finally, she muttered as the downloads were finished. She grabbed the flash drive, put the computer screen back to where it had been, and started to leave. But almost as an afterthought she grabbed the cigarette and matches before hurrying back through the market to the small side door. She was just peeking out to make sure no one was around when she heard what almost sounded like a muffled gun shot.

* * * *

Lee startled sharply, unsure for a moment exactly what he’d heard. It could have been a car backfiring but at this hour there was basically no traffic through the residential area he was in. It hadn’t sounded like it came from the inside of the warehouse although Lee was willing to admit that as a possibility; the walls were obviously thick enough, and the door tight-fitting enough, that he’d been unable to hear anything inside earlier even with his ear pressed against the door. The two men left outside obviously thought that that’s where the sound came from as they both charged inside. Lee considered trying to get closer but there really wasn’t anywhere nearer than where he was, across the street, that offered enough cover.

It was just as well that he hadn’t moved, as almost immediately two men – Lee wasn’t sure if it was the same two, they were all dressed similarly – came back out and started picking up the boxes they’d put in the car trunk and returning them to the back of the truck. “Humm,” Lee said softly, “scratch one bomber. Fisher and the Navy will be happy.” Thoughts of Fisher made Lee wish that he had some way to reach the other agent to let him know about this latest development. “Well, we just play this one out however it goes,” he told himself. “SOP,” he added philosophically with a shrug, and continued his observations of the activity across the street.

What was apparently the last box out of the car trunk coincided with something heavy, wrapped in a blanket or something along that line, being carried out of the warehouse and dumped unceremoniously into the trunk and the lid closed. There was just enough light from the still open door that Lee could now see faintly into the truck and he nearly gasped; Fisher hadn’t been exaggerating the volume of contents, and a hard shudder hit him as he realized how much damage that amount of explosives could cause.

‘Something’ momentarily caught his eye at the other end of the alley and Lee started to wonder if Fisher had actually left. But at the same time, down the street, a car with no headlights eased quietly against the curb. It was too far away for Lee to identify Fisher’s car, but that had Lee wondering if the movement at the end of the alley could be the other agent – whoever that was. Can this mission get any screwier? He asked himself, and then shuddered again. Be careful, idiot, what you wish for!

* * * *

Once she left the market, the woman slithered down the building toward the other end of the alley from where the two vehicles were still parked. She noticed some sort of activity going on but the truck was big enough that it hid most of the movements from her. She did see the old man start toward his own office, but turn and head back behind the truck just as the car, which had backed into the alley, pulled out and the door to the warehouse, which had been open, closed. She waited but, when there was no more movement from that end of the alley, she sidled cautiously forward. Well aware that, if the truck was started and the headlights came on she’d be totally exposed, her curiosity got the better of her. She’d noticed the small side door on the truck. Maybe she could grab something to take out the old man’s office. Now that she had the intel she’d come for, this would maybe put him out of business permanently. That thought giving her added confidence, she carefully hurried forward.

* * * *

Lee, too, saw the old man start toward the other building, but something stopped him and he turned back. As he entered the warehouse two men came out. One locked the back of the truck and returned inside. The other, after the two exchanged a few words, got into the car and drove away, back the way the car had initially come and toward where Fisher – if it was Fisher – had parked. Lee figured that it must be, because that person let the car get almost a block away before it pulled out, again with no headlights. Lee didn’t envy Fisher; tailing someone at night, with basically no other traffic, was extremely difficult!

Once more the warehouse door closed so there was little Lee could see in what available light remained, even with eyes that had now once more fully adjusted to the darkness. He was actually happy that all the explosives were back in the same place because that meant the tracking device Fisher had planted would lead them to wherever Antonov was keeping his supplies, and hopefully maybe even to him getting caught with them. Although, in this part of the world, Lee wasn’t sure how serious an offence that would be.

He also wasn’t sure what was keeping him in hiding. He’d been sent in to help Fisher only with his language problems. By all appearances Chicarelli was no longer an issue so Lee’s assignment, by rights, was over. And with nary a scratch. He buried a chuckle. Chip won’t have a reason to gripe. He had absolutely no intentions of admitting to the knock on the head, most of the symptoms of that having disappeared. With a last look across the street to the other alley, he turned back the way he and Fisher had approached and started the easy walk back to the house, totally missing the small movement from further down in front of the truck.

