I have strived to meet my kind with open arms of shared brotherhood, but alas, the distance to cover is too great, the wounds too deep, and the memory of brutality too sharp and clear. So all I will ask my former brethren is to leave me to my sea.
The four VTOL (vertical takeoff and landing) aircraft suddenly went low to the ground. Their unique design was far stealthier than anything the Americans or Russians had on their drafting boards. Instead of being propeller driven, like the Marine Corps V-22 Osprey, these craft utilized a twin-engine turbojet.
When the four tilt-jet aircraft came within ten feet of the ground, their ground radar computers took over the flying, avoiding the many bumps and telephone wires crisscrossing the desert around the air force base. From the underbellies of each of the assaulting planes a small dish popped free and sent out a stream of microwaves that went invisibly toward the control center of one of the most advanced air force bases in the world.
The control tower sitting high above the airstrip suddenly went dark. All radar screens died within a microsecond of one another. Down below in the command and control area, the phone lines went out and their screens ceased to function. Traffic control was dead, as well as any response the base could muster. It seemed an eternity until the emergency generators kicked in, but in the three seconds it took for the circuit to be made, the attacking aircraft were already past them and down on ground level, beyond their radar search.
The four strange-looking craft overshot the darkened runways at Nellis and turned north toward the old firing range that hadn't been used since 1945—their target: the hidden underground complex of the Event Group.
Pete Golding had been working eighteen straight hours. He had been back and forth with Europa since the security lockdown was initiated. Several technicians were still inside the darkened computer center, but three of the six were dozing; the soft drone of Pete's voice trying to be as patient as possible with the supercomputer had lulled them to sleep. Once more, he went at Europa.
"Okay, let's try this again. Let us assume that a security breach from outside the complex occurred at the same moment the breach message was initiated. Is it possible you missed a back door in your programming, perhaps designed by your original program team at Cray?"
"Not possible, Dr. Golding. The internal algorithm ciphering my security program would have been disturbed, thus setting off my shutdown protocols."
Pete rubbed a hand over his balding head. "So, what you're saying is that it would have been impossible to have received the message without a door being left open from inside the complex, with the validation of a departmental manager?"
"Correct"
With the recent call in from Captain Everett, Niles knew the people who had sent the message had been tipped off that the FBI was lying in wait for them. That meant that someone here had to have communicated with the terrorists at some point after the security shutdown. Europa had indeed shut down all systems of communication. No one used any of the phones, and it would be impossible to get a cell phone call out of the complex. Europa closed all e-mail access, so that was eliminated. The director even cut Everett short when he wanted to explain who they had recovered from the meeting. Security at the moment was just so porous, he didn't chance anything.
"Shutdown was ordered at oh-nine-fifty-five this A.M. Was there any computer access just before I ordered you to close all internal loops?"
"One."
Pete shook his head in exasperation. "Well, do you want to share that with me?"
"Terminal is located in office forty-five-seventy-six, sublevel seven, and logged at oh-nine-fifty-three from the office of Assistant Director Virginia Pollock."
The blood in Pete's face drained. "No, Virginia doesn't have it in her." Still, Golding was scared.
Pete moved to his desk on the main floor, picked up the phone, and started punching numbers. He didn't hear anything. He flicked the disconnect a few times and then listened.
"Europa, did you shut down communication for the comp center?"
When he didn't get a response, Pete turned and looked at the large center screen monitor he was using for Europa's typed-out responses. It, too, was blank.
"Europa, respond."
Golding slapped the shoulder of one of the dozing men and woke him.
"Europa's down. See if you can make keyboard contact," he said as he started for the risers that led to the doors two stories above the main floor.
The other technicians awoke and looked around as the main lights flickered, steadied, and then went out. Pete reached the top and pulled the door handle. The door had locked, automatically he assumed, when Europa went down.
"What in the hell is going on here?"
Sarah McIntire had arrived two hours earlier from Arkansas. She was sitting alone in the cafeteria drinking a cup of coffee after she found she had no desire for sleep. Her aching arm held firmly to her chest with a sling, she realized it wasn't just the plane ride back, but the fact that Carl, Jason, and Will were all off base, making her feel her homecoming was put on hold.
She spied Alice Hamilton off in the far corner of the room, and was shocked to see former director and retired senator Garrison Lee sitting with her. They had files stacked to right, left, and center of their table. She thought about saying hi, but they looked engrossed in what they were doing — reading, arguing, nodding, and then arguing some more.
Sarah decided to try sleep again. As she stood to leave, she saw Virginia Pollock walking past the double doors of the cafeteria. She called out, but the assistant director kept walking. Strange, because Sarah knew she had heard her call out.
"This place isn't right somehow," she said as she left for her room, just as the overhead lights started to flicker.
Lance Corporal Frank Mendez sat behind the counter reading his favorite book, Watership Down, a book he had read three times already, finding the story about rabbits more realistic than a lot of books calling themselves literature these days. He stopped reading as the front door chimed and two men walked inside. Mendez looked down at the computer screen under the counter to get a security clearance for the two men through a thumbprint match taken from the ornate door handle. He was surprised when he saw the screen was dark. He hit the power switch three times: on, off, on — nothing.
Mendez placed the book on the counter and stood. He checked the two men who were looking at stereo systems on display at the front of the shop. They looked harmless enough, so he turned and stuck his head through the curtain in the back.
"Hey, man, my monitor's down, and I've got customers out here."
Army Staff Sergeant Wayne Newland was on duty behind the desk. He looked at his monitor and saw it was dark also.
"Hmm, Europa's down all right. You better get back to your customers and I'll check the back room."
"Right," Mendez said and went back to the counter.
Newland stood and opened the door behind him. Inside was a desk with a computer monitor on it and a man behind it. The man looked up as the sergeant looked in.
"Europa's down. I think we better close the gate until she comes back up."
The desk sergeant safed the weapon under the desk and disarmed the tranquilizing darts embedded in the false front of the wooden desk and computer while Newland was in front of it. Then he picked up his phone and hit a button. The lone number connected him to the duty officer in the complex. Newland saw a funny look cross his features.
"What is it?"
The sergeant hung up the phone and looked up. "Phone's down, too."
"Shit, this isn't right," Newland said, and turned back for the back room and the store beyond. "Hit the alarm, let someone know we're down."
The desk sergeant hit a large black switch under the lip of the desk, but nothing happened. There should have been a steady blinking from a small LED placed in the button. The sergeant then rearmed the dart defense, but there was nothing there, either.
"Goddamn it!" he said as he removed the Ingram submachine gun from its clip under the desk, then he reached out to a small calculator-sized control board and hit the elevator emergency cutoff. Again, there was nothing. "Damn it, now anyone can just waltz into the shop and get into the complex." He started for the front of the store.
Mendez had just come around from behind the desk when he saw the two patrons. He smiled, knowing the nine-millimeter Beretta was tucked comfortably into his waistband. He was just about to greet the two men when Newland, followed by the desk sergeant, broke from the back room. He gave them a look that asked, What in the hell is wrong?
As Mendez turned back to the customers, he saw that the exact same nine-millimeter weapon as the one he had was staring him right in the face. The only difference was that this one had a foot-long silencer attached.
"Buddy, this is one place you don't want to rob," were the only words he could think of to say.
"Mendez, we're closing down. Case Blue… you hear me? Case Blue—"
The tranquilizer dart caught Newland in the throat. Unlike in the movies, the drug wasn't instantaneous, and the impact of the dart hurt the sergeant like a kick in the neck.
"Hey, what the—"
Mendez was shot and drugged next. The man with the nine-millimeter covered the second man while he placed another dart into the breech of his handgun.
The desk sergeant came around the corner near the display of CDs and caught sight of Mendez's feet as he lay sprawled in the next aisle over. He quickly aimed the Ingram at the man with the silenced weapon. He started to pull the trigger when a fired dart bounced off the machine gun, almost knocking it from his hands. He adjusted his aim quickly and tried to fire at the man who had shot at him.
The man with the silencer had no choice; he cursed his bad luck and fired one round into the desk sergeant's head, blowing his brains all over a rack of sunglasses.
The second man quickly ran over to the front door and opened it. As he waited, twenty men quickly moved in from an abandoned store to the right, and another ten from the alley next to the pawnshop. They entered the store with purpose, following the first two men into the back.
The taking of the Event Group Complex had begun.
Sitting across the way in a rented van, Colonel Henri Farbeaux watched in stunned disbelief at the taking of gate 2. He raised his field glasses and watched as thirty-two heavily armed and hooded men entered the store and disappeared into the back. He was confused and amazed that he was witnessing a breach of Group security such as what was happening at that moment.
Farbeaux saw an opportunity. He wouldn't need the tracking device on the seat beside him, nor the tracer he had infected the black sergeant with.
He removed his own weapon and clicked the safety off. He opened the van's rear doors and slowly walked across the street, fully intending to follow the assault element inside. Even if this was a drill of some sort, he would take advantage.
For the colonel — in case this was a real assault — having someone else kill Collins was not going to do. For the loss of his beloved wife and his own esteem, no one but he had the right to kill Jack Collins and his men.
No, the security personnel of the Group were his.
Farbeaux slowly removed the hidden gun and held it at his side as he calmly moved inside the pawnshop, following the assault element.
There were only six logistics men and women working the underground loading dock on level 3 at that early hour of the morning. They had little to do since the security alert had been called, shutting down all shipping to the complex. Now all six were inventorying material that was to be shipped in the next few days after being released to the National Archives and the Smithsonian. When they heard the sound of the monorail heading their way, they paid it no mind, as they thought it was gate-2 security coming home after their shift.
