//------------------------------//
// 2:1 
// Story: Troublemaker 
// by totallynotabrony 
//------------------------------//


Part Two

Six weeks later, Nevis cashed in the favor I owed him.  I got a phone call from his aide, Chief Stanton.  I’d talked with Stanton a couple of times before.  He probably wouldn’t have appreciated the title of secretary, but I figured that was pretty much what he did.
“Mr. Canvas, the Admiral would like to have a meeting with you.”
“This is a surprise.  What about?”
“You’ll find out when you get here.  The Admiral would like you to come as soon as possible.”
It was about nine a.m. on a Monday morning, so I didn’t have anything else to do.  I jumped in my car and went up to the base.  It took me a moment to remember where the front gate was.  I realized I didn’t have any credentials to show, but after taking my name, the guard let me though.  
I’d been to Nevis’s office a time or two.  Besides the security boats, we’d done business on a few other things.
In addition to manning the telephone, Chief Stanton was the gatekeeper posted outside Nevis’ office.  He was a big man with a high and tight haircut and a mustache.  His khaki uniform was flawless.
He opened the door for me, and I stepped into the office.  It had blue carpet and wood paneling on the walls.  Some memorabilia from Nevis’s career was scattered around.  I knew he’d been some kind of a pilot.  The pictures seemed to support this.  
Nevis’s desk was huge and made of polished wood.  His personal coffee cup had his old squadron logo and gold leaf around the rim.  Overall, the office was not a bad place for government work.
The Admiral was at his desk.  Another man was there with him.  The man wore a light suit to go along with the summer weather.
“Mr. Canvas, have a seat,” said Nevis.  “This is Carl Hanley of the Central Intelligence Agency.”
Hanley extended a hand to me.  He was slightly overweight and had a round baby face under an honest-to-god bowl cut.  His hair was medium brown.
“Mr. Canvas, it’s good to meet you.”  I bumped his fist to be polite.
“Mr. Hanley.”  I nodded.  I turned to Nevis.  “What’s this about?”
“I want you to help the CIA with whatever they need,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because they asked me if I could think of anyone who was in the shipping business, had few friends or family, and didn’t mind a bit of dirty work.”
Well, I suppose that technically described me.  “What am I going to gain out of it?”
“Not much.  But you’ll do it.”
“I’m not seeing much incentive,” I said.
“You said you’d owe me a favor.”  He let that sink in for a moment.
I sighed.  “Just what is this going to involve?”
“I believe you own a yacht?” said Hanley.  “We’d like you to take a trip to Russia and gather some intelligence for us.”
I hadn’t taken Troublemaker out in months.  It was probably in ready-to-go condition because I paid a guy to keep up the maintenance, but I didn’t know for sure.  “That sounds simple.”
“Well, that’s just the general gist,” said Hanley.  “I can’t tell you too much until you officially agree to the operation.”
Annoyed, I said, “If you looked at me enough to know I have a boat, you also probably know how deep my background’s been checked.  I’ve got a security clearance.”
“Not for this.  It’s too high.”  He sounded a little smug that he knew and I didn’t.
“So just take a cruise and play James Bond.”  I rolled my eyes.  “Right.  I can do that.”
Nevis looked like he wanted to say something nasty to me, but held back in front of Hanley.  The CIA man said, “I’ll talk to some people and we’ll get back to you.”  He got up and went out of the room.
I turned to Nevis.  “Do you know anything more about this?”
“Only what I told you.  They’re looking for someone, and you fit the description.  Maybe CIA will give me a medal for the assist.”  He smirked.
“Do you know how much I hate you?” I said.
“No, but I’m sure it’s mutual.”  His grin didn’t drop.
I didn’t quite storm out of his office.  I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I would probably end up going to Russia.  I didn’t have any other plans to get in the way.
I went home and waited around.  It was unknown how long it would take Hanley to get things organized.  Eventually, I went out and fished for a while.
At about four in the afternoon, the phone finally rang.  “Mr. Canvas, please meet us at your yacht at eight a.m.  Don’t be late.”
I started to reply, but the line was already dead.
In the morning, I was at the boat like I was requested to be.  The yacht was a little different design than most, with the cabin pushed forward to make room for a helicopter pad at the stern.  My father had named it Troublemaker, after me, he said.
