He surfaced and Frank was already above him, braced against the sliding glass door and reaching a hand downward. Frank pulled him through the opening in the glass wall, and the sunlight outside the Kosatka was blinding. It was tough climbing up the exterior deck that had listed so far to one side that it was now a near vertical ramp. Debris floated everywhere. Frank clung to a floating cushion from one of the deck sofas.
"The boat's about to flip!" Cal shouted. "Swim to the rocks!"
The breakwater wall was reachable if the sinking yacht didn't suck them under. They kicked frantically towards the rocks, Frank using the sofa pillow to stay afloat. Looming above them was the short lighthouse at the terminus of the breakwater, surrounded by a pile of monolithic, concrete blocks spilling down into the sea. That crazy Russian, Zebra, had manhandled the controls enough to spare them all from a head-on collision against the rocks. Zebra was still a sonofabitch, but he'd saved them. Thanks?
And there he was Zebra—on the breakwater—clinging to a concrete block. The big man must have gotten out early and saved himself. Except, there was a smaller figure next to him, a woman in a soaked dress that clung to her legs and with a mop of brunette hair draped across her pale shoulders.
"Eeva!" Cal shouted and swam towards her, but the current had pulled him and Frank almost past the breakwater and into the open sea. Frank was behind him, still clinging to the floating cushion.
A great creaking sound announced that the Kosatka had finally rolled onto its back. It foamed around the edges for a moment with escaping air, like the sea was boiling, and then with one big burp, the yacht disappeared into the Mediterranean.
"Frank, we gotta swim!"
But Frank was already ahead of him, scrambling for the rocks.
Wet, shivering, and exhausted, Cal made it to the breakwater and clung to one of the giant concrete blocks sticking up from the water's edge. Frank was on his back atop another block, huffing great breaths. The stack of concrete continued up to a squat lighthouse perched at the end of the breakwater, where a narrow road led back to shore. They were on the other side of the breakwater from Eeva now and almost swept away.
"We made it, Frank."
Frank only stuck a limp hand in the air with his thumb raised to the sky, a defiant gesture to the gods if there ever was one, with Castle Hill towering over them like Mount Olympus. Cal imagined then that Frank was Odysseus, washed ashore after escaping Poseidon's wrath: a great king reduced to a wet heap on a strange shore. But then Frank was on his feet and climbing.
Frank coughed and said, "We can't be here when the police show up." Already there were boats swarming in the distance, heading towards the Kosatka.
Cal agreed. "We get Eeva and get out of here."
Cal didn't want to be on the evening news any more than Frank did. MJ would be mortified. He reached for his phone, but he'd lost it somewhere escaping the Kosatka. Frank looked empty-handed, too. Even his pockets were turned out like wet, drooping dog ears.
Frank looked back and said, "I think we should have retired in Albuquerque—instead of turning left, right, or whatever direction got us here."
"But you hate the desert, Butch," Cal said between breaths as they climbed.
"I don't think I will, Sundance . . . not after this."
They reached level ground at the base of the lighthouse where a narrow asphalt road led down the spine of the breakwater back to shore. Frank pulled apart and looked down over the wreckage of the Kosatka and the fleet of rescue boats approaching, shaking his head.
"That was a stupid plan, by the way," he said.
Of course it was stupid, Cal knew that, but there hadn't been another way to go about it. It was hard to keep the smile from his face when he asked, "Which part specifically?"
Frank answered with a harsh laugh. "Chasing after the girl. Boarding a hostile ship. Coming back for me instead of swimming to safety. The whole fucking thing."
It was hard to disagree.
Frank continued, "And a whole line of high-level surveillance has been wiped out. We could have tracked the Russians for months: uncovering the source of their materials and who they've been selling to. Lilith's going to be pissed, that's for sure."
"Well, shit."
What else could he say? That he should have just let Eeva murder the Russians or get killed in the process? She was a runner on base and Cal had been up to bat; there was no way he could have left her stranded. That's right—think baseball. Never mind that he'd been betrayed and lied to by the woman he'd fallen in love with. Never mind that he'd gone after her anyway. How would Lilith understand?
Then Frank smiled. "But don't worry. She'll blame me anyway and she's been pissed at me for thirty years. It's how we dance."
"You're divorced."
"Then things can only get better," Frank said over his shoulder as he started past the lighthouse and down the road leading back to shore.
A little black drone whirred into view and circled once as if to inspect them. Frank gave the drone a casual salute, and the drone returned the gesture with a dip to one side and then angled upwards towards Castle Hill. Cal squinted his eyes and could just make out crowds of people gathered like dots of color at the viewing platforms, no doubt watching the wreckage below.
"—Call MJ!" he shouted after the drone, too late. "Shit."
