by D. M. Ulmer
Bea stirred then awakened. They embraced warmly.
He whispered, “Hi lover. You’re so beautiful.”
She recovered from her sleep and said, “Can this be really happening? The world turned upside down and here we are, like nothing else matters.”
He regarded her tenderly. “It doesn’t.”
Again, they held each other tightly.
Brent said, “At risk of shattering the mood, I haven’t had a thing to eat for twelve hours.”
“So that’s how it is. Ravage my body, raid my refrigerator and then away for new worlds to conquer.”
“No. I’m not done ravaging your body just yet. Just a little hungry, that’s all.”
They shared a laugh then arose to replenish their inner persons. Seated on the deck and looking out onto the Pacific, they watched the blue sky yield slowly to gold as the sun approached the horizon. Bea prepared a supper of cheese, French bread and smoked salmon. Eric’s champagne, a Piper-Heidsieck Brut, vintage 1979, proved the pièce de résistance.
Brent asked, “How much better does life get?”
“If I’ve ever been happier, it’s completely escaped my memory.”
He looked at her with affection and said, “Good. That’s how I want it for you.”
“Well tell me lover boy. What happened out there?”
“You know Bea, if I told ya, I’d have to kill ya afterwards.”
“I’m a Navy brat, remember? Who are you trying to kid?”
“Actually, my big problem is the captain.” Brent summarized the main events of the patrol as they related to the deteriorating relationship between Bostwick and him. “Jack Olsen gave me some assurances but I wouldn’t give a fig for my Navy future if the captain has a final say.”
Bea said in a comforting voice, “Dad always says nothing happens in a vacuum. I know Eric Danis thinks highly of you.”
“Let’s hope everything goes well. Look, Bea, can we talk about something else?”
She responded with, “Did you find the actual fighting very scary? I mean, if you feel like talking about that.”
Brent set his jaw. “Damn scary. Anyone who says he’s not scared in combat is either an idiot or a liar. It’s hard to summarize. When the bell rings, you go at it and the only thing on your mind is get the son of a bitch before he gets you. But when it’s over, like after we got the Tango, it gets rough. We sent a bunch of guys to the bottom of the ocean, who were probably a lot like us. Only difference is our ancestors caught the boat and theirs didn’t. I had to force myself not to think about it. But the bell would ring again and we’re right back at it. Man is the only truly mad species on this earth.”
Indicating she understood, Bea took Brent’s hand and smiled. She had known Brent for eight months and she learned more of his private feelings in this talk than in all the others combined. Brent arose and walked to the hot tub on the edge of the deck. He thrust in his hand and tested the water. He removed the robe he had borrowed from Dave Zane and climbed in. The warm water instantly relaxed him.
“Ever make it in a hot tub?” he asked.
Brent feasted his eyes an instant on Bea’s nakedness before her body slipped beneath the water and she came to him.
Gerry Carter recognized the importance of the Soviet intelligence find immediately. Not a submariner of the old guard, he excused himself from Denver’s welcome home party and returned to his office. He wanted to get the minesweeper crypto machine quickly into the hands of those who could best exploit it. With lives at stake, the war revised and elevated priorities accordingly.
Carter arranged for an immediate flight to deliver the machine to the Naval Security Group Detachment at the National Security Agency, Fort Meade, Maryland. It being Friday, he called ahead via a secure phone to ensure suitable personnel would be on hand to make the assessment. Gerry located an old aviator friend, Captain Marty Baker turned intelligence specialist because of deteriorating eyesight.
Captain Baker answered his phone with the usual military greeting then said, “Hey, Gerry, great to hear from you. The word floating around here is you defected to the submarine force.”
Gerry said, “Must not be a lot of worthwhile news if that’s all you hear.”
“Just wanna keep ya on the step. Now what’s on your mind?”
“I’m flying a package to you, Marty. Can’t discuss it on the phone but I think it needs your immediate attention. It should be at Andrews between three and four this afternoon. Think you could have it heloed out to Fort Meade? In case it’s late, somebody should hang around. Do you read, old buddy?”
By virtue of Gerry declining to mention it on the secure phone, Marty sensed the importance.
“You think the war ain’t going on back here too. We’re an around the clock operation. Even the civil servants hustle,” replied Marty, “but just to make you feel good, I’ll stick around myself.”
“Thanks, pal. I knew I could count on you.”
“Okay. That means you buy next time you’re out this way.”
Gerry kidded, “Do they allow seeing-eye dogs in DC bars?”
A day earlier, on the other side of the world, another segment of the drama played out. At 0400, a message addressed to all Pacific Flotilla submarines had been transmitted over the VLF fleet broadcast for the fifth and final time. This task complete, the watch officer at the Vladivostok Communication Center reviewed a backlog of messages received from units operating in the Seas of Japan and Okhotsk. A message from the Tango submarine Tolstoy reported problems with her crypto equipment and requested re-encryption and retransmission of important radio traffic on the back up system. The procedure called for a decision in these matters to be made by a designated communications officer but it seemed routine enough for the watch officer to handle the matter himself.