As I walked up, I was surprised to see half a dozen people working on various things on the topside.  Hanley appeared and walked down the gangway to me.
“What the hell are you doing to my boat?” I demanded.
“Oh, nothing serious.  You’ve got a nice yacht here, don’t get me wrong.  I just gave myself a tour through the cabins.  It’s missing some things we’d like it to have, though.”
“Like what?”
“A secure satellite radio, for starters.”  He motioned to a man who appeared to be welding something on the roof.
“That’s it?”
“No, not by a long shot.  I’ll get you a copy of the work order.  Come on, I want you to meet someone.”  Hanley led me down to the cabin deck.  The day wasn’t very old, but it was already starting to get hot.  Inside, the air conditioning was on.
There was a man in one of the cabins going through some papers in a three ring binder.  He was older, maybe sixty, with grey hair that bracketed his face.  There were a few tattoos on his arms that had faded and become unreadable with time.  He had about two days’ worth of beard stubble.  He stood as we entered.
Hanley said, “Allow me to introduce Greg O’Doul.  He’s in charge of this project.”
“You must be Canvas.”  O’Doul looked genuinely pleased to meet me.  He stood up and offered his hand.  He appeared to be of about average height but thick.  I got the impression that none of it was fat.  He rapped my hoof hard enough.  I figured he probably gave crushing handshakes.
“Greg here is going to be managing on this trip.  He’s be handling the information and giving the orders.”
“It’s my boat,” I protested.
“Sure, you’re the Lieutenant.  He’s the Captain," said Hanley.  I wasn’t sure I liked that analogy.
“Anyway, I’ll show you around to see a few other things we’re doing.”  I followed Hanley out of the cabin.  At the end of the hallway, a man was attaching a rack to the bulkhead and deck.  It looked like a gun rack.
“Is that what I think it is?” I asked.
“We didn’t want to send you in feeling naked.”  I suppose I was grateful for that, but I didn’t like the idea that someone thought we might get into a shootout.
We went up to the bridge where there was another gun rack and two technicians working on installing new radar and sonar controls.
“We’ve got a diver in the water right now working on the sonar array,” said Hanley.
“Sonar array?” I said, my eyebrows going up.  “All the boat’s got is depth finding sonar.”
Hanley grinned and said nothing.  I walked over and had a look at the new radar interface.  It was completely flat with no buttons or knobs.  I figured it must be a touch screen.
“If you think I need all these gadgets and weapons, why don’t I just paint a Navy frigate white and call it my yacht?”  Hanley laughed, although I hadn’t thought I’d said anything funny.  He started back down to the gangway.
There was a third gun rack being installed next to the door that lead out onto the helicopter pad.  Hanley escorted me to the bottom of the gangway.  “One more thing, we need to make sure you’re up to this job.  We don’t anticipate anything too dangerous, but you have to be able to do what we ask.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’ve got a little test for you.  Admiral Nevis has graciously agreed to let us use the base.  The idea is, you have to get in, place something that lets us know you were there, and get back out without getting caught.”
“You want me to show you how sneaky I am?” I asked, skeptically.
“Don’t take this lightly.  Nevis is going to alert the guards to be extra careful.  We will give you the benefit of night, though.”  Hanley smiled maliciously.
“What if I get caught?”
“You'll probably go to prison.  As Nevis tells it, you deserve to be there right now.”
“You’ve already started working on my boat," I said, fighting to keep panic out of my voice.  "You can’t get rid of me.”
“We can always declare eminent domain and take it.”  He said it lightly, but I could tell he was serious.  “Your time begins tonight at nine.  I’ll show up at your house and verify that you’re there.  You need to get in, and get back by three a.m.  Whatever you leave behind must found by midnight.  Any questions?”
I had a lot, but said, “None.”
“I’ll see you tonight.”  He went back up to the bridge.
Later that day, Dr. Games asked me how I was.  I told her truthfully that I was a little stressed.  Of course, she asked me to talk about it.
“During the adventure a couple of weeks back, I promised a favor to the man in charge of the local Navy base.  Yesterday, he asked me to pay that back.  I’m supposed to take my yacht to Russia.  I’m going to be traveling with people I don’t know.  When I got down to the dock this morning to look at my boat, there were people all over it making changes that I don’t entirely approve of.  On top of that, I haven’t yet been told what exactly I’m supposed to be doing.  That’s not the worst of it, though.”