The loadmaster, an air force sergeant, looked at his watch and took a double take.
"This isn't right," he said, looking up from his watch at the approaching tram. It was now on its last two hundred feet of centerline rail as it straightened out from its dive into the earth from Las Vegas, ten miles away. "There's no scheduled security change, and there's no one allowed to arrive through gate two during the lockdown."
"So, maybe one of the guys is sick or something. You worry way too much, Sarge," said one of the men as he checked off the weight of a large crate.
"Then why didn't Europa notify us?" he asked as he gestured for a female specialist to check the computer for a missed command.
"She's down, Sergeant," the woman said as she exited the small booth on the massive loading dock. She tossed an M-16 to the sergeant and another to the man next to him, who dropped his clipboard in his effort to catch the weapon. She herself drew a nine-millimeter from a holster at her side.
The sergeant took station next to the large crate, and the others followed suit as the sound of the approaching tram slowed, then picked up speed again. They saw the glow of the monorail's glassed-in interior as it sped to a stop at the loading dock. It was empty. All seven cars and their plastic seating were void of any passengers. Still, the air force sergeant approached cautiously with his weapon at the ready. He chanced a look into the darkened tunnel beyond, but could only see the fluorescent blue and green track lighting fading away in the distance.
"Specialist, illuminate the tunnel, now!"
The female specialist ran to the controller's shack and hit the switch that would turn on the overheads lining the massive tunnel's ceiling. Nothing happened.
"We have a problem here, Sarge. Europa may have killed this panel when she went down."
"Damn!" he said, just as a dart slammed into his chest and then another into his cheek.
Small sounds echoed off the concrete walls of the monorail tunnel as twenty darts streaked toward their targets, embedding themselves in the five remaining personnel on the dock. The female specialist had the fortitude to remain on her feet and slam her hand into the intruder alarm as she fell forward. Again, there was nothing.
Soon, thirty-two men stood in the dark, illuminated only by the blue and green running lights of the tunnel. For now, the dart guns were holstered and submachine guns took their place. The men started forward, chambering rounds as they did. They knew from this point on, the Event Group personnel would not be so easy to subdue.
The fall of the Event Group complex was now more than just a plan; it was close to a fact.
Three hundred feet above the loading dock, the four VTOL aircraft popped into the air a hundred feet short of the dilapidated hangar that was the cover for gate 1. As each aircraft peeled off, two to the right and two to the left, the gunners in the open doorway brought their night-vision goggles down to cover their eyes. They chambered the larger dart rounds into a large pneumatic six-barreled cannon. Soon, the gunner in the lead aircraft had several targets.
Event Group security kept a small squad on duty outside of the massive hangar where large loads were brought into the complex. The first of these soldiers, a marine, saw the strange craft slow. He took aim at the unauthorized intruders and was about to open fire with his M249 machine gun when the sound of a hundred bees surrounded him. Several of these angry insects struck him in the chest and the torso. As he fell forward with the darts protruding from his body, he saw several of his team succumb to the same quick fate.
Soon, the entire eight-man squad of Event Group security was eliminated as a threat to the assault units now landing outside the old hangar. Soon forty more heavily armed men stormed inside the hangar and lined the giant elevator. Within thirty seconds the dark-clad men were headed down into the heart of the Event Group.
Niles Compton rubbed his eyes and then picked up his phone. He punched in the three-digit code for the computer center. The line was dead. He then swiveled in his chair and turned on his Europa monitor, but all that appeared was a blue screen. Concerned, Niles replaced his glasses and stood from his desk. Just as he was about to move toward the oaken double doors, they opened and several hooded men dressed in navy-blue body armor and BDUs came through. Niles froze as three submachine guns, the likes of which he had never seen before, were leveled at his chest. The man in the center of the five intruders gestured quickly for his team to lower their weapons.
Niles saw through the open doorway that his assistants were being rounded up, and plastic wire-ties were being used to bind their wrists.
"Dr. Compton, you have our sincerest apologies for this sudden intrusion," the tall man in the center of the group said as he moved quickly to the bank of monitors lining the wall. He flipped a switch marked GATE 1 and watched as the security camera sent its signal from the mock dilapidated hangar. Satisfied when he saw several of his own men in command of the gate, he turned to Compton. "You'll pardon our haste, but I understand your Captain Everett is due to return shortly with his men, and I am led to believe that he would not take too kindly to our visit."
One of his men stepped forward and whispered something. He was holding a small radio in his hand.
"Doctor, I assure you, your people are being well treated. There have only been five casualties thus far, four of them from your interior security department, and I am informed two of those will live. We do not wish any more loss of life."
"You knew from the start the meeting in New York would be compromised," Niles said, standing straight and looking directly at the man as he removed his hood. Niles risked a quick glance at the closed-circuit camera that was independent of Europa, and saw the small red light was still on. The same system that was installed at gate 1, they had intentionally not shut it down because they needed eyes on that gate.
"Yes, but the ruse was useful to get Captain Everett and the more experienced members of his team out of the complex. He and his men would have made the taking of the most secure location inside the United States, well, to say the least, a challenge."
"And now your plans are?" Niles asked.
The tall man moved to Compton's desk and looked it over. The man was average looking, his hair was somewhat longer than a military-style cut, and he had a decidedly menacing quality about him. His English had an Irish lean to it. Compton knew that if the closed-circuit camera was working, their conversation was being recorded along with this man's face.
"Your presence is required by my superiors for two reasons. One is information; two is so you can bear witness to what the world is up against."
"And if I refuse to come along?"
"You won't. I don't need to make threats against your people, that's the stuff of television. We are under orders to act accordingly. So if you will follow us" — he pulled up his sleeve and looked at his wristwatch—"we will depart."
Sarah was riding the elevator down to the personal quarter's area on level eight when the elevator lurched, and then continued on to her selected floor. She didn't like it when there was anything out of the ordinary about the elevators. She knew they rode in a tube and were raised and lowered on a cushion of air.
Finally, the indicator said she had arrived on level eight and the doors slowly slid open. Then the power failed. The elevator again lurched. Sarah wondered why Europa didn't compensate for the loss of pumped air; she decided not to take a chance and dove from the car just as it hissed and then was sent crashing down into the complex. Sarah rolled over her sling, crying out as she hurt her damaged shoulder. That was when she hit someone standing in the hallway. The dark figure looked down, quite surprised when he saw a woman at his feet. He maneuvered his weapon just as it crossed Sarah's mind as to what kind of screwed-up security drill Carl was running, but she was in too much pain to think, only react. Then she saw the weapon in the man's hands point down toward her prone body.
Taken with the default of the elevator, she realized instantly that this was no security drill. She pivoted on her hip and kicked out with her right leg, hitting the man right at both ankles. His legs were knocked out from under him and his weapon discharged, creating bright flashes in the darkened hallway. The bullets thumped into the plastic wall as the man struck the carpeting. Sarah, still on her back, quickly raised her left foot and brought it down into the man's face, her heel striking precisely where she had aimed it: the nose. The man grunted in pain, then lay still.
She heard a shuffling coming down the hallway and knew immediately the downed man hadn't been alone. Sarah was blind and on her back. She quickly felt around for the man's fallen weapon and finally hit upon it as ten silenced rounds thumped into the wall and carpeting around her, with one actually striking the cast on her arm, breaking it apart in large chunks.
"Bastard!" she mumbled as she quickly raised the strange weapon. She prayed it wasn't on safe because in the dark she would never find the selector switch on a weapon she knew nothing about. She squeezed the trigger. The weapon erupted with fire and a loud clacking noise as the silencer did its job. Bullets struck the wall, floor, and ceiling, and then in the flare of the muzzle, she saw bullets stitch a crooked pattern on a man no more than six feet from her, with a bullet finally striking him in an unprotected spot just above his body armor.
Sarah was shaking badly as she tore the night-vision scope from the face of the man under her. That was when she noticed his companion's bullets had struck him several times in the side. She quickly held the scope to her eyes and looked around frantically. She tried desperately to control her breathing, thinking that anyone in a hundred-foot radius could hear her terror.
"What kind of screwed-up homecoming is this?" she whispered to herself, hoping her sour humor would allow her to inject more bravery into a terrifying situation.
Sarah picked herself up and then quickly felt her arm. She realized she hadn't hurt it any more than it had been; it was sore, but at least she could move it. She hefted the heavy weapon and made for the stairwell beside her, knowing she had to get to either level seven or at the very least the computer center where she knew Pete Golding and his techs were always working.
For the first time in over a month, Sarah wasn't thinking about the loss of Jack Collins.
Senator Garrison Lee was in his element. He sat with his longtime live-in companion in the cafeteria and went through each file that he himself had okayed in the years leading up to deprioritizing the items in the vaults on levels seventy-three and seventy-four.
"That's it, Garrison, we've covered all six hundred and seventy-two vaults. What do you think?"
"I think I want some of that coffee, old girl, if you would be so kind."
Alice shook her head and stood, tired herself. She decided she would have tea just to offset the mood that the caffeine would put the senator in.
Garrison looked at one file he had placed on the left side of the table, separating it from the others.
"Why that one?" Alice asked. She placed the cup of coffee on the table and sipped her own tea just as the lights in the cafeteria failed. The bright emergency lights came on, and Lee continued.
"Because, woman," Lee said, also looking around him at the emergency lighting, "it's the only vault that would make any sense. I'm surprised you didn't pull this file immediately after learning the facts of the attacks at sea. I think you're slowing down some."
Alice raised her eyebrow but said nothing as she sat down.
