by Jan Coffey
He nodded grimly.
She watched as he switched image on the screen to another camera. It was the view they’d looked at a moment earlier. Two armed men were visible, obviously searching the outboard areas between the frames back at the extreme aft end of the Engine room.
“These two are strangers,” he told her.
As they entered the engine room through the watertight door at the end of the reactor tunnel, McCann had led Amy into the closet-like engineering office. He’d wanted to know what they were dealing with, and she watched him switch the screen to more than a dozen views of different locations on the boat. Several cameras appeared to be blacked out. He’d blacked some of them out himself as they’d worked their way to the engine room.
To get here, they’d sneaked past the crew’s mess and down half a deck to the entrance of the shielded tunnel that led straight through the space that held the nuclear reactor. At the end of the tunnel, they’d entered the engine room, a noisy and crowded area that consisted of three decks containing the submarine propulsion plant. McCann told her that when they were operating with a full crew, the reactor tunnel, the control areas including this tiny office and Maneuvering were manned stations.
He’d been cautious coming into the engine room, but there’d been no one at the entrance. A key that he wore on a chain around his neck had opened the door to the engineering office and locked it again from the inside.
He switched back to a view of Maneuvering, and Amy thought about all the different warning signs from the DNR, Director of Naval Reactors. The signs were clear about just who on the boat was allowed past certain points. It didn’t matter that regular people, like Amy, who built these subs looked at the top secret blueprints everyday. Once the sealed reactor unit was delivered and installed in the submarine, the navy controlled it and no one trespassed.
McCann quietly opened the desk drawer and came up with pen and paper. He started taking notes on something he was seeing on the consoles.
Amy’s gaze drifted to the hazard signs that were posted on the walls of the small office.
She worked in the shipyard. Day in and day out, she was exposed to all kind of hazardous substances and high voltage and smoke and gases. She was thirty-two years old, but there were times that she thought she’d be lucky to make it to forty. As far as retirement age, forget it. There was no chance. Accidents happen.
And now this. She was caught inside a hijacked submarine heading God knows where. Never mind forty. Amy realized that she probably would never see the light of day again. She’d never see her babies again.
She forced back her tears and focused on the radiation warning signs.
On top of all the other fears and anxieties, it was a little unnerving to be sitting this close to a nuclear reactor. And it wasn’t even being operated by the good guys.
“Do people who usually work back here have to wear dosimeters?” she asked thinking about the clip-on radiation-detector monitors that looked like tiny flashlights.
“Nervous?”
“A little.” She nodded, already feeling embarrassed at interrupting what he was doing.
“They do. But that’s really precautionary. The reactor has extensive shielding. Not one American submariner has been treated for excessive radiation in four years. If we were aboard a Russian sub, I’d be worrying too. Their sailors don’t do so well.”
That should have made her feel better. But the panic sensation wasn’t going away. She stared at the screens he’d been taking notes on for the past few minutes. She realized he was making some kind of diagram, and using code words. He also seemed to be marking the location of men on the boat, or at least those he could see as he switched between the views.
The same two armed men were still searching the engine room. They’d moved to the starboard side of the middle-level deck. And the petty officer before the consoles hadn’t moved. She guessed they were stuck here for awhile.
“How old is the reactor unit on Hartford?” Amy whispered.
He looked at her over his shoulder. His hand reached for hers, gently squeezing. “You really are nervous, aren’t you?”
She shrugged, feeling her face going warm in embarrassment. His hand was warm, strong. Hers was sweating, and her fingers felt like ice cubes. He didn’t recoil in disgust.
He looked at the screen first. No one seemed to be going too far. He turned back to her. “The entire reactor unit was replaced as part of the general refit four months ago.”
That sounded like good news, and she thought it should have made her feel better. But her nerves hadn’t stopped eating away at the lining of her stomach.
“I know you’re not a nuclear physicist, but this is how the radioactivity works. The longer a fuel rod is in a reactor, the more radioactive it becomes.”
“So when a submarine reactor is close to being replaced, it’s extremely radioactive,” she said.
“That’s right.”
“But in the case of Hartford, since the reactor is new, we’re relatively safe. Right?”
“Theoretically.” A half smile broke across his lips. “I can’t really explain that soft glow around you, though.”
“That’s not very funny.” Amy shook her head and withdrew her hand. There was something enormously charming about him when he smiled. “What else is there that I need to learn about the nuclear reactor?”
“I think I’ve already said too much. Some of what I told you is highly classified.”
“Well, I won’t tell anyone.”
“That’s what all the spies say.”
She glowered at him. “You can shoot me if I try to sell it to our enemies.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to.”
She looked at the screen. One of the armed men was looking right at the camera. “You probably won’t have to.”
McCann glanced at the monitor and his face was grim when he looked back at her.
“Have faith,” he told her. “You’ll see your family again.”
