Leviathan: An Event Group Thriller

by David L. Golemon

  “You are one strange and confusing man, Colonel.”

  “An enigma, wrapped in a puzzle,” he whispered, and smiled. “One that has very many missing pieces, eh?”

  “Yeah … but listen, if you want to commit suicide, there are a lot less painful ways of going about it, so knock it off.”

  “Such harsh … words for a man who is just learning to be … a hero,” Farbeaux said haltingly as his eyes closed.

  “Better than a swift kick in the ass—” Sarah started, but saw that Farbeaux was sleeping.

  “He’s quite tired,” Trevor said, checking the monitor at the bedside. “When I examined him, he showed acute exhaustion. I doubt he slept more than a few hours in the last month or two.”

  “He’s had a rough go lately,” Sarah said looking at the Frenchman’s softened features.

  “Well, he needs his rest now, Miss …?”

  “Just Sarah, that’s good enough,” she said, patting Farbeaux’s hand.

  “Sarah … Sarah,” the doctor mumbled twice. “That name has been muttered more than just a few times in this sickbay.”

  Sarah looked up from the bed with a questioning look.

  “As a matter of fact, the last man to occupy this very bed was also a colonel—an American, though.”

  Sarah didn’t respond. She only waited out of politeness.

  “This one called out for Sarah over and over again. In addition, a funny little name … what was it? Oh, yes … ‘ Short Stuff.’ He would call out ‘Short Stuff’ in his sleep. It was—”

  Sarah had turned completely white. The words had slammed into her like a punch to her stomach. Her voice was caught somewhere between her esophagus and her lips.

  “The Mediterranean?” It came out as a whisper.

  “Excuse me, young lady?”

  “Was Leviathan in the Med lately?” she said, her voice cracking.

  “Why … yes, the captain was studying a recent disturbance in the sea there and we were attempting to save … well, the event was seismic in nature, I believe. That was where we recovered my most recent patient, the American colonel.”

  Sarah leaned over and was suddenly short of breath. “Is … is … he here … alive?”

  “Very much alive … at least upon his release. I can’t say beyond—” The doctor suddenly realized to whom he was speaking. “Oh, my … you are that Sarah? … Colonel Collins’s Sarah?”

  Sarah didn’t hear the question. She lost her balance and almost fell.

  “Here, here, are you all right?” the doctor asked as he helped Sarah regain her balance.

  “Where is he?” she asked as she was led to a chair in the corner.

  “Why, the captain released him. I imagine he is wherever your people are.”

  Sarah closed her eyes. She didn’t know what to do; she looked around like she was trapped in a place with no exit. She started to stand, then she sat back heavily into the chair. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to jump up. She wanted all of these things until she saw Farbeaux looking at her. He had awakened and their eyes locked, and Sarah saw the Frenchman for who he had become. The man was now renewed and his sense of purpose had returned, just as surely as Sarah’s life had just been returned to her.

  “I am happy for you, Sarah McIntire. Very happy.”

  The smile never reached Henri’s eyes.

  EVENT GROUP COMPLEX,

  NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA

  With a real-time projection of Saboo Island on the main viewing screen in the director’s office, Pete, Jack, Everett, and Dr. Robbins sat and listened to the phone briefing on Saboo’s present condition by one of Pete’s computer techs.

  “There are several structures on the atoll, Colonel, but upon examination, they look as if they have been abandoned since the end of World War Two. No indigenous animal life and no fresh water. It’s basically a coral rock sitting at the end of the island chain.”

  “Thank you,” Pete said, and terminated the call with the comp center. He looked from the map to Collins, who waited for Pete to give him his cue. The temporary director nodded, then stood up and walked toward the large monitor and pretended to study the map.

  “You think Charlie Ellenshaw’s theory about this being the original Heirthall’s home is viable?” Pete asked without turning. “It’s a large gamble, Colonel. We could be sending the only asset we have in the area to the wrong spot. They could lose the only advantage they have—that submarine may be anywhere but Saboo.”

  “Since the president informed us of the report received from Missouri, if Saboo is friendly turf for these people, the possibility of them going there for repairs, while a long shot, is the only chance we have.”

  Everett pushed his chair back and stood. He paced around the table and came to the chair where Gene Robbins was sitting. He stood still, then placed both hands on the computer man’s shoulders.

  “What are your thoughts, Doctor?” he asked.

  Robbins moved his shoulders until Everett released his hold. He half-turned and looked at the captain.

  “You already know my opinion on Professor Ellenshaw’s theory. Unlike most of you in this complex, I refuse to take at face value a theory concocted by a man who believes in Nessie and the Abominable Snowman.”

  Pete turned away from the map and looked at his young protégé.

  “You know, Gene, Charlie Ellenshaw advanced more than one theory during his time in the Leviathan vault. I don’t know if you heard that one. Well, my apologies, it was he, the Colonel, and Captain Everett here who thought it up.”

  Robbins again turned back and looked at Carl, who remained behind him. He then frowned and looked back at Pete.

  “I wasn’t aware of another theory,” he said.

