Escape Crew from Dominatrix Island

A short distance past the door to the dungeon stairs, Polina stopped and gave a series of soft knocks, as if tapping out a code, on a robust metal door. There was an echoing clank of heavy latches on the other side, and the door swung open with bright light spilling out into the dark hallway.

It was Nichola who had opened the door, and she waved us inside as if we were to hurry. My eyes had been accustomed to the darkness and I squinted in the bright light. I heard the door being latched behind us as Polina led me past banks of large electrical switches and into a control room of some kind where I could hear the humming of electricity.

Anastasia sat in a high-backed chair at a console covered with glowing indicators and switches, her silver jacket gleaming under the bright lights. She was smoking a cigarette and talking with an elderly man and woman that I had never seen before. They were dressed in grey clothing like mine, and it sounded as if they might be speaking French.

"Anastasia, commander, Loredana knows something is going on," I said, speaking quickly with an uneasy waver in my voice. "I think she suspects you're involved."

She seemed irritated that I had interrupted her conversation and glared at me while taking a long drag on her cigarette. Anastasia swiveled in her chair to face me, crossed her legs clad in black thigh high boots, and exhaled a long thin stream of smoke.

"Mr. Van, there is much you do not know, and not time for explain. Mission has been compromised yes, but pooch is not screwed as you might say," Anastasia said confidently. "That is why we plan for worse. Now we improvise some, and you depart soon." She then pointed to the open doorway of an adjacent room and told me to bring her some duffel bags that were in there on the floor.

The room was an office of some kind. An open book that looked like a repair manual and a pack of cigarettes next to an overflowing ashtray were on a grey metal desk. A large drawing table was covered with old blueprints that might be electrical schematics. There were two large olive drab military style duffle bags in the middle of the tile floor.

I decided to take a moment to put on my sandals, which were a better quality than ones I had always been issued. As I did so, I noticed a small alcove behind a curtain. In that space was a twin bed and a few metal lockers. A silver leather jacket with three black stripes on the sleeve was hanging next to the lockers and a pair of black leather thigh high boots was lying on the floor under the bed along with some other items. There were small photos in frames on the nightstand that might be of family members.

The control room and office, they were Anastasia's station, and the alcove was her private quarters. I was somehow mentally thrown off balance getting a quick glimpse into her personal life. Snapping back to reality, I picked up the heavy duffle bags.

Out in the control room, Anastasia and Polina were fitting the elderly couple with thick orange life jackets.

"This man and his wife are not crew," Anastasia explained to me. "They are passengers and make this mission possible. You and Mr. McGonnigle will assure their personal safety before your own. Do you understand?"

However, she didn't wait for me to answer, and handed me a thick envelope which she told me would be of use later. I tucked my shirt into the waistband of my pants, and then slipped the envelope inside my shirt.

Anastasia then told me to follow Nichola, who waved me towards a dim tunnel that led out of the control room. She moved swiftly down the passage while I stumbled along behind her under the weight of the duffle bags. The long tunnel sloped downwards at a steep angle and seemed to go on forever. I caught the familiar scent of moist air and diesel exhaust, and was not surprised that on the other side of an open metal door was the underground boat dock.

My heart sank when I saw that the covers to the engine compartment were open and McGonnigle was wrenching on something. Looking at all the tools he had laying around I wondered if we would actually be departing tonight as Anastasia had said.

"Dushka, dushka!" Nichola called out to me. She was over by the wall uncovering the crate for the big machine gun, and evidently wanted to get it mounted regardless of whether or not the engine would run.

For some reason Anastasia had insisted we pack the dushka away the other night, but getting it mounted now with the floor hatches open was tricky. Then Nichola slugged me in the arm and pointed to the metal ammo cans on the dock, so I went to get those.

The elderly couple came out onto the dock, escorted by Anastasia and the Polina.

"Mr. McGonnigle, put away spanner," Anastasia said disapprovingly. "You said vessel was ready."

