Internal Affairs

Master Bedroom - 400 S. Mashta Drive

"I can cover up our tracks here but someone should keep an eye on things downstairs. Those guys will probably wake up in the next hour and we don't need them making noise that draws the ones leaving to come investigate. Or worse, one of them decides to run inside and take a quick piss before they go."

---

400 S. Mashta Drive

At Mykola's mention of the Haitian contingent currently unconscious and bound downstairs the Russian boss snorted dismissively, muttering some rather unflattering comments in Russian regarding their protective abilities or lack thereof, one of his thick graying eyebrows rising in amusement over the 'arms dealer's' concern with the rent-a-cops suspecting something amiss or entering the abode.

"They are not allowed in the house," he drawled in heavily accented Russian - the 'wodka' clearly starting to have an effect, "And this is not some cheap common house like those want to be rich in Coral Gables ... it is well insulated and nothing can be heard from outside."

His heavy, relaxed gaze shifted to Sheridan with a smirk, "I believe my housekeeper keeps the cleaning supplies in the garage. She's a bit OCD so I'm sure you will find what you need and well organized."

---

Some cleaning and prepping later...

"Just sayin', man. This career doesn't pan out, you would make an awesome housemaid," Sheridan said to Mickey as they led the HVT to the back door, the outside now clear of guards.

Noting the long glance out towards the garage, and the Haitian still in the trunk of one of the cars, he leaned in.

"Hey, it'll be all right," he spoke softly, "Don't need to bloody our hands if we're this close to a clean pick."

"Last thing we need is for 'someone' getting pulled over while he has a body in the trunk, and I don't want to temp Lady Luck with a juicy target like that," the soldier had said earlier when the idea to 'dispose' of the Haitian that had spotted them in the garage was voiced, "Stay focused, avoid complexity creep, and let's complete this thing."

Mykola nodded and smiled at Dozer's words. He gave a slight chuckle and said, "Good point. We'll make an agent out of you yet."

Master Bedroom - 400 S. Mashta Drive

As Mykola watched the last of the guards pull away, he turned and gave a nod to the others. "It's time. Let's kill the lights and get to the yacht." Mykola took up the rear of the procession as they filed out of the house, doing a last check to cover their tracks as they headed out to the dock.

---

400 S. Mashta Drive

Nearly a well spent hour later, a couple of vans pulled up in the mansion's expansive driveway, the rented security personnel laughing and talking loudly, clearly relaxed as the loaded what gear they had brought into the vehicles, the dogs whining and barking enthusiastically, and it was perhaps with a relieved exhale of breath and relaxation of tensed muscles that the three undercover operatives watched the vans pull away.

As Nik and Bill had secured the rest of the house, Mykola under the amused and watchful eye of Alexander Smirnov did what he could to remove any and all trace of their presence so when the heavy, automatic gate clanged shut on the departing security vans they were ready to depart. The heavyset, crime boss's footsteps sounded heavy on the thick, wooden treads of the grand open stair case. The Russian pausing to snort in derision at the muffled sounds coming from the bathroom, whether from a desire to help sell the ruse or more from the effects of the alcohol, yelling at the Haitians through the door and chastising the thugs for his being kidnapped from his own secure home.

The motion activated lights were disabled with a flick of the switch, the only illumination as they made their way to the yacht the soft glow of the landscape lights lining the paved path, appearing as dark silhouettes to anyone who might be observing they boarded the yacht without incident, perhaps the gravity of the situation finally settling in as the obese Russian quietly followed. The biggest hurdle seemed to have been passed, pulling off a convincing death all that remained.

"Clear," Sheridan said as he walked up from below decks, pulling his night vision goggles off before handing them off to Nik, "Let's keep it dark as we pull out, don't want to draw too much attention."

Quickly turning to go through all the procedures in prepping a yacht to leave, the soldier flicked his radio back on.

"Line to Fisher. Waters are clear, Catfish is on the hook. Reelin' 'er in, nice and easy."

Pier - 400 S. Mashta Drive

Mykola just shook his head at Sheridan's radio chatter. As they prepped the boat for launch Mykola asked, "Try to touch as little as possible. It'll make cleaning easier later.

Mykola went through the pre-launch checklist just as his dad had taught him.

Radio? Check.
Gauges? Check.
Fuel? Check.
Safety equipment? Check.

And it went on but always ended with.