Shortly, a shore to ship HF (High Frequency) transmitter relayed the message directly to Tolstoy from the same antenna field spared when Ekaterina Baknov’s apartment building intercepted Denver’s TLAM. A U.S. surveillance satellite recorded the message and relayed it to the National Security Agency for entry into a massive database.
The Soviet watch officer filed his report of the routine action and went on with his duties.
In late afternoon the next day, Captain Marty Baker’s phone rang.
Crypto analyst Pete Ryan said, “Hi, Marty, that’s a neat piece of junk your buddy sent us. Giving us all kinds of good dope, like this one, REYDNY TRAISHCHIK ZERO ONE SIX REQUESTS NEW STOCK OF VODKA ON NEXT REPROVISIONING. How can we lose with this kind of inside dope?”
“All of it like that?”
“Worse. Wanna hear some more?”
“Spare me, Pete. I’m heading out. I’ll be home for most of the weekend if you need me.”
Marty had already left and locked his office when the phone rang again. He hesitated a moment, unlocked the door, stepped inside and took the call. “Captain Baker here.”
Pete Ryan answered in an uncharacteristic staccato voice, “Get your ass down here, Marty, on the double! Your aviator submarine buddy found the second Rosetta Stone. I’ve activated the emergency recall. I want every cleared and qualified analyst in here immediately … government, consultants, beltway bandits … the whole damn lot.”
Marty whistled. “That big?”
“You bet your ass it’s that big. And get somebody from the White House over here, right now!”
Chapter 17
Commodore Danis despised Bostwick’s condescending manner as the two conducted a private conference in the commodore’s office. They discussed turning over command of Denver to Jim Buchanan.
Bostwick opened, “Jack Olsen’s on top of administrative matters so no problem there. We’re a little out of date on registered publications and code lists, but I’m sure we can fix that over the next few days.”
Smiling, Danis said, “That’s good, Hal. What about personnel?”
“Pretty good shape there too, I’d say.”
On a more serious note, Danis s
aid. “I notice everyone except Lieutenant Maddock has been nominated for a decoration. Is there any particular reason for that?”
“Lieutenant Maddock has just not measured up, sir. We discussed his case after the overhaul, and with your advice, I gave him a second chance. He blew it, pure and simple.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Hal. When your crew was debriefed about unscrambling the Soviet’s new evasion maneuver, I heard his name mentioned frequently and favorably.”
Not budging off his original assessment, Bostwick said, “Maddock is good at some things, but fails to round out in other important areas.”
“Specifically?”
“Specifically by not adhering to priorities set by the commanding officer. Maddock marches to his own drum and is not a team player. He’s a master at opening arguments that end up undermining the crew’s morale.”
“How do you plan to deal with this, Hal?”
“I won’t drop that sack on Jim Buchanan, Commodore. I’ll get Maddock replaced and surface him before I’m relieved.”
“Have you written Maddock’s fitness report yet?”
“I have, sir. It’s adverse. I’ll give it to him for comment as soon as he gets back. I’m told he’s on a social mission and not expected back until tomorrow.”
“Hmm? Too bad you have to take that measure, Hal.”
“Why? If you’ll pardon my language, sir, it’s exactly what the wise bastard deserves.”
“I didn’t mean too bad for him. I meant you.”
Bostwick’s startled expression revealed where his true priorities lay as he asked, “Me?”
This’ll be a piece of cake, Danis thought. “Yes. Two items. First, we have an appointment with the President to hang a Congressional Medal of Honor on you at the White House on Tuesday morning. Now we’ll just have to send somebody else. SUBPAC regs require a full investigation into adverse fitness reports prior to the reporting senior’s transfer. As you know, insubordination in the face of the enemy is a serious charge and we’ll need you around to substantiate that.
“Fortunately, Butte’s back at a Pitstop near San Francisco. They had a good patrol so maybe her skipper can keep the White House appointment.
“Second reason, the investigation puts you under tight scrutiny. We’ll need all the details. I’m sure you’re clean as a whistle, Hal, or you wouldn’t be doing this so I don’t see a problem. You’re aware flag infighting gets awfully tough and the number of good people always exceeds available promotions. You gotta consider possible effects of perceptions generated, even if they’re erroneous ones. The weight of a feather could tip the balance.”
Bostwick thought, This Goddam lame duck is fitting me on again.
The war had eliminated Bostwick’s end-run routes. Additionally, getting the Pitstop up and running so quickly may well have tossed Danis’s hat back in the ring for promotion to flag rank. In any case, Bostwick felt a tilt with Danis at this time could be the kiss of death. He paused for a moment.
The commodore correctly construed Bostwick’s silence to mean he had no good response. “We’re at war, Hal. This changes things.” Then Danis gave Bostwick a graceful out. “You’re badly needed back in Washington, and quite frankly, the country requires a hero. Success of your patrol, particularly the strike against Vlad, puts you in great shape to take an essential bow for the country. Your decision must be driven by what’s in the best interest of the service.”
“You shed a light I hadn’t considered, Commodore. I wasn’t taking the global view. For the good of the service then, I’ll withdraw the adverse.”