* * * *

The woman also missed his movement, there being more cover in that alleyway. She was totally surprised to find the small loading door on the truck unlocked, and smiled softly. Reaching in and grabbing the first box she touched, she discovered a dozen sticks of dynamite. Not exactly what she was expecting but it would do nicely, and she scooted around to the street side of the market where a couple of small bushes gave her enough cover to plant her little ‘surprise’. Setting out several sticks of the explosive from the box, she took the match book and extracted one match. Next, she laid the cigarette inside and closed the cover, leaving all but a tiny bit of the cigarette on the outside. Once she lit the cigarette with the one match, she’d have several minutes to make her getaway before the cigarette burned down to the rest of the matches. When they ignited they’d set off the dynamite and scratch one office, computer and all. She’d barely lit her little timing device when the warehouse door opened, and she scrambled as fast as she could in the opposite direction. She didn’t see one of the men jump into the cab of the truck and back it out of the alley, stopping next to her small explosion and idling as the old man headed for his office and everyone else loaded into the truck.

* * * *

Lee had absolutely no idea what happened. One minute he was walking easily along, but turned back when there was an apparent explosion of some sort from the direction of the alley. Before he could even hazard a guess as to what had caused it he was literally thrown on his back by the concussion force of what he figured must have been the entire truckload of explosives he’d seen earlier exploding. Dazed, with debris falling everywhere, he couldn’t even make himself move. He’d fallen into bushes in someone’s yard, which happily saved him from not only the debris but being seen as people started coming out of their houses and staring in the direction of the fireball now lighting up the night sky. He couldn’t hear a thing, his ears ringing too loudly from the explosion, but he did have brains enough to stay where he was, well hidden, until he could make a little sense of the situation and get his bearings. With so many people now awake, and sirens starting to blare, it didn’t take him long to figure out a way to crawl out of the bushes without being seen and blend in with the crowd. He could only speculate what damage and loss of life the blast had caused, and silently commiserated with the people around him. Some of them gave him a strong look, realizing that they didn’t recognize him as a neighbor. But a word here and there of sincere commiseration eased enough minds that he could eventually move away without anyone challenging him.

* * * *

The woman ended up in much the same situation although she’d been seen in the neighborhood enough, having been casing the market and ending up staying in a small hostel both before having encountered Fisher and after Crane had shown up, that having locals find her sprawled on the ground didn’t put her in as disastrous a position as it could have. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how her little explosion could have set off what was in the truck; that was the only conclusion that she could make. Unless, she thought, there were explosives in the old man’s office. But she couldn’t remember seeing anything suspicious, and especially against the inside of the wall that she’d planted the dynamite next to. What the people around her mistook for their own expressions of surprise and worry for all the people possibly affected by the blast, she was absolutely miserable that she could have miscalculated that badly. Crane would have a conniption fit if he ever found out that she was behind it. She’d make a point of checking the next day to see if she could quietly point as much aid as was needed to help restore what of the neighborhood was damaged. Minus a few munitions-runners, she nodded to herself.

* * * *

“What the hell happened?” Fisher demanded when Lee knocked on the house door nearly three hours later. While not injured, per se, Lee had walked the distance more slowly than usual, his hearing still enough affected that he had to constantly watch around him instead of merely listening for movement.

Lee shrugged. “I’m not sure,” Lee admitted, and dropped heavily into the closest chair.

Fisher finally seemed to realize that Lee was looking decidedly mussed and ruffled. “Are you hurt?” came out quite a bit softer.

Lee slowly shook his head. Fisher momentarily disappeared, and came back with a large mug of coffee. Once half of it was down, Lee continued. “Just glad that it wasn’t you at the other end of the alley,” and the other half went down.

Fisher gave him a strange look and went to refill the mug, bringing one for himself this time and sitting down across from Lee. “Start from where I left,” he ordered and Lee nodded, now taking small sips of the strong brew.

