Silent Thunder

by Iris Johansen

  "I didn't see anything else." She frowned. "Could there be more charts on the Silent Thunder?"

  "It's possible."

  "Then I want to go back on board. Bradworth won't let me." She stared him in the eye. "Make it happen."

  "Bradworth's already searching the sub."

  "Make it happen."

  He smiled. "Why do you think I can?"

  "He's scared of you."

  "All the more reason for him to balk. He resents me. Unless you want me to get radical."

  She didn't want to question what he meant by that last sentence. "You want to know if there's anything important on that sub too. I think you'd prefer to find it yourself rather than have Bradworth's men do it."

  "Quite true. But I walk a fine line with the CIA. I try not to antagonize a valuable source completely."

  "If you don't want to manipulate him yourself, then tell me how to do it."

  He was silent, thinking. She could almost see the wheels turning behind that intent expression. Then he smiled and leaned forward in the chair. "First, let's make a few phone calls."

  Her phone rang forty-five minutes later.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Bradworth said, when she picked up. "I just got a call from Peterson at the museum, and he was insistent as the devil that you be let back on the Silent Thunder to continue your work."

  "Good."

  "I told him to forget it."

  "He won't forget it. I told him I'd sue him for breach of contract and have the story of Conner's murder on the Silent Thunder plastered on the front page of every newspaper in the country. Museums don't like bad publicity."

  "You're bluffing. You don't want any publicity that might hurt your sister-in-law."

  "I backed down when you threatened me with that before. But Cathy and I are in sync with the fact that we may have to bite that particular bullet. We'll do what we have to do." He was cursing, and she interrupted, "And I hear that the CIA has to be careful of their image too. It takes so little to bring a CIA director before a congressional committee these days."

  "Dammit, what do you think you're going to find? My people have been tearing the sub to pieces searching for answers."

  "Then tell them to stop and let us have a shot."

  He didn't speak for a moment. "Us?"

  "Kirov is coming with me."

  "The hell he is. I should have known he had his fine hand in this. No deal."

  "He knows the sub. He might be able to help me."

  "Help you get killed. I told you to stay-"

  "He's coming with me. I'll be on the pier at eight tomorrow morning. I want my team's security clearances reactivated. Some may be with me tomorrow. Others may be back on board later in the week."

  "Everyone's already left their offices for the day, and it will be difficult to get the necessary clearances."

  "You're stalling. Cell phones are a wonderful thing, Bradworth. I'll be there at eight."

  She waited.

  It was a moment before he finally said, "I can't get papers for Kirov on this short notice. We can't risk them not being absolutely authentic. He's too valuable to us to run the risk of exposure."

  "He's willing to run the risk."

  "We've invested too much in him to-"

  "He's coming with me. I'll furnish the ID for him. I promise you won't have a problem with it. Just pave the way."

  "Aye, aye, Captain," he said sourly. He hung up.

  "Pleasant," she muttered under her breath. She pocketed her phone and turned to Kirov. "We're in. You were almost the stumbling block. It seems you're too valuable to risk exposure."

  "It's wonderful to be appreciated." He smiled. "You handled Bradworth very well, by the way. I was impressed."

  For the first time she was aware of the magnetism young Sarks had mentioned. It shocked her that she would even notice, considering the tension between them. Yet that facet of Kirov was difficult to overlook when it was an integral part of his personality. She might not be able to overlook it, but she could certainly ignore it. She turned away. "Whatever. We should get on the road in the next hour."

  "Why not now?"

  "I have to call my sister-in-law, Cathy."

  "And tell her everything?"

  "I owe it to her."

  "Do you owe her honesty at the price of her anxiety? Can she do anything but worry about you at this point?"

  He was right. There was nothing worse than having to stay at home and fret about things you couldn't change. "You don't want her involved."

  "No, the more people who know what we're doing, the greater the chance for problems. But I'll accept it if you insist."

