//------------------------------// // 2:2 // Story: Troublemaker // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// All things considered, I didn’t have too many aches and pains when I woke up. Those would come in a metaphorical sense later in the morning. When I got to the boat, there seemed to be fewer workers around. They must have finished most of what they were doing. I came aboard and went down to the cabin where I had gone the day before. Hanley and the other man were there. Hanley stood as I entered. He handed me a manila folder. It didn’t have any markings on it. I half expected a Top Secret stamp. “Here’s what you need to know. My involvement ends here. Don’t be surprised if you never see me again.” He left. I turned to the other man. “It’s Greg, right?” “Call me Scorpion.” I laughed. “What, was Snake taken?” “Yes. Have a seat. I’ve got some things for us to discuss.” I sat down on the bed. Scorpion turned and grabbed a folder identical to mine from the desk he was working at. “You have the same information,” he said. “This is stuff that no one else can see. Make sure you don’t lose it.” I opened my folder. The first page detailed the cover mission. The CIA had somehow found out that I had been planning on talking with Saint Petersburg harbor security. With all the business the United States Navy was giving the company, dealing with Russian police had not been very high on my list of things to do. I was supposed to contact them to say that I was going to be in the area and maybe they’d like to make a deal. A working vacation. Meanwhile, “operatives” would be off doing other things in the city. “Who are these operatives?” I asked. “Me, for starters. We’ve got a couple of guys who’ll be traveling with us. There may be a few on the ground that we pick up along the way.” “Just what are you planning on doing? I saw all the gun racks.” “That’s more of a plan B than anything else. We’re not planning to tear anything up, but it might happen. I’m sure you’ve seen a few other things being done to make the boat more capable. I like to be prepared, but it’s a shame we can’t do anything too drastic while we’re parked here in front of the prying eyes of the public.” “I’m in the shipbuilding business, remember? I’ll call the yard superintendent and get us a covered dry dock.” Scorpion grinned. “I like you already.” Dave Hillenburg was the man I needed to talk to. He kept his mouth shut and got things done. I liked that. When he answered the phone, I told him I was bringing my personal boat in. Testing a few things for the civilian market, I said. Secret stuff that required a private crew to install. Dave understood. Grunt employees can be foreign spies as well as corporate ones. Dave was standing near the water when I rolled up. I was the only person allowed to drive a private car in the shipyard. It pays to be in charge. I didn’t know who the CIA man piloting was, but he knew how to handle a boat. Troublemaker eased into the enclosure straight as an arrow. “It’s a good boat,” said Dave. “I remember when your father bought her.” “Yeah.” We watched until the dry dock doors were closed and the water began to be pumped out. Balancing a boat on dry land is tricky. You want it to be supported adequately and in such a way that it won’t fall onto its side, while still keeping the bracing to a minimum to save on time and money. The framework for holding up the boat was put into position while the water was drained. Scorpion said that we were originally scheduled to leave in only a few days, but he decided that he’d rather do a more complete refit of the boat than stick to the schedule. I asked for the barnacles to be scraped off the hull and a good once-over to be done. A hull checkup wasn’t really needed, but while the boat was out of the water, why not? I was there for the next few days to watch while the crew installed CIA-funded bulletproof glass in the bridge, worked on the engine, and raised the bow. I wasn’t sure I wanted to get into a situation where thick polycarbonate windows were necessary, but given the choice, I’d rather have them than not. Down in the engineering spaces, a few technicians were modifying the engine for more power. I was told that it might hurt the reliability, but the CIA would pay for a new engine if that became necessary. Finally, with all the weight of the additional gear, the boat sat a little lower in the water. Since we were going to be crossing the ocean anyway, plates were installed up to the level of the handrail on the bow to deflect larger than usual waves. It looked like they also might provide cover if, say, you were on deck and being shot at. It looked more and more like my boat was