Nikoli's eyes shot open, the door slamming shut in his dream continued to echo through his head. Sweat dripped off the tip of his nose as he swung his legs off of the bunk and sat up. He reached down and grabbed a shirt that was on the bunk and wiped his face. When tossed it back to the bunk, it was covered in sweat.
The dark room was a far cry from what he was used to, of course, he also wasn't used to being on a ship for a week straight either. As he stood, he reached for his watch that lay on the small desk situated next to the bunk. The dim green display read 1:17. He set the watch back onto the desk and instead grabbed a bottle of water that was half empty. The heat was affecting Nikoli for the worse, and the only water he dare drink had to come from the bottles the cell had brought on board. After finishing the last few drops of water, he reached back and found the shirt drenched in sweat, put it on, and opened the hatch which led to the lighted interior of one of the ships several corridors.
The ship was well over thirty years old, the rust was slowly taking over, but it served its purpose. As Nikoli moved from his room to the corridor, he felt the rush of warm air on his skin. The ship was somewhere in the Indian Ocean, hugging the coast of Africa to avoid any unnecessary attention. There was also a skeleton crew aboard, the five cell members who survived the airport assault, as well as fifteen men who crewed the ship, which Petrov had hired out for this job.
It had taken just under a week to meet with the ship, and they had been at sea for a week already, but Nikoli still had a long journey ahead of him. Even though the airport attack, which left over one thousand civilians dead, happened only two weeks prior, it felt like a lifetime ago for Nikoli. Every moment he was haunted by the thoughts of the people he had gunned down in cold blood.
Nikoli couldn't worry about that now though, he had a more important task as he moved through the stairwells and finally appeared on the deck of the ship. The only light that shown was the bridge lights and no one was on the deck, perfect, Nikoli thought. He moved his was to the stern of the ship as he continued to look for signs of anyone on the deck.
When he reached the stern, he rested his arms on the railing, leaning against it as stared at the half moon in the sky. After waiting several moments, he reached in his pocket and retrieved a small device. He dangled his arm over the side of the ship and began flicking the flashlight on and off very quickly. He didn't know where, but somewhere out at sea, a periscope was poking above the water and recording the ship and all activities on it. The periscope would easily pick up the flashing red light signaling a message in Morse code, or so that's what he had been told. Halfway through the message, Nikoli heard a voice behind him, it was Petrov.
"You thought you could fool me, Nikoli?" Petrov appeared from the shadows and walked towards Nikoli.
"Anatoly no--" Nikoli began, but was cut off as Petrov raised a pistol and fired point-blank, striking Nikoli in the temple just above his right eye.
The lifeless body collapsed onto the deck, blood pouring out of the head wound. Petrov walked over to the body, and fired two more rounds into Nikoli's back. He turned and shouted in Russian. Two members of the original cell, Alexei and Kiril appeared from the pilot house and picked up the body, tossing it into the sea.
Petrov noticed the small flashlight on the deck lying in a pool of blood. He picked it up and examined it briefly before tossing it into the sea as well.
"C.I.A. му́сор," he said as he walked back to the pilot house.
"Da, garbage," agreed Kiril as he followed Petrov to the pilot house.