"Aye, commander. Just trying to get a few more leaks buttoned up," he said with a rare tone of stress in his voice. "Mind the bilge, mate," he said to me over his shoulder. "We'll be taking on a bit of water."

I was ordered to load the large duffle bags into the front of the boat, and then the ladies and I helped the elderly couple into that same compartment. It seems that the big hatch covers had been removed so the cargo hold could accommodate passengers. Polina climbed into the front seat behind the radio.

"She's the radio operator and navigator?" I asked. "But she's your medic."

"Yes, Mr. Van. Polina will be greatly missed but she has reason to leave and no time for explain," Anastasia said impatiently. As McGonnigle closed up the hatches in the floor, Anastasia gave us what she called a final mission briefing.

We would depart right away. In fact we were supposedly a bit behind schedule. Polina would direct McGonnigle out through a narrow channel to deeper water, and out some distance from the island where another boat would meet us. Anastasia pointed to the couple sitting up front on the duffle bags.

"They will board other vessel first. Then you transfer all payload aboard," Anastasia said nodding towards the front cargo area and then the machine gun at the back. "Only then may you board. Mr. Van shall be last after open scuttle valve."

"So this other boat will then take us home?" I asked.

"I get you off island as promised, Mr. Van. Other details, you and Mr. McGonnigle are smart enough to work out," Anastasia said as she began cranking on a winch and the old patrol boat began to lower into the murky water. "One last word, gentlemen. Do not ever try to return here."

"No worries about that, commander," McGonnigle said, giving her a salute. The engine started easily and ran smoothly. There was a soft clunk under the floor, and then the boat pulled away from the dock and down a low dark tunnel.

Looking forward towards the exit of the flooded tunnel, I saw that a pair of rusty metal doors stood open, and beyond them was the faint grey outline of the night sky. Just as we made it out of the tunnel, the boat's engine died and I cursed out loud.

"Shhh!" Paulina hissed, and then picked up the microphone for the radio. I then realized she had somehow instructed McGonnigle to shut off the engine. We slowly drifted out into a small cove at the base of a tall cliff.

Instead of speaking into the microphone, Polina just gave the button a series of clicks, like Morse code. There was a long silence, and then the radio gave a burst of static pops. She nodded to McGonnigle and pointed off to one side. He tried to start the engine but it only made a loud click, like when you try to start a car with a dead battery.

"Come on, old girl," he said quietly. Then the engine cranked over slowly, and eventually sputtered to life.

Although I could see the exit for the cove, we couldn't head straight towards it. Polina tried to direct McGonnigle with hand signals through some narrow winding underwater channel. I'm sure he was driving too fast, and I cringed as the hull bumped and scraped a few times on underwater rocks. When at last we made it to the exit of the cove, Polina gave him a signal, and McGonnigle punched the throttle wide open.

I was shocked at how fast the old boat accelerated. The engine roared under the floor and the boat smashed its way through the waves. McGonnigle was whooping loudly with excitement.

Looking behind me I saw the rocky cliffs with the citadel on top quickly fading into the distance under a cloudy night sky. Only a few dim lights were on there, and off in the distance to one side I could see the lighthouse flashing in its familiar pattern.

Then I saw a thin stream of sparks shoot up from the top of the citadel, as if someone had shot off a firework. Moments later the dark sea around us was illuminated by an overhead flare. I saw a bright flash of light at the citadel and thought it was a signal of some kind, but then felt something whiz by my head and heard the windshield glass shatter.

Nichola returned fire with the dushka, and the sound of that massive gun pounded at my eardrums, the belt of ammunition whipping up in front of me out of the container. The boat lurched to one side and I assumed McGonnigle was trying to evade the gunfire, but I felt another burst of bullets fly overhead, and heard several impacting on the boat.

Looking forward, it seemed that everyone had gotten down out of sight. Only McGonnigle was barely visible, crouched down behind the wheel and whooping even more loudly as if he were having the best time of his life.

