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Snake cursed as his cell phone vibrated on the dresser in his small inside cabin. Who in the hell could be bothering him now? He hoped it wasn’t that damned, drunken Russian idiot. He gritted his teeth and barked into the phone, “Yeah. What? This better be good.”
There was no answer on the other end so Snake entered his passcode. His bosses contacted him on the secure line. He heard the phone ring and a familiar voice said, “Yeah.”
Snake grunted and lay against the pillows as the voice continued, “How’s life on the Mediterranean Sea?”
Snake smiled to himself. He’d never seen the man on the other end, but knew he had a sense of humor.
He replied sarcastically, “Just great, just bloody great. Why’d you hook me up with this Russian asshole?”
The voice was quiet for several moments and then replied, “He’s a good man. He’s been loyal to us for over forty years. I’d advise you to not mess with him. He can be a rather bitter enemy,” the man warned him.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before.” Snake replied sarcastically as he waited to learn the reason for the call.
“I’ve got new business for you. Three more packages,” he said in a low voice. “You’ll find out who later this evening.”
Anger sparked Snake’s temper. “You gotta be kidding. I’m not sure that jerk-off can handle anything else,” he complained as his tattooed hand clutched the cell phone and dug his fingertips against the phone.
“Just get it done,” the voice said. “Don’t screw it up. Your partner’s good. And he’s lethal. Give him a chance.”
“Yeah,” Snake said wearily as he studied the ceiling tiles in his room.
“Check the same place for our message. You’ll have to re-plan some of this. Things have heated up,” the voice reported in a flat tone.
“What’s new?” Snake said sarcastically. “Things always heat up where I am. You got me trapped on a damned boat, and I can’t even get away,” he complained. “I hate being trapped somewhere. It’s a disadvantage.”
“Figure it out,” the voice said angrily. “Figure it the hell out and shut up.”
Snake heard the phone click. He took one long stride to his bathroom and splashed water onto his face. His head throbbed from drinking all day. He opened the small closet in his cabin and searched his backpack for Tylenol. He popped two in his mouth and reached for the room service menu. He scanned it briefly it, picked up the phone, and ordered a six-pack of Budweiser. There was nothing like a few beers to cure a hangover.