//------------------------------//
// 2:5 
// Story: Troublemaker 
// by totallynotabrony 
//------------------------------//

	After slipping the lines and getting up to cruise speed, we had a meeting to discuss what we were going to do.  Since there was little hope of a big white yacht going unnoticed cruising close to shore, we had to come up with a disguise.
Scorpion pointed to the flag at the stern.  “Leave the ensign flying.  We’re going to pretend to be sightseers, so wear your most obnoxious shirts.  Strictly Hawaiian.  Make sure to show off a camera or two.”
Dumb tourist mode: engage.  I spent some time polishing the chrome handrails.  It seemed like a nice, frivolous thing to do.  While I worked, David called me back.
“I have good news and I have bad news.  The good news is that we found your buddy.  He somehow had managed to get himself to Oslo, but the American embassy wouldn’t lend him money for the flight home.”
“Well, give it to him.”
“I figured that’s what you would want.  It’s been taken care of.  Now for the bad news.  Your board of directors is staging a hostile takeover.”
“What!?  How?”
“It’s stipulated in the company policies that you have to come in once a week for a meeting.”
“I told them I was going on vacation.”
“The president’s rules of order don’t say anything about that.  You missed a meeting and now they’re kicking you out.”
“They can’t do that!”
“Sail, I read the rules.  Yes they can.”
I sat down heavily on the deck and leaned against the superstructure.  The polish rag was gone and I didn’t remember dropping it.
“There can’t be a new company president.  That’s supposed to be passed on to family.”
“They aren’t looking for a new president.  They’re electing amongst themselves a Chief Executive Officer.  There’s nothing in company organizational rules that says they can’t do that, either.”
“Who’s going to be the CEO?”
“John DeMotte.  He’s the one who led the charge against you.  And before you even think about it, physical violence is not what you should resort to.”
I took a few breaths to calm down.
“Thanks for telling me about all this, David.  I’m going to have to think about my plan of action on this.”
“Don’t wait too long.  The longer you let it go, the harder it will be to do anything about it.”
“I know.  Thanks again.”
I hung up and sat there for a while longer.  My company was gone and my income had gone with it.  I didn’t mind the money so much, but being shoved aside by any of those bastards on the board hurt.
I went back to polishing, my mind whirling.  Calm down.  Think about what I still have.  I still had stock in the company.  I still had knowledge of what the company did.  I still knew who the company was doing business with.  Slowly, I began to put a plan together.
I decided to call Dr. Games.  I’d never talked to her at any other time than at ten on Tuesdays.  Wow, would she be surprised.
“This is Dr. Games.”
“Doc, this is Sail Canvas.  I’m sorry for calling without an appointment, but I really need to talk to you.”
“You’re lucky you caught me between clients.  What is it?”
“I was just the victim of a hostile takeover.  I’ve lost the company.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“But I have a plan.  I’m going to bankrupt them.”
“Why would you do that?  Don’t you still own stock?”
“Yes I do, but it’s one step on the way to getting control back.”
“Do you know how many people will lose their jobs if the company goes under?”
“No, but I’m hoping only four.  If I do everything right, no one else will be affected.”
“So why did you call me?”
“If I do screw up, then yes, there is a chance that many thousands of people will get laid off.  I was trying to wrestle with the moral dilemma there.”
“You seem like the kind of guy who would be smart enough to save some money.  Don’t you have enough in the bank to live on for a reasonable amount of time?  Or do you feel like you want to have that income back?”
“Are you asking if I’m greedy?”
“That’s exactly what I’m asking.”
“I suppose yes, that might be part of it.  Mostly it’s about revenge.”
“Sail, we’ve been over this before with Lilly.  In the long run, everyone involved, including you, will be better off with the forgive and forget policy.”
“I’m not doing that again.  It’s been over two months since the breakup, and I don’t feel much different.  This way if I screw up, I’ll at least feel regret instead of anger.”
Dr. Games sighed.  “Well, good luck, I suppose.  Just promise me not to commit any crimes while you’re at it.”
“I can’t promise that, but I do promise to try.”
“Thank you.”
We said goodbye and I began dialing another number.
Chief Stanton was a little reluctant to let me talk to Admiral Nevis.  He’d already heard that I got kicked out.
“I just want to ask him for help,” I said.  “Heck, if he wants, I’ll owe him another favor.”  Eventually, Stanton patched the call through.
“What is it, Canvas?”
“Sir, you’ve probably heard that I’m no longer the president of Norfolk Shipworks.”
“That’s right.  It caused a little stir around here.  Stock prices dropped a little bit, but they should recover soon enough.”
Then I needed to act before they came back.  Every little bit would help.
“Sir, I believe you’re a consultant for the Naval Procurement Committee?”  They were the bean counters that authorized the purchase of stuff from defense contractors. 
