Launch Code

by Michael Ridpath

  ‘I did it for a couple of years when I was a kid. It’s hard work. There was a river that flowed right by our house.’

  ‘Which one was that?’

  ‘The Susquehanna.’

  ‘Wait. Lancaster County. Isn’t that near Three Mile Island?’

  ‘About fifteen miles away. Next county down the river.’

  ‘So that’s why you give off that faint glow in the dark. And I thought it was the submarine.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ I said. ‘That was not the nuclear industry’s greatest moment.’ I braced myself for a broadside. After that first night, we had successfully managed to avoid quarrelling about things nuclear, but Three Mile Island was the site of the worst nuclear accident in US history, and it had only happened three years before.

  ‘I’ve been there, you know?’ Donna said. ‘Three Mile Island.’

  ‘Driving a uranium delivery truck?’

  ‘Chaining myself to a fence. And I’ve been to Groton before. A couple of years ago.’

  ‘Two years ago? The launch of the Corpus Christi?’

  A pack of demonstrators had tried to disrupt the launch of a nuclear submarine from the General Dynamics boatyard in Groton itself, a few miles downriver from the sub base.

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘Were you arrested?’

  ‘Not that time.’

  I was tempted to ask what time Donna had been arrested, but decided against it.

  She was looking at me, quizzically.

  ‘What is it?’ I said.

  ‘I know we’ve been careful to avoid the subject of your job . . .’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But. I’ve been thinking about it. I get that you genuinely believe in nuclear deterrence. I know you’ve thought a lot about it, and I respect that. But if you were ordered to press the button or whatever you do on a submarine, would you really do it?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘Unless everyone knows that people like me will do what they are ordered to do, then the deterrence won’t work. War will become more likely not less.’

  ‘OK. I get that. Or I get that you believe that. But by that stage, a major nuclear war will have started and the planet will be over. And you would want to play a part in that?’

  ‘You’re right, I have thought about it,’ I said. ‘The truth is, on the submarine we would never know for sure that there was a full nuclear exchange going on. It’s possible that there is a limited nuclear war. Just a few missiles. Or the United States is firing first.’

  ‘And that’s OK? It sounds worse, if anything.’

  ‘No. No, it’s not OK at all. But it’s not my job to think about that. Other people have that job, in particular the president, who is elected by the people. It’s my job to follow orders. Nothing will work as it should unless people like me follow orders.’

  Donna didn’t look convinced. But I got the impression she was trying to understand me as much as convert me.

  ‘What about an accident? An accidental launch?’

  ‘That couldn’t happen. There are so many measures in place to make sure that couldn’t happen.’

  ‘They said that about Three Mile Island, didn’t they? They thought they had safety procedures in place for every eventuality. But then a combination of things went wrong: a filter got blocked, a valve got stuck, an operator missed a warning light and manually overrode the automatic emergency cooling system. They hadn’t prepared for that particular combination. And the darn thing nearly went into meltdown.’

  She had a point about Three Mile Island, and she had clearly taken the trouble to study the details, as had I. That accident had shaken me, and some of the others. Especially Lars. He hadn’t liked the thought that so many smart people could be so stupid.

  ‘The Navy is much more thorough,’ I said. But even as I said it I wasn’t entirely sure I believed it.

  ‘So what if the captain goes crazy and decides to take out Russia by himself and orders the launch of his missiles?’

  ‘We have procedures to deal with that,’ I said.

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘I can’t tell you but, believe me, a captain couldn’t launch missiles on his own authority.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Certain.’ Unless everyone heard the XO repeat the captain’s instructions, the crew wouldn’t obey his orders. And then the weapons officer had to extract the firing trigger from a safe to which only he knew the combination, so the captain and XO together couldn’t order a launch. A rogue captain was something the Navy had prepared for and indeed something the crew trained for.

  ‘What if the order comes from some Dr Strangelove wireless operator pretending he got it from the president?’