"Okay, Mr. Lee, how about explaining?" Alice asked while she looked around in the now-shadowy cafeteria. Then the lights came back on at full strength.
"Point number one: This report from the USS Columbia states that the vessel that launched the attacks on Venezuela was like nothing ever encountered before. I quote, 'a submarine of extraordinary capabilities,' end quote. We've had a partial answer to why the complex was attacked from the very beginning. Someone was afraid of what we had stored in vault number 298907. A vault that was classified as cold and relegated to the storage level, all testing and analysis completed." He slid the single folder over to Alice, who looked at the name and number on its outer jacket.
"Leviathan," she said to herself.
"That's right, Leviathan. Recovered in nineteen sixty-seven by the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution off the coast of Newfoundland, with parts of her discovered as far south as Maine."
Alice slid the file back to Garrison.
"The advanced submarine was estimated at more than one hundred years old, conservatively speaking, and" — Alice quoted from memory—"'with a kerosene-and-diesel-mix electric power system that rivaled the diesel submarines of today.' At the time you believed this vessel was what Jules Verne based his fictional Nautilus upon. Is my memory serving correctly?" she asked.
"Like a computer, young lady," Garrison said as he slid a liver-spotted hand over hers. "Not bad at all for a woman approaching the century mark."
"That's you, my dear, not I." She smiled and patted his hand. "Now, if I do remember correctly, carbon dating and other tests placed her destruction in a ten-year time frame between eighteen sixty and eighteen seventy-one. What does that have to do with today?"
"I don't believe in coincidence, never have. Advanced submarine in the past, advanced submarine in the present, explosion that takes out what material we do have on level seventy-three, one-plus-one-plus-one equals someone wanted us not to reference that boat in our vault. Now we know why, and we know what attacked us — all we need is the who? Is it something in that vault that will give away this vessel's technology, or on the other hand, maybe her metallurgy? Her home port or waters, or was something left aboard the relic that will assist in identifying the man behind such an advanced craft?"
"We better report to Niles and—"
That was as far as Alice got before several men broke through the double doors of the cafeteria and started rounding up the few people inside. In the next moment, a submachine gun was pointing right in Garrison Lee's face.
Alice placed her hand on Garrison's, letting him know that he was not to try anything foolish.
"Young man, please aim that weapon in another direction, unless of course you plan to murder us. If not, you little bastard, point it somewhere else."
The masked gunman smiled inside his black nylon hood at the woman who continued to confront him with her eyes, even after he moved the weapon and aimed it at the floor. He then pulled a list out of his armored vest and looked at the typed names and their pictures. He looked from Alice to Garrison.
"Mrs. Hamilton, your reputation precedes you, ma'am. Would you and the senator please follow me to the main conference room?"
As the man spoke, the power grid flickered as it had before, and then the overhead lights went completely out.
"Don't worry, ma'am, we have just sealed this level from the others, and that means we have successfully taken control of the most secure facility in the American government."
Alice looked at Garrison Lee in the emergency lighting shining from the corners of the cafeteria. His one eye was glaring at the man standing over them. Once more, she took his hand and started to stand.
"Very well, young man, it seems you have the advantage," Alice said as she assisted Lee to his feet.
"At least for the moment, you little prick," Garrison Lee said directly into the man's masked face, and as he did, he used his hand to slide the file they had been examining onto his vacated chair.
The man's laugh sounded muffled, but it traveled through the entire cafeteria as he reached down and gathered up the folders on the table to take with him.
"I'd hate to run into you two in a dark alley," he said as he gestured for them to head for the cafeteria doors.
Sarah cautiously opened the stairwell door one level up. She looked down the dark and curving hallway using the night scope, being careful not to look at the dim emergency lighting at the far end.
She held the door ajar by the barrel of the weapon, allowing her to see the comp center directly across from her. There were figures moving inside, but she couldn't make out who they were. Then she smiled as she saw the form of Pete Golding throw a chair against the bulletproof glass as hard as he could, but all it did was bounce back and almost strike him. In the green haze of the scope, she saw Pete as he screamed in frustration. The sound didn't penetrate the glass, but the gesture was almost comical. Pete just wasn't the herculean type.
With the weapon opening the door farther, Sarah stepped into the hallway, allowing the door to close gently behind her. She slowly made her way to the center and tapped on the glass doors with the gun barrel until Pete looked up. He twisted his head because he couldn't see who was out there in the dark. Sarah waved him over, and the relief in Pete's face was apparent. She mouthed something he couldn't understand. Then, with her sore arm she reached into her jumpsuit pocket, brought out a Sharpie felt pen, and hastily scrawled, Attacked.
Pete nodded, and then he suddenly started pointing frantically behind Sarah as if the Devil himself were there.
Sarah turned and there were two men standing directly behind her. One grabbed the barrel of the weapon and pulled it from her grasp while the other grabbed her by the throat and shoved her against the glass. Pete and his comp team were frantic. They was gesturing wildly and banging on the glass, screaming threats that went unheard. The man who had grabbed the gun saw Sarah's cutoff sleeve, the sling, and the remains of the cast on her forearm. He reached out and hit her in the upper arm above the elbow, and Sarah immediately collapsed in agony.
Pete Golding and the other techs saw this and started throwing their bodies against the glass doorway. They were desperate to keep any harm from befalling the little geologist.
The masked man moved his weapon aside on its strap, then reached down and grabbed Sarah by the collar and pulled her to her feet.
"This is our little hero from level eight."
The other man stepped back. "No casualties — remember the orders."
"Unless in self-defense," the smaller of the two said as he brought his weapon back around.
Sarah grimaced in pain, and then suddenly struck out with her right foot, trying desperately to kick at the two men, but her tennis shoes were striking nothing but empty air.
"These people just don't know when to quit," the larger assailant said, laughing at the violent way Sarah struggled.
Suddenly, the hooded face jerked violently forward and Sarah felt the splash of warm blood hit her in the face. There was a crack of a bullet, but only because it had penetrated the man's skull and passed through, hitting the glass of the comp center. The other man tried to turn, but two bullets struck him in the side of the head and neck. As he fell, he pulled the stunned Sarah down with him.
Pete and the comp center technicians stopped banging on the glass as the blood from the first man obscured it. Pete straightened in shock as he prayed Sarah wasn't hit. He looked from her form to the darkened hallway beyond. He couldn't see anything.
Sarah kicked at the man who had fallen on her legs and at the same time struggled to get ahold of one of the fallen weapons. As her hand found one, there was a calm voice echoing from the bend in the long dark corridor.
"Little Sarah, always a fighter."
The voice was familiar. Sarah searched the darkness, raising the automatic weapon toward the darkness.
"Not advisable, at least for the moment," the voice said, as if reprimanding a child. "Tell me, dear Sarah, is Jack with you?"
Her recognition of the voice came flooding into her memory. Pictures of the man it belonged to hit her like ice water. Colonel Henri Farbeaux.
"Come now, you owe me your life. Surely worth the price of an answer."
"This isn't your style, Henri, extravagant though it is." Sarah still twisted the weapon until its muzzle pointed into the dark.
"I'm what you would call a stowaway. As well as these people planned, it was far too messy. But then again, I don't know the motivation behind it. Nor, dear Sarah, do I care. I'm here for the man that cost me the life of my wife."
"What in the hell are you talking about, Colonel?"
"She never returned from our little Amazonian excursion. Our Major Jack was the cause of that."
Sarah made a face as she tried to sit up. "And you're blaming the colonel?"
"Colonel? Colonel Collins? Ah, the rewards for having my wife meet her fate in a godforsaken lagoon. This is getting rich, little Sarah."
"Henri… Jack is—" Sarah lost her voice for a moment. "Jack's dead."
There was silence from the hallway.
"He didn't kill Danielle; we didn't even know she was lost. Jack Collins never would have wanted that. He wanted everyone to make it out — even you, Henri." Sarah twisted and tried to rise to her feet.
She tried to peer into the darkness, but she saw no movement. She thought about reaching down for the goggles, but decided she wouldn't make the effort. Finally, she heard movement.
"A shame. I will not ask about the possibility of a lie, I can see the truth of it in your face. It hurts, does it not?"
Sarah saw the darker outline of the man as he stepped from the wall.
His weapon was still held at belt level and it was aimed right at her. She looked at the heavy weapon in her hands, then slowly tossed it away.
"A part of me died that day." Sarah looked into the face of the Frenchman and didn't flinch.
"Yes, loss will do that to one," he said. He looked into her eyes as his silenced pistol finally wavered and then lowered. "You have been injured, I see."
Sarah remained quiet as she looked at their old enemy. He had lost a large amount of weight, and his eyes were dark below and above the lids. There was a sense about him that he no longer held himself on a pedestal above others. Sarah could see that he was broken, mentally and physically. In addition, she was seeing something drain from the man like a tipping water glass. His hatred and willingness to strike out at something familiar, in this case Jack, were gone, as if hearing of his death completed the trade for Danielle.
"Stand aside, Sarah McIntire, and I will assist you in freeing your friends before one of them seriously injures themselves. Then I will leave you."
Sarah finally turned and saw Pete Golding, forehead bleeding and holding his shoulder, furiously gesturing for his technicians to ram the door again. Sarah shook her head. Pete was magnificent with a computer keyboard, but in rescue attempts, he left a lot to be desired.
Farbeaux walked up to Sarah and looked at her for the longest time. His eyes bore into her own as if he were looking at someone he remembered from his past with fondness. Then he reached down, picked up the fallen goggles, raised them to his eyes, and at the same moment raised the pistol and aimed at the locks in the glass door.
