Chapter 18. Duel at Arch Rock

It was quiet except for the sound of the stooge swimming as fast as he could away from us and, with only a trace of a grin, Anna asked, “How well can you swim, Doc?”.

The best he could do was beg, “This wasn’t my idea. Don’t shoot me, Anna. They made me…”

I wondered whether he was having a similar epiphany as mine, looking into the barrel of her Mac-10. I thought not because fear doesn’t leave room for the clarity of mind granted by resignation… Doc was no noble but humble Prince Muishkin and I doubt whether he ever read Dostoyevsky.

I’d seen, and been part of, several summary executions in Nam with the ARVN or my own. There were those who’d begged for mercy and there were those who made no protest but were already prepared for the ultimate finality. Nothing in Counter Intelligence training prepared me for that end but having had to put a bullet in a man’s head point-blank helped put the Zen in the idea that once we stepped into combat we were dead men already. That’s what Charlie had over us. Most G.I.’s in Nam were kids that were chasing skirt but a few months before and were doing their time trying not to get their asses killed. At best, they might get home in one piece. They were going to live at all costs. Charlie knew the odds were that, by the time this war was over, was he would be fertilizer for the next crop of rice because it was his home and he had resigned to his karma.

Anna ignored Doc, crossed over to the transom, and took aim on the frantically flailing Stooge Two now beyond twenty yards away. She put the few rounds left in the clip into the water behind him for the fun of it… must have thought better of shooting him.

“Anna, where did you get that?”

“I told you I know this boat better than you do,” she laughed. It was only then I noticed she was topless, holding the machine-pistol like a pinup on a Soldier of Fortune calendar. She slipped a clip out and snapped a new one in.

“You did say that,” I had to laugh.

“I lied, it was in my bag.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“There’s a lot more I have asked that you haven’t answered.” I looked at the sad excuse for a man shaken before me. I could find out more if I kept him alive, “How about you, Doc? She can empty that clip into your face in less than a second. What the fuck’s goin’ on with you pulling shit like this?”

Doc didn’t answer.

The Sherlock was sinking. Ryan would have to understand. Anna ducked back into the cabin and hustled up as much as she could take by hand…came out a couple times before she tossed her sea-bag onto the Dream. Anna was throwing everything useful to us off the Sherlock. The bow had begun angling skyward as water spilled in aft and the weight of the engine block pulled her down. Anna leapt aboard just before the Sherlock bobbed bow up a few minutes before she slipped out of sight to the bottom.

Goon’s body, tethered to the cleat on the Sherlock, was with the flotsam on the surface a minute before being snapped under like a fishing bob as soon as the slack of the rope tautened.

I looked at Anna. She still had the Mac-10 on Doc. I was afraid her finger would… well, she wasn't shaking very much but the effect of adrenaline ebbing takes a good deal of experience to overcome. I knew the feeling."Okay, Anna. I've got him covered." 

I needed to take Doc alive as a hostage as much as to drill him for the truth of what was happening. A good investigator always goes to multiple sources if at all possible. I needed him as a hostage if it came to that end. It was also possible that he could fill-in the blank spots that Anna wasn’t telling me. I had to take charge now because I couldn't trust her.

Anna lowered her pistol but still commanded him, “Stand, Doc. Turn around. Cross your hands on your head.”

Holding the Browning to his ear, and with my other hand, I clasped the back of his two at a pressure point that set a shock of pain enough to let him know it was useless to struggle, “Relax, Doc.” then to Anna, “Anything to tie these.”

“I have cuffs in my bag." she almost leered, "Tools of the trade. You know.” She took a large black leather tote out of her sea-bag, unzipped it, came over and clamped them on so tight he winced. I spun him around and she frisked him, paying extra rough special attention to his crotch.

“Oowaaatch! goddamn it!” he whined.

“Shut up, you deserve worse than havin’ your balls squeezed.” That’s when she felt the dampness of shit in his pants. She backhanded his face with her soiled hand. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Remember these cuffs, you pervert? I’ve got your old ankle restraints in my bag too… remember them? Oh, you’re gonna to like this but no one’s calling you Master now?”