being turned into a fighting ship. There wasn’t any offensive weaponry besides small arms, though. I had entertained the idea of telling Scorpion that we needed a five-inch deck gun, and I probably would have, too, if I could think of a way to conceal it. I remembered a project the company had been working on a while back. The Army had wanted a smaller version of the Phalanx Close in Weapon System. The system was usually installed on Navy ships and Army semi trailers, but the Army was looking for something more compact that could be mounted in the back of a truck. The project was eventually canceled. It was a shame, because now only Raytheon made them. The CIWS (sailors pronounced it “sea-whiz”) consisted of a gatling gun that could fire 4,500 twenty-millimeter armor piercing bullets per minute. The bullets were directed to the target by a built-in radar system that was cylindrically shaped and mounted above the gun. It sort of resembled R2D2 from Star Wars. Our modification reduced the 13,000 pound weight by a little bit and incorporated a new mount that allowed the system to roll onto its side in order to lie flat and take up less space. I left the dry dock and got in my car, heading for the engineering concept warehouse where the unused and discarded prototypes were kept. I called Dave Hillenburg and had him meet me there. The prototype CIWS had been packed in a crate and then forgotten for several years. From outward appearances, it was nearly impossible to tell what was in the crate. It had a serial number stenciled on the outside, but that was it. Dave tracked down the number for me and figured out where in the warehouse it was. I got a forklift driver to take the crate over to the dry dock. “What’s this?” asked Scorpion. “I got you a little gift.” When the forklift was gone again and the doors were closed, a worker cracked the crate open. Scorpion’s eyes lit up like he’d won the lottery, but then immediately fell again. “Where are we going to put it?” “I’ve got that worked out.” I showed him a sketch of what I had planned. A rectangular box would be built to surround the CIWS when it was not being used. Hydraulic actuators would then open the box when needed. The box sitting on deck might raise a few questions, but it would be much less suspicious than a device that looked like a robot with a machine gun. An order was immediately sent out for hydraulics and the materials to build the box. I looked through the parts in the CIWS crate and realized some of them were missing. I got on the phone to Raytheon to send us the parts while Scorpion made preparations for the dock crane to lift the CIWS onto the deck. I would have liked to stay and see it installed, but I had to go to my weekly board meeting. I was a little late getting there. The shipyard actually isn’t anywhere near the office building. It didn’t help that I was wearing a little dirt and grease. I dropped into my chair and the meeting began. Nothing notable was reported by any of the four. They all finished speaking and looked at me. “I sold the CIA an old prototype weapons system we had lying around.” John DeMotte said, “Which weapons system?” I shrugged. “I don’t remember. We hadn’t used it for a while and they wanted it. I already sent them the bill.” “What did they want it for?” “It’s the CIA; who knows? Oh, and I’m also getting ready for a trip to Russia. Saint Petersburg harbor patrol wants to buy some boats.” “We could send a sales representative,” said George Coates. “I’ll go. I need a vacation anyway. Don't worry, I'll teleconference while I'm gone.” No one else seemed to have anything else to say, so I left. Thinking about vacations, I called Andy. He was on summer break from his teaching. Hawker would probably not approve of him running away to Russia with me. Scorpion would probably not approve of it either, but I had a plan for that. “Sail, what’s new?” he asked when I called. “I’m going to be taking the yacht out for an extended trip. I was wondering if you wanted to go along.” “Do you have a destination in mind?” “Saint Petersburg.” “Florida? Sounds good.” I almost didn’t tell him the truth. Waiting to see his reaction on the boat when he found out we were going to be crossing the Atlantic instead was almost worth it. I couldn’t do that to him, though. “Ah, no. Russia.” “Wow. I’m not sure about that.” “Think of how many novels you’ll write.” “I don’t know if I’m going to want to write while I’m on a cruise.” “You’ll have nothing but empty water to look at for about a week. There won’t be anything else to do.” “All right. When are you leaving?” “I don’t know. Maybe five days. Maybe more, maybe less.” Andy agreed to think about it and we said