Sarah was just relaxing when Farbeaux suddenly jerked and then tried to turn around. The silenced automatic fell from his hand as he gasped for breath. His other hand pulled the large dart from the back of his shoulder. He looked at Sarah as if she had been responsible; then his legs gave out. Sarah reached out for him as he collapsed.
As she looked up, twenty men approached. Several flashlights illuminated the stricken Farbeaux. Men spread out and covered the glass fronting of the computer center where Pete stared in shock at the four people standing at the center of the group — Director Compton, Virginia Pollock, Alice Hamilton, and Senator Garrison Lee. They were not bound, but each had an armed escort. A man stepped forward, separating himself from the group. He wore no hood, and he had loosened his upper body armor, undoubtedly for comfort.
Sarah watched the man examine the scene before him. His eyes went from his two dead commandos to the unconscious Henri Farbeaux.
"Lieutenant, are you all right?" Niles asked.
The man quickly held a hand up as his head turned and looked at Sarah. "Silence please, Doctor."
"If you harm any more of my people, you may as well shoot us all right now," Niles said, shaking a guard's hand off his arm and stepping forward.
The man continued to look at Sarah with cold and very dark eyes.
"This one comes with us," he said as he gestured one of his men forward.
"Sarah, are you hurt?" Alice asked as she held on to the senator.
"Just my pride," she answered, as she was roughly turned and her hands wire-tied behind her back. Her eyes met Pete Golding's, who stared through the glass in frustration.
"Is that… is that Colonel Farbeaux?" Compton asked.
Sarah was turned roughly about so she could face the group. Her anger was apparent as her eyes went from the man in front of her to the man who had tied her. With her arm and shoulder screaming in agony, she shook the man's hands from her.
"Yes."
"Is he… a part of this?"
Sarah thought about saying something about the colonel's intentions, but she knew there was no point. She looked at Niles and shook her head.
"You know Henri was always an opportunist. What better way to get into the complex and steal than during a murder raid?" She said the last words looking right into the tall man's eyes.
"We must go. We have several flights of stairs to traverse to get to the hangar," the man said as he pulled Sarah roughly forward toward the others.
The tall man looked down at the Frenchman and then to the two bodies on the floor beside him. Then he pulled a nine-millimeter handgun from a shoulder holster, approached the prone Farbeaux, and placed the gun to his head.
"The same rules apply to him. You kill him, kill us," Niles said, desperately trying to keep Farbeaux from dying. He despised the man, but he didn't want him murdered in cold blood, either.
The leader of the assault closed his eyes in thought. After a moment, he straightened and holstered his weapon. He ordered two men to take the still form of Colonel Farbeaux, then turned to face Compton.
"You're quickly running out of favors, Mr. Director. I will bring this man with us, only to ask for his execution for killing my men."
"I thought violence and murder were not part of your orders," Niles persisted in his antagonizing tone.
"I have been known to adapt, Doctor, to react to a flowing situation. Do not push me."
Alice pulled Niles back and made him assist in supporting the senator. On their way past the leader of the assault, Assistant Director Virginia Pollock shot him a look that had murder etched in it. The man just smiled as the others were herded toward the stairs.
The Event Group Complex had fallen in less than twenty-five minutes.
The UH-60 Black Hawk had met Everett, Mendenhall, Ryan, the limo driver Rodriguez, and the improving Jack Collins on the military tarmac at McCarran airport in Las Vegas. Everett was on the headphones talking with the chief warrant officer flying the large helicopter. The others watched as Everett shook his head negatively and shouted something into his microphone. Ryan and Mendenhall exchanged looks. The captain angrily removed his headphone and then went into the rear compartment.
"It seems Nellis just went on alert. They wanted us to vector back to McCarran, but we're still trying to get the okay to proceed to gate one."
"What's up?" Ryan shouted.
"They have missiles heading this way, target unknown. They've been tracking them for the past two hours; they were zigzagging all over the place, and then started this way. The launch area was off the Jersey coast — which means our new friends may have been responsible. At least they are the more viable candidate at the moment. In addition, all search radar and communications are down with the exception of hard lines. Emergency systems at Nellis are just coming back online."
Everett looked at Jack, who was looking back at him and trying to understand what it was that was happening. Everett patted him on the leg.
"Don't worry, buddy. Sarah's going to have the surprise of her life when she gets back from her mama's."
Collins forced a smile and nodded. His head was filled with cotton, but ever since Carl and the others had started talking to him on the flight back from the East Coast, his memory was now returning in waves instead of dribbles. The most important memory that came first was Sarah's death as he held her in the waters of the Med, and then his closed-eyed prayer of thanks when Carl smiled and told him she was alive. Everything else was placed in the back of his mind as his body immediately relaxed with the knowledge he would see Sarah again.
The Black Hawk banked sharply and headed for the deck. Carl held on to the seat as he turned and saw the copilot give the thumbs-up from the right seat.
"Okay, we just got permission to get to the house."
As the Black Hawk screamed low over the desert, the pilot was shocked when his radar detected a missile lock on them. He figured his bird had picked up a stray beam from the circling F-22 Raptors flying combat air cap over the prized air base. He became worried when the tone in his headphones became louder and steady. He pulled his stick back into his belly, slammed it over to the right, and the large helicopter fought for altitude while rolling to the right. Chaff, small explosions of aluminum foil, started popping out of the tail boom, and flares bright as the sun flew from the Black Hawk's underbelly, all in an effort to thwart the missile lock that had them zeroed in.
"Hang on," the crew chief called out.
As Everett sat and strapped in, a sudden bright explosion rent the side of the Black Hawk, throwing shrapnel into the large right-side T700/CT7 engine. Large chunks of hot metal severed the fuel lines, and the rest shot up and into the composite rotors, removing huge chunks from the aerodynamic edges. The big chopper keeled over to the right far farther than its pilot intended. The copilot was on the radio screaming mayday and that they were under attack.
"Jesus Christ," Ryan screamed as he braced himself against the aluminum bulkhead.
"If this is for my benefit, I admit, you got me," Jack said loudly.
With the rotors vibrating, the Black Hawk shuddered and started to fall from the sky. Then one of the four blades flew from the hub and the rest of the rotors sheared away because of the massive torque placed upon the unbalanced rotor assembly.
"Oh, shit," Everett said as he saw the ground rushing up to meet the falling aircraft. "Hang on, this is going to be sudden!"
The Black Hawk luckily slammed into the false dilapidated roof of the hangar building of gate 1. It careened back into the air and actually slid through the air, finally landing on its belly, minus its rotors. The Black Hawk slid about a hundred feet through the Nevada scrub, and then the airframe hit a large rise of sand and flew back into the air and onto her left side, tearing free the landing gear assembly. She finally came to rest, her right-side engine burning.
"Get the hell out!" Everett yelled as they all unfastened their seat belts, holding on to each other because of the awkward position with the Black Hawk lying on its side.
As Everett first reached the doorway, a hand shot through and pulled him up. He saw that it was one of the gate 1 security men dressed in his desert camouflage. As Everett turned to assist the others, several loud thumps slammed into the bottom of the chopper.
"Hey, someone's taking potshots at us!" Mendenhall called from the interior.
Everett turned to the lone security man.
"Where in the hell is the rest of the security element?"
"Out. We were hit twenty minutes ago; all hell is breaking loose down in the complex."
Finally, Ryan was the last man lifted from the downed Black Hawk. Everett, Rodriguez, and Mendenhall had already drawn their nine-millimeters and were firing into the hangar.
"In case you didn't know it, Captain, we're outgunned here," Jack said as he took cover next to Carl.
"You haven't missed a beat — same old song and dance, outnumbered and outgunned," Carl said as he fired two rounds into the dark, then risked a look back at the colonel. "Welcome home, Jack," he said with a smirk.
The air suddenly filled with a loud buzzing. The sound was almost recognizable as a V-22 Osprey, but the engine noise was different; it had more of a whine to it.
"Are the marines landing here at Nellis?" Mendenhall asked as he fired, emptying his weapon.
"I hope it's them," Ryan said just as his gun jammed.
Without warning, the hangar's interior lights were turned on and alarms started sounding. They could see close to fifty men inside as they suddenly tossed off goggles and held their hands to their eyes in the brightness of the floodlights.
"Well, someone back in the complex finally woke the hell up," Will said, pushing in another clip of ammunition.
Collins reached out, took a set of binoculars from the case of the camouflaged security man, brought them to his eyes, and rose up above the protection of the helicopter.
"Damn, I count over forty, no, fifty-plus bad guys… and… no, wait… cease-fire…. cease-fire, damn it!" Jack called out. "They have hostages! What in the hell is happening here? Damn, they have the director."
Everett pulled the glasses from Jack and looked inside.
"Alice, the senator, Niles, Virginia—" he called out, and then he became silent, turned, and slid down the fuselage to a sitting position after seeing one other person who was being carried by two men in dark Nomex.
The sky above them screamed as a large aircraft, a kind they had never seen before, shot overhead and then flared at the last moment before flying headlong into the facade of the old hangar. It was an unrecognizable tilt-rotor craft. Then another and another, until the fourth set down outside the hangar. Large and fierce looking, the aircraft had two loud and piercing jet engines in the place of the turbofan propellers of the American V-22 Osprey. As they landed, the engines pivoted, and were positioned to pull the aircraft instead of providing it with lift.