“I’d barely gotten back to our original hidey hole when Chicarelli and two guys came out of the warehouse. They apparently missed the guard so, while the three started taking boxes out of the truck and putting them in Chicarelli’s car trunk, two more guys started searching down the alley. But ‘something’ went wrong. Chicarelli started arguing with the two guys. I’m not totally sure, but I got the impression that he thought that he should be getting more than they were giving him. Antonov came out and got involved. About that time they found the guard and Antonov was questioning him, but Chicarelli was still fussing.” He paused and Fisher waited patiently. “Anyway, Antonov apparently decided to take the discussion inside and eventually everyone went back into the warehouse.” Another pause, a couple sips of coffee, and he continued. “I wondered for just a bit if you’d actually left because I thought that I saw movement of some sort at the other end of the alley. It was just a quick blip,” he added quickly as Fisher frowned. Lee sent him a shy look. “Could easily have been an animal of some kind,” he admitted. Fisher mumbled something too low to decipher, and from his expression Lee wasn’t about to ask him to repeat it. “But then I saw who I figured was you pull a car to the curb down the street about the same time things started getting weird.” Again Fisher raised an eyebrow, and Lee nodded. “There was what sounded like a gun shot from inside the warehouse.”

“Oops.”

“Yeah. Suddenly the two guys were back, taking everything out of the car trunk and putting them back in the truck.” Both of Fisher’s eyebrows went up. “Yeah,” Lee repeated. “Once the trunk was empty…well, what I assumed was empty, something long, heavy, and wrapped up was carried out and dropped into the trunk, and one guy got in and drove off.”

“It wasn’t Antonov,” Fisher inserted. “When the first explosion happened, the guy in the car stopped so fast that I nearly ran him over.” Lee’s turn for a soft ‘oops’. “When the big one happened, he abandoned the car and took off running in the opposite direction.”

“Then I suspect that the local police will eventually find Chicarelli’s body in the trunk.”

“Back in the alley?” Fisher nudged.

“Actually,” Lee admitted, “I’m not sure. I wished that I had a way to communicate with you, explain what I’d seen. Antonov and his men locked up the truck and went back into the warehouse. I figured that there was no use hanging around any longer and started walking away. I only got a bit over a block when there was the small explosion. I turned back, and almost immediately got knocked on my ashcan by the concussion from the second one.” He indicated his disheveled appearance. “Ended up in some shrubbery. My hearing is still a little suspect.” He shrugged. “But pretty much back to normal.”

“Why don’t you clean up and crash,” Fisher told him. “I’ll see if I can’t get you safely back to your sardine can tonight.” They both grinned. “In the meantime I’ll see what the locals are saying about what happened.”

“I think we can assume that Antonov is also out of business,” Lee told him, stood, and headed for the bathroom.

“Wish I didn’t believe that someone else will immediately fill the void,” Fisher sent at his back.

“We do what we can.” Lee shrugged, but didn’t stop walking. He neither saw nor heard Fisher’s decidedly angry response, wondering if he’d be able to find the one person he really wanted to get answers from.

* * * *

“What the hell happened?” Fisher demanded for the second time that day. He’d left the house as soon as he was sure Lee was settled down for at least a few hours and went first to the small restaurant, where he had a good chance of picking up enough local gossip to at least get an idea of the damage the blasts had caused. He actually got lucky; one of the owner’s sons, it turned out, worked at the local hospital, and the woman was happily telling everyone what a wonderful, brave, man he was. Sorting through her list of his courageous acts he learned that, apparently, the market and warehouse had largely saved the houses on their other sides. Windows blown out and minor roof damage seemed to be the worst of it. On the side he and Lee had originally hidden it was a different story. Over a dozen houses were either completely destroyed, or so severely damaged that they would have to be torn down and rebuilt. Houses along the street where the old man who ran the market lived were also partially saved but at this point, so soon after the blast, people weren’t yet sure what could be repaired and what couldn’t. Neighbors were upset because they couldn’t find the old man; apparently he was something akin to everyone’s grandfather, to be greatly missed if he had indeed parished. So far there were five confirmed dead and perhaps two dozen injured, with several besides the old man still missing. Fisher was amazed that the number wasn’t worse. Officials weren’t yet able to get into either the market or the warehouse. There wasn’t enough left of the truck to identify, although the woman said that her son reported hearing that the old man sometimes handled deliveries late at night. Fisher was very careful not to show interest in that comment.

Once he was done eating the quick breakfast he’d ordered, he went back for his car and did a bit of driving around. As expected, he couldn’t get near the blast area but that wasn’t his goal. He drove past the abandoned car with, he and Lee speculated, Chicarelli’s body in the trunk. It was still where it had been left. He thought that it could easily be several days before anyone noticed it, with all the other excitement. Although, where it had been left, people walking by might eventually notice the smell as the body got ‘ripe’.