Amy nodded, wanting to believe it. The faces of Kaitlyn and Zack passed across her mind’s eye. She tried not to think of them now, fearing she’d become weepy.
“Hopefully, we both will,” she whispered back.
There was a long pause.
“Married?” he asked.
The question was unexpected and made a blush creep into her cheeks.
“I’m divorced.”
“I’m sorry.”
The way he mumbled the words made her think he really wasn’t. She decided to let him in on all of it, all the info that generally started men running in the other direction. “I have twins. A boy and a girl. They live with me in Stonington.”
“How old are they?”
“Seven.”
“What’re their names?”
She was somewhat disarmed by his interest. “Zack and Kaitlyn.”
“Second graders?”
She nodded.
“That’s so cool. I’ll bet they’re great kids.”
Amy nodded again, feeling that tightening in her chest again.
“Do they look anything like you?”
“Kaitlyn does,” she managed to get out. She planted her elbows on her knees, leaning forward, wiping at a nonexistent spot on the toe of her borrowed sneaker. A teardrop fell on her wrist.
He reached down and wiped the tear off.
She sat back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Sorry. I have to get myself back together again.”
“Are either of them as smart as their mother?” he asked gently.
“Don’t start with any compliments,” Amy said, letting herself smile. “I’ll really be a mess.”
“It slipped out. It won’t happen again.”
~~~~
Chapter 27
Pentagon
10:45 a.m.
Commander Dunn and one of the aides had headed down to the labs to look at the image enhancements from the shipyard security camera. Seth had again been sent next door to keep track of
developments. Everyone else working for them in the room had been assigned to find what they could, including the whereabouts of everyone that Bruce had included on his list.
Sarah used this opportunity to call Key West. No one was home at the McCanns’. She hadn’t given up, though, and was able to find what hospital Mina McCann had been transferred to. But everything after that had been inconclusive. Harry wasn’t talking to anyone while Mina was undergoing a battery of tests. No one knew anything yet. Her rank and government connections had at least been enough to get the news that Mina was now conscious.
This entire situation was so unfair to the McCanns. Sarah had first met Darius’s parents when she was in college. Over the years, she’d spend many days at their house. She’d eaten many meals at their table. She’d been treated just like a member of the family, even though there’d never been a serious commitment between her and Darius.
Harry and Mina were simply just about the nicest people she’d ever met in her life. She’d taken shelter more times at their home than she had at her own parents’ house.
Sarah wondered if Darius’s brothers and sister were on their way to Florida. She didn’t imagine they could be, with all the airlines grounded and the East Coast highways being the mess that they were.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate on the work before her, but she forced herself to look at the list. She read over the names of the eleven people that they knew were on Hartford.
She’d checked off Darius and Amy Russell. Dunn had included Paul Cavallaro on his list, so their people were already doing some research on him. Lee Brody, the petty officer second class in charge of sonar, was the next name on her list, and he was turning out to be a real puzzle.
The young man had his own page on Sarah’s legal pad. She had organized the different kinds of information she’d collected on him into two separate columns. It was very peculiar. The man’s personal and professional lives were one massive contradiction.
“I think it’s the way you like it. A touch of milk and half a teaspoon of sugar.”
A cup of coffee slid in front of her. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Bruce Dunn. They’d known each other less than four hours, and he knew how she liked her coffee.
“Thanks.” Her gaze moved to the cinnamon donut in his hand.
“I know all about the love-hate relationship women have with donuts and pastries. So would I dare to get something for a woman?” he asked, looking into space philosophically.
“The answer is yes,” he said, answering his own question. He put down the small tray he was carrying next to her. On it was a pastry bag that he promptly offered her.
Sarah opened the bag and peeked inside. “An apple turnover?” She looked at him, puzzled. “Good guess.”
“You think so?” He put the files he held under his arm on the table and sat down next to her instead of across the table.
“This is my favorite pastry.”
“I know,” he said in a matter-of-fact manner.
Sarah stared at him. He was good-looking, charming, and from the quick search she’d done on his military background in the past half hour, Commander Dunn was destined to move quickly up the Pentagon ranks. He was also divorced, Sarah reminded herself, and he was definitely making some less than subtle moves on her. A very dangerous situation.
“Thanks for the pastry,” she told him. “So what did you find out downstairs?”
“Their best resolution still isn’t good enough to give us faces,” he told her. “But forget about how many scuba tanks they found in the Ways. Not counting McCann and Russell, twelve other people crossed the catwalk and went down the hatch.”
“That means they had help from inside the shipyard, too.”
He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “And they had help from the crew of Hartford,” he said in a confident tone. “The same sailor who was on watch for the hijackers was also guarding the hatch when McCann and Russell boarded.”
“Do you know who that was?”
“Kevin Barclay, twenty one years old, originally from Winona, Mississippi. He’s right out of sub school. Hartford was his first submarine after serving on two surface ships,” Dunn explained. “I’ve already arranged for a crew to be sent to Mississippi to question the parents, neighbors, high school friends, and anyone else willing to talk. We have some NCIS agents going through his apartment in Groton right now.”
