The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [227]
There were two gangplanks, one amidships leading to the holds and one at the stern leading to the bridge and the crew’s quarters, and there were two guards on each. As he walked to the stern the soldiers stepped forward, their carbines pointing at him.
He saluted and said in Russian, “Spetsnaz Major Valentin Solovsky, here to see the captain.” The men relaxed their trigger fingers, saluting back, but they looked at each other uncertainly and he knew they were under orders to admit no one. Taking a chance, he called out that his uncle, Major-General Solovsky, was on board, and this time one soldier came down the gangplank and asked to see his identification. He inspected it carefully, then quickly saluted. Valentin stared coldly at him. He knew his commanding attitude and his superior rank had done the trick. They were going to let him on board.
“I will escort you to the captain, sir,” the soldier said respectfully.
He told them not to bother, they should stay on guard, he would find his own way.
He could feel their eyes on his back as he strode along the deck and prayed they would not get nervous and change their minds. Still, if he were their commanding officer he would have had them court-martialed. It was more than a Spetsnaz soldier’s life was worth to disobey an order.
He found the captain alone in his quarters, eating his evening meal and drinking Turkish beer from the bottle. He was a heavy-built, rough-looking man, whose normal job—plying his freighter between Russia and Libya—was a matter of routine, requiring little brainpower, and he was already out of his depth with his important visitor, Major-General Solovsky of the KGB. He stared at Valentin, his mouth open in astonishment.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, slamming down his beer.
Valentin’s lip curled. “On your feet,” he commanded. “Spetsnaz Major Valentin Solovsky.”
The captain lumbered quickly to his feet, wiping his mouth with his hand. “Sorry, sir,” he mumbled. “I was not expecting anyone…. The orders were that no one was to be allowed….”
“Except me,” Valentin said angrily. “When will you people ever get things right? I am here to see my uncle, Major-General Solovsky.”
The captain’s eyes widened as he caught the connection. “Yes, sir, of course, sir,” he said fawningly. “I will take you to him myself.”
“No need.” Valentin glanced at the enormous steaming plate of brownish stew. “Finish your meal. Just direct me to him.”
As he walked quickly through the ship he heard the crew talking and knew they must have been confined to quarters so they would not glimpse the important Russian they had on board. But there were no KGB agents or guards around, and he guessed that Boris had decided the fewer people who knew he was there the better. He wanted his visit kept top secret.
He made his way down a spiral staircase into the bowels of the ship. It sat high in the water, rocking gently under his feet, and a single electric bulb showed that the holds were empty. To the left of the stairs was a small office with the door firmly shut. As he had guessed, there were no guards, and from inside he could hear Boris talking.
The door was unlocked. He strode in and came face-to-face with his uncle. Behind him, sitting on a wooden chair, her hands and feet bound, was Genie.
“Valentin!” Boris’s expression flickered rapidly from amazement to fury to satisfaction as he stared at him. “I won’t ask how you got here. But I suppose you might call this a family occasion, so come on in.” He laughed harshly. “This is a moment I have been waiting for. A moment to treasure.”
Valentin closed the door behind him. Genie’s desperate eyes stared at him, but she said nothing and he ignored her. Leaning against the wall, he folded his arms and said, “Well, Uncle Boris, it looks as if you beat me to it.”
“What did you expect?” he replied, his lip curling disdainfully. “Did you think you could outwit the KGB? And me? You forget, Valentin, who you are dealing with. You forget my power. You forget I know everything”