by Tom Lowe
“Here, take the key. You two make yourself at home. Nick left some grape leaves in the refrigerator. They’re stuffed with rice and his secret ingredients. If you guys are hungry, pop ‘em in the microwave. Don’t tell Nick that I said microwave and his food in the same sentence.”
“Thanks.”
He handed Jason the keys. “How was your birthday?”
Jason’s eyes drifted away from O’Brien. “Okay, I guess. Had a little too much to drink. Paid for it the next day.”
O’Brien watched him a moment. “Moderation is the key. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” He pursed his lips, his eyes averting from O’Brien.
“Is there something you want to talk about?”
“Not really.”
O’Brien smiled. “Anytime you want to talk, about anything on your mind, I’m here for you, okay? I’ll be on Dave’s boat. If you have time, I’d like to meet Nicole.”
As O’Brien turned to leave, Jason said, “Thanks, Sean.”
Dave Collins was just starting to fix his first afternoon cocktail, a Grey Goose martini, when O’Brien stepped onto Gibraltar’s cockpit, lifting Max aboard. “Ready for a very cold martini?” Dave asked
“A little too early for me, thanks.”
“You might develop a taste for one when I share some of my research with you.”
“Let me start with a beer.”
“You know where they are. Max looks like she just got out of the bay.”
“She played tag with a garden hose.” O’Brien popped the cap off a bottle of Old Speckled Hen and tried not to overanalyze Jason’s odd behavior, but he felt Jason was hiding something.
Dave sipped his martini, smacking his cold, wet lips. “As you know, Sean, I still maintain contacts with people who have access to information that can never be made public. In that light, if you will, there are some dark secrets in America that might as well remain that way.”
“Why do I have a feeling you’re about to tell me something I’d rather not hear? I’d just as soon not know where the bodies are buried.”
“You stumbled over them, you and Nick. The ‘unofficial’ classified documents indicate that U-boat 236 was Hitler’s last sub. It was by far his largest and the most technically sophisticated one the Nazis ever produced.” Dave glanced at his notes. “The sub had duel sources of propulsion-powerful diesel engines and very quiet, long-range electric motors. It had an advance snorkeling system allowing it to ride far enough below the surface to avoid most visual detection.”
“Was it carrying nuclear material?”
“Let me give you a little background information. I think it’ll put this find of yours in context with the times. In 1942 German U-Boats sank at least 259 American ships right off our coasts. These included Merchant Marine ships, tankers, and Liberty Ships. It was bloody, fast and furious until the Navy ended it. Now, advance four years later to the time Glenda Lawson’s husband, Billy, spotted a U-boat south of St. Augustine. Germany had surrendered, but there were still German U-boats prowling the waters. Via radio, they were told to surrender to the closest Allied port city. I mentioned one U-boat, number 234, surrendering to the U.S. Navy, impounded in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, May 17, 1945. This was a few days before Billy Lawson spotted the sub you, Nick and Jason found. It was at the time of the Manhattan Project. The race to build the first nuclear bomb was in the final hours. It’s known that the physicist, the man who led that pursuit at Oak Ridge and Los Alamos, Robert Oppenheimer, boarded the impounded U-boat in Portsmouth. Some believe his team removed the cargo, the HEU, of more than two-thousand pounds. There are those who speculate that we used at least some of it, if not all of it, in the bombs we dropped over Japan three months later.”
“Hold on. Enriched uranium, found on a German U-boat, may have been used in the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki?”
“Indeed.”
“And the stuff Nick and I found?”
“If it is HEU, it would be deadly as the day it was manufactured.”
O’Brien’s cell rang. It was Nick Cronus. “Sean, where are you?”
“On Dave’s boat. You okay?”
“That TV reporter, the same woman that filmed us the day the coast guard stopped-”
“What about her?”
“I’d just parked my bike. Walkin’ up to order a beer from Kim when this woman-the reporter, all tits, ass, and perfume like tropical flowers, comes up to me. I recognized her, and she asked me if I knew where the sub was. I laughed, you know me, and say, hey, I can take you there. You wear a bikini, ride in my boat, I’ll take you there. About that time she moves her arm from around her back. She’s holding a microphone. She waves and her cameraman and another chick step out from a corner. Then that crazy woman starts asking me all kinds of questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Like did I know there might be nuclear bomb stuff on the sub? She said she knows there was uranium on the sub-saw pictures-wanted to know if we brought it up and where is it? I started to tell her what she could do with that microphone. Got back on my bike and rode to the other side of the marina.”
“How’d she see pictures?”
“I don’t know. But as I was driving off, I saw her open the dock gate. Looks like she’s walking toward your boat.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jason Canfield was polishing Jupiter’s transom door when he looked up and saw his girlfriend, Nicole Bradley, and a TV news crew approach. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen, then he recognized the reporter. Susan Schulman, the same woman that had asked them questions after the Coast Guard search.
Something was wrong. Nicole looked embarrassed. “Jason, I wanted you to meet Susan Schulman, and this is our cameraman, Lyle Hartman.”
“What’s everybody doing here?” Jason asked.
“Susan just wants to ask you a few questions.”
