The Kremlin's Candidate: A Novel

They dropped Gorelikov’s shrouded body twice as they stumbled down the shale goat path to the beach, once just catching him before he rolled off the pathway onto the rocks thirty meters below. The night land breeze came off the face of the cliff and created a small chop on the water, which broke among the many rocks protruding from the sandy bottom. Could an unmanned vessel be preprogrammed to weave between these outcrops, to run aground gently on this small patch of wet packed sand, and to weave its way out again? Dominika and Agnes took turns wearing the infrared glasses that would pick up the invisible beacon from the bow strobe on the USV, and Dominika wore the beacon wristwatch. They thought they could hear some of the sounds of the late-night party high above them, beyond the face of the cliff. As they waited silently, listening for the clump of sentries’ boots, the land breeze increased, and the waves turned from small chuckling wavelets to noisier three-foot breakers that hit some of the protruding rocks and gurgled over them, occasionally throwing a little spume into the air. Choppy, but not impossible. Dominika periodically looked back at the shrouded form of Gorelikov lying on the sand beyond the reach of the waves—she fully expected him to sit up and start talking—and wondered first, how the boat could get close enough to them in the surf, and second, how they could possibly load his limp body onto the deck of the USV that had a significant freeboard.

At precisely midnight by Dominika’s watch, she saw an intermittent flashing blue light on the horizon. As the minutes went by the light grew brighter and the indistinct shape of a low-slung speedboat with what looked like zebra stripes along its sides and a small white bow wave in its teeth became visible. The shape of the vessel materialized, disappeared, and reappeared as it approached, sliding into the troughs of the waves, and then climbing back out. As it entered the rock field, the boat slowed and, as if driven by a coxswain, slowly made its way around or between the rocks until the rounded bow slid to a stop on the sand right at their feet. The boarding footholds were at the stern of the USV, but the surf was banging the hull back there. Dominika could hear the propulsion jets of the vessel trying to hold the hull straight and to counteract the effects of the waves. Making her way to the aft accommodation ladder, Agnes was soused to the neck by a breaker, then knocked off the second foothold back into the water, completely drenching her, the second time tonight she was soaked. Finally she was able to scramble up the three footholds and balance herself on the deck of the USV. Dominika reached up and gave her the bag that contained the condom-wrapped thumb drive, the infrared glasses, the beacon watch, and Gorelikov’s expensive Swiss wristwatch.

The double coffin-lid hatch automatically opened and Agnes looked inside, then back to Dominika, who was in thigh-high water, and gave a thumbs-up. Dominika stayed away from the stern of the boat being pounded regularly by the surf, causing loud slapping booms that would sooner or later attract sentries. Now came the hard part. Dominika went over to the wrapped body of Gorelikov, sat him up, put her shoulder into his stomach, and with a grunt, picked him up like a sack of flour. She waded back into the water and tried to boost him high enough so Agnes could reach down, grab a sheet corner, and haul him aboard. It was impossible with the sloshing water and the bucking hull, but Dominika boosted him by his legs and, miraculously, Agnes was able to grab the top edge of the sheet and pull with all her might. The corpse slid up over the gunwale and onto the deck of the vessel. Dominika walked back on the beach and waited; watching as Agnes slid, rolled, and finally dumped Gorelikov’s corpse down the hatchway. Once below, she would have to pick him up and put him on one of the reclining seats, strap him in, then strap herself in, and flip the switches that would close the hatch and initiate the programmed course back to the waiting US Navy frigate twenty miles offshore. Before Agnes disappeared down the hatch she looked at Dominika in the moonlight and waved. The thought occurred to Dominika that Nathaniel Nash was very lucky that such a woman loved him, that they both loved him.