goodbye. I took the rest of the day off. It’s not like I do a lot of work to begin with, but I’d spent more time at the shipyard in the past few days than I had in the past few months. What I needed were animal crackers and some time with a fishing pole in my hooves. I got both, and the afternoon and evening were pretty relaxing. The next day I was back at the covered dry dock. Scorpion had revised my box design to include a walk-in door on the side. He’d positioned it forward and butted it up against the superstructure. It was built of pre-made fiberglass panels to save weight. I’d thought about it and decided that the best place to put the CIWS would have been aft, in order to be more effective as a defensive weapon, if someone was chasing us, for example. However, I could see that Scorpion had been right to modify the plans. With the helicopter pad, there wasn’t much room to put it back there. Next to the box, a davit with a winch installed. Scorpion explained that along with the door, it made the box resemble a place to store jet skis. It sounded like an effective disguise to me. The parts to complete the CIWS had been flown in overnight and were being put together. There was a small control panel that was supposed to be mounted in the cab of the truck carrying the CIWS in the original design. It was now being installed in the bridge. The control panel turned the CIWS on and off, programmed how far it could swing side to side in case there was an obstruction like the superstructure in the way, and told it to engage air and sea targets. I decided to take a look around the boat. I knew it pretty well, and was surprised to see how many small things had been changed. They’d swept through and fixed everything that was wrong or could go wrong. They even tightened the loose screws in the furniture. I supposed that I could get used to this government treatment. While I was below decks, Scorpion called for me. When I came out, he was standing with two men I hadn’t seen before. They each had a suitcase. “This is Gene and John. They’re going to be coming with us.” Gene was tall and thin with sandy hair. John was shorter with a darker hair. They were both about thirty and looked to be in good shape. Gene put his out his fist. “Nice boat you’ve got.” His voice was something from the deep South. John gave me a hoof bump, too. “Here’s to hoping for a good trip.” His accent was neutral, maybe Midwestern. The two of them went to stow their gear. “Is there anyone else you’re planning to bring along?” I asked Scorpion. “Nope. Just them.” “Great, because I’ve got someone to go with.” “Who?” “A friend of mine.” “Who does he work for?” “The Foreign Language department at Old Dominion.” Scorpion looked about as surprised as if I’d told him the President of the United States had issued an executive order to change the name of the country to ’Merica. “A college professor?” he asked. “I thought it would help with the cover story. If I’m on vacation, I’d want to have some friends along. He doesn’t have to know there are other things going on.” “The racks of guns sitting around might tip him off!” Scorpion shouted. “I’ll tell him I’m afraid of pirates.” “You can’t do this.” “I already told him he could come.” “Tell him you changed your mind.” “Now hold on, he could be helpful to the operation.” “How, exactly?” Scorpion crossed his arms. “He’s pretty nerdy and good with codes.” “We’re with the goddamned CIA. One man is not going to be able crack things better than us.” “He’s a great cook.” “I’ve eaten rats when I had to.” “He knows Vladimir Putin personally.” Scorpion just looked at me. “I’ll come up with something better by tomorrow.” He shook his head and walked away. I stopped by Andy’s place on the way home. “A couple of problems have come up on this trip,” I said. “Like what?” “Well, it’s not a pleasure cruise. It’s purely business, but not for my business.” “What’s that mean?” I debated what I could tell Andy. Really, I shouldn’t tell him anything, but I’ve always been a rule breaker. Still, I exercised a little restraint in not telling him everything. “I was foalnapped by the CIA and I’m supposed to take a trip to Russia as cover for an operation.” “Okay,” said Andy slowly. “If you still want to go, you’re going to have to come up with a really good reason.” “Is any of this illegal?” “Well… probably.” “I’ll have to think about it.” He looked interested, but fearful that he too might be kidnapped by the government. As I drove away from his house, I had an idea. It would have to wait until the next day, though. Hanley didn’t seem like the type to appreciate phone calls outside of business hours. As it turned out, I was right. “Kind of