Launch Code

THIRTY-FOUR

January 1984, New York City

New York looked spellbinding in the snow. The north-east of the United States had spent three days in a blizzard, but the storm had spun off into the Atlantic overnight, leaving the city glistening brilliant white.

My train down from New London had been delayed three hours, but had eventually pulled in to Penn Station. I wandered through the streets, passing rosy-cheeked New Yorkers gazing in dazed wonder at their city’s new cloak. And the odd wad of cardboard and blankets in doorways, beneath which other New Yorkers, whose cheeks were grey and black, burrowed.

I made my way to St Mark’s Place, and stood to one side as a woman bundled up in scarf and greatcoat emerged from Donna’s building, her scalp pink in the cold beneath her green Mohawk. The East Village was the East Village, even at ten degrees below freezing.

I pressed Donna’s buzzer.

‘Hello?’

I swallowed. ‘Hi. It’s Bill. Can I come in?’

Silence.

‘Donna?’

‘Bill. You shouldn’t be here. We agreed not to see each other anymore.’

‘Well, I am here. And I have something to tell you.’ More silence. ‘And it’s freezing.’

The door buzzed and I pushed my way into the building.

Donna’s apartment was warm and she was wearing an old green Joni Mitchell T-shirt I recognized. Her honey-blonde hair had been cut shorter, but the little notch was still there in her chin. It was more than three months since I had seen her, and she looked more beautiful than I remembered. I just wanted to grab her and kiss her.

But I stood in the doorway. ‘Hi,’ I said, smiling. Hoping to coax out that familiar lop-sided hint of amusement.

I failed.

‘You had better come in,’ she said, looking away from me. ‘Do you want coffee?’

‘Please.’

She busied herself with the coffee maker. I took the opportunity to stare at her back while she couldn’t see me. I wanted to wrap my arms around her so badly.

‘How’s the stapling going?’ I said.

‘It’s OK,’ she grunted.

‘Just OK?’

‘No,’ she said, a hint of bitterness in her voice. ‘I’ve decided it’s a waste of time. I’m going to law school in the fall. Penn, if I can get in.’

‘I’m surprised,’ I said. ‘I never thought of you as a lawyer.’

‘Not that kind of lawyer,’ Donna said. ‘I’ve realized that if you want to actually help people, you need the law on your side. Protesting can only get you so far.’

‘I see.’

She poured two cups of coffee and gave me one. No milk – she remembered that.

‘I know about Craig,’ she said. ‘Vicky told me.’ Her voice softened a touch. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Thanks.’

‘OK,’ she said, sitting on her bed and pointing to the one armchair in her studio. ‘Say what you’ve got to say and then go.’

‘Can’t I drink my coffee?’

‘Say what you’ve got to say, drink your coffee and then go.’

I sipped from my mug. I had expected a small protest from Donna at my appearance. It’s true she had insisted we shouldn’t see each other again. But not this hostility. It was as if she hated me.

I wanted to ask why. But I decided to say what I had come there to say.

I had agonized over whether to come. The captain and the XO had concocted a story for what had or had not happened on the Alexander Hamilton, and how Craig had died. The other officers had bought into it, as had the crew – and the Navy. And we had all sworn not to tell anyone.

And here I was planning to speak with Donna.

But I couldn’t help it. She was why Lars and then I had questioned orders and then disobeyed them. She was why the USS Alexander Hamilton had not launched those three missiles at Moscow, Leningrad and Berlin.

She was why there had not been a world war. She had to know.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘We were about four weeks into the patrol…’

She listened closely, hunched over her mug of coffee, hanging on my every word.

When I was done she was silent for a moment. ‘Wow,’ she said.

And then a tear ran down her cheek.

I stood up, moved on to the bed beside her, and put my arms around her shoulders. At first she was stiff, but then she sobbed and squeezed herself into my arms.

‘Why are you crying?’ I said.

‘I don’t know.’ Her face was buried so deeply in my chest I could barely hear her.

I waited. Eventually, she broke away. She sniffed and wiped her nose.

‘I found it really hard when we broke up. I missed you. So I decided to hate you, hate what you stand for. Hate you for being willing to blow up the world. And then you get the order to do it, and you do this.’

‘I killed Craig,’ I said.

‘I know. That must have been horrible. Despite what I’ve just said, he was a good guy. I don’t know why I’m crying. It should be for him. Poor Vicky. I saw her just before Christmas and she said he had died on patrol in a freak accident. She was really upset. I thought maybe that’s what you wanted to tell me.’

‘I bet she was upset.’ I took a deep breath. Would I have to face Vicky? Lie? I would rather not; in fact I would do anything in my power to avoid her.

‘Don’t tell her,’ I said. ‘Don’t tell anyone. Everything I’ve told you is top secret. I shouldn’t have told you.’

‘I’m glad you did.’

‘In particular, don’t tell Pat Greenwald.’

‘Did I tell you about Pat?’

‘No. the FBI did. Who is she?’

‘The FBI?’

‘Yes. Two goons came to see me in September just before we headed out to Scotland. Said that you were a peace activist – which I told them I knew already – and that you knew Pat Greenwald who had some contact with the KGB.’

‘The KGB? That’s ridiculous. And you’re telling me that the FBI has been spying on me?’

‘Looks like it.’

‘Jesus.’

‘So does this woman have anything to do with the KGB?’

‘No! Absolutely not. I met her at Seneca this summer. You know – the women’s peace camp upstate? We bonded.’

‘So she doesn’t talk to any Russians?’

‘She speaks to a couple of Soviet peace organizations,’ Donna admitted.

‘Controlled by the KGB?’

‘We’re not that stupid. We want peace, we don’t want the Soviets to win the Cold War.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘But whoever she is, you won’t tell her any of this, will you? Because I could get into serious trouble. Rest-of-my-life in prison type trouble.’

‘No,’ said Donna. ‘I won’t tell her. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.’

‘Good.’ But I was nervous. Could I trust her? Should I have told her?

She sipped her coffee. ‘I was right, wasn’t I?’

‘About the risk of an accidental launch order? Yes, you were absolutely right. And it was only because you and I had had that argument in Mystic that I told Lars about it. And that’s why he tried to stop Commander Driscoll.’

‘Is he in trouble? Are you in trouble?’

‘Neither of us is. What we did is in breach of all kinds of Navy regulations, but, hey, the world didn’t end.’

Donna smiled. Laughed. Wiped her eyes. ‘I don’t know why this makes me so emotional. It must be worse for you.’

‘I can handle it,’ I said. ‘Lars is finding it difficult. He’s been drinking heavily ever since we got back Stateside. Two nights ago he was high on the base. That was really dumb. They don’t like sailors driving nuclear submarines high on drugs.’

‘I get that. What are you going to do?’ A cloud of wariness passed across her eyes. ‘You are not going out on patrol again, are you?’

‘I’m up before the Personal Reliability Program next week. They’ll tell me they can’t trust me to press the button next time, and they’ll be right. They’ll revoke my certification.’

‘So will you leave the Navy?’

‘I don’t know. In theory I could serve on fast-attack submarines, and you would be surprised how many desks there are with submarine officers sitting behind them. But yeah, I might leave the Navy.’ I looked into her clear blue eyes. ‘It kinda depends on you.’

‘Me?’

Her eyes softened as she understood. Very slowly she raised her face towards mine.

And then she kissed me.