She shook her head. "Believe what?"
"They finished examining Brutus's wreckage. Their experts agree with the autoheat scenario. Murder charges wont be pressed."
"Kind of them."
"Not really. It's something they would have over my head. 'Don't make a public stink and we won't have you indicted for murder.'"
"You would win, hands down."
"Yeah, but my life would be screwed up for years defending myself. And it would cost me a bundle."
Lofton's leg was tired. He'd been standing too long and walked back to the living room and eased onto the sofa.
Bonnie followed, saying, "I can't help thinking that if Renkin and Carrington were still alive, you wouldn't have to go through all this."
Lofton turned to her. "Bonnie, I..."
"I know it's hard for you to talk about what happened in Brutus. But you should, you know." She rubbed his back absently and looked into the distance.
"It blew up...just after Anton and I rose to the surface..."
"I know." She took his hand. "But if the divers' trunk had cycled more quickly Renkin and Carrington would be alive and in jail. The pressure would be off. You wouldn't have been the focal point in the Phillips hearings--"
"I got a call this morning from my old boss at Jenson Industries."
Bonnie shook her head slightly. "All right. What did he say?"
"They want me to head up a submarine program using fuel cells. He said the Navy has ordered twenty modified X‑3s. They just finished building a second X‑3 prototype and they want me to begin by supervising the shakedown. They're planning larger ones: seventy‑five-footers. Then a big one: three thousand tons."
"What about autoheat problems?"
"Snyder promised full research and development support, especially in materials, chemistry, and corrosion control. Plus, I've got a few ideas of my own."
"So what did you tell him?"
"I said I want to run a program where boats aren't blowing up all the time. I have to be sure of their commitment before I accept."
A commercial popped onto the screen. Tim groaned and rolled to his back.
Lofton reached over and mussed his hair. "You ready to drive the boat today?"
"You bet! Is Anton going too?"
"Yep. He'll grind for you and trim jib. I'll do the mainsheet."
Bonnie shook her head with a chuckle. "Thanks, guys. There's nothing left for me to do except pass sandwiches." Rising, she gathered her sailing gear from the bedroom and walked to the kitchen. She came out with their lunch bags and handed them to Tim. "Here, Rambo. You get to take this out to the car."
"OK." Tim dashed out.
Lofton leaned against the front door, his jacket in his hand.
Walking into the foyer, she saw it in his eyes. "Your leg hurts, doesn't it? Maybe we shouldn't go."
"Are you kidding? My first time sailing in over seven months. The physical therapist said OK."
"Then what is it?"
Lofton jiggled the front door lock and stepped onto the porch, thinking about what the spook had said earlier today. The agent looked up and down the street and answered the question Lofton had been asking for months. The man who died of the stomach wound was authentic. He was Captain Second Rank Yuri Borodine of the Soviet Navy's Pacific Fleet Intelligence--Fifth Division. Most likely, he was Renkin's control.
"Brad?" Bonnie put her hand to his cheek.
Lofton kicked at the doormat. Borodine had gasped "Felix Renkin vash otets"' before he died.
He looked up. "There's something else Anton has to know. Everything's been so jumbled we haven't had time to really talk in private. Better do it today."
Bonnie said, "I see...if you tell him will it help with your nightmares?"
He let her pass and closed the door. "Maybe, in time." He tried a smile.
Tim shouted at them. "Brad, come on, it's blowin' out there. What a blast! I got the car started."
Lofton followed them outside. Tim was right. A twelve-knot breeze tugged at his shirt, promising a good romp on San Diego Bay. He wondered what classes of one-design sailboat they raced on the Gulf of Finland. The sailing was supposed to be excellent there. Solings? Stars? Anton would show him next month when they got to Leningrad.
He sniffed the wind again, ignoring the throbbing in his leg. It would feel better in the car. As he walked, he was able to put the pain out of his mind by thinking as he had done many times in the past weeks about Bonnie: his luck that she would always be with him, that there was Tim, and that now he even had, gloriously, a brother. They were all three so precious to him, the more so that they had come late into his life. It didn't matter. They were something he had never had, something other people took for granted. Brad Lofton had found a family.
JOHN J. GOBBELLis a former Navy Lieutenant who saw duty as a destroyer weapons officer. His ship served in the South China Sea, granting him membership in the exclusiveATonkin Gulf Yacht Club.@ His thirty plus year career in executive recruiting included clients in the military and commercial aerospace sectors giving him added insight into character development for his novels. The Edge of Valor is the most recent of five stand-alone novels in his Todd Ingram series. Altogether, he has written seven historical thrillers involving the U.S. Navy – Pacific Theater -- and is currently at work on his eighth. He and his wife Janine live in Newport Beach, California. His website is at www.JohnJGobbell.com and he can be reached at [email protected].
THE BRUTUS LIE Page 42