The tail end of the belt had cycled through the dushka and Nikola was slugging me in the shoulder to give her another, but I had one hand down in the bilge, where the water seemed to be rising fast.

The muscle memory training from Anastasia had been good, and I operated the submerged valves so the engine would pump out water, and then handed the end of a fresh dushka belt to Nichola. However, she just held it in one hand.

The flare had drifted down to the surface of the water now, far off to one side. We ran in the darkness now and I didn't see any flash of gunfire from the citadel which was now far in the distance. Perhaps we were out of range, or there was worse to come.

I saw that Polina was sitting up now beside McGonnigle, and she was directing him towards something, though ahead in the darkness through the broken windshield I saw nothing. The boat seemed to be riding lower in the water, and when I dipped my hand down into the bilge it didn't seem as if the improvised pumping system was doing any good.

Polina pulled out a handheld spotlight, and began to shine it over the dark water ahead. Moments later, another spotlight came on some distance away and began sweeping towards us. Was this the boat we were supposed to meet? At the rate we were taking on water it didn't seem as if we had a choice and McGonnigle steered us towards the light.

Our passengers up front were now also sitting upright. Assuming they had been crouched down in the cargo hold during the gunfire, they would have been in the safest position. With the boat evidently sinking, it was only then that I realized they were the only ones that had been given life jackets.

The other spotlight glared brightly in my eyes, and as we got closer some other lights came on illuminating the side of a rusty old ship, where a large cargo net had been lowered over the side, and next to it was a rope ladder.

Nosing gently up to the rope ladder, McGonnigle left the engine idling and then jumped over the broken windshield with a line to tie us off.

"Dushka, dushka," Nichola yelled, slugging me in the shoulder. I stood up to help her take the heavy machine gun off its post, and my whole body was shaking with adrenaline. As we awkwardly moved the gun over the front seats, the engine died and I saw water coming up through the opening in the floor at an alarming rate.

Polina was now up front. She and McGonnigle were getting the old couple onto the shaky rope ladder, and they climbed painfully slow. I remembered to grab the other containers of ammunition belts. When Nichola and I joined McGonnigle up front he said,

"That was a brilliant ride, mate. I knew this old girl had one last run in her. No need to worry about that scuttle valve, she'll sink soon enough."

Looking behind me I saw the back end of the boat was already underwater. "You'll be the last man up. Pull the tail end of that rope and it will cut her loose," he pointed to some sailor's knot he had used to tie us off to the rope ladder.

Once all of the cargo was in the net, he jumped onto the ladder leaving Nichola and I on the rapidly sinking boat, so much for women and elderly persons first. Fearing we didn't have enough time, Nichola squealed out loud as I scooped her up in my arms and placed her in the cargo net. Looking up at the blinding overhead lights, I waved one arm in a circle like I'd seen construction workers do, and the net began to rise up.

Cold water was just below my knees as I reached for the end of the rope to pull the knot loose. I saw the citadel's flag hanging undamaged from its stubby mast. For a reason I can't explain, I paused for a moment to unclip the flag and tuck it inside my shirt.

The knot pulled loose easily and I climbed onto the rope ladder as the old patrol boat sank into the dark water. The climb to the top took longer than expected, and I found myself on the deck of what appeared to be an old freighter.

Further down the deck I saw the elderly couple walking with Polina towards what I assumed was the crew quarters where lights were on in a few portholes. McGonnigle was standing by the rail near the top of the rope ladder, and we watched the crew wearing dirty coveralls helping Nichola out of the net which had been lowered onto the deck.

One of the crew was a stocky woman and she paused for a moment to pull out a pack of cigarettes, the same foreign brand that the women of the citadel smoked.

"I got an uneasy feeling about this, mate," McGonnigle whispered in my ear. "Take a close look. Seems to be an all female crew."

The End