  She thought about it. Then she got out her phone and dialed Cathy's number. She was relieved when voice mail picked up.

  "Cathy, Hannah. Henry Danforth proved to be a good lead. I'm following up on it. I managed to get back on the Silent Thunder, and I'm going to be there for a few days. Everything's fine. I'll contact you when I know something. Take care of yourself and the kids."

  "Very good," Kirov said, when she hung up. "A brilliant job of avoiding lies."

  "I hate lies. I'll tell Cathy the whole story as soon as I have anything concrete." She headed for her bedroom. "I'm going to pack my bag. I'll be with you in fifteen minutes."

  NINE

  ROCK BAY HARBOR, MAINE

  In the parking lot adjacent to the Silent Thunder ramp, Hannah tossed a plastic card at Kirov, sitting in the passenger seat next to her. "You'll need this."

  He picked it up and studied it. "What is it?"

  "Your ticket onto the sub. If anyone asks, you're Lance King, my nuclear propulsion expert."

  "He must weigh forty pounds more than I do."

  "So you've been on the Atkins diet. No one looks that hard at the photo anyway. As long as the security people see you with me a few times, and the badge's bar code works, you're golden."

  "No one here knows the real Lance King?"

  "No. Lance's credentials were issued, but he never made it here before the project was disbanded. You'll be fine."

  "If you say so." Kirov clipped the ID card to his jacket as he climbed out of the car.

  It wasn't until they passed the security checkpoint and walked up the ramp to the Silent Thunder's forward hatch that it hit her.

  Conner.

  Hannah stopped as pain tore through her.

  "Are you all right?" Kirov asked quietly.

  "Yes."

  Kirov moved closer to her. "Do you want me to go inside first?"

  For God's sake, get a grip. She pushed past him and started down the hatch. "We have work to do. Stop treating me like an invalid."

  "By all means." He followed her down the hatch to the engineering deck, where they stopped to let their eyes grow accustomed to the dim illumination of the work lights.

  Kirov sniffed. "Diesel fumes."

  "That's the first thing Conner said." Another painful memory. She tried to smile. "I told him the Oscar IIs had poor ventilation."

  Kirov made a face. "Believe me, it never felt as if the fumes were being ventilated at all. The few times we had to use the auxiliaries, it made most of the crew sick." He glanced around. "Well, everything seems to be in order here."

  "Did you spend much time in this section?"

  "More time than you'd think. I told you, it was my goal to be able to do each job on this vessel better than every crewman." He motioned ahead. "Shall we move to the control room?"

  They walked down the main corridor, past the turbines and radio plates, until they reached the control room.

  She switched on a light above the instrument plates. "Is it like you remembered it?"

  There was no reply. She turned to see Kirov standing in the entranceway, staring silently. "Hello?"

  "I'm sorry." He still didn't look away from the control plates. "I never felt more… whole than I did in this room. I don't expect you to understand." His hand touching the bulkhead was caressing. "Magnificent," he said quietly. "The
re will never be another quite like her. A machine with a soul."

  "Now you sound like my brother. What is it about men and the sea?"

  Kirov smiled. "You people design and build these things, but they're not truly finished until after they're put to sea. That's when their true character comes out. I don't know how it gets there, but believe me, it exists."

  "Uh-huh. So what's the Silent Thunder's character?"

  "She's a noble soul. She's always at her best when you need her most."

  "Sentimental rubbish."

  He shrugged. "Believe me, I've been on vessels where that wasn't the case. But I'm telling you, maneuvers that were impossible for her suddenly became possible when the chips were down, and the crew's lives were at stake."

  "You had a captain who knew what he was doing. Leadership can usually sway the balance between the possible and the impossible. You said yourself Vladzar was extraordinary."

  "You prefer to believe in a man rather than a ship?"

  "Any day. And there are hundreds of variables that can affect performance. Speed, churn, shock waves from those mines you were probably dodging…"

  Kirov smiled. "I'm afraid that I side with your brother on this issue. I suspect I would have liked him."

