Silent Thunder

by Iris Johansen

  If it wasn't her imagination.

  It didn't matter. She still wanted to jump to her feet and run back to the dock.

  She drew deep breaths, and in a moment her heart steadied. She deliberately focused her gaze on the captain's dossier and tried to concentrate. She was in no mood to scan them now, but she would not give in and leave here until she decided to go back to the inn, dammit. That would be both foolish and a surrender to unreason.

  It had to be imagination.

  She knew he was there, Kirov realized.

  It wasn't only that glance she had cast up at the cliff. Her body language was tense, alert, wary.

  He wouldn't have been surprised if instinct had made her turn and scurry away. She perceived a threat, and an unknown threat was always more frightening.

  She wasn't running. She was deliberately ignoring that instinct and leafing through the records Bradworth must have given her.

  The last rays of the setting sun were touching her, enveloping her with a warm glow. She looked young and alive and, in this moment, a little vulnerable. Yet he could tell she had the same charged strength as the submarine she was studying.

  He smiled at the thought. "You probably wouldn't appreciate the comparison," he murmured. "But I can't offer you a greater compliment, Hannah Bryson."

  And he found he wanted to keep on looking at her as he always did Silent Thunder.

  He trained the powerful binoculars on her face, watching the play of expressions.

  Yes, I'm here. Yes, I may be a threat. But if you won't run away, then you'll have to accept me, take me…

  You took long enough. It's almost eleven." Conner hung up the phone and rose from the porch swing. "I thought maybe you'd managed to break into that sub and started the job tonight."

  "No, you didn't. You know I wouldn't be that stupid. How's Cathy?" She climbed the steps. "And what are you doing out here? I expected you to be in bed."

  He ignored the last question. "Cathy's fine. Ronnie scored two goals in his soccer game this afternoon."

  "Great." She opened the screen door. "I'm sorry you weren't there to see it."

  "So am I. But that's the breaks."

  "If it wasn't past his bedtime, I'd call and congratulate him. I'll do it tomorrow. How is he doing?"

  "As usual. Eleven going on thirty. How did I ever produce such a serious offspring? He thinks Donna's nose is out of joint because he's getting so much attention. He told me I should start her in a gymnastic class so that she'd feel good about herself. She's only five, for God's sake."

  Hannah smiled. "So when does she start classes?"

  He sighed. "When Cathy gets around to it. We can't let Ronnie think he's running our lives."

  "He'd be a very benevolent dictator."

  "It's probably your fault. I think he takes after you." He changed the subject. "Why are you so late? Anything wrong?"

  "No." She wasn't about to tell him she had deliberately stayed at that pier because she refused to give in to an idiotic case of nerves. "It was just a nice night. I didn't know you'd be waiting up like an anxious father."

  "Someone has to worry about you. You don't do a very good job of it yourself. I bet you didn't stop and grab a meal, did you?"

  She shook her head. "Everything was closed. This little town evidently rolls up the sidewalks when the sun goes down."

  "I didn't think so. You probably wouldn't have eaten anyway." He took her elbow and nudged her away from the stairs toward the hall. "That's why I had Mrs. Richardson make up a plate for you to microwave. Homemade biscuits, corn on the cob, and country fried steak."

  "Not exactly New England fare." She made a face. "And too heavy to eat this late."

  "You can nibble. Do you want to hurt my feelings? Come on, I'll have a glass of milk and give you a blow-by-blow description of Ronnie's game."

  "We have to get up early."

  "You'll be in the shower in thirty minutes." He turned on the kitchen lights. "That's the wonder of microwave. You should appreciate the efficiency since you're so in love with machines."

  She gave in. "I'll have a glass of milk and a biscuit." She sat down at the table. "Did you and Bradworth bond at dinner?"

  He shrugged as he opened the refrigerator door. "He's okay. But I don't think we have much in common." He took out the plate and a carton of milk. "Though he tried to convince me we did."

  "Really?"