He'd have to borrow Lilith's phone when he found her and tell MJ that he was alright. More than that, he'd tell her everything. No more running. No more omissions and half-truths, not with MJ and not with anyone. She wouldn't be happy, but she could take it, and maybe—just maybe—she'd be proud.
"I suppose I owe Niles a drink," Frank said, watching the drone disappear into the distance.
"Like you need an excuse," Cal teased.
"And Jonathan, too, I expect," Frank continued. "Did you see the Russians panic when they realized their GPS navigator wasn't working?"
"That was Jonathan?!"
"He was the triggerman, no doubt," Frank said as they hustled across the road. "But the crash is classic Lil': turn the enemy's weapons against them."
And it had almost gotten them killed. Looking down again at floating debris from the Kosatka, Cal thought about Jaan's helicopter disintegrating over Lake Peipus. The same technology that had sent Eeva's brother over the Russian border to be shot out of the sky had sent them careening into the concrete rockpile of the breakwater. Lil' hadn't been clear about what Black Fish was, but it was clear that she now had a demonstration of its power.
A power better left untouched, perhaps. Maybe it was naive to think, but anything that could sow such death and chaos with a click of a button—it couldn't be a good thing. What was left when humans relied on technology but could no longer trust it?
The shadow of the Kosatka's exposed belly answered, undulating beneath the surface of the marina. It would make a good dive spot once the sea life moved in; Marat and Valeri Solonik in skeleton form like aquarium decorations bought at the pet store, little fish darting between their ribs. There'd probably be nightmares about that later, but for now he'd made it—Frank and Eeva, too. And Zebra . . . who was on the rocks below and helping Eeva to her feet.
"Eeva!" Cal yelled, scrambling down the rocks.
"CAL!"
They embraced with arms wrapped wetly around each other, and they clung to each other there, balanced on the stones. Cal kissed her feverishly across her cheeks and forehead and wound his fingers through the clinging tendrils of her hair. He didn't mind at all that it was brown instead of blonde.
"You're alive," he said and didn't care that he was weeping.
"Thanks to him," she said and Zebra behind her.
Frank had descended the rocky slope to assist the big Russian and soon all four of them were on level ground again. They used the lighthouse to shield them from view from the rescue boats that now circled the wreckage of the Kosatka.
"You," Cal said to Zebra, who was leaning on his knees and gratefully gulping in breaths of air.
"Yes, me, Cal MacIntyre," Zebra said in his thick accent. He stood up straight and met Cal eye to eye. Zebra was just as tall, but with shoulders a mile wider.
Cal straightened his posture, too, exhausted but ready for a fight.
"We stop meeting like this, yes?" Zebra said to him. Then he smiled almost handsomely.
Cal was speechless.
Frank stepped closer. "Zelenko, give us one good reason we shouldn't flag down the police, right now—or better yet—throw you back in the water with your bosses!"
Zelenko—Cal remembered what Frank had called him earlier—shook his head and kept his smile. "Because quid pro quo, Clarissa. Quid pro quo."
Frank looked stunned, but only for a moment. "You recognized me?"
Zelenko nodded. "You think I can't tell fake English accent? Or recognize SIG Sauer pointed at me twice?"
Frank conceded the point with a shrug.
"Now," Zelenko continued, "like you said: quid pro quo." He gestured to Eeva standing next to Cal, shivering but alive. "I save her. I give you something, now you give something."
"What bullshit is this?" Cal asked harshly.
Frank kept his eyes on Zelenko. "I offered him a deal earlier—before his minions came in with guns blazing."
"I give you something, now you give me something," Zelenko repeated.
"Did he save you?" Cal turned to Eeva and asked.
She nodded.
"When I went under the last time, it was so dark I couldn't see. Then I saw a green glow moving in the dark and knew someone else was alive. I swam towards it and reached out, but I got stuck at the window and . . . I thought I was going to die . . . but he pulled me through. The next thing I remember I was onshore coughing up seawater." She held one of his large hands in hers and squeezed it before letting go. "Thank you, and I mean it."
Frank gestured wildly at Zelenko.
"He saved you?" he said.
"I give CPR," Zelenko said with pride in his voice.
Eeva confirmed with a nod.
Cal couldn't believe what he was hearing. And the green glow? Sure enough, there was his Bell & Ross watch, Molly's thirtieth wedding anniversary gift, strapped around Zelenko's wide wrist. Cal knew well the luminescent glow from the watch's face and, in the flooded cabin of the Kosatka, it had saved Eeva's life.
"Fine!" said Frank and he threw his hands up, surrendering the point. "You're a big hero now, okay? Let's talk—"
Frank threw a look in Cal's direction.
"—up there," Frank finished and then gestured up the pile of concrete blocks back towards the lighthouse. The big Russian followed him up. And just like that, Frank was back to keeping secrets.
Cal watched them go and shook his head. He'd worry about that budding relationship another day. Right then, there was too much to be grateful for. He took Eeva's hands in his and her skin was warm beneath his fingers.