But Fisher was more interested in finding the woman. He knew of the hostel where she’d been staying but was told, when he asked, that she’d left that morning. On a hunch he headed for the train station and found her waiting patiently, her nose stuck in a book, for the next train. That wasn’t for several hours yet so the station was basically empty and he took a seat next to her. Although ‘her’ was only what he saw; to anyone else she could easily have been a teenage boy, long hair tucked under an oversized ball cap, the rest of her clothes oversized as well with a well-stuffed backpack at her feet. While his question was heart-felt and serious he kept his voice low and his expression mild, just in case there was anyone around that he couldn’t see.

He saw her grimace. “I honestly don’t know,” she admitted. “The truck was in the alley, the side door was unlocked…” Fisher’s turn to grimace as he remembered that he hadn’t relocked it. “I reached in and the first thing I found was a small box of dynamite sticks. I brought them to the street side, used three to take out the office wall, and set the others closer to the alley in some bushes where I didn’t think that they’d ignite. I must have accidentally hit a gas main?” That was a definite question and she looked at Fisher.

He finally shrugged. “Haven’t wanted to go near the place, and the bit of gossip I have been able to pick up didn’t give any indication.”

“Chicarelli used part of his purchase to take out Antonov for some reason,” she speculated.

“No. Antonov killed him and kept the explosives and the money.” He sent her a wry smile. “Lot of good either did him; we think that he was still there.”

“No good deed goes unpunished.” She sent him a quirky grin. Fisher resisted the urge to smack her – but only barely! “Crane still doesn’t know I was here?” she asked carefully. While Fisher kept his temper under better control than Crane she wasn’t taking any chances.

A deep breath and Fisher got out, “No.” “But why…?” He didn’t finish the question as she shuddered.

“Crane and I…we sort of have a history with gunrunners and munitions,” she finally admitted. Her turn to take a deep breath. “Things sort of have a habit of blowing up when I’m around him,” came out very softly.^

He sent her a look which she refused to meet. “You made a fine job of it this time,” came out in a growl.

She did look at him as she stated firmly, “This is the first time for civilian casualties.”

“First time for everything,” he quoted back. She puffed up but almost instantly deflated, and they sat in silence for a bit. “You get what you needed?” he finally asked, and she nodded. “I need to make arrangements to get Crane home, then I’m off as well.” She merely nodded, and he left.

* * * *

“Mr. Morton,” Sparks called from the Radio Shack, “incoming coded message for the Admiral.”

Chip glanced at Lt. James, who nodded at the unspoken order that he now had the Conn. Then Chip walked back to the radioman’s domain, accepted the slip of paper he was handed, and went in search of Nelson. Tracked down to his lab, he indicated that Chip accompany him to his cabin and together they made short work of deciphering the message. It was short; merely coordinates and a meeting time.

“Not far from where we dropped him off,” Chip said unnecessarily as they were both familiar with that particular chart after the last few days.

“Apparently they found him,” Nelson told his XO, trying to relieve some of the tension they’d both been under since Admiral Jones’ call. They’d tried hard to keep that knowledge to themselves, although their perceptive crew knew that ‘something’ was going on over and above the unrest that always occurred when their CO was off-boat for ONI.

“Wonder how many pieces they found him in,” Chip snarled, mostly because he knew Admiral Nelson would expect it given Chip’s displeasure with that agency when it came to Lee.

It caused a quick chuckle from his boss – as he’d intended – and Nelson gave his shoulder a soft backhand. They both grinned, and headed back to what they’d been involved in until it was time to retrieve their friend.

* * * *

Before Fisher returned to the house, and after managing what was now a fairly easy transmission since he wasn’t so worried about having it intercepted by the wrong people, he made one more attempt to get further intel on the blast. Pretending to be a foreign reporter he was able to get a few more details, but nothing that added much to what he already knew. Making another stop at the small diner, and with Lee’s list of foods in hand, he bought a selection to keep them both satisfied for lunch and dinner assuming that Crane didn’t sleep through both, as bad as he’d looked that morning.

It was just as well that he brought plenty since Lee was sitting on the couch working on a mug of coffee when he came through the door. Lee’s right hand was down between the cushions, and Fisher returned Lee’s instantly shy grin as he brought out the hand, sans the revolver still hidden there. “I come bearing gifts,” Fisher teased him, and held up the bags.

“Good. I’m starved,” Lee told him, and they both headed for the kitchen.