  "I don't know if he would have liked you." Yet she had an idea that Conner and Kirov would have found a strong common ground. Strange when their characters were so different. "But I'm sure he would have loved teaming up with you to torment me. Where next?"

  "The officers' quarters." He waved his hand. "After you."

  She climbed the mate's ladder and stepped into the dark corridor that would take them to the Section 4 living quarters. A dim light shined from a hatch about thirty feet toward the bow. "This is where I first saw Vladzar's book with the Samsovian symbols."

  He moved toward the bookcase across the cabin. "I'm surprised they're still here after all these years."

  "They probably wouldn't be if the officer who brought the sub here hadn't fought the Russians who tried to strip the sub. And, who knows, maybe they didn't consider Vladzar's personal effects important."

  "I did." His hand touched the spine of one the books. "I borrowed every one of these books from Sergai at one time or another. We all traded books during the missions."

  "Are they all here?"

  He studied the books. "Yes. Plus one."

  "What do you mean?"

  Kirov picked up a paperbound collection of Greek myths. "This wasn't Sergai's."

  "One of the other officers?"

  "Possibly." He looked around the cabin. "Otherwise, this compartment is just the way Sergai left it." Kirov slipped the book into his jacket pocket. "Let's go take a look at the rest of the ship. Which areas did you miss when you were working here?"

  "The turbines, the galleys, and what's left of the reactor room." She preceded him. "Though if the rest of the sub is like the command center, we're not going to find anything. It looks like a tornado hit it. It's shameful. We were so careful putting everything back the way we found it."

  "This cabin isn't so bad. But maybe they didn't get to it yet."

  The rest of the ship was in as bad a shape as the command center. Plates and cutlery strewn all over the galley. Radio logs scattered in the communications section. Mattresses tossed over every bunk.

  "It's terrible. I hate to see it like this," Hannah murmured. "As soon as the team gets here, we'll get it shipshape. This was Conner's last job, and he'd want it tied up and neat the way he liked it. He was proud of his work, and he was so excited about this damn sub. He thought it was beautiful."

  "She is beautiful," Kirov said.

  She shook her head. "Conner died here."

  "The sub didn't kill him, Pavski did."

  "I can't separate them right now."

  "You can't blame every vessel for the deaths of the people who served on them. It's not logical."

  "Screw logic."

  He smiled. "Screw logic," he repeated. "Forgive my pragmatism. Remember, I'm only a poor sailor who had to earn his berth on the Silent Thunder by being able to reason and calculate. I find it odd that you can hate the sub and yet be horrified about its state of disrepair."

  "Do you?" She turned away. "Too bad. I don't have to explain myself to you. We're on board. Let's get to work. There are at least two areas that Bradworth didn't manage to reduce to shambles."

  "I'll take the turbine room." He began to roll up his sleeves. "You should be happy that I relegate myself to the depths. When is your team supposed to get back?"

  "Probably not for a few days. I'll call them." She frowned as she watched him go down the passage. "Don't get impatient when you're searching. I don't want the team to have more mess than necessary to put back in order."

  "I'm seldom impatient." He didn't turn around. "And if I find something, I'll be sure to let you know."

  "Liar."

  He laughed. "Then you'd better check up on me, hadn't you?" He disappeared down the stairs.

  Find anything?" Hannah knelt beside Kirov's prone body near a large diesel fuel tank.

  "Do you think I'd tell you? I'm a liar, remember?"

  "How could I forget?" She crawled in beside him. "I drew a zero on the conning tower." She pulled on the panel of a pressure gauge. "How did you get this apart?"

  "I told you I knew every job of every crewman. Vladzar took delight in making me crawl in here and run tests on these engines. It was claustrophobic and loud as hell."

  "Why? It's a dirty job. After all, you were his stepbrother."