As the security men of the Event Group watched helplessly, the hostile element was seen running with their captives to a lowering rear ramp. The tilt-engine craft was large enough to accommodate all of them easily. In two minutes, the black-painted aircraft revved its engines, pushed out of the hangar, and was airborne in five seconds. It shot low over the desert and was soon climbing. The other men ran to their assigned craft and loaded. Everett was impressed with the time it took to load their assault element. The egress from the landing zone was all done in less than thirty seconds.
Mendenhall tugged at Everett's sleeve and pointed into the dark sky. Two F-22 Raptors, America's newest top-of-the-line fighters, shot through the air in pursuit of the attacking craft.
"Inform Nellis combat ops to observe only, not to engage. American hostages are onboard," Carl said to Ryan as he commenced broadcasting with the handheld radio.
The sound of more fighters were heard as they went to afterburner to get airborne from the airstrip at the main base. Mendenhall counted ten in all, including the two already in pursuit of the attackers.
Finally, Collins sat hard into the sand and looked at Everett. "How in the hell could they have gotten in and kidnapped the four highest ranking people we have?"
Carl didn't answer right away. Instead he looked at his friend and hoped Jack was going to accept what he had to say.
"Jack, they're not the only people they took." He looked from Collins to Ryan, who was still talking with combat operations at Nellis. "I swear, I thought she was at home recovering," he finally said.
Jack didn't ask who. He just waited.
"They took Sarah."
Collins looked from Carl to the ground, and then slowly stood and stared out to the east, in the direction the strange aircraft had taken.
Ryan lowered the radio and Will Mendenhall looked from the sky to the colonel. Everett rose and watched as Jack Collins started walking determinedly toward the now-empty hangar. All three noticed he walked without the slightest bit of fatigue showing in his step.
The assault on the Event Group home had awakened a man who was not in the frame of mind to allow this attack to go unanswered.
As the F-22 Raptors took up station behind the four stubby winged aircraft, they saw their airspeed had vaulted just past the speed of sound, impossible for a tilt-jet airframe. Still, there it was, their instruments confirming that they were indeed creeping toward mach 1.4.
Every threat detector on all ten fighters suddenly illuminated and started screaming their warnings into the headphones of every pilot in the flight.
Overhead, the missiles that had been launched off the coast of New Jersey two hours before had been on glide mode until a signal was received by the strange lead craft the fighters were pursuing. Then the six cruise missiles dipped their rounded noses and streaked for the fighters far below. Suddenly the outer casings of reinforced composite material ripped free, sending three separate parts flying into the air, and releasing ten separate radar-guided missiles. Now instead of six missiles to contend with, the Raptors were faced with sixty. The odds failed to register with the air force pilots as they broke formation and started to scatter, trying to avoid the sixty projectiles heading right for them. Threat detectors warbled, and chaff and flares started to fly from each of the Raptors in the hopes of confusing the incoming threats. Each of the ten Americans couldn't believe their stealthy craft were being picked up so easily.
By twos the fighters screamed high overhead. Vacationers visiting Las Vegas turned their heads skyward as each jet slammed their throttles to their stops, going to afterburner in their attempted escape of the planned ambush. The guests of Las Vegas's fabulous hotels oohed and ahhed as even more bright flares of exhaust converged on the Raptors, which each had seven missiles targeted upon it.
The crowds gathered on the strip were suddenly startled when the smaller flares of fire merged with the larger exhausts of the F-22s, and bright flashes of explosions lit up the already bright Las Vegas night. They watched as two of the American fighters dove and then jinked, out-maneuvering their attackers. The Raptors flew so low that one of the composite wings smashed through the great light above the pyramid of the Luxor Casino, sending glass and debris raining down upon the running crowd.
Another Raptor was struck as it tried the same maneuver as the first two, but it wasn't as lucky. The radar-seeking missile exploded just as it pulled up from its dive. Shrapnel pierced the canopy, killing the pitot immediately, and then the plane careened off the roof of the old Flamingo Hotel and crashed into a parking garage across the street.
All told, the ambush that was ordered and launched two full hours before the attack on the Event Group complex to cover the escape of the terrorists had claimed five lives at the base and eight lives in the air.
The four large aircraft continued on their way without any further hostile actions by the United States. Their course: the Gulf of Mexico.
At the late hour, the president insisted the national security briefing take place in the less dramatic Oval Office instead of the war room below the White House. He was tired and he was angry. He listened to the briefing by the navy secretary without comment.
"Sir, we have the escort plan for the four supertankers we're attaching to the Nimitz battle group. The Nimitz is currently steaming to their appointed rendezvous and will join with the Royal Navy, who is escorting the four tankers. They plan to make the Atlantic run from Devonport, England, and convoyed by the frigates HMS Monmouth, HMS Somerset, and the Royal Navy submarine HMS Trafalgar. At the same time, we are coordinating a simultaneous convoy with the Chinese — they have a group leaving Venezuelan waters tomorrow with a Chinese battle group surrounding the two tankers. Our mysterious enemy cannot be in two places at once."
At that moment the president's secretary entered the office and gave him a message. He read it and then passed it around the room.
"Nellis?" he asked the secretary of defense.
"Damn it, the missile launch from the Atlantic made contact with ten F-22 Raptors out of Nellis," General Caulfield explained to the fifteen men in the room. "Eight were destroyed by a cruise missile system undocumented by any intelligence service."
"Do we have anything happening at Nellis that would warrant an attack?" Fuqua asked, looking to the secretary of the air force.
"Nothing. Red Flag is there — war games, that's it at the moment," the secretary answered.
The president lowered his head for the briefest of moments when he realized what else was at Nellis Air Force Base.
"Gentlemen, proceed with your plans, and keep me informed. For now, please excuse me."
The secretary escorted the security council from the office as the president turned, opened his top left drawer, brought out a small laptop computer, and opened the lid. He tapped in a command and then waited. A simple line appeared: DEPARTMENT 5656. The president waited, but no one came online.
"Jesus," he mumbled as he picked up the phone and dialed a ten-digit number. He pulled the phone away from his ear when there was a loud screech and then a recorded voice.
"The federal agency you are trying to reach is currently experiencing an emergency shutdown. This is a temporary situation. Please try this department at a later time."
The president lowered the phone into its cradle and leaned back in his chair. The feeling that he was nothing more than an amateur started to creep into his thoughts. Nellis being the target of a missile attack and the Event Group being offline was not just a coincidence, but because of the Group's secrecy from Congress and the law-enforcement community, there wasn't much he could do at the moment. For now he would have to wait for Niles to let him know just what in the hell was going on out there.
It would be a long night for the president of the United States.
Jack, Everett, Ryan, and Mendenhall assisted the injured pilots, crew members and the field security team into the complex using the giant elevator inside the hangar. As the grated floor cleared the first level, they could hear alarms sounding from below.
"Whatever happened here, happened on my watch. Jack, I don't know…"
"Stow it for now, Captain. Someone opened the door for these people. Our men can't be expected to secure the complex if someone's passing out keys to the damn locks."
Everett slowly nodded, not at all appeased he had failed the Group.
The elevator hit level 3 and the men were met by security, who at first stared in shock as Jack Collins stepped from the large platform. Men and women gathered at the loading dock and stared at the man who had returned from the dead. A sergeant wearing the insignia of an army soldier stepped up and saluted the colonel, then turned and looked at Captain Everett, his immediate commander.
"Sir, we have five dead and seventeen wounded. Thirty-two tranquilized Group members, one of whom is in shock. We have damage to gate two and gate one. We have five missing personnel that we assume have left the complex with the hostile assault element."
"Thank you, Sergeant. Has all power been restored?"
"Yes, sir, Dr. Golding has all systems back online."
Jack didn't wait to hear anymore as he started for the elevator across from the loading dock.
"Carry on, Sergeant. Lockdown is to be strictly enforced. Get every available security man and shut this place down tighter than a drum."
"Yes, Captain."
As the elevator doors opened on level seven, Jack stood in the doorway for a brief moment. The hallway facing them was a tangle of wires, broken plastic, and personnel. They all turned and saw who it was standing just outside the elevator doors looking at them. All were shocked to see the colonel, and one by one, they broke their paralysis and made their way to greet him as he stepped into the hallway. He was patted on the back and heard whispers of welcome home. Then he saw a familiar face parting the crowd in an attempt to reach the elevator.
"Colonel?" Pete Golding was shocked beyond words as he stared at Jack.
"Doc, I take it we had a problem?" Collins said as he took Golding's hand in his own and shook.
"They hit hard and fast, Colonel," Pete said sadly. He escorted the four men past the Group personnel and finally entered the computer center, where Pete sat on the edge of one of the desks.
Jack saw the damage to the bulletproof glass and the blood that still streamed down the wall nearest the door.
"It was my fault. I assumed the virus planted in Europa had run its course after having delivered the message. I never considered that the virus would mutate at a chosen time and shut down all security systems and… and… well, everything, just everything."
Collins looked at Everett and shook his head. Everett had given a complete report on what was happening in the world since his trip to Valhalla, but Carl just didn't know how much of the information Jack had retained.
"Doc, is Europa online?"
"Well, her peripheral systems, such as lights and phones, yes. But until I can tear down her advanced programs and find that bug, she won't be of help to us for at least twelve hours."
Jack patted him on the back. "Get whatever help you need, even if you have to bring in the Cray people, but get her up. We need her." Jack shook Pete's shoulder until he finally looked up. "Is there anything else, Pete?"
Golding looked away and then down at the floor.
"We tried to help her, Colonel. She was right there in front of us, but we couldn't get to her."
"Who?" Everett asked,
"Sarah. She was fighting back… hell… she was the only one fighting after security was taken out. When we thought they were going to kill her, a man came out of nowhere and stopped them. They took him also." He looked into Jack's eyes. "I'm sorry, Jack."