“Get to it, Canvas.  You only call me ‘sir’ when you want something.”
“I’d like you to recommend the cancelation of the Carrier Up-Armor contract.”  That was a project the company had been working on to refit aircraft carriers with lighter, stronger materials to reduce combat damage.  Considering that aircraft carriers, at about a thousand feet long, were the largest ships in the United States Navy, and there were eleven of them in the fleet, that was a lot of refitting to be done.  It was a huge contract.
“Just why would I do that?”
“Because once you get it canceled, I can get you a new contract for fifteen percent less.”
“Fifteen percent?”  I could almost hear his mind working on how much money that was.  In addition, he would win admiration from Committee members for bringing it to their attention.
“You don’t have a company.  How are you supposed to do that?”
“Trust me.”
He laughed.  “That’s like trusting a fox to guard a henhouse.  Why should I go along with you?”
“With what I have in mind, Norfolk Shipworks is either going to cease to exist or come under new management very soon.  Either way, you’re still going to need a new contract.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what.  The reason I knew your stock went down was because I own some myself.  Whatever you do, I’d probably get burned if I don’t sell now.  For the advance warning, I’ll advise against the contract.”
“That’s insider trading.”
“So I’ll sell only half of it.”
“And if the company survives, I’m sure you can buy back in at a lower price.”
“Exactly.  Whatever you do, I’m not out too much, and I might even stand to gain.”
The slimy eel.  “Thank you, sir.”
“Thank you, Canvas.”
He hung up on me.  I didn’t mind.  So far, everything was working out like I’d hoped.
I called David back.  “Okay, here’s what I need you to do.  Check the headlines and see if the Navy cancels a big contract.  After that, I want you to dump all my stock at once.”
“All of it?  Do you know how many dollars that is?  I mean, it’ll be less when stock prices fall because of the news that the company lost the contract, but I imagine that it’ll still be at least—”
I cut him off.  “Just do it.  I own more than half the stock the company has issued.  Selling it all at once will hopefully put them in a hole so deep that they’ll declare bankruptcy.  After that, use the money from selling the stock to buy the company.”
“What if they won’t sell?”
“Are you kidding?  If I know those rats that are in charge, they won’t go down with the ship.  They’ll take their money and get out.  With no leadership, I can grab it.”  I realized how cold and ruthless that sounded.  I was nearly intimidating myself.
“What if you’re wrong?”
“I once made a list of things wrong with the company that could help get them shut down or drive down the price of stock.  I don’t want to damage the company any more than I have to, so that’s a last resort.”
I thought of the bright side.  “If we get outbid on the buyout by Northrop Grumman or General Dynamics, then I’ve still got enough money to start a new company.  Either way, I’ll be all right.”  Even more with the cold and ruthless.
“Okay then, Sail, I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.  I don’t know when I’ll be back, but hopefully soon.  I’d kind of like to supervise in person.”
“I’ll see you then.”
I put the phone down.  I was excited, honestly.  It wasn’t every day you could stage a hostile counter-takeover.
It was getting towards evening when I finished communicating with everyone across the ocean.  The initial eagerness to getting the plan rolling had mellowed and I went to bed feeling content.
The next morning, I got a can of paint and a safety strap and hung over the side of the boat covering up the scratches and scuffs where the boat had rubbed against the many piers it had been tied to on the trip.  Boat maintenance is a chore that never ends.
Later that day, we drew near the peninsula where the FSB had sent us.  There seemed to be very little ocean traffic around the place.
“We can’t get close enough to get a good look at the shoreline without raising suspicion,” said Scorpion.
“What if we sent someone in to take a closer look? I asked.
Scorpion grinned in a way I didn’t like.  “That’s not a bad idea.”
Before I knew it, I was setting up to do an amphibious landing.  Gene had volunteered to come with me.  We’d modified a couple of waterproof survival suits to help us swim in the cold water of the Barents Sea.  We cut off some of the floats that made the person wearing them stay above water.  We also spray painted them a mix of brown and green, because bright orange doesn’t work for infiltration.  The suits made us bulky like marshmallows, but it was better than hypothermia.  
Gene took one of the M4 rifles and covered it in three layers of plastic garbage bags, sealed closed with zip ties and waterproof tape.  We each carried another, smaller bag with other gear.  I threw in my sat phone.
That night, when it was the darkest that it was going to get, Gene and I stood near the railing while the boat approached within three miles of land.  We stayed on the opposite side of the superstructure from shore, in case someone had eyes on the boat.
We both had snorkels, but I also brought along my rebreather.  Ivanova and Demidov had called to say the cargo ship had left Murmansk, but there was no way of telling how long it would take to get there.
