Chapter 13
Louhi
My fin-covered feet swing freely over the side of the open chopper. With a grin, I grip the metal bar to my left as I lean out the side to gaze down at the inky ocean below. The air up here is cool and refreshing as it slaps my face.
In the distance, the moon casts shadows on the rugged, jagged cliffs of the island. It might even be pretty in a haunting, macabre sense if I didn’t know what horrors were built atop those rocks.
“Two minutes from the drop site,” the pilot announces in Russian. He’s been flying black for the last twenty minutes, and now that we’re getting close, he’s begun to drop in altitude.
I tighten my hold on the bar, my pinky and ring fingers throbbing, but I shut out the pain.
I chose not to splint them because I’d rather have free range of motion of broken fingers than two stiff, immobile digits.
If they become permanently crooked, so be it.
It’s hardly the only souvenir I’ve gained.
“Are you fucking sure about this, Louhi?” Viktor asks, the crystal-clear sound of his voice echoing through my radio comms unit, despite being on a boat nearly two hundred kilometers away.
He’s running interference so our communication won’t be intercepted by the idiots on the island.
“Your father’s ghost would make my life hell if you died on my watch. ”
I snort. “I’d haunt you either way, and we both know I’m worse than my Is?.”
Honestly, haunting him would be fun. I should remember that. I’d make sure his keys were never where he left them and switch his hot water to ice cold mid-shower. That’d make death such a thrill.
“If my arms deals start going sideways when you kick it, I’ll know who to blame.”
I shiver as we zoom through the sky on this floating hunk of metal and adjust the pack that’s strapped to my front. “My ghost will accept blood offerings and sacrificial wine.”
He chuckles. “I’m patching Sasha in now.”
The mechanical whirr sounds over that of the blades overhead as the inflatable dinghy is released from beneath the chopper, the boat gently landing into the nubilous, rippling water. This pilot needs a raise.
“I’m dropping now,” I tell them as the helicopter hovers over the insertion point. Exhilaration and adrenaline swirl in my veins as the serpent that lives in my soul prepares to take a bite of retribution.
“Good luck,” they both speak into my ear.
Hold on, Sean, I’m coming.
I say a silent prayer to Vellamo, the goddess of the water, to tame the current and calm the sea so I can get to Sean faster.
After a quick check that the two packs are still secured, I helocast into the waves below. As the icy water swallows me, my burning need for retribution and eagerness for bloodshed keep me warm. The wetsuit helps, too.
Subjected to the salty sea, the various cuts I still wear like badges of honor sting beneath the nylon. I’m sure the butterfly bandages are doing nothing to hold the larger wounds closed now that they’re submerged. What sorts of injuries will Sean have collected?
I beat against the surf as I swim the handful of meters to the waiting black boat and climb aboard, swiping away the wet strands of hair that escaped my braid.
Placing the dry bags at my feet, I switch the motor on.
My eyes are raw and my skin prickles, but I shut out everything except the blazing need to reconnect with Sean.
Well, the prospect of murder doesn’t hurt.
Using a Doppler radar and the comms unit, Viktor navigates me in the direction of the island in the inky blackness of the ocean.
“There’s sharks in those waters, so watch out.”
“That’s quite helpful, Sasha, thank you,” I answer flatly, my lungs burning slightly. Two sets of sniggers sound in my ear. Blessedly, the only additional statements for the next seventy-five minutes are navigational as they track my location.
My heart begins to race as I finally spot craggy rocks ahead and the imposing island looming. Dim lights shine high above, originating from somewhere beyond my scope of vision. Good, someone’s home.
This close, I kill the motor and reach for the oars. I’m sure the deep bellow of the sea would drown out the humming, but it’s best not to chance it.
I spot the drainage pipes and sheer rockface that I scaled on my escape and sigh, knowing that I’m destined to become reacquainted with those pipes again soon.
The current becomes a worthy adversary as it knocks the boat into several rocks while I quickly and quietly navigate to the other end of the island. Although my heart thuds rapidly for a reason unrelated to the physical exertion.
Eventually, I spot the sandy beach where Sean and I made our escape only a week ago. Luckily, I don’t see anyone on patrol. My fins chafe against my damaged toenails when I hop out of the boat and drag the inflatable raft onto the shore.
“Do you see anyone?” Viktor’s voice rings in my ear.
I scan my shadowy surroundings as though I haven’t had my head on a swivel since I first jumped into the water. “Negative.”
This is far from the riskiest part of this rescue mission. In fact, things will swiftly escalate from here—literally.
Viktor and Sasha protested heavily when I insisted on doing the extraction myself.
They only backed off when I mentioned that I don’t exactly play well with others and pointed out that this is what I do for a living.
While I don’t typically leave my jobs with anyone’s pulse still thumping, there’s a first time for everything.
Besides, Viktor and Sasha are more equipped to manage the firefight that will ensue later.
“I’m moving ashore.”
After meticulously surveying the beach again, I grab the dry bags and remove my fins. I hastily make my way up the beach toward the thick area of vegetation where I hid out before realizing it was Honey Eyes and Sean waiting with the boat.
Covered by the shrubbery, I crouch, unzip the bag, and remove five bricks of C-4, placing four strategically around this wooded area.
I move as stealthily as possible. Since I don’t know the patrol schedule nor if anyone is near this beach, every second I linger is another moment I risk being caught.
If I’m caught, the backup plan is far messier.
All-out war is certain to complicate things.
Ensuring the remote detonation is activated, I strap the dry bag to my back.
That’s when I hear the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping.
I freeze in place. Hunched over, I lean into the tropical shrubbery until I’m sure it conceals me entirely.
I strain my ears but don’t hear another sound.
After mentally counting to sixty, I gamble with my life and peer around the leafy blind.
Sure enough, there’s a soldier about one hundred yards away.
A rifle is strapped to his back, and he’s striding away from the direction of the beach, his gait unhurried.
Allowing the adrenaline to fuel me, my pulse pounds as I race back to drop the remaining explosive into the dinghy before rushing into the water.
I clutch my fins tightly and pray the repetitive roar of the waves crashing veil any of my splashing. As soon as the choppy waves can swallow me, I allow them to whisk me farther out to sea. My heart is still hammering as my head bobs above the waves as I place my fins onto my feet.
The silvery glow of the moon illuminates the beach like a spotlight on a stage as I wait for the soldier to return and spot the boat jouncing. Is he lazy, or does his patrol never take him in the direction of the beach?
With one eye on the beach and still no sign of my enemy, I continue to swim away from the island. I peer up at the bright, full moon overhead and offer a prayer to Mielikki, the charitable goddess of the hunt.
As I bask under the starlight, I indulge in one final breath. I slip beneath the cresting water. Once I put enough distance between me and the dinghy, I pop my head up and speak into the comms unit that I’m grateful is waterproof, “Light it up.”
I turn, treading water with a gleeful grin on my face as the bricks of Composition-C explode like overzealous Americans on their Independence Day. If you ask me, today is cause for an even bigger and better celebration.
The boat still bobs in the choppy water, waiting to be discovered, but it’ll be fish food before they figure out who’s responsible for leaving it here.
Diving beneath the waves once more, I swim the remaining three and a half kilometers. I’m glad I remained in shape while imprisoned here; otherwise, I don’t know how I’d manage this trek, loaded down with a bag this heavy.
But there’s nothing that could keep me from reaching Sean now.
Not the ocean. Not gunpowder. Not even death.