With a pat on Golding's back, Collins looked around the computer center at the many technicians that were already tearing into Europa's peripheral systems. He knew Pete would have to head for the clean room to get into her deep-seated programming. He decided to leave Golding to his daunting task.
"By the way, Doc," Jack said, turning around and facing Pete before he reached the door. "You're in temporary command of the department — acting director. We'll meet again in a few hours, so get a replacement lined up in the comp center." Jack looked at his watch. "Until then, I'll report to the president — he'll want to speak with you, so don't get lost."
Pete watched Jack as he turned for the door. He was in shock that the chain of ascension had never once occurred to him during this entire god-awful mess. Then he remembered something.
"Colonel Collins?"
Jack stopped but didn't turn around, but Everett, Ryan, and Mendenhall did.
"I have to meet with you and the captain in private. I may have discovered who the mole and traitor is. However, I need Europa to assist me in confirming it. Also, the man that saved Lieutenant McIntire's life—"Pete bit his lower lip and acted nervous, but continued after a moment's pause. "It was the Frenchman — Henri Farbeaux."
Collins closed his eyes as his jaw muscles clenched. Then he took a deep breath and left the center.
"Jesus, this is getting better and better," Mendenhall said as he kicked at a large chunk of still smoldering wiring on the floor.
An hour later, Pete was on his back inside the Europa XP-7 clean room, where the brain of the system was housed. Pete had several clear programming rods in his mouth as he battled with a series of fiberoptic lines. Jack was watching him after showering, shaving, and getting a shortened checkup at the infirmary, only after promising he would be back for a more thorough exam.
His memory was retuning nicely, but the days leading up to his release were still fogged with more questions than answers. The doctor had the opinion that this memory loss may have been intentional because she found a substance in his blood that corresponded with induced coma. She suspected Jack was intentionally kept in a comatose state.
Everett joined him inside the clean room, which was anything but at that moment. None of the ten technicians present were dressed in electrostatic clothing or face masks.
"Jack, I placed Ryan and Mendenhall in charge of gathering everything we have on the attack. As soon as Pete hands off his duties to a replacement, I would suggest he continue on his mole hunt — that alone could answer a lot of questions for us."
"Agreed," Collins said as he watched Pete finally replace the crystal programming parts back inside the giant mainframe. Jack leaned over and turned on the microphone that would feed his voice into the programming chamber. "Doc, we have an appointment to keep in five minutes, and I don't think he likes to be kept waiting."
"We also have this, Jack." Everett held out a plastic-covered sample pack. Inside was a silvery substance. "There is no record of an accelerant such as this — highly flammable, very stable."
Jack looked it over and gave it back with no comment.
Pete was still sitting on the floor as he looked up through the thick glass. He pushed his glasses back up his sweating nose and saw it was the colonel, and instead of protesting about his time being usurped, he just nodded his understanding at the same moment another man entered.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, but you have to leave now. When I reboot Europa's systems, fun time is over and everyone goes back to playing by the clean room rules."
Everett stepped out of the way of the small man. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Jack had to smile because he knew that Carl and Dr. Gene Robbins did not ever see eye to eye about anything.
"Well, the little dictator of the clean level has arrived," Everett said.
Robbins ignored Everett and turned to Jack.
"Colonel, it is nice to see you again. Believe me when I say that your return was most welcome, and it made us in the computing division very happy. Welcome home," he said, turning to look at Everett. "I assume, Captain, you have some bad guys to shoot and torture or something else heroic, so, if you'll excuse me." He reached over and informed Pete they were ready for the restart.
Jack raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, and then quickly stepped back out of Robbins's way while nodding for Everett to join him in the corner of the clean room.
"God, what an ass," Everett whispered.
"Yeah, but he's good at what he does."
"That's one of the things that's so infuriating about him."
"I'm glad you two get along so well," Pete said as he joined the two men, rolling his sleeves down. "Because you just met my replacement, the man who'll be assisting you, Captain, in your quest to find the mole."
Jack smiled as he clapped Everett on the back.
Everett didn't notice Jack and Pete leave the room. He was busy thinking about the time he would have to spend with the most irritating and infuriating man in all creation.
Pete Golding sat down behind the desk of the director, never feeling more out of place in his life. Collins nodded that the link had been made, and the president was in and up at five thirty in the morning. The large monitor that was sided by fifty others came to life with the seal of the president. Then the picture switched to the man himself sitting at his desk in the Oval Office. A questioning look crossed the president's features as he quickly saw that it wasn't Niles on the Nellis end.
"Dr. Golding, isn't it?"
"Uh, yes, Mr. President. As you may have heard, we've had some trouble here, both at the complex and Nellis itself."
"I've been briefed on the air force losses, but nothing from your end." The president looked uncomfortable, but continued, "Doctor, why aren't I being briefed by Dr. Compton?" he asked worriedly.
"Sir, Niles, Dr. Pollock, Alice Hamilton, Senator Lee, and one of our officers, Sarah McIntire, were taken by the terrorist element that attacked the complex."
The president grew quiet for a moment. Hearing about the loss of his friend hit him hard, but he knew he couldn't allow that to hinder his thinking.
"So, it all falls to you, Dr. Golding. Let's start with the how. How in the hell did they get into my most secure reservation and kidnap my people?"
"We believe the Long Island meeting was a ruse to get our top security element away from the Group. They were not only one step ahead of us with the nonlethal ambush of the FBI, but actually two steps ahead with their assault here in Nevada. In both cases, none of these events could have been accomplished without inside assistance from our end."
"Jesus!" The president forced himself to calm down and then looked into his camera. "Doctor, do you need a team of air police or marines to cover your complex and assist Captain Everett while you put the pieces back together out there?"
"Actually, I have a man here that would like to speak to you; he's back home and has assumed his duties."
Jack Collins sat at the small conference table and pulled one of the camera-equipped monitors toward him.
The face of the president did not register a reaction at first, but stared into his monitor with a quizzical look.
"I'm getting that reaction a lot tonight," Jack said.
"Colonel Collins, how in the hell are you?"
It was a greeting from one soldier to another. Jack smiled and nodded his head.
"I'm fine, sir. From what I'm told, I've been boating with the same people that hit us tonight. I have very little memory of my time with them, but I'm working on it, with the help of modern science."
"Yeah, I can imagine what it is they want to do to you. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to let Captain Everett handle duties there for a while?"
"No, sir, we have missing people and it would drive me crazy sitting on the sidelines. Captain Everett is still in charge of Group security, and I'm going to assist."
"Well, Colonel, I am surely in no position to argue your point. As you may or may not know, we've got a serious threat on our hands. The navy has informed me that we may be dealing with an unknown who is equipped with far superior sciences. Now we have an economic knife at our throat, and the blade's going to start digging in."
"I see," Jack said as he turned and looked at Pete who was again biting his lower lip and absentmindedly cleaning the lenses of his glasses.
"Colonel, we are commencing convoy escorts tomorrow. I cannot allow a terrorist threat to damage our economy. So any information you may come across, inform me right away." The president took a deep breath, looking tired and frustrated.
"We will, sir."
"Colonel, you did an extraordinary job in the Med. Welcome home."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
"Dr. Golding, get me a line on who in the hell we're dealing with and a way to find them."
Pete was about to answer when the monitor went dark.
"Jesus, what a damn mess," he said as he turned to look at Jack across the room.
"Yeah, Doc, it is. Now let's go start cleaning it up."
Niles, Virginia, Alice, and Senator Lee watched as Sarah checked on the condition of Henri Farbeaux. The Frenchman had been out cold for most of the flight south. It was only in the past few minutes he had started mumbling. Only Sarah caught the name: Danielle. She even heard a small whimper escape the colonel's lips. Sarah moved a lock of hair from his eyes and studied the man's face. She still hadn't said anything about the reasons for Farbeaux's arrival at the complex to Niles or the others — she would keep that to herself for the time being, for reasons she didn't fully understand herself.
"How is he doing?" Niles asked from his seat at the left side of the strange aircraft.
Sarah turned and looked at the fifteen soldiers that had assisted in carrying out the raid. Most were sleeping, and a few were joking and talking — just like soldiers the world over. Thus far, the tall man, the brute in charge, had not deigned to join them since their departure. Not one word had been spoken to them during the flight other than an offer of coffee. Right now, they couldn't care less about their conversations.
"The tranq they used was a powerful one. Getting hit in the neck probably has something to do with his being out so hard."
"As long as I live, I will never be able to understand our friend here," Senator Lee said, nodding at Farbeaux as he gently moved his right shoulder so that Alice wouldn't awaken.
"He's a dangerous man," Virginia said without much sympathy.
"They wanted to kill him. He did, after all, save young McIntire's life, making him somewhat of an enigma," Lee said.
"Niles, what was the final word from Captain Everett?"
"The last communication was that they recovered the package and were on the way back. I didn't allow him the opportunity to specify what the package was because of the communication security concerns," Compton said, answering Virginia's question.
"Well, I hope Mr. Everett turns out to be as good a sleuth as Jack—" The senator stopped short of finishing his sentence as he looked at Sarah.
She slowly stood as Alice awoke, hearing Garrison Lee cross a boundary. Even in sleep, she had to babysit the man.
"Look, all of you have to quit tiptoeing around me about Jack. I'm a soldier first, and sometimes we lose people. So don't fool yourselves thinking I'll fall to pieces every time someone mentions his name. Please, knock it the hell off."
The four people looked at her and said nothing.
"Brave little Sarah — sometimes I wish I were half as brave. But, who is fooling whom?"