I rationalized it by telling myself that it was like we were going camping and would rough it in the wilderness for a few days.  Hopefully not actually a few days, but we were prepared just in case.  Gene watched me as I strung my knife on the outside of the survival suit.  Saltwater isn’t good for metal, but I had put a light coat of grease on it and I intended to dry it off as soon as I could.
The boat was traveling fairly fast.  We didn’t want to make it look like we were planning to spend too long in the area.  When we got to the closest point of approach to the shore, Scorpion gave us a signal, and we jumped over the side.
I knew immediately that I had too much weight on.  Trying to stay on the surface to keep my snorkel up was going to take extra effort.  Sure, I’d swum quite a bit back in Norfolk, but never with such a bulky suit.  I sighed inwardly and got on with it.
Gene had a small periscope that he used to periodically check the surface and the distance to shore.  The sun was coming from the north, at our backs.  That might help a little to make it hard to see our snorkels.
Eventually, I saw the bottom coming up to meet us.  We came up into the shallows and Gene took one last look around.  He flashed a thumbs-up and we came out of the water and ran for the nearest cover.  It was a patch of scraggly brush.  I realized that we were so far north that we were officially into arctic tundra.  There weren’t many trees or vegetation to be found.  Not much to hide behind.
“I haven’t done something like this since I was in the Marines,” said Gene.  “This was an easy one, though.  Nobody was shooting at us.”
I was thankful for that.
The ambient temperature of the air wasn’t too bad, and if we left the insulated suits on outside of the water, we would overheat in a hurry.  It seemed likely that when we left the peninsula, it would be after the bad guys were gone, so we could bring the boat right up to shore.  Either that, or we would be leaving in a hail of gunfire.  Whatever happened, I doubted that the suits were going to be used for swimming back out.
I dried off my knife and we set up camp for the night.  Gene agreed to take the first watch and disappeared further inland.
I lay down on top of my survival suit.  The temperature was a little cool, but I could deal with it.  It added to the whole “it’s just a campout” feeling.
Gene came back and woke me up in the morning.  “Maybe two miles east of here there’s some men moving around.  There wasn’t any cover to get closer than a few hundred yards, and the light wasn’t good enough to see what they were doing.”
We ate some of the food we’d brought and packed up our gear.  Gene pointed us to the east, following the shore.  Out of the water, the things I had brought along were even heavier, although walking only two miles along a flat shoreline, even under load, isn’t that bad.
We came to a low ridge that ran perpendicular to the water.  Gene eased up it and peered over the top.  He had a small set of binoculars.
I came up beside him.  I could vaguely see some man-shaped things moving around.  He handed me the binoculars.
“I’d say they’re almost five hundred yards away,” Gene commented.
With magnification, I could see that they were definitely human.  They wore clothing that blended into the surroundings.  Not military camouflage, but someone obviously had put some thought into the color.  I could see that they had weapons, although I couldn’t identify what they were.  I guessed AK-47s.
The terrain between us and them was flat, save for some scrub.  It might be possible to work our way closer, but I didn’t see any use.  We were only two up against at least a dozen.
I got out the sat phone and called back to the boat.  Scorpion said he would pass the location along to the FSB.
Seeing something glinting from the water, I raised the binoculars to check it out.  It turned out to be the sun reflecting off the bridge glass of a small work boat that was coming closer.  Based on the relative size of the men standing on deck, I guessed the boat to be about forty feet long.
I handed the binoculars to Gene and he looked at it for a while.  “It’s coming in,” he said.  “That’s probably what they’re going to take the RTGs away with.”
He passed the binoculars back and I looked at the crowd of men again.  They appeared to be taking camouflage netting off several crate-like objects.  I was betting they were the RTGs inside their cubic protective casings that made them relatively harmless when out in the open.  The netting must have done its job, because I hadn’t seen them sitting there until just then.
The boat approached and was able to come in fairly close to shore.  It must have had a fairly shallow draft.  I had a sudden thought and scanned the horizon.  “If they’re loading them up now, that ship should be getting close.  What was it called, the Kursk Star?”
Gene nodded.  “I think so.  Call the boat and see if they know where it is.”
Scorpion said that he couldn’t see the ship and didn’t have anything on radar.  He put the phone down for a minute while he talked to the FSB back in Murmansk.
He came back.  “Sail, they said that the Kursk Star only left earlier today.  Unless it can travel at fifty or sixty knots, there’s no way it’s even close to here.”
Fifty or sixty knots was roughly sixty or seventy miles per hour, faster than any freighter could travel and faster than most boats period.
“So it looks like they’re not going to meet up just off the coast,” I said.  “What do we do?”
“What’s your situation with the RTG pickers?” Scorpion answered.
I told him about how we were situated with the ridge and how the men were armed.  I also advised that it would be difficult to get any closer.
