Launch Code

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.’

‘That’s something,’ said Toby. ‘Good. Thank you.’

Bill raised his eyebrows in a ‘she’s my daughter’ gesture. ‘She’s going to be OK. The lawyer has told her not to say anything until tomorrow morning.’

‘What about us?’ said Toby. ‘Presumably we have to answer the police’s questions.’

‘Yes,’ said Bill. ‘But we don’t have to tell them too much.’

Toby felt a flash of anger in his chest, not helped by the three-quarters of a bottle of Bordeaux he had drunk. ‘Why shouldn’t we tell them everything?’ he said. ‘It’s the truth that’s going to free Alice.’

Bill gave him a tired smile. ‘That’s correct. Probably. But it’s best to let the lawyer decide the strategy. She was very firm on that.’

‘What did they ask you, Lars?’ It was Megan. Interesting she asked Lars and not her father, Toby thought. Smart.

‘Same as before,’ said Lars with a glance at Bill. ‘What happened on the submarine. What Sam spoke to us about. His visit with me in Wisconsin a couple of weeks ago. Where everyone was last night.’

‘And what did you tell them?’ Megan said.

‘The truth,’ said Bill.

‘Did you tell them what happened on the submarine?’ said Toby.

‘No,’ said Bill. ‘We can’t. It’s Classified. And it has nothing to do with Sam Bowen’s death.’

‘How do we know that?’

‘I know,’ said Bill, his deep voice at its most authoritative. ‘And you shouldn’t tell them the details of what Sam spoke about either.’

‘Why not?’ Toby asked. ‘If it will get Alice out of jail.’

‘Because it won’t get Alice out of jail.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

For a second, Bill looked irritated. But then he controlled himself. ‘I can be sure because I know it has no relevance. Look, Toby. And Megan. I shouldn’t have invited you in to that meeting with Sam. I only did it because it seemed like a safe way for you to hear what…’ Here he paused. ‘What may have happened on the Alexander Hamilton. But I would never have done it if I knew the police would be asking questions about it the next day. So I would like you both to promise me you won’t tell the police the details.’

Megan nodded. ‘OK, Dad.’

Bill glanced at Toby.

‘I don’t know,’ Toby said. ‘I mean, it’s a murder inquiry. If they ask me questions, aren’t I obliged to answer them?’

Bill looked at his son-in-law levelly. ‘Do what you can, OK?’

Toby nodded. ‘All right.’ But he didn’t think it was all right.

Outside, somewhere over the dark marshes, an owl hooted.

The wine was having its effect. After having deadened the initial worry, Toby now felt his emotions churning. He was worried about Alice. While he was pleased that Bill had got her a hot-shot London solicitor, his instinct was to tell the police as much rather than as little as possible. If Alice was innocent, the only thing preventing the police from letting her go was that they didn’t know the truth, so anything Toby or Bill or any of the rest of the family could do to help reveal the truth must help.

If Alice was innocent.

Toby knew she was innocent. But did Bill think that? Did the solicitor?

Toby glanced at Megan, who was looking right at him. He could tell she was thinking the same thing.

Trust in the solicitor? Or trust in telling the truth? Toby’s brain was fuzzy. Things would be clearer in the morning. He poured himself another drink, realizing as he did so that he would probably have one hell of a headache in the morning. Maybe things wouldn’t necessarily be clearer; at that moment he didn’t care.

Then they heard the sound of footsteps outside and the front door opened. Justin came in, followed by Brooke. His brown eyes were hard, as were the muscles under his sweatshirt. The habitual friendliness of his expression had disappeared. Toby was only just now beginning to realize what a big guy Justin was.

‘Well?’ he said to Bill. It was more of a demand than a question.

Bill turned to his other son-in-law and gave him a patient smile. ‘Have a seat, Justin. Do you want some wine? Brooke?’

‘No, thank you,’ said Justin. He remained standing. But Megan got to her feet and fetched a full glass for her sister, who took it without acknowledgement.

‘Did you tell them about my father?’ Justin demanded.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, I was at the police station this afternoon. I put them in touch with Vicky in New Jersey, and I know they’re going to talk to her about what happened to her brother on the sub. Sam Bowen’s girlfriend is in Norfolk and has been speaking with them. She says that Sam thought the death of one of the officers on the submarine might be suspicious. That’s got to be my father’s.’

Bill glanced at Brooke, who was looking down at her wine. ‘Justin,’ Bill said. His voice was tight, he cleared his throat and tried again. ‘Justin.’

It was clear to Toby Bill was having trouble keeping calm. It was also clear that Bill and Lars hadn’t told Megan and him everything about what the police had asked them at the station.

‘I understand that you are upset by Craig’s death,’ Bill continued, looking up at his son-in-law. ‘But I was there. It was an accident, I know that and you should believe it. And it doesn’t have anything to do with Sam Bowen’s death.’