“I don’t know-”
“Roll, Lyle,” Susan said as she extended the microphone toward Jason. “Did you and the crew bring up the canisters labeled U-235?”
“What?”
“The canisters, the cargo you found on the German U-boat. What did you find?”
“Nothing.”
“Jason, we have the pictures, the ones you shared with Nicole. Now, tell us what you found down there. Where is this submarine?”
Jason shot Nicole an angry look. “I don’t know exactly. It’s out in the Gulf Stream. About ninety feet down.”
“We have a problem,” O’Brien said, heading for the cockpit door.
“What kind of problem?” Dave asked.
“Jason is about to get crucified on television.”
“That is indeed a problem. Max, stay here.”
Lyle, the camerman, zoomed in, the frame filling with Jason’s nervous face. “Who made the dive?” asked Susan.
“Nick and Sean.”
“What did they do with the canisters?”
“Nothing.”
“Did they and you know those canisters may contain weapons-grade uranium?”
“What?”
“Jason, this is a very serious matter. How much of this material did they find?”
“Two canisters, I think.”
“What was the condition of the U-boat?”
“Broken in half.”
“Did they know what was in those canisters? Did they try to open them?”
“I think Sean might have known.”
“We saw pictures of a jet engine and something that looked like a rocket. What did Nick and Sean say about those?”
“Not a lot.”
“How about the human remains? We saw pictures of a skeleton.”
“I don’t know about-”
“How many skeletons?”
“I don’t know.”
“Jason, can you take our crew back out there?”
“No, he can’t,” O’Brien said, coming from behind the cameraman.
Susan whirled around and stuck the
microphone in O’Brien’s face. “You weren’t truthful when you told us you didn’t find a U-boat. Why’d you lie?”
“Is that how you get your kicks-ambushing a kid, hitting him with questions?”
“This is a serious matter, potentially one of national security. We have the pictures. We saw what you found. You said you didn’t find the sub?”
“I didn’t. Another member of my crew did.”
“Where is it located?”
“In the Atlantic Ocean.”
“This is not a time to be coy, Mr. O’Brien.”
“Excuse me. Come on, Jason, we have charter prep work to do.”
“Mr. O’Brien, did you bring up any of those canisters?”
“No.”
“Have you alerted the proper authorities about this find?”
“Looks like you’re doing that for me, the authorities and everyone else.”
“America’s safety may be at risk if those canisters contain enriched uranium.”
O’Brien said nothing. He started for Dave’s boat, Jason following.
“Mr. O’Brien, we understand there are human remains in that sub, correct?”
O’Brien was silent.
“You’re jeopardizing national security by acting this way.”
O’Brien turned toward her. “What way? By remaining silent about a potentially, and the operative word here is potentially, deadly substance if it is U-235. Seems to me, Miss Schulman, you are the one compromising the safety of the nation by your zeal to be the first to put this on television rather than to be responsible and shut the hell up. Don’t attempt to follow me on private property.” O’Brien stepped onto Gibraltar’s cockpit, walked past Dave with Jason following. Dave closed the cockpit door and seemed to melt into the salon couch.
“Come on,” Susan said. “We got some great stuff! Let’s get in the truck and start editing. I’ll have Manuel call the network news desk to see if they want us to do a live feed.”
“What about Jason?” Nicole asked.
“What about him?”
“You embarrassed him! He’s going to look like an idiot on TV.”
“Hey, no offense to your boyfriend. It’s part of the job. Get used to it.”
O’Brien looked at Jason. “How’d that reporter get those pictures?”
“I don’t know! I swear.”
“How’d you get them from my camera?”
“I downloaded them to my cell when you and Nick were in the bridge.”
“Damn! Why?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know this would happen.”
“Who saw the pictures?”
“Only Nicole.”
“Jason, I thought I had made it clear not to say anything!”
“I didn’t know Nicole would do this. I’m not sure how she got them off my phone. We were celebrating my birthday, and I had too much to drink. After she looked at the pictures, I went to the bathroom.”
“And she simply e-mailed them to herself.”
“Oh, shit ….”
“Oh shit is right, Jason. Take your phone off your hip. Look at the sent e-mails.”
Jason searched through the phone’s digital records, his face pinched, hands trembling. “She sent it and then deleted the file. But it’s here.” He glanced away, his face reddening, eyes searching. “I trusted her.”
“And I trusted you,” O’Brien said. “Let me see your cell.” Jason handed him the phone. “Is your girlfriend’s number the last one called?”
“Think so, yeah.”
O’Brien scrolled to the next number, memorizing it before returning the phone.
Dave handed Jason a bottled water and O’Brien a Corona.
Jason said, “I’m really sorry. I did something I shouldn’t have. I wish I could take it back or make it up to you. If you want to fire me, Sean, I understand. I deserve it.”
O’Brien was silent. Max trotted over to Jason and he rubbed her head.
O’Brien said, “You’re right. I should fire you. But I won’t. You’re a young guy who made an old mistake. You let your small head think for you.”
Dave grunted, “A mistake like that, Jason, can easily get you killed. This is a hell of a breach-”
“I’m sorry, Sean,” Jason mumbled, blinking back tears.