Mykola looked to the others, "If you need to go to the bathroom, now's the time."

---

Sheridan paused as he finished unmooring the yacht, and slowly turned toward Mykola.

"I'm noticing a conflict in those last two orders," he said with a quirk of an eyebrow as he questioningly pointed, "I'm getting the sinking feeling you were only a Louie before 'retiring'?"

A wave of the hand dismissively before turning back, "Unless you're one of those weirdos. In which case, just keep that to yourself."

Pier - 400 S. Mashta Drive

Mykola frowned. "What the hell is a 'Louie'?"

Turning again briefly, but with a quirky grin on his face, Sheridan just shook his head before returning to his task.

"I'll, uh, explain when you're older," he said over his shoulder.

400 S. Mashta Drive - Pier

With quick efficiency, bred into him by years of war, Sheridan disappeared below decks only to reappear moments later giving the all clear and radioed Nadya that they would be departing soon.

"Hard Copy," came their partner's amused reply as they prepped the for launch. Seeing Mykola step to the wheel, Nik handed the NVGs that Bill had placed in his hands to the 'arms dealer' with a shrug, his smirk saying though he might be the face on the license it was clear Mykola had the experience.

As are the whims of the rich, the yacht was fully stocked - even the beds made with towels stacked neatly atop the fluffy comforters - which meant Alexander made his way to the bar, proceeding to make his self a drink as his three kidnappers frantically moved about making their preparations to depart. To the raised eyebrow from Nik the corpulent Russian gruffly barked, "What? Is this not my boat? I can certainly have a drink if I want."

Finishing his checklist, that ended with what Mykola thought was sound advice, and a few witty retorts from Sheridan later, the expensive yacht's powerful engines drummed to life, rumbling deeply as the boat eased forward. Fortunately it was not unusual for night fishing so they joined a few boats heading out of the canal, the traffic thinning as they made their way around the point for open water ... and the final part of their plan.

Sheridan shrugged at the Russian barking about a drink.

"Can sell it as being gentlemanly about this whole thing," he noted to Nik, "make sure he's good and drunk before 'plopping him in the drink'."

The soldier leaned in closer to the thief.

"Just make sure he doesn't accidentally slip and crack his skull when we change boats," he said low, "It'd be just like the universe to play a joke on us like that."

Clapping his hands, Sheridan turned to Mykola.

"A'ight, you've been on a roll, Lefty. Let's see what you got for this last bit."

Pier - 400 S. Mashta Drive

Mykola chucked, "Maybe the universe would be doing us a favor at that point."

Once they were away from the dock, Mykola turned on the running lights normally and joined the flow of traffic. Once they were out of the harbor and at sea, Mykola asked, "Hey, Cap'n? Nik? You want to take the wheel for a while? Just keep it straight and watch out for other vessels."

---

Biscayne Bay - Miami, FL

Rounding the point of Bill Baggs Cape Florida State Park Nik reluctantly and nervously took the wheel, finding some comfort in the fact that they were in open water and there was very little boat traffic, relaxing somewhat as their 'host' had began blaring Russian opera and had joined the Russian born thief on the vessels expansive bridge to provide a bit of 'backseat driving'.

Sheridan was not stranger to reading maps, nor Mykola at nautical charts, and it was very little time later - aided perhaps by the luxury yacht's numerous running lights and interior and exterior deck lighting - that Nadya was pulling the significantly smaller fishing boat alongside, and amused expression on her face at the sight of their rowdy host who at seeing the young woman was full of flirty compliments and promises of gifts and nights of passion she would not forget.

Biscayne Bay - Miami, FL

Watching the Russian light up upon seeing Nadya, Sheridan could not help but start chuckling as the drunken flowery words poured out of the HVT as quickly as the alcohol had gone in.

"Sorry, 'boss'," Sheridan said, leaning slightly over the railing (being careful not to touch anything), "Our guest decided to down a few bottles of 'courage' on the way out. You'll be happy to know, though, aside from some tied-up Haitians with headaches, zero casualties on all sides. Turns out someone..."

A point at Nik.

"...has a hidden knack with poking people. Though he's not 100% perfect on the door thing."

Atlantic Ocean, approximately 20 miles off the coast of Florida

Grabbing the mooring lines, Nik and Mykola got ready and called to Bill. "We're secured, have her bring it around."