‘So you say,’ said Justin, coldly.

Bill slammed his fist down on the table. Toby’s wine glass toppled, spilling a dribble, and Rickover yelped. ‘Yes, Justin, I do say so! It turned out that Craig was your father, but you never knew him. I did. He was a good friend of mine, and it was a tragedy that he died. That’s why I looked after you and your mother, even though she had just run off with someone else. And now my daughter is in jail. So, yes, I do say I don’t want you feeding the police bullshit that you know nothing about and don’t understand.’

Brooke reached for her husband’s sleeve, but he batted her hand away.

Toby had never seen Bill this angry before. But Bill’s voice carried authority as well as rage, and for a moment Justin hesitated. But only for a moment.

‘You can’t shut down the truth like that,’ said Justin. ‘Your submarine refuses an order to launch nuclear missiles. My father dies in a so-called accident. The guy who puts those things together is murdered. There’s something there, Bill, there’s something there. And you getting so upset about it just makes me more sure. You feel guilty. You are guilty.’

‘Are you saying I killed Sam Bowen?’ Bill’s tone was menacing.

‘Not Sam Bowen.’

Bill hesitated, letting the implication sink in. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ he said. ‘I am telling you, Justin. Don’t go there. This is stuff you don’t understand. Craig was in the missile control centre when the order came in. Lars and I decoded it, and we discussed it with the captain and the executive officer in the control room. Craig died several days later.’

‘So you say.’

‘Yes! So I say. And it’s my daughter who is in jail. If you screw this thing up so she goes down on a murder charge, I swear I’ll…’

‘You’ll what?’ said Justin.

There was silence around the table as Bill glared at his son-in-law.

Then Lars coughed. ‘I killed him,’ he said, quietly. ‘Craig, I mean. I killed Craig. On the submarine.’

‘What?’ Justin stared at him. They all did.

‘It was an accident. We had a fight. Craig fell and hit his head. He died a couple days later.’

The anger on Justin’s face was replaced by confusion.

Lars turned towards him, his eyes full of sadness. ‘I’m sorry, man. I killed your father.’

Justin sat heavily on one of the chairs around the kitchen table.

‘Why?’ he said softly.

‘Why what?’ said Lars.

‘Why did you kill him?’

Lars glanced at Bill. ‘It was an accident,’ he said. ‘We got into a fight. It wasn’t even a real fight – I just pushed him. But he lost his balance and fell. Hit his head against a bulkhead. Then he lost consciousness. He came around, but a couple of days later he collapsed and died, just as Bill said. Bleeding in the brain.’

The family were all looking at Justin, waiting for him to take the lead with the questions.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘So why did you have the fight?’

‘It was an argument.’

‘An argument? About what?’

‘A girl.’

‘What girl?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Lars. ‘I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter – it’s not important.’

‘Was it my mother?’

‘No. Absolutely not. It wasn’t your mother.’

‘So you killed him?’

Lars paused and then nodded. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I did. And I’m sorry.’

‘And what happened? Were you arrested? Court martialled, maybe? Sent to jail?’

Lars shook his head. ‘No. With the near launch the Navy decided not to prosecute me. It was an accident.’

‘You mean the Navy covered it up?’

Lars didn’t answer.

‘Right. They covered it up. No wonder Vicky was angry.’ Justin sat back, his face pale. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t any of you tell me?’

‘We didn’t know,’ said Brooke.

‘You knew,’ said Justin to Bill.

Bill hesitated, glanced at Lars, and nodded.

‘You make me sick,’ said Justin, pulling himself to his feet. ‘All of you.’ He glared down at Lars. ‘You sit there like you’re apologizing for – I don’t know – spilling the wine or something, when what you did was murder my father.’

Justin’s muscles tensed. Lars was over sixty and in poor shape. Justin was in his thirties and in top physical form. It looked like he was about to beat the shit out of Lars.

Toby got to his feet. Unsteadily. He had drunk a lot, but he would intervene if he had to.

Brooke put her hand on Justin’s arm. Justin looked at his wife, at Toby and then back at Lars. ‘An apology doesn’t cut it, Lars.’ And he stalked from the room.

Brooke turned to her family. ‘Couldn’t you have told us about this, Dad? Told me? Justin has a right to know what happened to his father. It had nothing to do with those stupid missiles after all, so you could have told us. Dad, you should have trusted me!’

‘It was my fault,’ said Lars. ‘I made him promise to keep quiet.’

Brooke looked at her father for a response, but he seemed helpless. ‘Sorry,’ he said, eventually.

A tear leaked from Brooke’s eye, and then another. ‘Justin is right. “Sorry” doesn’t cut it. I’m going to the Cottage now. He needs me. Good night.’

And with that she left the house.