Sarah turned and looked down at Colonel Farbeaux, who was on one elbow and looking up at her. He removed the damp cloth and held it at arm's length, looking at it.
"A courtesy to a fallen enemy?" he said as he let the cloth slip through his fingers to the rubberized deck.
"Sarah has always had an affinity for injured animals," Virginia said, to the shock of the others.
"Indeed, and I assure you, Ms. Pollock, this animal is appreciative of her humane efforts," Farbeaux said, his eyes locking briefly onto Virginia's.
"Thus far, Colonel, we are at a loss as to why you chose this particular moment to visit the Event Group. Was it just taking advantage of an opportunity, curiosity, or some darker intent?" Niles asked as he stood and handed Farbeaux a cup of lukewarm coffee.
"Ah, Director Compton, we finally meet in person." As he sipped the coffee, Farbeaux looked over and saw the old man with the eye patch. He immediately sat up, even though it hurt his head. "The legendary Senator Lee. I am truly in esteemed company," he said as he half-bowed.
"Always nice to be admired by one's enemy; it could someday work to my advantage," Lee said, nodding toward the colonel.
"As you know from our dealings in the past, Director Compton, opportunity has been linked to my name from time to time."
Silence met Farbeaux's answer as suddenly a soft whine filled the cabin. The pitch of the twin jet engines changed, and the angle of the craft went nose down. For the first time during the flight, the large assault leader made his way back toward them from the cockpit. He nodded at a few of the rougher looking men as he passed them. Then he was looking down at his six captives as the first rays of the sun came through the cabin windows.
"We are at our rendezvous point. If you will watch out of the left side of the aircraft, our pilot has graciously arranged a view none of you have ever witnessed before." The man slowly sat down in an unoccupied seat next to Farbeaux, who eyed him with disdain and stood on shaky legs, holding a strap. "Please, sit down, relax, I think you'll quite enjoy this. Let's call it a learning experience," the man said in his Irish-tinged accent.
The aircraft lost altitude much faster than any commercial plane could have. Because of the stubby wing design, the extreme tolerances experienced by the airframe held up during the steep dive to the sea below. Farbeaux had to sit down quickly, trying not to spill the coffee.
"Normally, the aircraft would hover over the water and then retract her wings and seal her intakes, thus allowing us to dive underneath the waves and meet our host. However, a demonstration of what your country — and others — is dealing with was deemed necessary." The man looked at the faces sitting opposite him as the craft came within six hundred feet of the wave tops below.
As they watched out of the left side, a piercing tone penetrated their inner ears. Niles and the others covered their heads with their hands.
"Apologies, but we mark our location with a signal that penetrates water efficiently. The burst you hear was a coded transmission that also included our altitude and location to within half an inch. We wouldn't want any accidents. Whales and dolphins also hear an embedded tone below that of human hearing, so this is a warning to them also to clear the area."
The tone ended abruptly and they all watched the surface of the water far below. The gulf was calm as dawn broke, allowing the sun to dapple the waters with gleaming speckles of light. Suddenly the waters seemed to turn a lighter shade of green about three hundred yards to the side of the aircraft. Niles chanced a look at the tall man, who was watching their reaction with a smile. When Compton turned back to the large window, he saw giant bubbles breaking the surface of the gulf. Several of them were at least a hundred feet in diameter and rose another fifty feet into the clear air before bursting apart in what looked like an explosion of vapor.
"Good God," Lee said as he watched in amazement.
They saw a shape rising from the depth of the clear sea. They would never know that this particular spot in the gulf was chosen specifically for its clarity. They watched as the bow of the great vessel rose through the depths, rounded and giant. The submarine broke the surface of the gulf of Mexico with an explosion of white water and sea spray, then kept rising as if it were fighting to free itself of an unwanted and hostile environment. It rose, seemingly never ending, and then rose even more. They saw the conning tower break the surface as it telescoped to its sky-reaching 125-foot height, and still the monster breached the air and sea with its length. It came from the sea like a mythical beast as it balanced in a perfect set-piece motion of a moment frozen in time.
"I cannot believe this!" Niles said, almost gasping for air as he watched.
The massive submarine finally reached a point where its forward bulk outweighed its stern and the giant ship started to fall toward the sea below. The gulf beneath its hull was crushed as the behemoth crashed into the water, sending forth a wave two hundred feet into the air. The mist from the top of the wave reached as far as the hovering aircraft.
Niles started measuring with his mind's eye. The vessel was well over a thousand feet in length, possibly more. He couldn't begin to calculate her displacement tonnage, but it had to outweigh any ship in the naval arsenals of the world. Larger than a Nimitz class carrier, the submarine was unlike any vessel any of them had ever laid eyes on. The hull had clean lines and was rounded even upon the upper deck. The conning tower was a giant structure that angled aerodynamically, and was made to align itself deep into the hull when submerged, obviously for speed purposes.
Niles could see two large, finlike, harsh triangles — powerful-looking bow-planes slicing the waters just under the surface — and then finally two towering, angled, hundred-foot-long, fifty-foot-high tail fins sprang from the sea like the dorsal fins of a monster shark. As they held their breath, the vessel's bow opened up and revealed a glass nose hidden under a retractable armor front, and they could see that the glass covered at the very least ten decks of the forward parts of the vessel. The giant submarine continued to run on the surface, sending out very little tail wake from her power plant at the stern. Seagulls, after the initial shock of her arrival, started flocking around the skyscraperlike conning tower, mistaking it for land because of its size.
"On behalf of my captain, I welcome you to Leviathan."
Lee turned and looked at the man, who was watching them all with an intent gaze. He recalled a poem from the time of the Civil War, which he memorized in his college days and deemed appropriate now that the man had placed a name to the great vessel.
" 'Lo, as I am swallowed by the salt-laden waters, I am cursed to behold the shape and dark intent of my enemy, the very destroyer of men, thus as I am laid asunder, water invading my soul, there, under the waves, travels the monstrous grace of Leviathan, God of the Sea, and Master of the World.'"
As the four tilt-wing aircraft started forward, the lead craft banked hard and started settling for the deck of Leviathan. As it approached, two large doors, over seventy feet in length and just aft of the conning tower, parted and rose into the air, revealing a cavernous hangar deck. Niles watched as crewmen far below prepared to take on the four aircraft. The hovering VTOLs aligned perfectly with the fast-moving vessel and settled into her bowels. Compton took the opportunity to examine the open section of hull and counted five distinct layers of a material that to his untrained eye resembled titanium, or steel, but seemed porous. He was amazed when he realized he wasn't looking at metal at all — he was staring at what he thought must be a composite material similar to nylon.
The tilt-wing settled to the deck and her engines started to spool down. Then one of the other craft settled beside them and the remaining flight behind. Compton turned and sat in his seat while looking at the others.
"This is not the first such vessel to carry the name," Lee commented.
The tall man rose from his seat and completely removed his body armor, his eyes watching Lee. The rest of his men were now fully awake and seemingly glad to be home as they joked and made their way to the rolling stairs that had been pushed into place.
"Correct, Senator. This is the third vessel to carry the name Leviathan," he said, handing his armor and weapon to the nearest man.
Niles looked at Garrison Lee, who winked. "Vault 298907, level seventy-three, inactive file."
Recognition etched Compton's face as he remembered one of the Group's more prized possessions. He knew what vault the senator had referred to, and now he knew one of the reasons for the vault's destruction.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you would follow me, please." The man hesitated and looked at Henri Farbeaux. "I will ask you for your word as a gentleman to behave upon this vessel. We will tolerate no activities that may harm the crew or systems aboard. If you can't agree to this request, we can set you adrift before diving. You will be picked up within the day, I assure you."
Farbeaux stood and looked at their host and then at Niles and Sarah, who in turn were looking at him expectantly.
"Why of course, my word as a gentleman," he said without a trace of humor.
The man held the colonel's gaze a moment, trying to detect any form of deceit, and then he turned for the large doorway.
As they gained the stairs, they saw at least a hundred men and women moving about the hangar deck. They were busy with tasks such as washing the four aircraft down, freeing them from metal-eating salt. A loudspeaker echoed among the fifteen helicopters and four tilt-winged aircraft.
"Stand by to secure hangar doors. All hands make ready for submerged operations."
Garrison Lee leaned on his cane as Alice placed one of her hands on top of his and watched the sunlight of the outside world be slowly shut out. The giant doors hissed closed above them with a finality that made Alice cringe slightly.
Sarah watched the crew members around them as they secured the tilt-wings to the hangar deck with long nylon straps, using come-alongs to tighten them to piano-wire tightness. Arrayed along the wall were projected and enhanced electronic readouts displaying the exact weight of what was carried in the hangar. She was amazed that an object that could travel under the sea could tolerate such weight, as it had to be a hindrance to their speed. She was also amazed at the ethnic makeup of the crew; black, white, Asian, and others worked together side by side with children not more than sixteen.
The tall man was again watching them.
"If I may ask, what is your function aboard this vessel? Or are you just the resident killer and kidnapper?" Niles asked as he rolled down the sleeves of his white shirt. The eyes behind his glasses held firm against the glare from the tall man.
He smiled at last — a cold, mean-spirited smile.
"I follow my orders. However, I am the resident security specialist and special forces commander for Leviathan—Sergeant Tyler, Benjamin Tyler. And if I hadn't been good at what I do, the people back at your ridiculous little complex would be burying quite a few more associates today." Tyler gestured toward a young woman who was standing by at one of the larger consoles awaiting his orders.
