Tides of Tranquility Page 7

  “Hello, friends,” the man said as he saluted across his chest in the Adluvian gesture of respect. The agents awkwardly returned the gesture, not wanting to appear rude or offensive on foreign territory. “I am Vachlan Suchos,” said the imposing man in uniform. “How can I be of service?”

  “Please come in, sir,” said one of the men. “I’m Agent Poole. Jackson Poole.”

  Vachlan moved forward and firmly shook the man’s hand. “Good to meet you, friend. I’m sorry that the queen couldn’t make this meeting but I am sure I can provide you with all the information you need.”

  “You certainly can, sir! Most of our questions were concerning you. You see, you have quite the reputation and it’s growing to be something of a concern.”

  With a smile, Vachlan seated himself in a nearby chair. “I regret to say that rumors of my talents have been greatly exaggerated—but I do enjoy hearing the stories. Why aren’t there any refreshments here?” Snapping his fingers, Vachlan summoned one of the members of the castle wait staff into the room. “Some hors d’oeuvres and beverages, please.”

  Jackson Poole cleared his throat. “We won’t be needing any pampering, sir. We’ve come to ask you some specific and serious questions.”

  “Ask away,” Vachlan said calmly. “I am sure I can clear up all of your confusion on almost any matter pertaining to Adlivun.”

  “Great.” Agent Poole pulled out a recorder and turned it on. “You don’t mind if I record your responses, do you? Just for future clarification.”

  “Not at all,” Vachlan responded with a wave of his hand. Just then, a waiter arrived with the ordered beverages and finger foods. “Excellent! The food is here. Please help yourselves, my friends.”

  “No, thank you,” said Agent Poole. “We’ve already eaten. So, Mr. Suchos, what exactly do you do?”

  “Oh, it’s easy,” Vachlan responded with his mouth full. He licked the crumbs from his fingers, winking at the female agent who was staring at him raptly. “I give advice. Would the lady like a mini quiche? They’re quite delicious.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” said Karen Kilham, smiling and reaching out to take one of the offered treats.

  Agent Poole groaned. “You give advice, Mr. Suchos? So do you mean to say that you aren’t liable for any of the actions taken by others based on this advice you give?”

  “I never said anything of the sort,” Vachlan said, popping another morsel into his mouth. “In my capacity as Royal Advisor, I take full responsibility for giving bad advice. Luckily, that never happens.”

  “So you don’t actually do anything?” another male agent asked.

  “I do quite a bit, actually,” Vachlan said, offering the second agent an appetizer plate. “Would you like some coconut shrimp, my friend?”

  When the second agent extended his hand to accept the offering, Jackson Poole scowled. “So what exactly do you do, Royal Advisor?”

  Vachlan smiled at the investigator almost pityingly. “Isn’t it obvious, my good man? I give advice—and sometimes I take my own advice.”

  “Can you explain what you mean by that?” Jackson Poole demanded.

  “Oh, sure,” Vachlan said, his mouth full again. He licked his lips thoughtfully. “I suppose you could say that when it’s in the best interest of the nation which employs me—I may advise certain covert operations.”

  “Covert operations?” Agent Karen Kilham repeated with interest. She wiped a few crumbs from her chin as she sat down across from Vachlan and leaned forward. “What kinds of operations, Vachlan?”

  “I’m afraid that’s strictly confidential. Do you like sushi?”

  “I love it!” she answered enthusiastically.

  Vachlan signaled to the waiter for more food.

  Jackson Poole moved closer to Vachlan angrily. “I can see that you might find our questioning intrusive, but we have our reasons for being here. We believe that you might be involved with an organization that might pose a threat to national security.”

  Vachlan’s brow furrowed and he stopped chewing. “Really? To American national security?” A loud guffaw erupted from his mouth. He slapped his hand down on his knee at the hilarity of the concept. “I’m really flattered, but I fear I’m just a boring old dad these days. I actually fought for you guys in a juicy little war once.”

  “Vietnam?”