Once Nadya had the boat lined up, Mykola threw the lines to her and the team worked to secure the two boats together. Looking to Nik, Mykola aksed, "Would you please help get our guest transferred to the other boat?"

Mykola went over the boat with a fine tooth comb, cleaning up any trace of their presence. Addressing Bill while cleaning, Mykola laid out his plan. "The killers had our friend tied up in the hold." Mykola removed the comforter from the bed, threw it half on the floor, put his boot on it and began pulling and tearing small parts of the fabric. "They had him bound up in this, but when they came to get him, he started struggling." Using the back of his gloved hand, Mykola knocked one of the glasses and bottle of liquor off the counter. The glass shatter and the bottle landed with a loud *thunk* and rolled away.

Taking the comforter with him, he started up the stairs. "Fearing for his life, our friend started getting frantic." Bringing his leg, Mykola struck the railing with his foot, leaving a hairline crack. Then, throwing his elbow out to the other side, he left a small indentation in the wall of the stairwell.

"Once they made it up on deck, they dropped him. His feet being encases in cement, damaged the deck. We'll need to make a heavy mark in the ground here. Then, they drug him up to the railing and rolled him overboard." Mykola threw the comforter overboard. Again, raising his foot, he pressed hard against the railing of the ship but it held firm, more than strong enough have supported a body being rolled over it. Grabbing his tools from the boat, Mykola marked the deck where the concrete block allegedly fell on the deck.

"Is there anything else you think needs to be done?"

---

Atlantic Ocean, approximately 20 miles off the coast of Florida

Sheridan watched quietly as Mykola walked him through what they were planting.

"Ah, don't forget the drink this guy was just having. Safest is probably to just drop the bottle overboard, imply that we took one for the road."

Atlantic Ocean, approximately 20 miles off the coast of Florida

Mykola nodded, "Good idea."

Mykola's Safehouse - Miami, FL

Nik had been able to easily transfer their inebriated host, the seas were relatively calm and the yacht's large swim deck provided a convenient platform for the somewhat unstable Alexander to stumble about. His eagerness to continue his introduction to the fourth member of their crew tempered only slightly by her large, furry companion - who in the end took a liking to the corpulent Russian boss who reciprocated to the dog's enthusiastic licks with a cheery, drunken laugh. Nadya looked on in pure amusement as she, Nik, and Alexander shared some witty banter in Russian while Bill and Mykola scrubbed the expensive yacht of any trace of their involvement, instead providing their own narrative for anyone finding the abandoned vessel. Upon completing their preparations Sheridan, who perhaps had seen the aftermath of similar such scenarios during his time serving his Country, had the thought all appeared legit and that perhaps they may pull things off yet.

It was a cramped ride back to the marina in the considerably smaller fishing boat, the roar of the wind and engines making any sort of conversation difficult. Though before casting off Nik had managed to meet Bill and Mykola on the yacht's swim deck, offering to put in an anonymous call to his contact in the Miami Custom and Border Patrol office once they were back on land ... that maybe there was value in the yacht being found adrift? And a few hours later, with a now sober and complaining Alexander Smirnov, they were sitting around the small yet stylish living area of Mykola's safehouse. Idly scratching Fenris's ears as he sat in one of the room's plush chairs, Alexander's gaze settled on his four rescuers, more alert now ... sober, "So. What now?"

---

Mykola's Safehouse - Miami, FL

Letting out a long sigh as he cross stretched his arms, Sheridan walked over to the duffle bag he put on the table, lightly dropping the blindfold he had just taken off 'Alexander' next to it.

"Now I do a post mission equipment check," he said, pulling out the AUG, taking the magazine out and clearing the chamber, the unspent round falling into the bag, "Maybe get around to finishing that stupid hunk of metal that was giving me trouble earlier."

Sliding the rifle back into the bag, the soldier then pulled his pistol out, keeping it pointed well away from the Russian guest.

"Meanwhile," he said as he deftly cleared the sidearm, "You and the two Talky McTalkersons here are going to have a nice long chat about, oh, this and that."

Clicking the empty M9 closed, he then did a little gunslinger-twirl toss into the bag, picking the duffle up in one smooth motion.

"Could probably start at who the 'big bad scary SHE' is," he said, waving his hands in spooky jazz hands to emphasize the 'she' as he walked to the bedroom, "and work your way from there. Sandwiches in the fridge if you want some."