“Good, Hal. In order for this to look right, toss in a nomination for a Silver Star for Maddock. Just sign the letter and a blank fitness report. I’ll have Olsen take care of the citation and fitness report details. I’ll be sure he does right by you.”
“Thank you, Commodore.”
Danis again showed Bostwick how easily he could be pushed over, but took no delight in this. It would likely be a long war, and Bostwick could contribute much before it ended.
Wanting to part on the best note possible, Danis said, “Hal, you’ve done a marvelous job with your command. Bottom line, with the country at low ebb, Denver pulled off a spectacular military feat and restored national self-confidence. You’re the officer who prepared the ship and crew for this and I’m proud to have had you in my squadron.
“My fitness report will reflect this, along with my strongest recommendation for promotion to rear admiral. I wish you every success in your next assignment and the increased responsibilities that are sure to follow. I leave you with this thought, Hal. Combat brings out the best and worst in military officers. Those who recognized the need for transition when the country moved from peace to war and adapted went far. Grant, Pershing and Eisenhower to name a few.”
“Thanks, again, sir. I appreciate the advice.”
As he left the office, Bostwick’s smile did not reflect the anger that burned in his chest.
On the other side of the country, Captain Marty Baker waited in the anteroom outside the Oval Office in the White House. He did not fret over the delay, for he had already set machinery in motion to provide military commands with the material his staff had uncovered so no valuable time was lost. He’d never been in the White House and had yet to meet face to face with a sitting President, an overwhelming concept for Marty.
Gerry Carter, he thought, gets me into more damn trouble.
The naval aide emerged and ushered Marty into the office. “Mr. President, Captain Baker of Naval Intelligence, sir.”
“Good evening, Captain. I hear you have some news for us.” Andrew Dempsey recognized the usual signs of stage fright and lightened the atmosphere.” What you’ve turned up couldn’t come at a better time.” President Dempsey nodded toward the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Chief of Naval Operations seated at a conference table. “As you can see, I’ve assembled all the king’s men, but we don’t have horses anymore.”
Everyone chuckled at the President’s joke. Ten others, all civilian officials, except for the President’s Naval Aide, sat about the table.
The President continued, “May I present General Schultz, Joint Chiefs Chairman and one of your own, Admiral Baines, CNO.”
Both officers said in unison, “Captain,” and extended their hands.
Next came a flurry of introductions to the civilian officials, too quick for Marty to remember them. He did recognize Senator Darrel Manning who the President had narrowly defeated in the last election.
Introductions over, Marty got down to business. Shaky at first, but quickly getting into a rhythm, he provided a short overview of the Denver-Soviet minesweeper incident. President Dempsey preferred the adventurous details but permitted him to be pushed along toward the real meat of the briefing.
Marty cautioned, “It’s essential this be held in strictest confidence. The Soviets give no indication they know what we have.”
The President said with obvious delight, “Very good, Captain. Please go on.”
Continuing his briefing, Marty said, “This is an exceptional stroke of luck, sir. The equipment recovered from the minesweeper is low security and used only for local operations. For some unknown reason, the Soviets used it to retransmit a message sent earlier on their high security fleet-wide broadcast system. Having both messages enabled us to crack the higher code. We’re now able to decode previous and present Soviet naval radio traffic.”
This statement brought both senior military officers to the edge of their chairs.
General Schultz exclaimed, “What a break! You’re telling me we know what they’re going to do before they do it. Does the Army have this yet? We need this in the European Theater, and we need it now.”
Marty said, “Your Army people are hard at it, General, but so far, no joy. This is a naval code not used by the Soviet Army. Frankly, we’re amazed this happened. A simple bust by the Soviets, and we hope nobody catches it.”
Senator Manning a
sked, “Are you certain we’re not being fished in, Captain?”
“That cannot be ruled out, sir. But everything points to this as the real thing.”
Admiral Baines declared, “This is hot, Mr. President. It could turn the whole Pacific war around. What do you have on their current ops Captain?”
Marty read the message to all units of the Pacific Flotilla directing them to proceed north to screen units of the Northern fleet in the Bering Strait. “We’ve analyzed traffic leading up to this. The logic for their plan is clear. Soviets have problems of separating potential friends from known enemies in their submarine campaign. Treading so carefully severely limits the area a single unit can cover. The only solution is more submarines. They need the Northern Fleet units. I think we got ’em where it hurts. Unless they can shut down the Pacific to Allied shipping, we’re going to get back on our feet.”
President Dempsey asked, “How do we exploit this?”
The CNO, a submariner, replied, “Mr. President, if we deploy our units quickly, it’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel. These guys are so precise. They’ve told us not only where they’ll be, but when they’ll be there. And these Northern Fleet submarines are mostly old dogs and cats our guys can hear for a country mile.”
Even though he sensed optimism by his military chiefs, President Dempsey chose to use caution. They had known of the Soviet’s preparations for war, yet couldn’t stop them. Could history be about to repeat itself?
The President’s staff got their jobs through owed favors for help given during his campaign for the White House; none experienced warriors but they carried tremendous political clout. Several sat in Darrel Manning’s camp and believed the President should consider sending out peace feelers. Only a major triumph of Allied arms would turn them around.