  ‘They’ve thought of that too.’ Authentication codes would ensure any launch order was properly authorized.

  ‘OK. So they’ve thought of the obvious stuff. But what about the stuff they haven’t thought about? The non-obvious stuff? Or the combinations of the obvious stuff? Combinations like Three Mile Island.’

  ‘Donna. There are so many checks and counter-checks, an accidental launch just couldn’t happen. Believe me, it just couldn’t.’

  Donna paused, thinking it through. Her logical thought process was unnerving me more than emotional idealism would have done. ‘All right. But let’s say your submarine receives an order to launch its missiles, and you personally are not sure about it. You think there might be something wrong. What do you do then? Do you follow orders? Do you press the button? Or do you use your common sense and refuse?’

  ‘That wouldn’t happen,’ I said.

  Donna raised her eyebrows.

  ‘That wouldn’t happen.’ And then I repeated it again to myself.

  Sixteen

  Late the next morning, we took a walk along the river through the old buildings and the schooners. We had swiftly recovered from the ‘following orders’ conversation, and it had been a great evening. A great night.

  ‘You know we’re flying out to Scotland at the end of the week?’ I said. ‘I usually look forward to the patrols, it’s what it’s all about after all, but I’m not so sure this time.’

  I glanced at Donna. Maybe I was looking for some agreement from her. No, I was definitely looking for some agreement from her. But she didn’t say anything.

  ‘You’re a great letter writer, you know that?’ I said.

  Donna murmured her assent, head down.

  ‘Well, they have this thing called a familygram,’ I said. ‘Obviously it’s impossible to receive mail when we are out at sea, but they do let us have these familygrams. They are like telegrams: you can send eight per patrol, you are only allowed forty words, and they get censored. So they are not private. But the crew all love getting them.’

  Nothing from Donna.

  ‘Would you send me some?’

  I had been looking forward to asking Donna, had been looking forward to her joking about what she would put in them, and then agreeing. All the single guys on the submarines were jealous of those with wives or girlfriends. A familygram from your mom was nice to get, but not quite the same.

  Suddenly, I wasn’t sure what she would say.

  ‘Donna?’

  She stopped. We were right by the water, a few feet from one of the old vessels that had been built in a Mystic shipyard, a dignified three-masted bark.

  She looked at me. ‘I’ve been thinking.’

  Oh, no, I thought. Not that. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Don’t think! I wanted to shout.

  But she had been thinking.

  ‘You saw what happened to Craig. And there was that other officer on your ship, you told me about, the one who tried to kill himself because his girlfriend left him?’

  That was the previous executive officer. His wife had walked out on him a year before and he hadn’t handled it well.

  ‘Yes, but he had other problems. Drugs.’ He had been taken off the boat and replaced with a new XO, Lieutenant Commander Robinson. The crew had felt sor
ry for him but, in truth, nobody had liked him; Robinson seemed a whole lot better.

  ‘You have to admit, submarines are not great for relationships, are they? Am I wrong?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘No, you’re not wrong. But this relationship has just started. We have to give it a chance.’ I felt everything crashing down around me.

  I reached for her hand. ‘I meant to tell you this last night. I think I love you. No, I do love you. I’m sure of it.’

  There were tears in Donna’s eyes. ‘And I can feel myself falling in love with you. That’s the problem. That’s the whole problem. If this was just a casual relationship, just sex and a few laughs, it would be great. But it’s more than that.’

  ‘Is it the nuclear thing? Is it that you can’t fall in love with a guy who’s serving his country?’

  ‘Partly. Maybe. But it’s mostly I don’t want to fall in love with a guy who spends half his life away from me.’

  Did she want me to give up the Navy? Was that what she was asking me to do? Would I do it? The Navy meant everything to me. But so did Donna.

  ‘And no, I’m not asking you to give up submarines for me. We haven’t got to that stage yet. And we should never get to that stage.’