“How would a young kid like him turn on his own country?” she murmured.
“How does Timothy McVeigh, a decorated Army veteran of the Persian Gulf War, get to the point of launching his own semi-private war on the United States government?” he asked rhetorically.
“From what I remember, McVeigh was described as an extraordinary contradiction,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “Which brings me to what I’ve been able to find so far on Lee Brody.” She pushed her notes in front of him.
As she talked, he started perusing the lists she’d made. Brody had a lot of characteristics regarding his family and school and lack of social life and restlessness that were actually similar to McVeigh. There was even some mention of him being spotted with a friend at a couple of right-wing fringe group meetings over the past five or six years.
“There’s a basic difference between Brody and McVeigh, though,” Dunn said.
“Yes. The rage that builds up and makes him feel he needs to do one horribly violent act. I don’t see it, either,” Sarah explained. “But it still could be there and we’re just not seeing it.”
Bruce stared at a bookcase across the room. She could see he wasn’t thinking about books.
“This entire situation is very fascinating. This could be a rerun.”
She waited for him to say more, but Dunn sat back in his chair. He took a bite of his donut, drank his coffee. He occasionally opened one of the folders that she had on the table and glanced inside. He went through his own notes, too, and checked a couple of things on the laptop. He was concentrating fully, and she found herself watching him. She wondered what was going through his mind.
She also wondered what he was all about. As a person.
He had a wiry build, maybe five foot ten or eleven. Definitely a runner. He walked and moved with confidence. At the same time, he didn’t overpower. He shared his knowledge but welcomed what others had to offer. Sarah had already seen that, not only in her own dealing with him, but in the way he worked with the rest of the people in their group.
He was not standard navy issue.
She stole a glance at his face. He had a thin face, broken nose, and short, thinning hair that he was definitely not ashamed of. She’d seen a number of officers who were letting their hair grow a little longer on top in a comb over attempt. He had a strong jaw and a well-defined chin. But his eyes were the best part of his face. They were amazing. Green or maybe hazel. No, she definitely thought they were green. They seemed to change every time she looked at them. And they were intense. As reasonably handsome as the individual parts of his face might have been, his eyes pulled all the elements together.
Those eyes turned on her, and there was a long moment of awareness. She shook herself out of it.
“What do you mean, this could be a rerun?” she asked, not too comfortable that he’d caught her looking at him.
“Do you know that demand for the release of the two dozen prisoners at Guantanamo Bay? It’s all bullshit.”
He’d just thrown her for a loop. “What do you mean by that?”
“I had them run a check on the names—looking for any possible connections—and as far as I can tell, none of those people mean anything. From what the preliminary reports show, they’re Afghani nobodies who have just been cooling their heels there for the past few years. They were all scooped up during operations south of Kabul in 2004 and, based on what’s on file, should have been released long before now.”
“That makes no sense.”
“My point exactly.”
“And how is this related to you
r comment about this situation being a rerun?” Sarah asked again.
“I was thinking back to your comment about the Oklahoma City bombing.”
She nodded. “What about it?”
“Early reports after Oklahoma City suggested that a Middle Eastern terrorist group may have been responsible for the bombing,” he explained. “Even liberal Democrats in Congress were saying it.”
“But within days, federal authorities linked the attack to McVeigh,” she countered.
“Yeah. Days,” he repeated. “We only have hours. Maybe minutes. And while the president is a guy who’d nuke the entire Middle East if Hartford makes one false move, we have enough to suggest that the hijacking might be the work of homegrown boys.”
Sarah swiveled her chair to face him. “You thought that an outsider could be running that submarine.”
“It was a possibility, but the hijackers must be mostly mercenaries hired to do the job. Now, I believe that these men are acting on their own. And that means we could meet all of their demands, real or fake, and they’ll still go out in a blaze of glory, blowing up the entire East Coast.”
She knew he was just thinking out loud, but something about his analysis wasn’t sitting right with her.
“If what you say is correct, then why are they waiting? Why make ultimatums? Why not do what McVeigh did and go after the greatest carnage. Hit us hard and do the most damage possible?”
“Maybe it’s not political. Maybe they’re just after the money, and the rest is just a smoke screen.” He shrugged. “The truth is, I don’t know. But I think that’s what we need to go after. Motivation. We have to figure out what the hell is going on in these people’s minds. But the bottom line stays the same. The combination of guys on that boat just doesn’t sound like a foreign terrorist group.”
One of their aides called out that President Hawkins was going on air with another address to the nation.
~~~~
Chapter 28
The White House
11:10 a.m.
“That’s a wrap,” the director of the camera crew called out.
President Hawkins waited in his chair until the microphone was removed before getting up. He moved past the cameras and lighting equipment to his staff, who were waiting at the other end of the Oval Office.