  "He tried a little too hard. It didn't ring true." He poured two glasses of milk. "You didn't care much for him either. I could tell."

  She took a sip of milk. "I have a problem with any bureaucrat. He's a little too slick for me. But maybe he's not so bad. And neither of us will have to put up with him long." She grinned. "With any luck, you'll be home for Ronnie's next big game."

  "If we're not off to Marinth." He held up his hand as she started to speak. "And that's okay with me. But it would be nice to spend a couple of days at home before we get the call." He took her satchel and opened it. "While I heat up your biscuits, get out the paperwork and show me what we have to do." He headed for the microwave. "You said you had the schematics. What's left?"

  "I told you." She spread the sheets out on the kitchen table. "We have to make sure they're accurate and no surprises. The U.S. Navy probably did a good job, but I'm sure they were more interested in evaluating the Silent Thunder for combat weaknesses and strategic possibilities. It's the first Oscar II they've been able to examine up close, and the Russians still have a few of them in service. Anyway, the museum wants it certified by a civilian company, and they also want my input on how to best display the various sections to visitors who may have never been inside a sub before."

  "And the reputation you earned on the Titanic expedition won't hurt their publicity campaign."

  "Maybe." She shrugged. "I know it's not the kind of project we usually take on, but I was just as curious as the Pentagon brass to go inside an Oscar II."

  "And I'm sure that the thought of actually relaxing scared the living hell out of you."

  She ignored the comment. "Anyway, we unscrew every hatch, panel, grating, and control plate on the sub to photograph and document. Then we put it back together and call on the nuclear boys to make sure there's nothing lingering behind those panels that might have been missed when the sub was deactivated."

  "So where do we start?"

  "You start in the control room. I'll do the officers' quarters. The Oscar II has a double hull, and from the schematic I can see that the designers were clever about utilizing the space between hulls. I thought we could check out that area together."

  "Sounds good."

  "Were you able to round up any of our team?"

  He nodded. "We'll have four, maybe five of our guys to help out. The earliest I could get any of them to promise to show up was in three or four days. I gotta tell you, it wasn't easy. They're enjoying the downtime before we head out for our next job. I think you pay them too much."

  "It's hard to find good people. They're worth every dime."

  He set the biscuits down before her. "Even with the help, it's a lot to do in two weeks."

  "We have the government report and schematic as a starting point. It shouldn't be impossible if we work hard and fast."

  He chuckled. "If? You don't know any other way to work."

  She smiled back at him. "I have a reason to hurry. I want to be at Ronnie's next soccer game too."

  "Good. You need to be around real people for a while instead of messing around with gyros and propellers." He paused and looked away from her. "And you need to have a kid of your own instead of spoiling mine."

  She stiffened. She hadn't seen this coming. She tried to ward him off. "I like spoiling your kids," she said lightly. "All the fun and none of the responsibility."

  "You need a kid of your own," he repeated.

  He wasn't going to be evaded. Her smile faded. "Knock it off, Conner."

  "Nope." He lifted his gaze to meet her own. "I've been skirting talking to you
about Jordan for years. I need to catch you while you have a few of the barriers down. This is a good time."

  "The hell it is."

  "You lost your baby, and that's a terrible thing. But you're robbing yourself of one of the richest experiences a person can have. God, I love my kids."

  "I know you do." She looked down at her plate. "So do I."

  "But they're not your kids. I can share them, but I want you to have the whole nine yards."

  "I don't want to talk about this now."

  "I've backed off too many times. It's been four years. Some of the pain must have gone away."

  The pain was no longer fresh, but there were moments that the memory rushed out of nowhere, and it was as if her son's death had happened yesterday. "I don't… dwell on it. That would be dumb." She drew a shaky breath. "I know you and Cathy probably wonder why it hit me so hard. My son only lived a few weeks. I didn't have all the joy or the laughter or the experiences that you've had with your children." She stopped to steady her voice. "But I knew him. From the time Jordan was conceived, I talked to him, I… shared. I planned our life together. Whenever I stayed at an inn like this while I was on a job, I'd think, 'I'll take Jordan here someday.' I wanted to show him the whole damn world. You know my marriage sucked, but he was the light at the end of the tunnel. I loved him, Conner."