  I just looked at her. I didn’t know what to say. ‘When did you decide this?’

  ‘A couple of days ago. I thought I should tell you face to face rather than writing a letter. I was going to spit it out immediately and get the next train back to New York. But then you said you had booked the inn, and you looked so excited about it, and I couldn’t bear to let you down and I wanted to be with you really badly.’ A tear was running down her cheek. ‘I should have told you yesterday.’

  ‘No you shouldn’t,’ I said. ‘If we are only ever going to have a few days together, I wouldn’t want to have missed one of them. Especially this one.’

  My brain was racing. What could I say to stop her? What could I do? Demonstrating how much she meant to me wouldn’t do it. That was the whole problem.

  The worst thing was, I knew what she was saying. I almost agreed with her. She was right. You had to be an idiot to go out with a submariner.

  And whatever else she was, Donna was not an idiot. Neither was she one to change her mind.

  I looked at her beautiful, tear-stained face.

  ‘OK.’

  What else could I have said?

  Seventeen

  Friday 29 November 2019, Norfolk

  The police didn’t just take Alice; they took Bill and Lars as well. But not Toby. They refused to take Toby.

  Bill and Lars were not under arrest; the police wanted to ask them some more questions and they wanted to do it at the station.

  Serious questions then.

  And they had a warrant to search Alice’s belongings and to take away her laptop, iPad and phone.

  Toby was angry the police wouldn’t take him too. He was angry they had arrested Alice. He was angry that they were stupid enough to think Alice had killed anyone. And he was angry with Bill for letting them arrest her. He was sure there were things that Bill could tell them that would get Alice off the hook.

  But he held it all in, at least until they were all out of the house. He had watched as two officers went through Alice’s clothes and her briefcase, and didn’t object when they rummaged through his own underwear mixed with hers. Being angry wouldn’t help; the police wouldn’t release a murder suspect just because her husband was angry.

  At last they were gone. He, Maya and Megan stared out of the kitchen window at their departing car.

  ‘What a bunch of bloody idiots!’ Toby said. ‘How can they think Alice killed anyone?’

  ‘They are,’ said Maya. ‘They’ll realize their mistake, don’t worry, Toby.’ She put a hand on his arm. She seemed to have recovered her habitual air of detachment. ‘I’m going up to my room. Let me know if there is any news.’

  Megan followed her out of the kitchen.

  Toby was left alone with Rickover, who seemed as unhappy as the rest of them. He broke out a Polo for the dog.

  It was all going to be all right, he told himself. Bill would hire a good lawyer who would find ways to show that Alice couldn’t possibly have killed Sam, despite having been seen visiting him at the time of his death. And that there was a perfectly good reason why she should lie to her husband about where she was.

  Why did she do that? Didn’t she trust him? Why couldn’t she have trusted him with whatever it was that she was thinking? With whatever she was talking to Sam about?

  Rickover whined. Toby bent down to scratch him behind the ears. ‘You and me both,’ he said.

  Megan returned, carrying a bottle of wine. She reached up for two glasses from a kitchen cupboard, found a corkscrew and went to work.

  ‘Here,’ she said.

  Toby took his glass gratefully.

  ‘To freedom,’ said Megan and knocked back half her glass in a gulp. Then the other half, and she refilled it.

  ‘To Alice’s freedom,’ said Toby. He drained his own glass and thrust it out. Then he slipped the dog another mint.

  ‘Does Alice know you do that?’

  ‘No.’

  Megan cocked her head. ‘Bet she does.’

  ‘Probably,’ said Toby.

  They drank again, more slowly this time. The wine was very good. Toby checked the bottle: a 2006 Margaux.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Megan. ‘There are six of them.’

  ‘I can’t believe they’ve arrested her,’ said Toby.

  ‘Maya’s right. They’ll realize their mistake soon enough.’

  ‘I think your father might be able to help her,’ said Toby. ‘I’m sure there are things he knows that he’s not saying that would explain what’s going on.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Megan.

