Frank Beretta and his First Mate, Billy Sawyer, finished giving the Belle a thorough scrubbing to remove salt spray from their run back across open water.
In celebration of a job well done they uncapped a couple of Heinekens and sat with their legs dangling from the dock.
“This is one beautiful day to be alive,” Billy said appreciatively.
“I’ll drink to that.” They both had a lot to celebrate beginning with the moonless night on Bimini when Frank stepped into a fight and saved Billy’s life. Three against one didn’t sit well with him and he never shrank from playing equalizer. Billy had given a good account of himself but he was hurt and he was going to loose until Frank's natural talents tipped the scale in his favor. A twenty year friendship began.
“I have some Cohibas in my cabin. Do you want one?”
“Sure.”
Billy headed toward the boat leaving Frank to the breeze and the sounds and smells of the water. Before he returned Frank’s phone buzzed. Caller ID displayed a Virginia area code and he picked up on the second ring.
“Yes.” Frank never used names with Harry Brooke. In some ways the pervasive post 9 / 11 electronic surveillance had pushed spy craft back fifty years as code words, veiled messages and dead drops crept into regular use.
“Are you open this week?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll check my client’s calendar. Let's stay in touch.” Frank was on notice to look for an encrypted message from the former Senator.
Billy ambled down the dock and handed Frank a Cohiba, already trimmed. They lit their cigars with Frank's old Zippo and contentedly watched the smoke spiraling toward the sky. Frank’s phone vibrated again. Joey was calling to let him know they were on the ground in Shreveport for refueling.
“We should be home in about two and a half hours.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Neither can I, you old stud. You’re going to be sleeping with a movie star tonight.”
“What?”
Joey started laughing and ended the call with, “Seth says we gotta go. I’ll explain later. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Joey’s on her way home?”
“Yeah. She is.” Frank got up from the dock and said, “Stay put, I’ll be right back. I have to check some messages on the boat.”
“OK. I’ll be here.” Billy continued puffing on his cigar and sipping a second cold beer.
Frank boarded Une Belle Femme and went straight to the owner’s cabin where he pulled a laptop from the compact closet. To avoid having wireless transmissions detected he connected his computer by cable to onboard encryption equipment. A sophisticated antenna above the Belle's flying bridge established a link with a top secret satellite and transferred data in micro bursts. In moments Frank logged on and retrieved a message from Harry Brooke.
A CIA field agent is transporting a key member of the Malroff team to a safe house. POTUS not briefed on mission by CIA. Suspicious. Standby. Immediate action will be required. END
Frank shut the laptop down with a grim smile as he thought of his old enemy, Serge Malroff. If he was involved it was sure to be nasty business. He expected the next communication to direct him to end someone's life and he would follow orders as he had for almost forty years. The best warriors always undertake killing with a sense of foreboding.
Back on the dock he opened another beer and sat down to enjoy little Billy's company, but his thoughts turned to Joey. He wondered how much time he would be able to spend with her before duty called again.
“You OK, boss?”
“Sure, Billy. I’m fine. It’s been a long couple of days and I’m anxious for Joey to come home.”
“Nothing else bothering you?”
“Nah. Maybe I’m just getting old and ready to slow down.”
“Sure. That’ll be the day. You slow down?”
“What? You don’t think I’d look good on a porch with a rocker and a blanket? Maybe a heating pad, too?”
“No I don’t." Billy blew a jet of smoke at the fading sun.
“Well, we won’t need to worry about it any time soon.”
“Cheers!” Billy raised his bottle and they took long draughts of beer.