Blackmail

99 USS MICHIGAN

In the Wardroom of the guided missile submarine, Lieutenant Harrison stood behind his chair, as did the other nine officers and the one civilian present, waiting for Captain Wilson to enter and take his seat for dinner. On the Captain’s end of the table stood Christine O’Connor, and across from her was Commander John McNeil, flanked by the submarine’s Executive Officer. Due to being seated by seniority, with the higher-ranking officers toward the Captain’s end of the table, Harrison was closer to the far end with the other junior officers.

Since he pulled her from the water the previous night, Christine had been withdrawn, barely speaking. The SUPPO had berthed Christine in the Executive Officer’s stateroom, giving her the lower bunk while the XO moved to the top. With Michigan patrolling the Black Sea, the crew was focused and busy, but the SEALs had little to do at the moment and Harrison had found several reasons to cruise by the XO’s stateroom. The door remained shut until just before lunch, when Christine emerged, wearing the blue coverall worn by the submarine’s crew. He happened to be passing by as she stepped from her stateroom, and although she greeted him, there was no smile and her voice was monotone.

Captain Wilson entered the Wardroom and took his seat, and Christine and the officers settled into theirs. With Harrison at the opposite end, it was difficult to participate in conversations with the senior officers, but he glanced frequently in Christine’s direction. She picked at her food, nodding and smiling politely on occasion, participating in the conversation only when engaged, her responses succinct. On more than one occasion, he caught her staring at her plate, her thoughts elsewhere until a mention of her name broke her reverie.

When the main course was finished, the culinary specialist serving dinner brought out the desserts, but Christine excused herself. Harrison stared at her empty chair for a moment, then obtained the Captain’s permission to depart.

Guessing that Christine had returned to her stateroom, Harrison stopped by the XO’s door and knocked. There was no answer, so he knocked harder. The door opened partway, revealing Christine inside the dimly lit stateroom, the only illumination coming from a small light above the XO’s desk. Harrison didn’t say anything, and after Christine searched his eyes, she opened the door fully, then retreated to her bed, where she sat on the edge, facing him.

“Request permission to close the door,” he said.

Christine nodded and Harrison closed the door, then grabbed the chair by the XO’s desk and sat across from her. There remained an unnatural stillness to her body as she sat there, her hands folded in her lap, staring at him.

“What happened?”

Christine didn’t reply, and although there was no visible reaction on her face, her breathing quickened. Harrison reached toward her cheek and gently touched the sutures covering the cut. Christine leaned into his hand, and Harrison held her face before she pulled away suddenly, with an awareness in her eyes that she had lacked before.

“What happened?” Harrison repeated, this time glancing at the white gauze bandages on her wrists.

There was still no reply, but this time Christine stood. As he wondered why, she sat in his lap, her legs straddling his waist. She wrapped her arms around his chest, squeezing tight, and pressed the side of her face against his. It wasn’t long before he felt wetness against his cheek; then she whispered in his ear, told him what she’d done.

Harrison wasn’t surprised. He’d dated her for eight years and witnessed it many times — her tendency to turn vicious in the heat of the moment, remorseful for her actions the next morning. She’d gone too far in Beijing, and again on the shore of the Black Sea.

After Christine revealed what she’d done, emotion racked her body. He did his best to comfort her, caressing her back until the tears eased, then stopped. She remained in his lap, arms tight around him, and her breathing gradually slowed. Her muscles relaxed and a calm settled over her.

She pulled back, resting her forearms on his shoulders.

“How’s home?” she asked softly.

It took a moment for Harrison to respond. In Christine’s condition, she was emotionally vulnerable, and he knew the answer she was hoping for. After a moment of indecision, he replied truthfully.

“It’s good,” he said.

Christine nodded slowly, unable to conceal the disappointment in her eyes, then pushed herself to her feet.

“I appreciate you stopping by.”

Harrison also stood, and there was a long silence until she spoke again.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, then forced a smile.

“If you need anything,” Harrison said, “I’ll be there for you.”

“I know.”

After another long moment, Harrison bade farewell and stepped from the stateroom, closing the door behind him.