early, isn’t it?” he said. It was nine a.m. I wondered if he would still have been asleep if I’d called any sooner. “I just needed to ask you for something. I’m the only one who knows how to handle my boat, but I can’t do everything by myself.” “I thought O’Doul said he knew boats.” “Well, yes, but neither him nor the other two have ever been on a boat this big before.” I was bluffing. The three of them could have been former Navy for all I knew. Hanley thought for a moment. “So you’re saying you need help?” “That’s the long and short of it. We’ve got an extra cabin.” “All right, I’ll send a message to O’Doul to let him know you asked me to send someone else.” “Well, we’ve had some issues getting along. Could you leave me out of it? I wouldn’t want him to think I’m going over his head to get things done.” “I understand how that can work sometimes. Alright, I won’t mention you. Let me know if you need anything else.” When I got down to the dry dock that day, I found Scorpion checking his smartphone. It seemed a little out of place for the grizzled old man to be holding it, but the march of advancing technology waits for no one. “Hanley thinks we need a sailing expert,” he said. “I told him we know what we’re doing, but he wants to be on the safe side.” “My buddy knows how to sail.” “We’re done talking about your buddy.” We didn’t speak for the next few hours, until Scorpion informed me that the sailing expert was on his way. I volunteered to go meet him, saying that I knew the shipyard best. When I got in my car, I called Andy. “Get down to the shipyard right now. I’ll tell you what’s going on when you get here.” At the front gate was a young man with a short haircut and a tattoo of an anchor on his arm. He looked me up and down and glanced at my car. “You must be Sail Canvas. They told me about you.” He pulled out a letter and handed it to me. It was from Hanley and basically said that this was the guy we were looking for. “Come on, I’ll show you around,” I said. He got in the BMW appreciatively and off we went. His name, I learned was Jim Ross. I took him to the small boats area. I stopped at the place where the utility boats were tied up. Jim looked confused. “I thought there was supposed to be a one hundred twenty foot yacht around here.” “One hundred twenty? Someone must have screwed up. We’ve got just a twenty-footer like this one.” I gestured to a small utility boat tied up at the pier. “You’re planning to cross the ocean with one of those?” “No way. We were just planning to train here in preparation for what we’ll be doing later. We’ll get strategic airlift to take us across the ocean.” Jim nodded. “All right. Where’s this Greg O’Doul? He’s in charge, right?” “That’s correct. Right now, he and the other two are out testing the top speed of the boat when it’s loaded. You’ll meet him eventually. We probably won’t need your services until next week, though. That’s when we’re planning to start tactics. If you give me your contact information, I’ll give you a call when we’re ready for you.” We got back in the car. Jim wrote out his phone number in my notebook as I drove. When we got back to the front gate, I shut off the car and asked Jim to come into the security building nearby. “I’ll get you a VIP pass so you can come and go as you like,” I said. I covertly felt to see if the small magnet I’d put in the pocket of my leg band was still there. The security people took Jim’s picture and made him a pass to use. The clerk handed it to me for inspection. I memorized as much of the information on it as I could as the ID lay in my hooves, hopefully close enough to the magnet to ruin the magnetic strip on the back. I gave the card to Jim after a moment. “Good to meet you. I’ll give you a call when we’re ready.” He left. Behind me at the security counter, they were busy putting together a print that reflected his VIP pass. It would be put in a folder and every time someone claiming to be a VIP came in, security was required to check the folder and find the matching print. I went out to meet Andy. I handed him the letter from Hanley. “What’s this?” he asked. “It’s your authorization to come on this trip. You just have to pretend your name is Jim Ross.” “I don’t like this idea.” “Come on, when was the last time you had an opportunity to impersonate a government employee?” He shook his head. “Is this the only way? I mean, I don’t actually know anything about sailing.” “Just make yourself scarce as much as possible. If anyone asks questions, just tell them you weren’t trained for that specifically.” We got in my car. I kept up the conversation, explaining things that I thought he might need to know. “You have to act like you only met