“What is?” she asked.
“To be qualified to do what he asked me, I have to pass a test that I haven’t had time to study for and there are going to be people trying to keep me from it.  If I fail, they’re going to take possession of my boat and go ahead without me.  Oh, and probably send me to jail.  Hopefully only for trespassing”
“I don’t quite understand what you’re talking about,” she said.
“It’s probably against national security to go into more detail," I told her.
The mare nodded slowly.  “Well, it sounds like it’s your own actions that got you into this position.”
I sighed.  “Probably.”
I still couldn’t tell Dr. Games what was going on, but talking about it helped me put things into perspective a little.  By the time the hour was up, I hadn’t developed any strategies to succeed, but I’d come up with groundwork to begin.  A plan to help make another plan.
I went home and got out my nautical charts.  In a couple of hours, I had put together a rough outline of what I wanted to do.  It was crazy, but I didn’t have much choice.  I made a list of things I needed and went to buy them.
At an off-road shop, I got a thin fiberglass pole with a small orange flag on it.  At the hardware store, I got some large zip ties and a can of black spray paint.  I also picked up a large magnetic hook.  Lastly, I stopped at a diving shop and got some tanks of gas.
Back at home, I got my kayak out and set about painting the topside.  Straight black isn’t the best camouflage, but it’s better than the bright yellow the kayak originally was. 
I installed the gas tanks in my rebreather.  It’s like a scuba system, except you can use it longer without refilling it and it doesn’t put out tell-tale bubbles.
After that, I packed up the rest of my gear.  When the paint dried on the kayak, I hauled everything out to the pier.
Hanley showed up at the house around nine.  I let him inside.  I hadn’t geared up yet, because I had a sneaking suspicion he would tell Nevis anything that would help catch me.
He checked his watch.  “Aren’t you getting ready?  It’s nearly time.”
“Just waiting for you to go.  I work best when I’m not under supervision.”  Hanley waited a few more minutes until his watch had ticked over to nine.  I watched him get in his car and leave.  Then I sprinted for the pier.
Thanks to daylight savings time it wasn’t dark quite yet, but it would be by the time I got where I was going.  I didn’t have any waterproof night vision goggles, but I knew roughly the direction I wanted to go.  The sky was partly cloudy.  I had read the weather report, and it looked like there would be about half a moon.  The sky was darkening rapidly by the time I reached the southern tip of the container yard.
Intermodal containers are handy things that make transporting cargo easy.  They usually measure twenty feet long by eight feet wide by eight and a half feet tall.  You can put them on trucks, railroad cars or ships.  The container yard was where all three forms of transportation came together.
On the western edge of the yard was the wharf where the container ships were loaded and unloaded.  I headed to the north, keeping as close to the seawall as possible.
I approached a ship being loaded by cranes.  There were bumpers that kept the ship from rubbing against the seawall and causing damage.  It created a gap a few feet wide.
I entered the gap.  It was very dark.  I didn’t think I had been seen by anyone when I was going in.  The ship looked like a Panamax, so it probably weighed in the neighborhood of fifty thousand tons.  Something like that would squish me against the seawall and no one would notice.  Putting my faith in the bumpers was all I could do.
When the kayak was out of sight behind the ship, I took out the magnetic hook and stuck it to the rusty metal of the seawall.  I tied the kayak to it.
After I put on the rebreather and checked all the lines, I slipped into the water.  I had the fiberglass flagpole tied to my weight belt along with some zip ties.
All the underwater gear had been especially made for ponies.  It can be difficult to get a tight seal on a facemask when your face is covered in hair.  I had thought about flying in to do my dirty work, but that’s exactly what they would expect from a pegasus, right?
I kicked off, “flying” gently underwater.  It was nearly a mile to get to the base.  I paced myself, trying not to overstress my legs and wings.  I remembered that I also had to come back.
I steered by a lighted diving computer strapped to my foreleg.  There were a few piers along the way I had to navigate around.  I needed to find a submarine for my plan to work.  I hoped there was one docked at one of the piers closest to me.
I reached the floating line and ducked under it.  I had to be more careful from this point on.  They wouldn’t just leave billion dollar ships out where divers could get to them without at least some surveillance.  Probably some kind of electronic sensors.