Between bites, Fisher told Lee what he’d been able to find out about the blast. The woman’s comment about a leaky gas line gave Fisher the excuse he needed to field a couple of Lee’s more pointed questions. They both remembered at least one of the guards smoking so it wasn’t an unrealistic idea. They speculated that that could have been the first, smaller, explosion, and that triggered what was in the truck. Fisher was extremely glad when Crane seemed to accept that explanation, and the subject was dropped after both admitted that they were sorry civilians had been affected.

“Happens,” Fisher admitted. “Even with our best efforts.”

“The other agent?” Lee asked. “Do you know if he survived? Well,” he added, “assuming that was who you thought might be in the back of the market,” he added as Fisher muttered something dark and dangerous into his coffee mug.

“Already headed home,” was, however, all that Fisher would say, and Lee dropped the inquiry. “I’ll drive you to the pick-up point tonight,” Fisher changed the subject. “It’s a bit further out of town from where I picked you up, and then I can continue on and leave as well.” Lee nodded. “I’ll be making a full report to Jonesy,” and Lee had to once more keep from laughing at Fisher’s pet name for the ONI Director. “I see no need for anything from you.”

Lee nodded. He’d been thinking about that as well. “But I’d probably better do an AAR anyway.” He referred to the usual ‘After Action Report’. “Admiral Jones will expect something.”

“Half a paragraph of translation?” Fisher all but stared at him before realizing that Lee had stiffened at the expression, and returned his gaze to his plate.

Lee shrugged. “I’m so used to doing paperwork for Admiral Nelson and NIMR, it sort of comes naturally.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned,” Fisher tried to keep his tone casual, “you were needed for merely the small bit. The rest is on my head. Although,” he added with a quick grin, “your help was greatly appreciated.”

Lee returned it. “Any time. Well,” he added, “just don’t tell my XO.” They both laughed.

* * * *

Lee had been back aboard Seaview for several days when Nelson asked him to accompany him ashore to the island of Mykonos. He’d dressed casually – for him – that morning: khaki’s, of course, but no tie as he was anticipating a peaceful day. When he mentioned needing to go grab one Nelson had brushed off the comment, pointed to the fact that he wasn’t wearing one either, and they boarded the waiting zodiac for the short trip from where Seaview rested on the quiet surface. Lee wasn’t sure why Nelson had requested he join him as Nelson ended up merely having a short meeting with a representative of one of the conservation groups NIMR regularly worked with, and handing over several reports on what he’d been finding during this recent survey. Lee did notice that Nelson kept one sheet of paper, which he carried with him as they headed toward the walkway that would take them to where COB Sharkey was waiting to ferry them back to the sub. Before they got that far, Nelson stepped off the path onto a rocky outcropping and sent a particularly stern gaze at his captain.

Holding the paper in both hands so Lee couldn’t see what was on it, his expression was part firm, part puzzlement. “Robert,” he referenced Admiral Jones, “sent me a copy of your AAR.” He indicated the sheet of paper. “Two paragraphs?”

Lee all but crawled into a hole. He put his hands into his pockets and looked anywhere but at his boss. “It was Fisher’s mission,” he tried to explain. Normally Nelson would never question Lee about his work for ONI. But he was pretty sure that he knew what was behind the query this time, given Nelson’s and Jones’ thoughts that he’d originally gone missing for two days. He’d insisted that Fisher gloss over that as a communications screw-up since he didn’t want to get the other agent in trouble for what he still though was an attack by unknowns. “My only part was as translator. Fisher handled everything else.”

“Uh huh,” Nelson grumbled, tone in total opposition to the words. He waited for Lee to continue but Lee merely looked down, sending Nelson the occasional quick side glance. “Who are you covering for?” came out with almost a smile and Lee finally sent him his shy, through-the-lashes, look.

“Both of us,” he admitted softly.

Nelson finally chuckled and slapped the paper against Lee’s shoulder. “Well, let’s get back to Seaview. I think we’re all ready to head for home.” Lee readily agreed, and they headed down the hill.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

* see “Missing” by R. L. Keller

** see “It’s All Relative” by R. L. Keller

*** see “A Turtle’s Tale” by R. L. Keller

^ I’m sure that most of you have already recognized the woman as my OC, Michelle Ortiz 😊 See my “Mouse” and “Unfinished Business”, and “One-Eyed Jack” by Liz Martin