  “The American Revolution. That was a good fight, my friends. I’m sure you can hear in my voice that I’m not originally from this side of the pond—I should have been rooting for the other guy. But I’m quite fond of America, and often grew rather annoyed with Great Britain. I like supporting the underdog, and I’ve always had a soft spot for this half of the planet. It feels a lot less stale, you know?”

  “You took an American citizen named Gaston Landou into custody as a prisoner of war a few years ago…”

  “It turns out that Gaston was a member of the Clan of Zalcan. He killed my daughter and tried to poison my grandson, the King of Adlivun. In fact, if we hadn’t attacked the Clan before the transpacific bridge was completed, they would have used it to swarm in and destroy us. Marshal Landou intended to use a clause to withdraw our naval protection at the last minute to facilitate their planned attack; he was a traitor to both of us, clean and simple. He was arrested on Adluvian soil, and he will remain in Adluvian prison until his final breath. My apologies if you wanted a crack at him, but the privilege of punishment is ours.”

  “We have heard that the prisoner was your cousin,” Agent Poole accused.

  “So he claims. He says that’s where he first developed this huge grudge against me—you see, a long time ago, his parents killed my mother in order to take her throne. So I killed all of them, and he wasn’t too happy about that. Vengeance can really fester in a person over a few centuries. It’s too bad really; Landou was a stand-up guy. He even saved my life once. I suppose he only wanted to kill everyone in my family and steal my wife, not murder me specifically. An eye for an eye and all that.”

  Agent Poole frowned, pushing the recorder onto the table near Vachlan. “Please tell us about your history.”

  “Don’t mind if I do! I was born in London in 1585 and grew into a spry and energetic young man with a love for riding horses and going to the theatre.”

  “Maybe a slightly more succinct retelling would suffice.”

  The waiter arrived with a massive sushi and sashimi plate, and Vachlan thanked him. He took a few pieces for himself before extending the plate to the female agent. “There is no story at all without the whole story, as my mother used to say, but as you wish. I had a bit of a misunderstanding with my wife a while back, left Adlivun in a fit of pique, and chummed around with the wrong crowd for a while. Then I returned and patched things up with her, and now we’re raising a pair of really clever little tykes together. But I suppose you don’t believe me—most parents think their kids are brilliant, right? Honestly, Agent Poole, you should try some of this sushi. It’s quite outstanding!”

  “That’s the whole story, Mr. Suchos?”

  “No, of course not. You told me to abbreviate.”

  “Well, we’d like you to address our specific concerns. We’re sure you know what they are.”

  “I haven’t the foggiest. You’ll have to enlighten me, comrade.”

  Agent Poole leaned forward, glaring at Vachlan in a way meant to intimidate him. “Tell us about how you won at Damahaar.”

  Vachlan’s dark eyebrows drew slightly closer together. “I’m afraid that’s classified information, my friend.”

  “The spread of diseases in Asia shortly before Adlivun attacked Damahaar. Did you have anything to do with it?”

  A sadistic little smile settled on Vachlan’s face. “Do you guys go around just spilling the secrets of your country’s military operations to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who asks you a question?” He seemed amused by their inquiry.

  “We’re not Tom, Dick, or Harry. We’re the CIA.”

  “Yes, because no high-ranking America
n official has ever been a double-agent working for our enemies to single-handedly bring Adlivun down. That has never happened.” Vachlan smiled and continued snacking on mini quiches.

  “We’re not the military, Vachlan. We’re not the navy. We’re not the air force.”

  “That’s right. You’re only an intelligence agency. You only have the power to coordinate and deploy those forces as you see fit.” Vachlan chewed thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, my job is rather parallel to your job. And since we’re equals, I’m sure you know the answers already.”

  The man hesitated. “To be honest, our agency has had great difficulty gathering information about happenings beneath the sea. We were almost completely blind when you attacked Damahaar—we had no idea it was even happening.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “That’s why I need to ask whether you were responsible for the most lethal biological warfare ever to ravage the human race.”