  "That's why he did it. I wasn't to be spared. Sergai was always on the straight and narrow." He carefully lifted the plate and shined his flashlight into the interior. "Nothing." He put the plate back and screwed it in place and drew a deep breath. "Let's get out of here. This is a zero too, and I need some air."

  "Evidently you still find it claustrophobic. I don't know how you passed the psychological tests that got you on this submarine."

  He looked back at her. "I had Sergai to tell me the right answers, of course."

  She shook her head. "You told me he was too straight and narrow."

  His blue eyes were glinting with mischief as he grinned. "Caught. I stole them from the dean's office of the academy."

  "Why would you even want to be on a sub if you suffered claustrophobia?"

  "It wasn't an extreme case."

  "What about the captain?"

  "I think he suspected, but he never confronted me."

  "Because he wanted you on the Silent Thunder."

  "Yes, I think so. I hope so."

  They walked forward three compartments and climbed the ladder to the conning tower. He stood there a moment breathing in the night air. "That's good."

  He had admitted to weakness, but that very admission seemed a strength in this moment, she thought. It took an unusual man to accept his own faults with no excuses. And there was nothing weak about his appearance. His dark hair was tied back by a sweat-soaked bandanna, revealing the bold structure of his face. His sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, and his arms were corded with muscle. He looked tough and basic and vaguely primitive.

  And… disturbing.

  She tore her gaze away from him. "Yes, it is. It's hard to take a deep breath down there."

  He cocked his head toward the scaffolding that bridged the gap between the conning tower and the museum's concrete walkway. "Then let's go to the café and get a cup of coffee. I promise I'll clean up in the restaurant washroom so I won't offend you."

  She hesitated. Oh what the hell. A cup of coffee was no commitment, and she definitely needed to know more about Kirov. She had been surprised and intrigued by the glimpse of his past he had so casually confided. "You won't offend me. I'm as dirty and sweaty as you are." She smiled. "And I promise I'll use the washroom, too."

  Kirov and the woman have left the sub," Agent Teague said when Bradworth picked up. "They've gone up to the café on the pier."

  "Tell me about the body language
. Chummy?"

  "No. Kirov never changes, but I'd say she appears to be distancing herself."

  Bradworth wished the hell she'd distance herself right off Kirov's radar. "Keep an eye on them."

  "No problem. They're settled in a booth in the café. They don't seem to be anxious to go anywhere else."

  "Don't assume anything with Kirov. He likes to run his own show. He'd like nothing better than to cut us out and go after Pavski on his own." He hung up the phone.

  If Teague was right about Hannah's attitude, at least Kirov wasn't entirely having his own way with her. Not that he could be assured that coolness would remain intact. Kirov always used every weapon at his disposal, and he was good with women.

  It would be okay. He just had to make sure that they were constantly under surveillance until he could remedy the situation.

  That's good." Kirov set his cup down on the table and leaned back in the booth with a sigh of contentment. "It's amazing how comforting the small pleasures can be. When I was on the run before I defected, I didn't know whether I'd live through the next day, but whenever I'd get the chance to get a good meal or a shot of vodka or an excellent cup of coffee, it made everything okay for a while."

  "Bradworth said you were searching for word of Vladzar."

  He shrugged. "There was a chance he was alive. I kept hearing stories that he might be. It wasn't likely, but I had to try to find him."

  "What made you give up?"

  "I didn't. I still have contacts in Russia who will tell me if they hear anything." He lifted his cup to his lips. "But after the government toppled, and Pavski was put on the undesirable list, the odds were that Sergai would have surfaced if he was still alive."

  "You must have cared for him if you risked your life by staying in Russia."

  "He would have done the same for me. Family feeling is very strong among us Russians." He met her gaze. "And among you Americans. It's a trait we share. It's clear you loved your brother very much."

  "Enough to resent the hell out of you and Bradworth playing games with our lives."

  "And so you should. That was a terrible night." He looked down into his cup. "I tried to get to him and save him. I was too late. I had to make a choice."