Chapter 2

The first mate rewrapped semi-conscious Spike in the coarse fire blanket as he began to carry the child toward the wheelhouse. There was an indention beside the ship's wheel that held a small door. The first mate went down the first steps and used the side of his body to open it. He ducked under the doorway as he guided the precious bundle in his arm into the area below deck. It was a large laviously decorated office below deck. There was a soft plush white carpeting that so soft that it was similar to walking in mashed potatoes. There was a large purple velvet sofa underneath a large painting of a Venetian gondola against one wall which was bookended with a large gold and beige patterned Georgian chairs. In the center was a shiny black onyx coffee table. Across the room, was a large desk about the size of a dining room table that would seat eight comfortably. You could see the six inch wide gilded arched arms that supported the heavy glass top. Behind it was a very large black leather chair that was turned away from the door. The occupant was engrossed in watching the six television screens in the wall. The screens were displaying images of divers that were below the surface scouring an ancient wreck.

The chair turned slightly as the occupant heard the door open. A man in the chair was not so physically big but gave an impression of sheer power that oppressed the room with his presence.

"What are you doing, Smolin?" The man darkly glowered toward the man gently carrying the small bundle. "I thought you were on deck supervising the operations?"

"We found something." As the man came toward the desk, with Spike in his arms. " It's a child. We thought he was dead, but he surprised us. I wanted to bring him in here to warm up, he's so cold."

The man in the chair looked over at Spike and made a sneering sound.

"Fine. He can stay, but I am not playing babysitter. You take care of him." The man stated and then warned. " Don't let him become a distraction. We're very close to success. If the child becomes nuisance, I have no problem with putting him back where we found him."

Ten minutes later, Spike found himself laying in the corner of the purple velvet couch. He was still wrapped papoose style in the blanket, so he could not freely move his arms and legs. Through his half closed eyes, he looked around the room from his vantage point. He saw the garish furniture, the wall of televisions and he heard a gruff,gravely voice with an eastern European accent loudly talking into an intercom on the other side of a large black chair.

"Where? Who?.." Spike slowly blinked as he breathed the words took a great effort, but was barely audible

"Hush. Here. I brought you some hot chocolate. Do you want to try it? " A whisper cut through the confusion in Spike's mind. A tall man at down and reached behind Spike's head and slowly slid behind him, pulling him forward and propping him up to sip the hot drink. The man pressed the edge of the cup to Spike's lips and carefully tilted it. Spike took a small sip that was followed by a slighter larger one. He did not stop sipping until the cup had been drained dry.

"That's good. Do you have the little marshmallows?" A fuzzy headed Spike asked innocently.

"I don't think we do. I'll have to check. Do you want some more?" Smolin asked gently.

Spike nodded as the exhaustion returned, his eyes seemed to close again of their own volition. He was having a terrible time waking up. The sugar from the chocolate was helping, but he could still feel himself being dragged back into an exhausted sleep.

The tall man returned with another cup and the process repeated itself. This time, Spike was more leisurely consuming the drink. He was taking pauses as he looked at the man and around the room. As Spike was a third of the way through this cup, the occupant in the black chair on the other side of the room demanded that all underwater teams return to the boat. The black chair viciously spun around in the next instant and a arm cleared the desk lamp and papers off the desk.

"Damn it to Hell! Look at the time! We're so close. I am not going to give up until I have that damn thing in my hands! Taras Golovchenko does not fail!" The man shouted in his Russian tinted English.

"Heya, Boss…" Smolin said as he was still holding the cup up to Spike's face. He looked at the man in the chair and tilted his head toward Spike, indicating there was a child in the room.

"I don give a f…. He's just lucky we don't toss him back overboard." Taras steamed as he cleared the remaining items on his desk.

His face dark with fury, Taras's eyes glared at the small face that was watching him with interest. There was no fear in the child's face, just a wise beyond his years intelligence. Taras found himself surprised. His usual volatile diatribe frightened all his men and sent them scurrying. The child regarded him in a calm and thoughtful gaze. Taras thought this child could grow up to be quite a man, a man that would bend the world to his needs.

"So, You! What are we going to do with him?" Taras demanded of Smolin and then turned on the child. " What is your name, child?"

Spike blinked a couple of times. He had been so caught up in the emotional display that he had not given thought to his own predicament.

"My..my name… My name is …I don't know." Spike stammered as he looked up with wide confused eyes.

What would have come out as second nature had stopped Spike cold. He couldn't remember his own name. He began to search his memory hoping for one thing to link to another, but all he had were flashes. Flashes of faces, and other things that weren't so pleasant. It didn't make any sense. He tried again to search his memory when a vision of a mottled color monster suddenly came to the forefront of his mind making him shudder. He didn't want to dwell too much on that image.

"Don't play with me, child. You'll find that I do not abide liars. Do you know what we do with little boys that lie? We cut off their noses, so everyone can see that they can't be trusted." Taras threatened. " Are you that kind of boy?"

"No.. Yes…I don't know! I'm tired. I can't remember!." Spike whined and put down his head and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

"Boss, we did pull him out of the Alaskan current. It was like he was dead when we first pulled him out. The cold could be playing tricks with his brain." Smolin explained to his boss. "He is still really cold to the touch."

"Bah! When we reach the dock, drop him somewhere where the authorities can find him. I don't want anything to affect our operation here." Taras commanded as he turned to go back to his desk.

"One thing, Boss, you said your name right in front of him. Kids latch on to things. He might mention it to the authorities about you being on a boat." Smolin stated. He, then went on to proffer. "I think we should hold off on giving him to the police untll we get the object. It can't be too much longer."

"So you are proposing to get rid of the child?" Taras said slowly and added with a grin. "You surprise me, Smolin."