  “Wow. Most lethal? Ever? Ravage? Those seem like harsh words. Did you know that the Mongols brought the bubonic plague to Europe when they attacked in 1346? Killed a third of the population; mighty unfortunate. That was way before my time. Eventually, Europe recovered quite well though, don’t you think?”

  “Vachlan, we’re not here to have a friendly conversation. We’re here to gather information concerning the events at Damahaar.”

  “Why now?” Vachlan asked as he ate a generous helping of salmon. “That was years ago.”

  “We’ve been hearing rumors from our sources and if the rumors are true, it looks like you might be in a lot of trouble.”

  “Rumors are rumors, I fear. I cannot breathe fire and extinguish a city, and Queen Aazuria isn’t some glowing immortal goddess who can’t be killed. Although the woman is pretty tough, I’ll give her that.”

  “Vachlan, did you or did you not release the diseases prior to your attack on Damahaar?”

  “Why don’t you do some more research into this? I’m sure you’ll find that the culprit happens to be providence and lady luck. It really was great timing for us.”

  “So you deny being responsible?”

  “Sadly, anything regarding Damahaar is classified.”

  “I see,” Agent Poole said angrily. “You’ve conquered quite the empire, haven’t you, Vachlan?”

  “Conquered isn’t the correct term. The Clan of Zalcan conquered the undersea world, and we liberated them. Queen Aazuria united the Oceanic Empire because of our shared values in protecting the integrity of the ocean and the quality of underwater life. We are a commonwealth of countries dedicated to preserving sea-dweller rights.”

  “Mermaid rights?”

  “That’s what we’re called in the English-speaking world. We have many other names; the Ningyo in Japan, the Yawkyawk in Australia, Mami Wata in Africa, Sumpall in Chile, the Aycayia in Mexico and Bimini… Honestly, there’s some informative literature at the tourist spots on the Diomede Islands. Perhaps you should pick up a brochure.”

  “You’re being really uncooperative, Vachlan.”

  “On the contrary, I’m being as informative and friendly as I can be.”

  “You have basically made small talk with us and answered all our questions by saying, ‘That’s classified.’”

  “But it is. Everything is classified,” Vachlan said cheerfully. He pointed a finger at the female agent knowingly. “Unless you somehow circumvent the classification, which, I suppose, is what we often must do.”

  “That’s true,” said Agent Karen Kilham. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a picture, slapping it onto the table before Vachlan. “Let’s have a discussion about this woman.”

  Vachlan looked down at the picture of the redhead in surprise. It was a picture taken from some distance of Visola having breakfast at a café in the Bahamas. With the kids. The timestamp on the photo said that it had been taken earlier that morning, perhaps shortly after Vachlan had boarded his flight. They were being spied on. Rising to his feet, Vachlan ripped the picture off the table. “Are you threatening me, Agents? I don’t take kindly to threats.”

  “No, sir,” the female agent said meekly, holding her hands up in a gesture of peace. “We just have a vested interest in the new Oceanic Secretary of Defense…”

  “Minister,” Vachlan corrected sharply. “Minister of Defense—and honestly, if you intend to try and capture her, and torture information out of her—good luck. I’ve done it myself, and it can be quite fun. So go right ahead, but a word of advice? Don’t let her hear you calling her Secretary.”

  “This is not a threat—we don’t mean any harm to your wife or kids.”

  “I pity you if you do,” Vachlan said in a low voice. “Excuse me agents, but I believe this meeting is over.” Vachlan turned and began to march out of the room, seeing colors dance before him in his outrage.

  “One more thing, Vachlan—before you go.”

  He did not turn around.

  “I would highly advise you stop walking.”

  Vachlan paused and turned back, giving the agents a little smile. “Is there a machine gun pointed at my wife’s head? Do you have a drone circling above them, ready to drop bombs if I don’t tell you everything I know? Do I have to tell you about my own guns and bombs to create leverage—is that the kind of conversation you want to have?”

  “No. We came here because we need you, Vachlan. We came to talk about Leviathan.”

  Vachlan squinted in surprise.

  “Where is Leviathan?” Agent Jackson Poole demanded.

  “I’m not sure I follow,” Vachlan said with a deepening frown.