"I thought I lost you," he said. "I felt your hand grab my ankle, but I couldn't save you and Frank at the same time. I'm sorry—"
Eeva waved away his apology and shook her head. "No, I never grabbed you. I followed that glow and then he grabbed me through the broken window."
Cal replayed the memory of the submerged hallway and was sure someone had grabbed his ankle. If it wasn't Eeva, then it had to have been one of the Russian brothers. Maybe it was his imagination filling in blanks, but the fingers had felt long and slender—it must have been Marat Solonik, tall and rail thin, and Cal had left him to drown.
No, that wasn't true.
He'd saved Frank and then went back to save Eeva and found nobody. But he would have pulled Marat to the surface if he'd have found him. Right? That question rolled through Cal's mind as he and Eeva climbed the concrete blocks back up to the road, where Frank and Zelenko were ahead several paces.
"Listen, Cal," Eeva said. "I was angry that you came back to stop me from shooting them . . . but I'm glad you did. And I was honest before, on the phone, when I said that I'm glad we met."
Cal studied her face and wondered how two things could be true: that she was still a stranger to him, and that he loved her all the same. The fake hair, their chance meetings, her observation of him and Frank from her apartment window—conveniently just across the garden from his own apartment. But her grief had been real. Her affection, too. And standing there on the breakwater with the Kosatka wreckage spread before them, Cal couldn't imagine a life in which he and Eeva hadn't met.
"And maybe," she continued, taking his hands in hers. "Maybe we can try again when things settle down. No more lies. No more missions. Just two people who've been through some shit together"
Cal pulled her close. Yes, maybe they could try again, this time with no more secrets between them. But right then he felt a tug on his soul pulling him in another direction. There were things to do and promises to keep.
"Eeva, I'd like to try," he said. He didn't want to say the next part. "But first—"
"—but first—" she interrupted.
"—I have to go."
"—I have to go."
They finished at the same time.
"Why?" he asked.
"Where?" she asked, again at the same time.
Eeva shushed him kindly with two delicate fingers on his lips. "Estonia. I have to report to my government. I am retired, but this is something they need to know, and I think it's a conversation better done in person."
Cal nodded.
"Then . . . I will visit Jaan's grave and his family. I have a niece and nephew who I miss and—oh, Cal—they look so much like him! I need to see their faces and give my love to his wife." Tears welled in her eyes. "I need family after all of this. Then—maybe—I can come back and find peace here again."
Cal pulled her close and spoke over the top of her head as she pressed it into his chest.
"I understand. I need to see my daughter too, after all of this. You'd love MJ! And I need to see my little grandson, too. Did I tell you that he loves baseball? He's not very good at it yet," Cal smiled, "But he's young and with a good coach . . . Well, anyway, I need to see their faces. But before that, I have to go back to Florida and face Judge Hoffer. I made a deal with him, and I shouldn't have run from it."
Eeva nodded and then leaned into him, and even though he was wet and cold from the sea, his chest was warm with her tears. After a long moment that he wished were longer, he separated from Eeva, held her by her shoulders, and looked her in the eyes.
"And thanks to you, Eeva, I can face it. I can face the memories. I can face the anger. And whatever Hoffer throws at me, I know I can handle it. This old dog has a lot of life left in him, and a lot to look forward to."
Then he kissed her.
It was a kiss filled with hope.
He took Eeva's hand and together they caught up to Frank and Zelenko already walking down the narrow road back to Nice and their future. The rescue boats still circled the wreckage of the Kosatka, a short distance to their north, oblivious to the four survivors slowly walking away. The superyacht floated upside-down now, the aft end just barely above the waterline. There seemed to be no sign of other survivors. The Russian brothers and their schemes were gone.
"Hey, Zebra!" Cal called ahead. "One more thing!"
Both the big Russian and Frank turned around.
"I want my watch back."
Cal said it with the same smile that had earned him the nickname Sundance—a smile that had charmed Molly so long ago, and the one he'd lost after she died. It came back to him naturally then, up from his belly, through his shoulders, and easily across his face. Frank's own face was a mask, but at least Zelenko was swayed by Cal's smile. The big Russian undid the strap and tossed the watch through the air but towards Eeva instead. He met Cal's look with a playful sneer.
"We are even now," Zebra declared and then turned back to Frank with more hushed words shared between them.
Eeva stared at the watch like she'd just been handed a treasure that wasn't hers. When she handed it over, her lips pressed together solemnly.
"It's heavy," she said.
"It's perfect," Cal replied and then tested the watch's weight in his hand. Eeva was right: it was heavy after its time away from his wrist, but it was a weight he missed. He flipped it over and ran his thumb over the familiar inscription.
From Molly,
~forever~
Cal strapped the Bell & Ross back on his wrist and headed for home.
THE END