A chill washed over Zack, and he knew that it was a reflection of the bond they shared, formed in combat, mission after mission. He was humbled by their respect. I just hope I can live up to it, he thought as he walked out of the wardroom toward the nearest ladder well that led to the brig three decks below near the stern of the destroyer.

* * *

“I know it’s not the Four Seasons, but at least you’re alive,” Zack said in English, standing outside the small cell that served as the ship’s brig. The cell’s back and left walls were gunmetal gray, the floor a shiny blue polyurethane. The front of the cell and right wall were constructed of navy-blue bars. A sparkling metal sink and toilet sat in the back corner, and a bed was bolted to the floor along the left wall. On the bed sat Aleksei Belyakov, watching Zack intently, as if Zack were the one behind bars and not the other way around.

Since the destroyer was a smaller vessel, the brig only had one cell. As a result, Moretti had been separated and locked inside a small stateroom under guard by two armed petty officers.

“No. It is definitely not a luxurious accommodation, but I’m sure this is nicer than what Russian sailors have. I once took a tour of one of our nuclear submarines, and needless to say, the living quarters left something to be desired. In fact, one of the toilets was at the end of a small passageway out in the open. But a US destroyer?” Belyakov said, sweeping his hand across the space. “Well, this is something special,” he said in nearly perfect English, his Russian accent present but not overly dominant. “Now, what can I do for you? Or am I going to have to wait until I speak again to the very big man who stopped by earlier? He’s not very friendly, by the way.” His tone was affable, as if the two men had been friends for years.

Charismatic for an evil oligarch. Zack suppressed most of the laugh, although his lips curved upward as it escaped as a puff of exhalation. “No. He’s not. In fact, if it weren’t for me, you, your wife, and your kids would all likely be dead by his hand. That’s not an exaggeration. And I wanted you to hear it from me, because I honestly have no idea what’s going to happen to you, and I doubt I’ll ever find out. But just know this—you were targeted by my government because of what you did in Africa. You shouldn’t have killed the reporter and the cameraman.”

Belyakov didn’t respond but just returned Zack’s watchful gaze.