  “If anyone knows, it’s you. We’ve been hearing some whispers recently, and they’ve been a cause of growing concern. We need to know the location of the Leviathan.”

  The dark-haired man shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you there.”

  “This is serious, Vachlan. We feel that Project Leviathan presents a threat to global security. If Adlivun is a friend of ours, you’ll help us snuff this out.”

  “First you threaten me, then you ask for my help? Charming lack of tact,” Vachlan said, but his curiosity nipped at him. “Do you mean sniff or snuff?” he asked with sudden interest.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Snuff meaning to extinguish, and sniff meaning to uncover.”

  Agent Poole hesitated. “Both, potentially.”

  “Is that so? I imagined that since you’re the CIA, the sniffing would have already been done.”

  “Our noses lose the scent of our enemies once they go underwater.”

  “I see,” Vachlan said with mild attentiveness. “So what are your sources?”

  “We can’t disclose that, sir. Everything is highly classified—”

  “Imagine that.”

  “—but we’re having some serious difficulty coordinating relations with undersea dominions. Water effectively insulates many regions from our watchful eyes. The waves wash away all trace of fingerprints, footprints, flakes of skin or strands of hair; we are blindsided when it comes to maritime espionage and have no idea what to expect. So, if you would be neighborly enough to throw us a bone, we’re very interested in Leviathan.”

  “I’ve been a bit off the grid my friends—I haven’t been moving in the circles where such things move.” He stepped forward again, the tassels on his shoulders swinging with each advance. He opened his hands in a gesture of goodwill. “But if you like, I can position myself properly, and position my people properly. I could aid your organization in uncovering the information that the water makes it so difficult for you to uncover. That’s part of my skill set—if you have need, you could employ my services.”

  “Employ?”

  “Sure. I’m a free agent and I provide a service for a price.”

  “We thought that you were bound to serve the Crown of Adlivun.”

  “Bound? No. I willingly choose to serve my country. But if this Leviathan is what I think it is, then Adlivun will benefit from the American involv
ement in… snuffing it out.”

  “And what do you think it is?”

  “That’s classified,” Vachlan answered with a smile.

  “Why do you need money?” Karen Kilham asked, ignoring the glare from her co-worker. “Our data says that you have access to almost endless funds—dozens of bank accounts in over twenty countries.”

  “Only twenty countries? That’s all you could find on me?” Vachlan lifted his eyebrows. “I must be better at hiding my money than I thought.”

  “But why do you want us to pay you for your services?” the agent asked again.

  “Because, my dear: I have always found that when money or gold changes hands in a transaction, so does a certain amount of honor. How do you think I amassed that fortune?”

  The woman shook her head in ignorance. “I—I don’t know.”

  “I gave advice to powerful kings for hundreds of years. There is no such thing as free advice, and if the advice is free, you can bet that it isn’t any good. A man must know his personal worth, and never undervalue himself. Leviathan might just be another underwater fairytale—kind of like mermaids once were. But if it’s real, and if it exists—then you’re right to think that global security has been compromised. You are right to think that the United States of America is in trouble.” Vachlan nodded, gesturing to the appetizer trays. “Please help yourselves to the remaining snacks. Let the waiter who is standing just outside know if you need anything else. Wine, desserts, fruit—please make yourselves at home.”

  “Vachlan...”

  He turned around to leave again, waving a hand in apathy. “Let me know if you have a serious job offer for me, and I’ll consider collaborating. Otherwise, good day, agents.”

  Chapter 6: Sister, Mother, Friend

  Aazuria rested on her bed in Romanova, propped up on some pillows as she scanned through legislative documents on her tablet. Her eyes were growing tired, but Empress Amabie had given her an important amendment to the Oceanic Constitution that required reviewing. Technically, the empress did not need Aazuria’s approval to go ahead with any sort of lawmaking, but Amabie valued the younger woman’s opinion and considered it only respectful to involve her in every decision. When Aazuria’s eyelids remained closed for several seconds without her permission, she barely managed to pry them open again. Releasing a sigh, she closed the document.