Chapter 4

"You are an educated young lady, Anastasia," I said, more out of curiosity than anything else. The seas were calm and the moon cast a broken rod of light across the water's surface as the yacht thrummed smoothly eastward. The single malt Scotch in my glass and the champagne in hers were being consumed at leisure and I thought it might be good to get to know something about my bride.

"And you wonder why I am, or was in the escort business," she answered my unspoken question. I made a mental note to clear up the ambiguity about whether or not she was still in the escort business, but not tonight.

"You have read my mind," I smiled. I didn't think I was seeing her professional persona when we were alone, and I found the 'real' Anastasia to be at least as charming as the professional version.

"It is simple, really," she said. "I have an advanced degree in Economics from a prestigious university in Russia. That degree is not recognized in the US, and yet the US economy weighs as heavily upon me as it would if my degree were recognized. I am not accustomed to a menial existence, so I chose a profession that would, at the very least, allow me to live in some comfort. I suppose I also harbored the forlorn hope that one of my rich clients would fall in love with me and sweep me away to a life of luxury devoid of fat, sweaty politicians and corpulent corporate executives, but instead, I find myself married to a man who wishes me to continue in much the same manner as I did before. Life does have its little ironies, does it not?"

"It does indeed, my dear, but perhaps not a lifetime's worth," I gazed across the waves, finding a kind of peace in their implacable rhythms. The minor ripples we caused in passing would soon be swallowed within the natural texture of the ocean's surface, leaving no trace of our having been there. It made a good metaphor for the lives of most people. "I did not know that you were versed in Economics. Now that I do, perhaps it is time to expand your duties."

"Expand, dear husband?" the irony in her address was playful, but I chose to address it anyway...

"We have a contract in lieu of personal trust and affection, Anastasia," I told her, "since my needs were pressing and I had no time for that trust and affection to build between us. That does not preclude its doing so now, nor does it guarantee that it will. It is simply a means to an end. I daresay that before our business together is concluded, you will not likely find it necessary to return to your former profession. I hope that, should we eventually part company, it will at least be as friends, but there are no guarantees to be asked or given when two are as hastily joined as we have been."

Her moonlit smile, this time, seemed genuine. "I am a woman who enjoys her advantages, so I am grateful for the generous terms of the contract in which we have joined as a substitute for trust, but I find myself intrigued by and attracted to you in ways not prescribed by that contract. You are, I think, at heart, a good man, but you have chosen a strange and dangerous game to play. You treat the meanest of those around you with respect, but engage in the most outrageous betrayals with those who, by all appearances, should be your peers. Curiosity alone draws me to you like a moth to a flame, and yet I feel no searing heat, only comforting warmth. What are you, Nils?"

A very good question, indeed, but I suspected it meant something different to her than it did to me.

"I am an engineer, of sorts, sweetheart," I replied, "though my degree is in business. And now, to keep from revealing too much, I will revert to a previous topic: the expansion of your duties. I should like for you to put that advanced degree to work and give me your assessment of the current global economy, and where leverage might be applied to change it."

"For better," she asked, "or worse?"

"Yes," I answered, drawing an amused smile.

"Now, my dear," I told her by way of changing the subject, "you worked hard on my behalf in the Seychelles. Allow me to do a small favor for you by way of saying 'thank you'."

Since we were at sea and the weather was warm, we were already nude, as had become our habit aboard the yacht. When I dribbled a small amount of expensive scotch on her neatly trimmed pubic patch, Anastasia's legs fell apart as if trying to get away from the spill. This gave me the opening I wanted, and I quickly dove between her silken thighs.

The first flicker of my tongue to capture the rivulet of golden spirit drew a delighted 'Oooh!' from my beautiful wife, as she arched to give me even better access. I employed all of my unnatural talent in pleasing her. It was very seldom that a client bothered to please her in this manner, and I guessed the none of them did it so well. For the first time since our wedding, I made love to my wife. I tenderly explored her femininity, teasing only enough to heighten her arousal, then gently lifted her to her peak. Giving her no rest, I continued my loving titillation, elevating her pleasure to another, higher peak.

For more than half an hour, I catapulted her higher and higher, each climax greater than the last, until finally she had had enough. Instead of leaving her to descend on her own, I continued kissing and loving her trembling loins, bringing her softly back to Earth. At last, I fitted my body to hers on the chaise, and just held her as the final tremors subsided.

Anastasia snuggled her head to my shoulder, a contented smile upon her face. I didn't know if she would love me, or I her, but for the moment, we were comfortable in each other's arms, and given the business in which I engaged, that was probably as much as I could expect.

