The Black Bullet

nine parking lot.

She parked next to a tree in the shopping center lot, hoping the shade would keep her car cooler. Nicole tilted the rearview mirror in her direction. As she applied lip gloss, she saw his reflection. A fast walk. His head darting right to left.

Lock the door. But he was at her door before she could lock it. He yanked it open with one hand and pressed the barrel of a gun to her ribs. “You scream you die.”

“Please don’t hurt me!” Please-”

“Silence! Bring your purse and your cell phone. Come with me to the van. Get in the side door. If you even think of running, we will kill you on the spot.” He pulled her up and put his one arm around her shoulder as he escorted her to the waiting van. He opened the door, and they both got inside. In Russian, he said to the driver, “Find a quiet place. A place where no one can hear if she screams.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Nick Cronus stood at the small bar in O’Brien’s boat, Jupiter, and sipped from his fifth bottle of Corona. He touched the center of the water ring his beer bottle left on the bar. Nick looked up as O’Brien entered the galley. “Sean, you ever think about the circle of life?”

“Not in the last few minutes.”

Nick gestured toward the condensation ring. He said, “Once you play in the circle of evil you can’t get out ‘cause it never ends. Unlucky sailors get sent to Davy Jones locker. Sean, we hooked it. We caught evil like we picked up a psycho hitchhiker. And now, about a mile from this barstool, the devil got his cocaine in those U-235 cans.”

O’Brien shook his head. “Nick, you need to eat something, the beer’s talking.”

Nick sipped his beer and raised his voice louder. “Listen to me. Maybe you and I are the ones tapped to be led down into hell for some reason. Some kinda punishment-or a test. That submarine is a cursed place, just like Davy Jones locker. Some old-time Greeks told me Davy Jones was really Davy Jonas, you know, the guy who was eaten by the whale. We were almost swallowed by a bull shark last night.”

Jason Canfield stepped onto Jupiter’s cockpit. He walked toward the open door leading into the salon and stopped, overhearing Nick’s voice. It was loud, a little slurred, and Nick was arguing with Sean. Jason held back at the door, partially because he didn’t want to intrude, and also because what he was hearing stopped him in his tracks.

Nick drained his beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looked over at O’Brien and said, “I’ve been on the ocean all my life, and I have never seen a boat blown clean outta the damn water like we saw last night. Who bombed it? We never should have gone back out there and dove down to bring up those two canisters of magic dust.”

“We were asked to do it because we knew where the U-boat was and could get to it before someone else could in international waters. It’s done, Nick. Let’s move on.”

“Bullshit! It’s just starting. Now that stuff is stored less than a mile from here off Dunlawton Road in Dave’s storage unit. Kinda funny, the word unit. Stored in U-236, same damn number as on the side tower of the U-boat. Now I challenge you to tell me that is just coincidental. It might as well be stored in Davy fuckin’ Jones locker. The devil got his cocaine in those U-235 cans. You gotta be able to see that.”

“That’s enough! Lower your voice, Nick.”

Jason Canfield cleared his throat and walked in through the salon’s open door. Max trotted over to greet him as Nick spun around on his barstool. He said, “Jason, you’re quiet as mouse with laryngitis. Where’d you come from?”

O’Brien cut his eyes to Nick and then looked over to Jason. He said, “Thought you were on your way to run the errands.”

“I was, but I forget my truck keys.” Jason stepped to the coffee table next to the couch and bent down to pick up his keys. “Sorry, Sean. I’ll be back soon.”

Jason was almost out the door when O’Brien said, “Hold it! Come back in here, Jason. What’d you hear? Trust me on this. I really need to know.”

Jason turned around, his face flushing. He swallowed dryly, looked down at Max a second before looking up at Nick and O’Brien. “I didn’t hear anything, really. Just you and Nick arguing about something. I guess I should have knocked, sorry.”

O’Brien walked around the bar, stopping next to the coffee table. A horsefly darted in through the open door. Max waited a second and snapped at the fly. O’Brien said, “Jason, if you overheard us, you need to tell me right now. Because if you did, you wouldn’t be prepared … others can find out, and they’ll do things to make you talk, things you can’t imagine. Now, what did you hear?”

“Nothing, Sean. I better get going.” Jason turned and stepped out the door. As he walked quickly down the dock, a flock of sea gulls flew over the boats, their calls like choppy laughter rolling over the smooth surface of the quiet marina water.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Nicole Bradley sat as far away from Andrei Keltzin as possible. On the passenger bench seat behind the driver, she sat with her back against the van’s panel wall. They used duct tape to bind her hands. She didn’t want to look at the man. Wanted to close her eyes, open them and hope he’d disappear, like a bad dream.

The driver stopped the van behind an abandoned warehouse. He parked next to a dumpster. He left the motor running, the air conditioner blowing cold air, a slight smell of moldy newspaper, exhaust, and sour wine seeping through the system.

“Zakhar,” said Keltzin, sitting next to Nicole. They spoke English.

“Yes.”

“Hand me the blade-the one you worked so hard to sharpen.”

Zakhar Sorokin lifted a straight razor from a pocket inside his sports coat and handed it to Keltzin.

“Please don’t,” pleaded Nicole.

Keltzin opened the razor, the light from a panel window reflecting off the blade. He leaned closer to her and whispered in a throaty voice, “Your profile on Facebook said you had been told by friends you have a face for television.”

“Please ….”

“So what does a ‘face for television’ mean?”

“I didn’t mean anything … please … what do you want?”

“Your boyfriend, Jason, what did he tell you about the submarine?”

“He said it’s like somewhere off Daytona Beach.”

“How many cylinders of U-235 did they really find?”

“He said two.”

“Where is this submarine located? What are the GPS numbers?”

“I don’t know.”

“On your television station, we heard him say he could find it again. There is no way he could find it again without the numbers. What are they?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”

Keltzin slid next to her. She could smell sweat and vodka from his skin. He took the razor and touched the tip of it to her cheek. “If I cut you, I will cut you from this cheekbone, down to your mouth and up to the other