"No nothing like that. I was thinking of taking him home and having my wife look after him with our kids. He wouldn't stand out too much." Smolin offered as he looked at the little boy sleeping there.

"Alright. Just make sure that he doesn't prattle to the authorities." Taras waved away at him.

"Believe me boss. By the time, the authorities get a hold of him, he'll be so mixed up that they won't believe him. I'll have my wife fill him up with fairy stories with your name, so he'll make no sense when he talks to the police." Smolin grinned as he added. "He's just a little kid. Little kids believe what we tell-em. Even if he does remember, they won't believe him. We'll be long gone if they ever do."

…..

It was about an hour before sunrise, when the boat docked at the pitch black landing. A few spot lights came on and illuminated a large black limo that was waiting there. There was a swarm of activity as the men on the boat began to put away the equipment used on the expedition. In a dark silk suit with a lilac colored tie, Taras walked down the plank in a masterly manner. Smolin was a few feet behind him with an unconscious Spike who was still wrapped in a blanket pressed against his shoulder. Taras turned around to speak to Smolin, when suddenly the door of the limo flew open. A mature, voluptuous bleached blonde charged out of the limo dressed in a too tight vibrant pink cocktail dress.

"TARAS! Surprise, Baby! I thought I would make a special trip to meet you on our anniversary. Are you surprised?" As the woman wrapped her arms around the man who was several inches shorter than she was. "Happy Nineteenth anniversary! I got all your favorites the car. Champagne, Cognac, caviar, Cuban cigars." Then she whispered in his ear. " I even got those special items that you like so much!"

Taras looked over at Smolin and the men who were frozen in place with shock at the affectionate display that their stern boss was involved. On the other hand, Taras' mind was reeling. He had forgotten it was his anniversary. Shirley, his wife was someone who was particularly vindictive in her revenge when she felt slighted. He did not want to admit to her that he had forgotten their anniversary but it was going to be obvious when he had no gift to give her in exchange. He gritted his teeth as he reached up to unwrap her arms from around his neck.

"Shirley, zaychik moy. I am really not prepared to celebrate right now. If you would give me a little time, I have something very special for you." Taras said slowly, avoiding his wife's eyes.

Shirley's eyes narrowed at Taras as she studied his reaction.

"You forgot! I always knew you were a bastard, Taras, but I can't believe that you would expect me to think that some trivial piece of jewelry that you're going to pick up this afternoon is going to make up for it. I know how you feel about me." Shirley put a hand to her forehead, and continued her rant. "Your mother doesn't let a day go by without reminding me of how I have failed as a woman in our marriage. She wanders around asking where her grandchildren are. I can't take it! If you don't value me either, then I think I should just go away! Your mother would be more than happy to set you up with one of the fertile daughters of her friends from her Russian Canasta group."

Taras stepped forward and placed his hand on Shirley's waist as he used the other to turn her face toward him.

"Laskovaya Moya. You are the only person in the world for me. I couldn't live if you left me. You would take the joy out of the world for me if I couldn't see your face every day. " Taras pleaded with Shirley, who angrily shirked at every affectionate gesture he made.

Taras knew that living with his mother wasn't easy. Shirley had been working the coat check room at a little club in LA when he first arrived. He was surprised that so glamorous a woman would pay any attention to a short poverty striken Russian immigrant, but Shirley always made time to talk to him and listen to his plans. She was the mainstay of his belief in himself. With her by his side, he believed he could do anything and so she was the source of his success. He couldn't stand for her to be unhappy. Looking over at Smolin who still had the blanket wrapped child in his arms, an idea surfaced in Taras' mind that would resolve both situations.

"Dorogaya moya, Moyo zolotse. I had wanted to wait to get everything set up for your special surprise, but you caught me. I know that your heart has been so heavy because there are no children in the house. That is why I brought you this." Taras held his arm to the bundle in Smolin's arms.

Shirley looked doubtfully at Taras. Taras smiled and nodded reassuringly at her. There wasn't anything he would deny his Shirley.

"Go. Go see." Taras said, moving his arm around her waist to move her toward Smolin.

Smolin stood stock still, his eyes sending a question to Taras, who just smiled knowingly and nodded. Smolin raised his eyebrows and sighed.

Shirley cautiously made her way over to Smolin. She looked back at Taras who held up his arm and motioned for her to continue. Shirley looked at the bundle in Smolin's arms, looking at it up and down. Going up on her toes, she pulled back the top edge of the blanket. She found herself staring into a bunch of blonde curls on top of a small head. She leaned around to look at the small angelic face that was asleep on Smolin's shoulder. She looked back at Taras with tears of happiness in her eyes. She ran over and kissed and hugged Taras heartily. Wiping the tears on her face, she immediately returned to Smolin and began to put her hands around the child.

"Here. Give me the baby." She quietly demanded of Smolin, who released his burden into her arms.

Once she had Spike in her arms, she swooped back into the limo with him. She sat on the back of the seat, as she cradled him on her lap. She pushed back the blanket to see his face clearly. Her eyes moved down from the top of his head to the end of his chin, memorizing his face.

Taras slowly entered the limo, watching the scene before him. He had never seen his wife so happy. So what if they kept the child, it brought her happiness. He was only a little thing who couldn't remember. Before long, he would only know that he was the son of Taras Golovchenko.

Just then, Spike slowly opened his eyes and looked at the woman holding him. He wasn't sure if he was really awake. She didn't seem to be a threat; in fact, she was looking at him quite affectionately.

"What's your name?" The woman asked slowly and gently as her fingers fussed with the blanket under his chin.

"I'm...I'm tired." Spike mumbled as he allowed sleep to claim him once again.