O’Brien looked at Jason a long moment. He felt compassion for the kid-a young man who took his mistakes to heart. “I hope you’ve learned a lesson.”
“I have. I swear.”
“Call your mom. Tell her what’s happening before she sees the news.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll get through this. You’ll have something to tell your grandkids in a few decades. In the meantime, we need to think through how to minimize the risks.”
Jason tried to smile. Max sat at his feet, her eyes half closed.
O’Brien added, “We need to get Nick in here so that all of us can talk about what to do next. We’ve got to form a plan.”
Dave grunted. “This is about to get way out of our control.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Nick Cronus stood in Dave Collins’ galley and poured himself a tall glass of Ouzo. He said, “Never in my life have I ever wanted to slap a woman. They are God’s most special creations. I give her a compliment. But she kept askin’ me questions, even after I said there was nothing I could say.” Nick walked up the two steps from the galley to the salon and sat in a canvas director’s chair with the words ‘Key West, FL’ on the back. He leaned over and scratched Max’s head, her tail thumping.
Dave said, “This Susan Schulman is on a mission, no doubt.”
Jason looked at his watch. “News will be on in an hour. I don’t want to watch my stuttering face on TV.”
O’Brien peered out of an open slat in the blinds. “I see their satellite news truck in the parking lot. The other TV stations, the papers, and the national news, will be here soon. We have to plan for that and deal with it the best we can.”
“So what we gonna do?” Nick asked. “Just tell ‘em where the ghost sub is and let’s go on and let our lives get back to normal.
Dave said, “It’s not that simple.”
“Why?” Nick asked.
“Because the ghost sub, as you so aptly put it, is indeed a ghost sub.”
“What do you mean?” Jason asked.
“It’s a phantom. Officially, it doesn’t exist. You gents opened Pandora’s Box. Now the evil genie is out. The German U-boat 236 has no documentation in unclassified U.S. war documents. It seems that somebody didn’t want a record of it. Sean and I are working on a time-line. We’re not sure exactly when the sub you found was sunk. Probably May 19, 1945. The same day an eyewitness spotted it from Matanzas Inlet. He saw men leave the sub in a life raft and bury something on the beach. Perhaps more of the uranium canisters. I did some digging, spoke with an old contact in Germany. The manifest on file in Germany from U-boat 236 indicates there were ten canisters of U-235 on board. You spotted two. Maybe the other eight were buried that night on the beach.”
O’Brien said, “The eyewitness Dave mentioned was an American not much older than you, Jason. He was shot and killed after he reported the presence of the sub and a party of four German sailors and two Japanese men burying something in the sand. This man saw one of the Germans shoot another. He said a man, maybe an American, came out of the bushes that night and met them.”
“The FBI and Navy,” Dave said, standing, “have no unclassified record of the sub’s existence. Why? Because they took down a sub with nuclear material on it, and they never found it. This was almost the twelfth hour before the dawn of the nuclear age. With the race to see who was going to make the bomb first, the least amount of information out there, less chance for a leak or to cause a breach. The other reason could have been connected to the shooting death of the young man or the mystery man who met them. I hope you now understand you have to be quiet about his. No more information to anyone. It’s too dangerous.”
�
��I understand … I won’t say a word,” Jason said.
Nick’s eyebrows arched. “I hope our guys didn’t kill the fella about Jason’s age who saw this thing goin’ down.”
“Authorities at the time reported he died in a mugging,” O’Brien said. “His surviving family-his wife, who’s now in her late eighties, and his granddaughter, have reasons to believe otherwise. Both live here and told me the story.”
“What reason?” Jason asked. “Was it some kind of a conspiracy?”
O’Brien said, “Maybe. But at this point, probably the least you know about things, Jason, it will be smartest and safest for you.”
“No problem-I don’t think I want to know anything else.”
“Good,” O’Brien smiled. “These news stories will be all over the planet in a matter of minutes, both on the Internet and international TV. There are ruthless people who would do anything to get their hands on weapons-grade uranium. Dave and I are going to give all we know to the FBI. You two don’t know the sub’s coordinates. That’s a good thing.”
“But,” said Nick finishing the ouzo, “nobody knows that. They see our faces all over the news and people will think we’re out there huntin’ for lobsters between the rib cages of human skeletons. Especially after that reporter tricked me and I told her I knew where the sub was and would take her there. When they show the story, they’ll cut out the part about her havin’ to wear a bikini.”
“Jason, where did you park?” O’Brien asked.
“My truck is on the north side of the lot.”
“Go up L dock, cross over to M dock, avoid the media in the parking lot near the Tiki Bar, and head on home. Tell your mom “hi” for me. We have a charter coming up.”
“Cool, maybe it won’t be so bad when the TV news is over.”
“Maybe not,” Dave said. “But just in case, be very careful. Say nothing to anyone and be aware of your surroundings.”
O’Brien stepped to the port window and watched Jason walk quickly down the dock. He saw two more news satellite trucks roll up in the far parking lot. He thought about Maggie’s face, heard her voice from the morning when she walked out of his past into the present. “Sean, I remember you as somebody a boy might look up to.”