by Jan Coffey
There was no point in pursuing this argument. The senator was right. McCarthy decided on stating the obvious.
“Because Hawkins is in the White House, and making himself appear to be in total command of the situation, your run for the presidency is about to crash and burn,” he asserted. Picking up a pile of faxes they were just receiving, he glanced at the pages and held them up. “These are the raw numbers from this morning’s polls. We couldn’t get any from New York or Philly, but look at the early numbers from Chicago and St. Louis. We’re not slipping. It’s a goddamn freefall. Look at these comments. The people of America suddenly think we’re at war. Forget about any kind of change in presidents. All Hawkins’ sins are forgiven.”
John Penn walked to the hutch to pour himself another cup of coffee. “Sometimes we’re faced with events that are out of our control.”
“All I’m saying is that we need to be part of these events, sir.” McCarthy looked at the glazed expression that had slid across John Penn’s face. “You like to quote Shakespeare, Senator. How about, ‘There’s a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.’”
“Interesting that you should pick that speech, Anthony. When Brutus says it, he’s trying to convince Cassius to attack Marc Antony. It’s a great speech, but Brutus turns out to be wrong. He wins the argument, but loses the battle, and democracy loses out to monarchy in ancient Rome.”
“I just mean that we need to be proactive now, show the American people that you’re the leader they think you are.”
“Hawkins might have been my opponent for the past year,” Penn replied, waving his coffee mug at McCarthy. “We’ve referred to each other in some pretty unflattering ways. Some of his negative smear ads were downright hateful. But on this day—even if it is the day before the election—Will Hawkins is my president, and I won’t do anything that might jeopardize what he’s trying to do to save the lives of people who are counting on him.”
“Senator—”
“We’re wasting our time here.” Penn shook his head. “For the rest of the day, we’re going to go to work to see if we can help prepare shelters, hospitals, law enforcement agencies…whatever…for what we could be facing at any moment. I’m going to work and help and it’s going to be done without TV cameras. We’re not going to do this for publicity. We’re going to do it because it’s the right thing to do.”
Damn it, if Penn couldn’t talk when he got pumped up, McCarthy thought. Glancing at Greg Moore, he saw the aide discreetly turn off his tape recorder.
Oh yeah. This was better stuff than he could write himself.
They weren’t done campaigning. Not by a long shot.
~~~~
Chapter 26
USS Hartford
10:15 a.m.
“What are we looking at?” Amy whispered.
“Those are the control consoles in Maneuvering, just above us,” McCann told her, pointing at the red gas-plasma monitor display on the MFD. “If I can get in there without them knowing up in the control room, we’ll be able to shut Hartford down.”
“What exactly do they do?” she asked.
“Those three consoles monitor and control the submarine’s entire nuclear power plant.”
She leaned over his shoulder to get a closer look. Despite the sweat and dust and all the places he had to crawl through to get here, there was something raw and intoxicating about his scent. To keep her balance, she rested a hand on his shoulder and felt his muscles immediately contract beneath her fingers. She instantly withdrew her hand, tucking it between her knees, while still leaning forward.
“I’ve never seen the inside of Maneuvering. Once we build the structure, we’re not allowed in there at all.”
“I know.” He pointed to the monitor. “The console to the left controls the electrical system, the center one is the nuclear reactor control panel, and the right one controls the steam turbines.”
“The person manning the panel.” She pointed to the man seated at the consoles. “Is he one of yours?”
McCann didn’t answer immediately, but their faces were close enough that she could feel the heat rise from it.
“Yes, he is,” McCann said finally. “He is a reactor technician, one of my petty officers.”
“Was he the only one on your crew that was left back here?”
“No, three were stationed aft of the reactor—the reactor technician, the machinist’s mate and a machinist. I haven’t seen the two, but that’s why we were so careful coming through the reactor tunnel.”
“You thought they might be guarding the entrance to the engine room?”
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.