During the night, we moved into our cabin, but Ana again molded her body to mine as we slept the darkness away. In the morning, as we rubbed the sleep from our eyes, Ana raised her tousled head and bestowed upon me a smile that put the rising sun to shame.

"There are, it seems," she murmured sleepily, "benefits to our arrangement that were not spelled out in the contract."

"The contract is a mere convenience, Ana," I told her. "I hope you won't find it too restrictive."

If she had a response to that, I never got to hear it. There was a sharp rap on the door of our cabin and one of the staff, perhaps Marie, said "The captain urgently requests your presence on the bridge, sir."

The tone of voice and the choice of words, as much as the unusual nature of the request, put me on guard. I dressed quickly in shorts, t-shirt, and deck shoes, telling Ana to do the same.

"What's going on, Nils?" she asked in alarm.

"I do not know, but I want you to go below decks until you hear from me," I told her. "It may be nothing, but better safe than sorry."

The captain was in the enclosed bridge, and the set of his expression as he peered at something through his binoculars only served to heighten my alarm. I borrowed a pair of binoculars from one of the crew and trained them in the same direction.

A pair of small, fast boats, each with a machine gun mounted on the wheelhouse, were approaching from starboard.

"Pirates," I said, not asking. We were in international waters and the boats bore no markings. The people aboard them were a rough-looking crowd, as well.

The captain nodded his agreement.

"Can we outrun them?" I asked. I knew the yacht to be fast, but I suspected that it would not be able to outrun the smaller craft. Simple hull dynamics would prevent it. Those boats could skim over the tops of the waves, hydroplaning over the surface. With the tonnage we carried we had no choice but to slice through the water, pushing it aside as we went.

"No," the captain answered. "The best we can do is hold them off for an hour or so at top speed, but they will eventually overtake us."

"Your recommendation?" I asked.

"If you and the lady weren't aboard," he said, "I would simply heave to and let them take what they wanted. It would not be worth the lives of the crew. With the two of you aboard, I suggest we make a run for it, send our SOS, and then see if we can hold them off long enough for the Indian Navy to arrive, though I doubt they will be in time. If the pirates don't kill you, they will certainly hold you for ransom."

"What weapons do we have aboard?"

"There are a few handguns and a rifle that we intended to use for sharks if you and the lady had decided to take an ocean swim," the captain shrugged, "that's about it."

"Well, there are the skeet guns," I mused, "but perhaps we can pull a fast one on these pirates, instead. Give me long enough to get into my scuba gear, then heave to. Keep the weapons locked away. There's no need for the crew to be harmed. I would appreciate it if you could outfit my wife as a member of the staff or crew and see if that will keep too much interest off of her."

"We can do that sir," he answered, seeming relieved that I wasn't going to ask him to fight it out. "May I ask what you intend to do?"

"I think I will keep that to myself, for the moment, Captain," I smiled. "That way, you won't be lying when you tell them you don't know where I am."

The waters in the area were warm enough that I didn't need a wetsuit, so donning tanks, weight belt, mask and fins didn't take very long. As the captain hove to, I slipped into the water on the far side of the yacht from the pirates. I swam under the hull of the yacht and watched through the crystal clear water as the two boats approached. They stood off for a few minutes and I could hear the muffled sound of what must have been a bullhorn from one of the pirate boats. The reasonable approach, for pirates with two boats, would be for one to stand off, covering the other as its crew boarded the yacht. These must have been reasonable pirates, since that's exactly what they did.

I swam for the farther of the two, counting on the probability that the pirates' attention would be on the yacht, and not the waters beneath their hulls. Most of the pirates would be boarding the yacht, and I expected the other boat to be lightly crewed. I was right. There was one man in the wheelhouse and another on top, manning the machine gun. I took my diving knife between my teeth and simply let the tanks, fins and mask drift away as I came over the stern of the pirate boat. The two left aboard were so intent on what was happening on the yacht that they never noticed the shifting of the hull under my added weight.

As in the fight in high school, I felt only a preternatural calm and a heightened awareness as I approached the wheelhouse.

My bare feet made no sound on the wooden deck. I slipped through the open hatch of the wheelhouse, and behind the man at the wheel. My programming kicked in again and I knew exactly what to do. My hand clapped over his mouth and jerked him backward, off-balance, as my blade slid beneath his ribs and into his kidneys. The shock of the pain in his kidneys froze him long enough for me to draw the razor sharp edge of the blade across his throat, severing the carotid arteries and opening his windpipe below his vocal cords, ensuring that he couldn't scream as he died.

I am an avid reader, and I know that most humans have sharp emotional responses to having killed another human, but I felt nothing as I lowered the body to the deck. My only thought was for the man on the machine gun, and the possibility that there might be someone else aboard.