Scorpion thought it over for a minute.  “You packed the rebreather, right?”
I had a bad feeling that I knew where this was going.  “Yes.”
“Can you get over to the boat and somehow stop it from leaving the area?”  That was exactly where I thought it was going.  Still, it was probably the best option.  I tried to sound upbeat.
“You want it to still be seaworthy or am I allowed to use whatever means necessary?”
“I don’t care, but try not to let them know you’re there until you have to.  Don’t want to spook them.”
“It’ll be taken care of.”  I disconnected and told Gene about the conversation.  We talked over strategy for a few minutes.
“We don’t have any tools to disable the propeller or rudder,” Gene said.
“We could try surprise and do our best to capture them.”
“If these guys are religiously motivated terrorists, they’re going to go down fighting.  That’s not going to work.”
I gave the boat a look.  It had dropped anchor in the shallows.  “If I managed to dig up the anchor, the boat might drift into shore and get stuck.”
Gene shrugged.  “We could try it.  I don’t want to go in shooting because there’s a chance these guys could just be down on their luck Russians trying to make a buck.  How about I give you half an hour to try and move the boat.  If that doesn’t work, we’ll try to capture them.  You pop up out of the water, and I’ll fire some shots over their heads to let them know you aren’t alone.”
“Or you can swim out there and I can stay here.”
“Can you fire accurate shots from this distance?”
I looked at the M4 in his hands.  It was an assault rifle, not a sniper rifle.  It didn’t even have optical sights.  Also, there was the large-hooves-small-trigger problem.
“No,” I said.  “Can you?”
He grinned.  “You might be surprised.  Besides, it’s your rebreather.”
I crawled back down to the bottom of the ridge and put on the marshmallow suit and the rebreather.  The knife went back on and I slipped into the water, leaving the sat phone with Gene.
I sure hoped he was as good with that rifle as he thought he was.  I didn’t think an RTG would blow up if a stray bullet hit it, but it might spread radiation around.
I waded into the water and checked to see how much time I had left.  I didn’t know how long it would take to sabotage the boat.  I hoped I had enough.
As I got over to the boat, the visibility dropped.  The men wading in and out of the water and the boat’s propeller had churned up silt and made the water cloudy.  I couldn’t see very well, but I couldn’t be seen, either.  
In the cloudy water, I nearly ran into one of the anchor chains.  I swam up and discovered that it was the bow anchor.  I quickly came up with a plan and dropped back to the bottom to dig up the anchor.
I pulled sand away.  I was unsure if I would be able to lift it, but I had to try.  When enough sand was pulled back, I grabbed the anchor’s shank and pulled on it.  It moved a little, so I reset my stance and lifted again.  This time, I was able to move it several feet.  I began to pull the anchor out to sea.
I’d almost got the boat perpendicular to the beach before the anchor chain went tight and the anchor was hauled out of my grasp.  They’d realized that the anchor wasn’t set anymore, and they were pulling it up to reset it.
I quickly swam to the rear anchor and began digging it up.  If I could get it loose before the bow anchor was dropped again, then the boat would be completely free.  I cleared the sand away and then pulled on the anchor.  It popped out and I pulled it towards shore.
The boat was now pointed stern first at the beach.  If I could get it backed into the sand, it might damage the propeller.  I heard a whine and then the engine began to crank.  It fired up and the propeller began to turn, pushing the boat away from the shore.
Swearing to myself, I waited until the boat came back around to anchor again.  I was close to the thirty minute deadline, but I hoped Gene would see that I was making progress, and give me a little extra time.
When the stern anchor dropped, I grabbed it before it could bury itself too deeply in the sand.  I took it a few feet towards shore and dropped it.  At the bow anchor, I moved it a few feet towards shore, too.
Hopefully, by moving them gradually, I could get the boat to shore before they noticed again.  Back behind the ridge, I had been watching the place where the waves lapped the shore, and I had determined that the tide was on the way out.  If I could get the boat aground, it would be several hours before the tide would come back in and it could refloat.
For a while longer I worked.  The boat was definitely closer than it had been, but the men were bound to notice eventually.  I picked the stern anchor up and gave it a good pull, swinging the stern hard towards the beach.  The aft corner of the hull brushed the sand, and then a wave gave the boat a shove and it set firmly.  I saw a paddle stab into the water, trying to push the boat away.  They remembered how close the propeller had come to damage the last time, and didn’t want to start the engine now that it was so close.
I swam hard for the bow anchor and towed it towards the beach.  The boat settled further onto the sand.  More people began splashing into the water in an attempt to push the boat into deeper water, but to no avail.
I hung out a few more minutes to make sure they wouldn’t be able to get it refloated and then headed back.  Even underwater, anchors are heavy, and my back and shoulders were sore.  I took my sweet time.