me today. O’Doul knows I wanted to get a friend of mine aboard, and he might be suspicious of you.” We rolled up to the dry dock and went in. Scorpion came up from the boat. “So you’re Jim Ross.” He looked Andy up and down as if he wasn’t what Scorpion had expected. “That’s right.” He handed Scorpion the letter. I was impressed with his acting skills. He seemed confident. “I’m Greg O’Doul. You can call me Scorpion.” He took the letter and glanced at it briefly. “Scorpion? Was Snake taken?” said Andy. He laughed. I laughed with him. Scorpion cut his eyes back and forth between the two of us. “Anyway Ross, we’ll be pulling out in a few days. I don’t know how much help you’ll be in the meantime. Right now we’re working on the mechanicals.” “Yeah, that’s not my field of study.” “What is?” asked Scorpion. “Astronomy. Navigating by the stars is a specialty of mine.” I was impressed how smoothly Andy lied. He’d be a great politician. “All right. We’ll get you down here when we’re ready to go.” “I’ll take him to get a security pass,” I said. Scorpion shook Andy’s hand and walked back to the boat. When we were outside, Andy said, “Christ, I was so nervous back there.” “You did alright. We’re going to have to wait a while on the security pass, though. Come back this evening and we’ll get it sorted out.” I dropped him at the gate and went back to the dry dock. I found Scorpion below decks. “What do you think of the navigator?” Scorpion shrugged. “I don’t think we need him, but, to be fair, I don’t know how to steer by the stars.” I did, but that was beside the point. “Well, if we’re accepting passengers based on skills, my friend knows how to speak Japanese like nobody’s business.” “Just how is that going to help us in Russia? Besides, Ross took the last cabin.” “We’ll put him up in a closet or something.” “Like I said yesterday, we’re done talking about this.” I wandered out and watched a couple of technicians testing the CIWS. The open and close mechanism on the concealment box worked perfectly. The side to side swing of the gun barrels was limited by being so close to the superstructure. It wouldn’t be able to hit targets outside of a one hundred eighty degree sweep on the bow. Still, better than nothing. I met Andy back at the security building later that evening. The shift had changed, and the people there now wouldn’t recognize him. The woman behind the counter had a nametag that read Brenda. I didn’t know her personally. After taking a picture of Andy, I gave her the information needed to make a copy of Jim Ross’s pass. Brenda handed me the ID and the printout to compare. I handed Andy the ID and checked my watch. Brenda smelled like a smoker. I had an idea. “Brenda, is it about your break time?” “In just a few minutes, Mr. Canvas.” I smiled. “You look like you’re working hard. Why don’t you take off early? I can file this.” I pointed to the VIP folder. “Is that where it goes?” “That’s right. Thanks Mr. Canvas.” She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and left. I pulled the real Jim Ross’s VIP printout and replaced it with Andy’s. I ran the old one through the paper shredder. “Congratulations,” I said to Andy. “You’re now officially guilty of identity theft with a side order of fraud and breach of national security.” “I hope I’ll be good at it.” He looked a little ill. I laughed. We walked out of the building and went our separate ways. On Sunday, Scorpion said that we would be leaving on Tuesday morning. Up until that point, I hadn’t thought about what I was going to do for therapy while I was gone. I said something to that effect to Scorpion. “What are you in therapy for?” Actually, I hadn’t thought about that either, despite how long I had been visiting Dr. Games. “I don’t know. I started going and never felt the need to stop.” “Why did you start going in the first place?” he asked. “A friend of mine told me I needed better personal skills. Apparently, I have a touch of sociopath in me.” “In this business, that isn’t all bad.” Scorpion shrugged. I called Dr. Games on Monday. She was a little surprised to hear from me. I’m not one of her needier patients. “I’m going to be leaving for Russia in the morning and going to be gone for a while.” “I wish you’d told me sooner.” I could hear her turning pages and writing something. Canceling my appointment, I guessed. “It was a little sudden. I was wondering if we could continue to communicate over the phone.” “That would probably work. Remember the time zone difference.” “Right. Depending on what happens while we’re leaving tomorrow, I probably won’t have time to call you then.” “If you need to, you can call after hours. Otherwise, I’ll expect you at ten on