  “It seems they believe that Virginia—while brilliant in physics, and while she could very well be very knowledgeable in exotic explosives and accelerant—the assistant director is like most of the personnel in this complex. She doesn’t know her way around a computer save to sign in and out, and maybe access Europa for her research. Security protocols are far beyond her.”

  “Anyone is capable, especially someone as brilliant as Ms. Pollock, at learning Europa’s protocols. Besides, wasn’t it you, Pete, and the esteemed Professor Ellenshaw, who advanced the idea of the assistant director’s culpability in the sabotage?”

  “Yes, indeed. What they call a rush to judgment.” Pete strode toward the table where Robbins sat, then placed his hands on the polished surface. Collins just swiveled in his chair, and Everett remained irritatingly close behind the computer genius. “However, as great a mind as Charlie Ellenshaw is, I was perplexed as to how he thought to run a check on any correlation between Alexandria Heirthall and Virginia Pollock through Europa, especially with all he had on his plate.”

  Robbins swallowed but said nothing. Everett cleared his throat and then tossed a plastic bag in front of him. When it landed, Robbins flinched. He could see the glove inside.

  “I found that in the clean room, Dr. Robbins,” Jack said, looking right at him. “Since only you, the director, and Dr. Golding are authorized inside that high-security area without escort, we have to assume that that glove, brimming with what is called magnesium particulate, used in the burning of hazardous materials, belongs to you.”

  Everett again leaned over and whispered in Robbins’s ear. “And guess what? Forensics found a fingerprint inside the index finger of said glove. It didn’t match Dr. Golding, so I’ll give you three guesses who it did match, and the first two don’t count.”

  The three men had to hand it to Robbins—the man was fast thinking.

  “Come on, I visited the Leviathan vault myself after the attack. I may have gotten the accelerant on my glove when there.” He turned and faced Everett. “Let me get this straight. You’re accusing me of sabotage, and with that, murder and kidnapping?”

  “You bet,” Carl said, leaning further in to Robbins.

  “Prove it,” he said, turning once more away from Everett.
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  “Dr. Robbins, you are misunderstanding your situation,” Jack said as he stood and made his way around the table. “You are assuming we’re in a court of law, where there are rules.”

  Everett smiled, spun the doctor around in his chair, and then went nose to nose.

  “No rules.”

  Robbins shied away from the captain. They could all see the fear this man had of Everett.

  “Colonel Collins, Captain Everett, I know I agreed that anything goes as far as getting truthful answers, but you cannot subliminally threaten one of my people with violence,” Pete said, much to the visible relief of Gene Robbins. “I think you should come right out and say it.” He smiled for the first time since the attack on the complex. “Subliminal be damned.”

  “You’re right, of course,” Everett said as he reached down, grabbed Robbins by his lab coat, pulled him from the chair, and shook him once, twice. “Jack, do you have that resignation letter?”

  Collins slid a piece of paper in front of Robbins. He couldn’t see it; all he could see was the hate in Everett’s eyes.

  “Look at it, Gene,” Pete said, his own features masked with disgust.

  Robbins turned and looked at the paper on the table.

  “Your official resignation, signed by you, turned in to Pete here just before you disappeared from the complex. Whereabouts unknown,” Collins said as he took a chair next to Robbins.

  “I suspect the little bastard committed suicide after we found out about his culpability and treachery,” Everett said, pulling Robbins’s face back around so he could see the seriousness of his great acting skills.

  Collins looked at Pete, and they both realized at the same moment that Everett could scare a rock if he had to.

  “In all actuality, Dr. Robbins, you are going to disappear,” Jack said.

  Robbins finally forced himself to look away from the most-feared Everett and finally saw Jack.

  “You’re going to Saboo, and you know what else? You’re going to make sure your friends show up.”

  “How … how am I supposed to do that?” he asked as Everett finally released his coat collar.

  “Why, you’re going to call them, of course,” Carl said, smiling brightly.

  “You receive your orders somehow. You’ll just use the same method to contact your boss and tell them you’re coming home.”

  “What is the name of that home by the way, Gene?” Everett asked, his smile never wavering.

  Robbins looked from Carl to Jack to his former boss. His head slumped and they barely heard his answer.

  “Leviathan.”

  An hour later Jack, Everett, Jason Ryan, Will Mendenhall, and Robbins were in field gear and on their way to California for a transfer to a U.S. Navy Greyhound flight to the Pacific for a rendezvous arranged by the president. Collins spoke directly to the White House via scrambled communications. Robbins looked miserable, but he had complied with his orders to send Leviathan an emergency message. He informed his master he would be waiting on Saboo for immediate pickup, that his cover had been blown, and that he had barely escaped. There had been no reply, nor even a confirmation that his message had been received.

  “Okay, Colonel, I have you a ride to Saboo: USS Missouri. She’s the sub that just put two torpedoes into our friend.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Jack said as he looked into his end of the camera from the cargo hold of the C-130 air force cargo plane.

  “Now, what in the hell makes you think they’ll take you aboard after discovering you turned in their operative?”

  “We’re banking on Heirthall’s arrogance. After all, how can four men be a danger to her?”

  “That’s one hell of a big assumption, Colonel.”

  “I know perfectly well what’s at stake, Mr. President.”