  "You can still love him and let someone else have a little love too," he said gently. "Have another child, Hannah."

  "I'm not good at reining myself in. It wouldn't be a little."

  "And you're scared."

  "I'm not ready yet."

  "You're scared."

  "Shut up, Conner. Stop pushing." She tried to smile as she looked up and met his eyes. "Don't you find it a little bizarre that you're urging me to have a child when there's no hint of a father on the horizon?"

  "Not at all. I'd love you to have what Cathy and I have, but you're such a workaholic you might not have time to develop a relationship. If you don't, we'll try the panda bear way."

  "Panda?"

  "Artificial insemination. They can't seem to get it on either."

  "I am not a panda."

  "No, they're lazy. You're an Energizer Bunny."

  "I'm not a bunny either."

  "It's too late for me to think of another animal to compare you to. I guess I'll have to drop the subject for now. But only for now, Hannah." He shoved the biscuits closer to her. "Eat."

  She was relieved. She knew he only wanted what was best for her and she loved him all the more for it. But those last few minutes had been too painful. She bit into a biscuit. "Satisfied?"

  "When you finish both of them, I will be." He took a drink of his milk. "Why are you taking the officers' quarters first? I'd think you'd want to zero in on the engineering deck. Did you find anything worthy of note in those crew dossiers?"

  She shook her head. "Not that I can tell from first glance." She thought about it. "Maybe. Vladzar is kind of interesting."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know. I guess his photo appealed to me. All bearded and white-haired and leonine. He looked like the kind of man who could handle the responsibility of a nuclear sub. Sort of stern and wise. There aren't many men who would be capable of doing a job like that. He was born in Kiev and went to St. Petersburg Naval Academy. Evidently he was brilliant. He was awarded all kinds of medals and commendation during his years in the service."

  "How old was he when he was in command of Silent Thunder?"

  "Early fifties. That would make him seventysomething when he died. Evidently Silent Thunder was his last command. He retired to Arcadia, Odessa, and lived there until he died."

  "Maybe he was forced to retire if he was in command when the Russians 'misplaced' the sub."

  "That's nonsense. Vladzar wouldn't have had anything-stop laughing, admit it."

  "Listen to yourself. You don't know anything about him, and you're leaping to his defense." His eyes were twinkling. "I've always suspected you have a father complex."

  "I do not."

  "Sure, you do. Dad died when you were only nine, and you've been looking for a father figure ever since."

  "Bullshit."

  "White hair. Stern. Lionlike," he reminded her. "Sounds pretty fatherly to me."

  "I just admire what I read about the man."

  "And that's why you're going to check out his quarters first."

  "No, blast you." She took another bite. "There will be plenty for both of us to do in the control room. I just want to eliminate the quarters so that I can concentrate on the more important areas." She finished the biscuit and pushed the plate away. "That's all I'm going to eat." She stood up. "And now I'm going to go shower and hit the sack. I suggest you do the same. We want to get this job done and out of the way. We both want to get back home in time for Ronnie's next game."

  "Hmm. I don't believe I've ever heard you speak with such fervor." He took the glasses over to the sink and ran water in them. "And I don't think it has anything to do with Ronnie's soccer game. Could it be that you're a little on edge?"

  "No, it could not. Why should I be on edge?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Good night, Conner."

  "Good night, Hannah. Sleep well."

  "Don't worry, I will."

  Of course, she wasn't on edge, she thought as she climbed the stairs. She had fought through that weird case of nerves she'd experienced at the pier and now was ready to start the job. If she was eager to have it over, it was only because she wanted Conner to have his quality time with his family before they set off for Marinth.

  She stopped at the window at the top of the stairs. Bradworth was right. The views were wonderful from this old house.