Tuesday.” I said I would call then and hung up. Then I went to buy a satellite phone that would work anywhere in the world. Cheap sat phones aren’t really that much more expensive than a regular cell phone. It’s the network connection cost that makes up for it. My local RadioShack couldn’t help me, so I went online. Next day delivery jacked up the cost even more. After that, I downloaded the owner’s manual so I could begin reading immediately and wouldn’t have to figure out how to work it later. Yes, I do read owner’s manuals. It’s easier. When I got to the boat that day, there wasn’t a whole lot left to do. Someone was painting the CIWS disguise box and the new raised bow to make them look like they belonged. I met Scorpion as I came aboard. “She’s just about ready. I think we’ll be able to get going later today,” he said. The reason that sailors refer to boats as she has long since been lost to the mists of time. Most people refer to their boat or boats they know well with that particular term of endearment. Interestingly, the Russians say he. I didn’t know if Scorpion had come to like Troublemaker that much, or if he was just being polite. I personally hadn’t thought too much about my position on the subject, but the boat had gained a lot of likeability since the beginning of her refit, what with the guns and stuff. I hung around all day. True to Scorpion’s word, the water began to flow back into the dry dock at about three p.m. That evening, the doors opened, and we all took a ride back to the boat’s original mooring. Scorpion said we would do a little more work under cover of darkness, so I laid down for a nap in my cabin. Scorpion came over the intercom at about ten p.m. and asked for me. I went topside. There was an unmarked delivery truck sitting on the pier. Gene, John, Scorpion and a few miscellaneous CIA workers were there. I noticed that the truck had government plates. The driver rolled up the back door. There were a few cardboard boxes and a quite a few wooden crates. Everyone helped get them onboard as quickly as possible. Some were much heavier than others. All of them were put down in the passageways until we could get around to unpacking them later. When everything was onboard, the rest of the nameless workers climbed into the back of the truck and it left. The four of us who were staying went back onboard and began opening boxes. A few of the cardboard boxes contained food. I figured it was two weeks’ worth for five men, maybe with a little extra in case the trip went long. A few of the cardboard boxes contained ammunition. I counted about three thousand rounds of 5.56 x 45 mm cartridges and five hundred of 7.62 x 51 mm. There were also rifle magazines to hold both. We cracked open the wooden crates next. They were filled with weapons. We began to pick through them. All told, they contained twelve M4A1 carbines, three of which were fitted with M203 grenade launchers, three Mark 14 EBR rifles, three AT4 anti-tank rocket launchers and two Stinger missile launchers. It was all a very nice surprise for me. Other crates contained 40 mm grenades for the M203 launchers and an assortment of hand thrown grenades of the flash and fragmentation variety. There was one reload each for the Stingers and a 1,550 round belt of 20 mm ammunition for the CIWS. Looking at all this hardware was impressive, but I began to think there was something missing. It took me a moment to realize what it was. “Where are the pistols and knives?” “Those are personal choice,” said Scorpion. He pulled a M1911A1 handgun out and showed it to me. It had come from a hidden holster inside the waistband of his trousers. His shirt had been untucked to cover it. I felt a little bad that I hadn’t expected that from him and been looking for a gun on his person. Even if I wasn’t paying attention, I should have noticed. The 1911 was a large pistol, although it was helped in concealment by the fact that Scorpion was fairly stout. Big guys have an easier time hiding weapons. Before we left, we closed all the crates back up. Gene and John stayed while Scorpion and I walked up the pier. I had left my car back at the shipyard when we’d moved the boat. Scorpion gave me a ride in his old Jeep Cherokee. I didn’t think he got paid chicken feed for the kind of work he did, so he must have liked being nondescript. Scorpion dropped me at the shipyard gate. “I’m probably going to go home and sleep for a few hours,” I said. “Bring the navigator with you when you come,” he said. “We’ll sail with the tide.” This wasn’t the age of wind and sail and the direction of the tide didn’t matter much anymore, but it was a nice bit of theatrics. I said goodbye to him and he left.