They sky was now fully dark.  I eased my head barely above water and had a look.  The nearest pier had a ship tied to it, so I submerged again.
At the next pier, I was in luck.  There was an older Los Angeles-class sub there.  I debated on my approach.  If I went in fast, I might be able to get out again before anyone came in response to sensors going off.  If I went in slowly, I might trick the sensors, but if I didn’t manage to fool them, the slow approach would give security more time to respond.
I checked my dive computer.  Slightly more than two hours had passed.  I opted for the slow approach.  Trying to move as little as possible while still traveling forward, I crept towards the submarine.
I eventually reached the hull.  Putting a hoof on it, I guided myself to the stern.  The big bronze propeller was there near the surface of the water.  I untied the flag and got out some zip ties.
The propeller shaft in a submarine is so heavy that it will actually begin to bend under its own weight if it’s stationary.  A small electric motor keeps it turning slowly while the sub is in port, rotating at about one revolution every four minutes.  
I began to zip tie the flag horizontal to the waterline.  Hopefully, the shaft would rotate the flag to an upright position sticking out of the water.  If I got it set up almost breaking the surface of the water on one side, it would take a few minutes to make the half revolution to get to the other side where it would begin to rise out of the water.
I secured the last zip tie and kicked off towards the bow again.  Those two minutes might be valuable time for me to get away before anyone noticed the flag.  I had written SAIL CANVAS WAS HERE in permanent marker.  I hoped that qualified as leaving something behind.
As I exited the floating line, I heard a pair of high-pitched boat engines coming closer.  I went as deep as I could.  Two engines running together create interfering sound waves.  This can cause a sort of “beat” that varies in volume.  High pitched engines probably meant small outboards.  I figured the boat was probably another Model 28.
I leveled out with my belly practically in the mud.  I didn’t know what security might use to try and find me, but I wanted to stay as far away from the boat as possible.
I kept heading west until I reached the channel.  The extra depth made me feel better.  I had to be careful, though.  If I stayed with the channel too long, I would end up far to the south and miss the kayak.
I swam for a while longer and didn’t hear any more boats.  I decided to check topside.  I was surprised and delighted to see that I was exactly at the point where I needed to be at to turn towards the container yard.
Several minutes later, I popped my head up again to locate the ship.  It looked like it was nearly full of containers now.  As I continued swimming towards it, I heard a rumble in the water.  It gained in intensity until I recognized it as the sound of large ship engines.  I wondered how I had missed seeing another ship coming towards me until I realized that it was the sound of the ship my kayak was hidden behind starting up.
I swam faster.   I needed to be out of there before the ship started to move.  I came up to the hull and swam down under it.  I could feel the vibrations of the engines through the water.
I surfaced against the seawall and swam to the kayak.  I heard sounds from above as the cranes were being drawn back away from the ship.  I scrambled into the kayak and took off the rebreather mask.  The fresh air was heavenly as I began paddling.
I had almost gotten out from behind the ship when it gave a lurch towards the wharf.  I saw it coming and rolled into the water, diving as deep as I could while holding my breath.  When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I came back up.
The kayak was toast.  There were cracks in the hull with water coming in.  It might stay afloat by itself, but it wouldn’t support me.
Panicked, I started swimming back towards home as fast as I could.  In the back of my mind, I knew I couldn’t keep that pace up for long, but I was going to run out of time.
I noticed a ladder that went up the wall.  I suddenly changed plans and climbed it.  The area around the cranes was brightly lit, and I ran for the field of containers, not knowing if anyone saw me.
When I got out of the bright lights and into the safety of the containers I stopped.  I took a moment to gather my wits.  I checked the time.  One hour, ten minutes to go.
I remembered my map of the area.  The southern tip of the container yard was only about another mile across the water from my house.  I was maybe half a mile from that point.  I took off at a jog.  I hadn’t gone very far before I ditched the weight belt.
After a few minutes, I came to the water.  I took a quick look around before dropping over the edge of the wharf.  Without the weight belt, it was harder to stay below the surface, but I managed.
I crawled up the ladder to my pier at about fifteen minutes to three, completly exhausted.  I shuffled inside without bothering to take my gear off.
Hanley was there.  He checked his watch.  “Not too bad.”
“Am I in?”
“Yeah.  Come down to the docks around noon and we’ll go over what you need to know.”
“Thanks.  Now get the hell out of my house.”