  “Okay, Colonel, you have your sub and I’ve alerted COMSUBPAC. He’s alerting the crews of three Los Angeles attack boats to prepare for sea. They will rendezvous with Missouri, so I wish you luck. You must understand, Colonel, those captains have their orders. I don’t have to tell you, of all people, what those orders are.”

  “If Leviathan makes an aggressive move, they are to use any and all means to destroy her.”

  “You have the letter to Captain Jefferson?” the president asked. “Yes, sir.”

  “Duplicates have been delivered to the captains of the other subs. Good luck, Colonel, bring my people home if possible. I’ll inform Admiral Fuqua that Operation Nemo is a go.”

  The screen went blank.

  Jack felt as if he were on the outside of the poker game looking in, and was just hoping to get a seat at the big table. The one problem: He knew beforehand that the other player held all the cards.

  The bluff was on.

  LEVIATHAN

  Niles, Virginia, Lee, Alice, and a very quiet Sarah sat in the ship’s mess. They were sitting at a far table within the seventy-table compartment. Over a hundred of Leviathan‘s crew were taking a late-night meal and their voices were subdued. Every once in a while one or two would glance over at them, and this time they weren’t friendly or welcoming faces they saw. Niles pushed away the soup that the mess steward had placed in front of him and looked at the others.

  “My opinion is, if Jack is fit, he, Carl, and Pete will discover a way to find us. My money is on our people.”

  The group was silent as they waited for Niles to finish what they knew he was going to say.

  “I also don’t want anyone here at this table to have any false illusions about us escaping. It’s not likely.” Compton looked at McIntire, who was dipping her spoon in and out of her soup. “Sarah, I’m going to say something you may not like. We owe Colonel Farbeaux nothing—not for saving you at the complex, or for what he did earlier today. He’s dangerous, and we have to consider … eliminating him.”

  “Sarah, you told us about Jack. Your explanation of Farbeaux’s reaction to the news that the Colonel was alive has confirmed your suspicion about his stability.”

  Sarah was silent as she turned toward Niles. Her look said she was lost as to how to answer both him and Virginia.

  Garrison Lee broke the uncomfortable silence.

  “How do we do that, Virginia—have the captain dump him at sea, or allow this Sergeant Tyler to place a bullet in his brain?”

  The table became silent at Lee’s question.

  “Obviously not—we decided a long time ago that we play by our rules and not everyone else’s, regardless of cost, or what the opposition dictates,” Lee said, looking from person to person.

  “I’m sorry, but Farbeaux could become a very large liability when the time comes for us to act,” Virginia said as she rubbed her temples.

  Yeoman Felicia Alvera walked up to their table. She looked at other crew members watching her approach the table, and she eyed them until they turned away.

  “Can we help you, Yeoman?” Alice asked her, noticing that the girl was, for the first time, unsmiling.

  “Your opposition to our captain. I would like to know”—she half-turned and gestured to the table of twenty or so midshipmen in the middle of the compartment—”just as many of us would—why you do not see she has no other choice but to act as she has?”

  “Young lady, no matter the kindness Captain Heirthall has shown you and these others, she is killing people, and making very little discrimination as to who they are,” Niles said, seeing a different girl before them than the one they first met on the hangar deck.

  “Yeoman, you may return to your meal, or your quarters,” Sergeant Tyler said, having stepped up without anyone hearing or seeing his approach.

  Alvera looked at Tyler and narrowed her eyes. Then she suddenly turned and left, not going back to her own meal; she left the mess area altogether. Niles and the others saw that the other midshipmen, after a brief glance toward them, all followed the girl out.

  The sergeant was starting to walk away, and then stopped and turned. He looked down at the five Group members. They saw there was still a spot o
f blood on the bandage wrapped around his head.

  “From this moment forward, you are not to converse with the crew, especially the middies. If you disobey this command you will be locked in the brig and gagged. For the present time, we are putting the problem of you people on hold, but you may have company soon. We are making a detour.”

  “What about the reason you brought us aboard in the first place, Sergeant?” Niles asked.

  “What you know or what your Group knows no longer concerns us. For the moment just consider yourselves …” He paused and smiled. “… ballast.”

  Tyler turned and followed the midshipmen out, ignoring the way the adult crew looked at him.

  “What a dick,” Sarah said.

  “My word exactly,” Alice agreed.

  “Yeoman Alvera and the other midshipmen—have you noticed the paleness of skin? It’s almost see-through,” Virginia stated.

  “Now that you bring it up, they are pale—even for submariners,” Niles said.

  “Here’s something else for everyone to chew on. Have you noticed the way the older crewmen look at them is almost resentful?”

  None of them had an answer or an opinion as Leviathan started her thermal-dynamic drive for the first time in twelve hours. They were all silent and more than one of them stared at the table, knowing the great submarine was once more under way and was continuing whatever hellish work she still had to do.

  14

  USS MISSOURI (SSN-780)

  ONE MILE OFF SABOO ISLAND,

  FIFTEEN HOURS LATER

  The captain of USS Missouri stared at Jack Collins, thinking the man had gone mad. He tossed the grease pencil on the charting table and looked over at his XO.