The Accidental Existentialist Read Online Free PDF Page A

With
one good kick they shoved it overboard. It splashed into the white
foam of the wakes.
    “ You should have chosen to
work with us,” Yuri said, with the affectation of sincere regret.
“It would have been much better than ending things this
way.”
    “ If you say
so.”
    He kept his gun aimed at Chris’ head,
but shrugged and made one of those aloof Russian frowns. “I really
liked you. You made me laugh.”
    “ Go ahead and laugh all
the way to Hell, Stogorsky.”
    Masterson arrived. He pointed his chin
to the edge of the deck and Yuri prodded Chris over to it. “It’s
tragic, Chris. But for the record, I want you to know this. If
you’d come with us to Moscow, Ben’s death might not have been
completely in vain.”
    Right now, he would do anything to
exact upon Masterson the justice he so deserved. “You should worry
more about your own death.”
    “ Considering our relative
positions, I find that hard to comprehend.” He gave Yuri a
throat-slashing hand signal. “Okay, that’s far enough. Cut the
engines.”
    Shouting up to the bridge in Russian,
Yuri gave the command. The boat stopped. He then pushed Chris back
to the edge of the boat with his gun.
    “ Well, my friend. It’s
time.” Masterson sighed. “If it makes you feel any better, I won’t
tell Marlena about Ben, next time I see her.”
    If his eyes were lasers, Chris would
have burned a pair of holes into Masterson’s chest. But now, words
failed him. He could only snarl and glare with the most hateful
look he could muster.
    “ Good bye, Chris.”
Masterson flipped off a callous salute and went below
decks.
    Yuri gestured for Chris to turn
around.
    “ No. I want to face my
killer. Look you in the eye as you pull the trigger.”
    “ I’ll shoot you right now,
you hooy morzhovy ! Now turn the hell arou—!”
    Just then, with his hands still tied
behind his back, Chris leapt up and drop kicked Yuri in the head.
But this didn’t stop him from firing his gun. As Chris toppled into
the water, a dull pain went through his arm.
    He splashed into the cold waves. Red
streams floated up over him from his wound. Bubbles floated from
his lips. Sinking, he struggled to bring his knees to his chest,
and ankles as close to his hands as possible.
    This attempt caused him to invert and
sink head first. Panic seized him as the water around him grew
darker. Finally, he righted himself and brought his hands under his
feet and around in front.
    Another couple of seconds and he would
lose his breath. He reached down to his ankle and pulled out the
mini blade he took from Evgeny Rayshkin before boarding Yuri’s
boat. With one quick flick, he cut the tie wraps, dropped the blade
and swam back up towards the large shadow that was the
yacht.
    From above he heard muffled shouts,
bullets whisking thought the water. Pulling as close to the hull as
possible, he stuck his face out of the water just long enough to
exhale and take in another deep breath.
    Now, he would carry out plan C, which
along with plans A and B (though they never panned out), he’d
rehearsed over and over in his head, weeks before he went
dark.
    Chris submerged himself again. The
shouting and shooting continued. Now with rapid, sustained
automatic fire. But he clung to the submerged hull of the ship
where no bullet could reach.
    From his breast pocket he pulled out
the package, still tightly wrapped in plastic. Thank God the hull
was made of steel. The magnets inside the package did the trick and
it stuck.
    Just then, the engine
started.
    The blades of the propellers spun,
sending streams of bubbles out into the emerald expanse. Chris swam
up the side of the boat to the surface one more time and took a
deep breath. Then pushed away and swam down.
    The gunfire continued, but faded as
the Yatch pulled away.
    He waited until the boat’s shadow
seemed far enough for him to stick his face out of the water and
not be spotted easily.
    Treading water, he watched to make
certain they didn’t see him.