  ‘Do you have any idea what those things might be?’

  Megan shook her head. ‘No more than you. Alice might know. There’s stuff Dad would tell Alice that he wouldn’t tell the rest of us.’

  ‘I can believe that,’ said Toby. He drained his glass. He was feeling slightly better: the alcohol and the company.

  Rickover whined.

  ‘Do you reckon it’s his suppertime?’ Toby said.

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘There must be dog food in this house somewhere.’ The two of them searched the kitchen, and found a stash. They poured some into Rickover’s bowl; he seemed to appreciate it.

  The wine was fast disappearing.

  ‘You really love her, don’t you?’ Megan said.

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Don’t you think she is a bit uptight?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s uptight. But that’s part of why I love her.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not knocking it. I just don’t know how you can stand it. Miss Perfect.’

  Toby felt a flash of anger. ‘Hey! Miss Perfect is in jail on a murder charge.’

  For a moment Megan looked as if she was about to argue, then she slumped back in her chair. ‘Sorry. You are right, of course. I always want to argue with Alice, even when she’s not here. And Dad. We need another bottle. They’re in the basement.’

  Toby went down to the dusty cellar and found the five bottles of Margaux. He hesitated; did they really need such an expensive wine? They did. He grabbed two and returned to the kitchen.

  ‘It’s Alice who keeps our family together,’ said Megan. ‘It looks like it’s Dad, but it’s Alice who keeps him together. Maybe that’s why I give her a hard time. Maybe I’m jealous that it’s not me everyone relies on.’ She attempted a grin. ‘Although they’d all be in real trouble if they did that. I’m the flaky one.’

  Toby opened one of the bottles and poured two more glasses. He wasn’t going to contradict her.

  ‘I’m scared, Toby,’ Megan said. ‘We need Alice. Alice is the one to spring me from jail, not the other way around.’

  ‘Bill will sort it,’ said Toby, with more confidence than he felt. He frowned. ‘You don’t think your dad
believes she actually did it, do you?’

  ‘No. No way,’ said Megan. ‘If there was a problem, Alice would find a solution, and a lot better one than murder. Dad knows that. Alice would never kill anyone. Alice wouldn’t drive at thirty-one through the village; you know her.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Well then?’

  Toby didn’t answer.

  ‘Hey, Toby.’ Megan put her hand on his. ‘Don’t doubt her. You can’t doubt her. She needs you.’ Her brown eyes stared intensely at him through her glasses.

  ‘I’m not doubting her,’ Toby protested, but he knew that was exactly what he was doing. He didn’t really believe that Alice was capable of murder. But he could believe that she wouldn’t shrink from a difficult course of action if she decided it was the right one. ‘Something’s going on that she’s not telling me, clearly. And it’s probably something pretty bad.’

  Megan withdrew her hand and drank her wine. ‘Maybe we should figure out what exactly that is.’

  Eighteen

  They were getting close to the bottom of the second bottle but no closer to figuring anything out, when Rickover leapt up from beneath the table and started barking. A moment later they heard a car pull up outside.

  Bill and Lars appeared. But no Alice.

  Bill glanced at the three bottles on the table. ‘Is that the Margaux?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Megan. ‘Want some?’

  Bill looked about to protest. Then he grabbed a couple of glasses from the cupboard and pulled up a chair next to Toby. His face, usually so strong, had become haggard. ‘Yes.’

  Megan filled the glasses. Lars and Bill drank from theirs.

  ‘So, they didn’t release Alice?’ Toby said.

  ‘No,’ Bill replied. ‘They’re keeping her in overnight. The good news is they haven’t charged her.’

  ‘That’s good news?’ said Megan. ‘How long can they lock her up for?’

  ‘Thirty-six hours, apparently. I made a couple of calls and I’ve gotten hold of a good criminal solicitor from London. She’s driving up here now.’