  She felt a ripple of pain as she remembered what she'd told Conner about planning to show her son all the places she'd visited. Any little boy would love this old house, with all its wide porches and rocking chairs.

  She drew a deep breath. It was never going to happen. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You have a satisfying life and a great job. Tomorrow that job would totally involve her, and this pain would once more recede into the background.

  She could see the main street and beyond it the glimmer of water and the end of the pier that led to where the sub lay. She couldn't see the sub itself from this spot. Only a stretch of deserted pier and the moonlight-dappled sea.

  But the pier wasn't deserted. Bradworth had assured her it was well guarded, and she had no reason to doubt the claim. And she had certainly been sure there was someone watching her earlier that evening. So stop staring out this damn window and obsessing over nothing and get to bed. She forced herself to turn away and moved determinedly down the hall toward her room.

  Ms. Bryson? I'm glad to meet you. I'm Lieutenant Mel Cox." The young freckle-faced officer who was standing on the pier was smiling broadly. "Mr. Bradworth told me I'm to make your job as easy as possible. If there's anything you want to know, anything you want done, just ask."

  "Thank you." Hannah shook his hand. "This is my brother, Conner. He's my right-hand man and going to be responsible for a great deal of the work."

  "Honored, sir." The lieutenant shook his hand. "I hope you'll call on me. May I help you with that equipment, Ms. Bryson?"

  "I think I can manage."

  "You can help me," Conner said. "I don't have any female hangups about carrying my own weight in a man's world." He shoved a metal chest at Cox. "You can carry the Geiger counters."

  Cox stiffened. "You won't need those. This sub is completely free of radioactivity. We made sure of that before we left Finland."

  "We?" Hannah looked at him in surprise. "Oh, that's right. You were with the crew who brought the sub here."

  "Yes, ma'am. Mr. Bradworth thought you'd prefer someone with experience with Silent Thunder. I was an officer under Captain John Samuel, who was in charge from the moment the Russians made the deal with the museum." He frowned. "I assure you, Captain Samuel would never have permitted the sub to have been brought here if there had been an
y question about there being remaining radioactivity."

  Lord, the kid was serious, Hannah thought. But she found his youth and dedication very appealing in this cynical world. "I'm sure your captain did his job. But our job is to make sure when we remove those panels that there are no lingering pockets that might come back to haunt the museum later."

  "The captain was very thorough," Cox said. "I'm sure that you won't find-"

  "Then my report will reflect how efficiently he did his duty," Hannah said. "Those Geiger counters are here to protect us and any visitors to the exhibit. They're very basic. If we were here to investigate your captain, we'd have brought in a tech team with a truckload of equipment. Doesn't that make sense?"

  He was silent a moment. "Yes." He shook his head ruefully. "Sorry. I guess I'm a little defensive."

  "Why?"

  "Captain Samuel had a few other headaches with this mission. He had to deal with the Finns, the Russians, and our own environmental protection agency. He doesn't need any more flack."

  "He won't get it from me," Hannah said. "All I want is to do my job and get out." She met his eyes. "And I'll take all the help you can give me, Lieutenant. In spite of my brother's idea of a joke, I have no feminist reservations. Even he'll admit I'm fully capable of making you work your buns off."

  "Oh, yes," Conner murmured. "You can see I'm a mere shadow of a man."

  "With an extremely big mouth." Hannah handed the lieutenant the basket she was carrying. "You take this, and I'll carry my tool chest and satchel. After you show us around the sub, you can go back to the van and get some of the other equipment. Okay?"

  "Okay. How much other equipment do you have?"

  "Nothing very intimidating. We have to take pictures of everything we do, so we have a complete stock of cameras, tripods, and lights. Books, manuals…" She shrugged. "We'll only bring what we need on board, or we'd be tripping over the stuff."

  He nodded. "I can see that." He looked down at the basket. "At least this doesn't look like Geiger counters."

  "No," she said solemnly as she headed for the sub. "I wouldn't think of compromising your duty to your captain."