 “Knock it off, Anna, we need to get out of here first. We’ll attend to this turd later. You don’t know it, Doc, but I’m your best friend here.”

That must have pissed off Doc because he suddenly got a pair, “You’re stealing my boat too! Kraszhinski, you don’t know the shit-hole you’ve dug for yourself!”

“Anna, you must have a ball-gag with you, eh? Take him into the berth. And don’t fuck him up too much… just keep an eye on him.”

The scanner squawked the hint of a Slavic accent, “Shoreline… Shoreline to Dream Boat… Shoreline to Dream Boat… Doctor’s Dream… Doctor’s Dream… Copy.”

“It's Yuri’s call… He’s desperate… still ashore or calling from another boat,” I yelled into the berths, anxious to get far enough beyond the straits. “Is there another boat, Doc?”

 “No, but he can do better than a boat,” Anna interrupted while she lifted the cushion of the storage under the seat between us. She unscrewed the muzzle break of the shotgun, commenting, “This oughta be useless.”

“Keep it anyway, you never know when we’ll need to punch some holes in something. Any ammo in there?”

 “Lessee… four boxes of 12 gauge… two loaded bananas for the AK. One still loaded. She checked each for ammunition. “Shit, we have two different rounds… your 9 mm pistol, two more 30 round clips for the Mac-10’s forty-fives, and the AK Russian round… man, I’m glad they’re Russian. There’s a lot of Romanian and Balkan crap out there. We have a goddamned arsenal here.”

“Drop the Mac-10 in the drink…”

“Aw, c-mon… I was just fallin’ in love with it.”

“At 30 rounds in less time than it takes to fart? It's useless without a truckload of ammo. Besides, we don’t need evidence on board, drop it when we get a bit further out.” My Browning in its’ holster calmed my nerves but there was nothing like a little distance over the horizon for stress relief.

"Evidence? That's paranoid bull shit. I'm keepin' it. Just because I love you doesn't mean I'm taking orders from you."

 She was right. I didn't want to admit it but I did for the sake of harmony. "You're right. Just the fact that we had commandeered Doc's boat is enough evidence to hang us." 

I didn’t relax until we were at least twenty-five nautical miles west and North into the blue waters and heading further away from the horizon where the loom of the light and coastal fog gave away to the clear, infinite blanket of stars.

“Take the helm then,” I stepped down into the forward berth to check on Doc.

He was squirming in one of the four berths nearest the hatch. Cigarette boats are made for racing and not for overnight cruising. The bow is long enough but the draft was such that I had to duck all the time I was down there. My nose was close enough to get a whiff of Doc, “I don’t need to smell this shit!”

I looked at Doc, “You got a one of those webbed laundry bags anywhere?”

“Yes, under the seat,” pointing out at Anna.

“Anna, toss me that bag and some cord if there’s any in there.” She pulled out the bag and a roll of parachute cord and chucked them to me.

I unlocked Doc’s cuffs, “Here. Take off those fucking white yachtie pants and put ‘em in here.”

I cuffed him before I tied the laundry bag to the cord and hung it over the side. I excused Anna from the helm and she ducked under the dash squatting next to Doc. Anna had a spoon out and held a Bic lighter under it.

“No… no Anna… not that!”

I looked down in time to catch her drawing the juice into the syringe, “Anna, what the fuck are you doin’?”

“It’ll help him rest.”

“Don’t kill him, we might need a hostage.”

Doc shrank back from her and she slapped him, “It was good enough to pump into your subs, wasn’t it?”

I held my peace. I had to admit it was a good idea to knock out Doc. But if Anna had enough dope to use on Doc she damned well had enough for herself. I took a little umbrage in that she had been somewhat honest with me. I knew better than to think that Anna wouldn’t use the rest at the first opportunity. I needed a plan and I just didn’t have one… any other than to let shit stick where it lands and go from there.