They watched as the young woman walked over. She was dressed in a red shirt and blue shorts, different from the hangar deck crew who wore blue jumpsuits, not unlike the military members at the Event Group. Her brown hair was braided — coiling around both ears — and her smile was genuine. Her eyes were deep and dark blue, with a ring of soft silver around the pupils. She was an amazing-looking girl.
"This is Yeoman Felicia Alvera. She will show you to your quarters so you may rest and change clothes. We are conducting operations this afternoon, so your lunch will be served in your staterooms. The captain sends apologies."
"When you say operations, you mean attacking merchant shipping and killing more innocents?" Niles asked.
"Is there such a thing as innocence in your world, Doctor? Even in this world we have our faults, and at times, very little innocence." Tyler turned and strode quickly away.
"I must apologize for the sergeant. He has his manner; that's why we don't allow him out very much," the yeoman said, smiling. She saw her humor did not sit well with Leviathan's new guests, so she cleared her throat and gestured to her right. "If you'll follow me, please."
Niles allowed the senator and Alice to fall into place behind the woman so he could assist the former director if he needed it. Virginia, unusually quiet, stepped up and took Niles by the arm as if fearful of something or to keep Niles in check with his insults, he wasn't sure.
"After you, dear Sarah," Farbeaux said with a wave of his arm.
"Colonel, just because there are no armed guards on us does not mean we are not being watched."
"I've already spotted ten security cameras, my dear, and they are tracking us, indeed. Someone is quite interested in our little group."
Sarah just realized who it was she had given the warning to. This man had a sense about him that others could only dream of. He was a survivor beyond measure and a master predator. She decided she would keep close to Henri Farbeaux. She took his arm to steady him and they followed the others.
The group stepped into a plastic-lined, carpeted elevator that blended well with the bulkhead. The yeoman waited until all were inside and then said aloud, "Deck ten."
As the elevator doors closed silently, they all felt the movement of the car. In just about ten seconds, they felt the elevator glide to a soft stop, then another strange feeling began and that was when they realized they were moving horizontally. They followed their progress on a multicolored chart on the wall that depicted their car moving at a rapid gait along a multitiered grid. The elevator traveled another thirty seconds and then stopped. The doors slid open with only the slightest hiss.
"Deck ten."
Sarah looked at Alice and Virginia as the computerized female voice controlling the elevator announced their deck.
"Is that—?"
"If not, she has a sister," Niles said as he commented on the computer-controlled voice. They were all startled when they realized it had the same sexy and embarrassing audible print as their own Europa system at the Group.
"This woman must make a fortune doing these damn recordings," Sarah said as she followed the yeoman out of the elevator.
"If you're speaking of our computer's voiceprint, it may be just like your system." She gave a small laugh. "It's recorded by a little old lady in Akron, Ohio." She gestured for them to step free of the elevator. "She's seventy-six years old."
"Oh," Sarah said as she waited for Lee, Alice, Niles, and Virginia to catch up with her and Farbeaux. She frowned toward Alice. "Don't ever tell Carl, Ryan, or Mendenhall. It would shatter their fantasies about Europa's voice."
As they entered a very long and curving hallway, they saw magnificent laser prints of the oceans of the world lining the wall. Each was backlit and was a depiction of a bay, a sea, or a moonlight view of the Arctic. As they walked slowly behind the yeoman, they all stared at the design of the hallway. The material was unrecognizable. It had the look of hard plastic, but as each reached out to touch the material in turn, they knew it was something beyond their own engineering knowledge. It was soft in spots and hard in other areas. Large panels met at a stringer that felt and looked like painted titanium.
"All hands, prepare to dive." A loud horn sounded throughout the boat.
The wall, about five feet up from the floor, split, and a long panel slid down as it did. A stout-looking handrail slowly slid from the abcess.
"If you'll stop and take a handhold, this will only take a minute. The initial dive profile of Leviathan can be rather steep. We call it the 'the fall from grace.'" Yeoman Alvera smiled as she took hold of the steel-and-wood handrail.
"Nice," Sarah said, but taking ahold of the rail anyway.
"Dive, dive, dive." The voice was strong and clear over the hidden loudspeakers as a soft tone sounded throughout the boat warning of the dive.
The yeoman let go of the rail and stepped up to the senator and Alice.
"If you like, we have straps. Would you prefer that?"
Lee fixed the young girl with his one good eye.
"The day I need to wear a—"
"No thank you, young lady, we are fine," Alice said, giving Lee a harsh look.
As Yeoman Alvera returned to her spot, the deck suddenly angled down and they felt their stomachs go with it. Then they could tell by the centrifugal forces being applied that the speed of the great ship increased to unheard-of velocity. The young woman pointed to a red-numbered digital readout at the next bulkhead, twenty feet in front of them and over the next hatchway.
"Impossible," Niles mumbled.
The indicator was flashing numbers at an incredible rate. Their depth had gone from two hundred feet to six hundred in a matter of forty seconds. As Niles tried to follow the digital numbers, Leviathan started to level off and slow. Soon the LED readout at the bulkhead said that the massive boat was at nine hundred feet in depth. Then the readout changed and the numbers split, now showing not only depth but also speed.
"We will travel at this speed for the next — well, we'll be pretty steady for the time being."
Niles saw Leviathan was cruising at seventy knots with not so much as a shiver coursing through the vessel.
They continued on their way, not seeing another crew member on their journey. Then they came to the first stateroom.
"Mrs. Hamilton, we have put you in with Senator Lee. We believe those are the accommodations you are used to?"
Lee looked slightly embarrassed, but Alice just raised her left brow.
"Good, you'll find a fresh suit in the closet for the senator. We believe we got the size right, and a nice pantsuit for you, Mrs. Hamilton."
She opened the door and allowed the two to enter. They were surprised to find their accommodation would have rivaled anything on a modern cruise ship. There was a small living area complete with desk, separate bathroom with tub and shower, a completely stocked wet bar, and a large bed dominating the room. The motif was in greens and blues with rich wood paneling.
"These accommodations were specially built for this occasion. Normally the captain — well, let's just say our berthing areas are a little more spartan and functional."
As Niles stepped aside and allowed the girl to pass, he nodded at Lee and Alice and then closed their stateroom door.
"So, our abduction was planned for a while, at least long enough to refit this deck?" he asked, following the girl.
"Oh, yes," she said slightly turning her head and looking at Niles. "We were just unsure of how many to accommodate." She looked to her right at Colonel Farbeaux. "Unfortunately, we were only expecting two people from your Group. I'm afraid you'll have to double up in your staterooms for the time being."
Farbeaux looked down at Sarah and smiled. Sarah only rolled her eyes.
The girl caught the look and gestures. "You, sir, and Director Compton will be sharing a stateroom."
As they walked to their rooms, Farbeaux frowned and Niles cringed.
"Young woman, err… uh… Yeoman Alvera, is it?"
"Yes, Dr. Compton," she answered with her permanent smile in place.
"You know your captain, or whoever it is that is leading you, is quite mad. I mean… do you understand what you're attempting, although for a noble cause, would throw the world into total economic collapse?"
The yeoman stopped in midstride and looked at Virginia, Farbeaux, Sarah, and Niles one at a time, and for the first time her smile faltered. Also for the first time they saw the seriousness of the young woman.
"I understand completely your concern, but I can guarantee this matter has been thought out carefully and my captain has come to the conclusion that extreme measures must be taken now to stop the seas from dying. The incident in the Mediterranean has forced our…" She attempted an ill-fated smile, and then corrected herself, "the captain's hand."
"The Med — what does that have to do with this vessel and its intent?" Niles asked.
"Moreover, Dr. Compton," she continued, ignoring his second question, "you will find that the loyalty of this crew is beyond reproach. I was found when I was only seven years old. I had just witnessed my mother, father, and older brother die from a chemical spill. My captain found me in very bad shape, took me in, educated me, trained me, and made me a person of pride — I am even loved here. No, Doctor, you'll find no disloyalty onboard Leviathan, and you'll also not find one soul that doesn't approve of the methods employed by the captain."
Collins had just left the infirmary where Dr. Denise Gilliam had given him a complete physical and pronounced Jack officially alive and back from the dead. He tried to explain to her everything he remembered, even down to the strange dreams he had had, even the small creature in the bottle, the tentacled arms and clear body floating in a solution. Denise accepted all of this with raised brows but no comment on his sanity was forthcoming.
"Well, Colonel, I would say you have a combination of memory versus nightmare. The little octopus thing says nightmare, but voices in the dark says you weren't sleeping the whole time. I would say give it more time. Meanwhile I'll get your exams to Dr. Haskins when he returns from leave; we're shorthanded until then."
A knock sounded on the infirmary door. Mendenhall poked his head inside and held up a file folder. Jack excused himself and exited the clinic.
"We found this in the cafeteria," Will said as he handed Jack a blue-bordered folder with the single word and numbers on it.
"Vault 298907," he said aloud, and opened it as he walked.
"It was found at the table the chef remembers the senator and Alice were working from. It was the only folder there, found on a chair. The other files faxed out from Arlington for levels seventy-three and seventy-four were missing. The closed-circuit recording in the hallway verified they were in the possession of the assault element."
"Maybe it just fell off the table when—" Jack's words trailed off and he slowed his pace. He closed the file and thought a moment, and then started walking. Instead of going toward the comp center, he turned at the bank of elevators.
"Colonel?" Mendenhall said, standing at the elevator as Jack went inside.
"Go to the clean level and get Captain Everett. Then you and he meet me on level seventy-three, vault 298907."
Mendenhall was left standing there as the doors slid closed.
Jack could smell the burned plastic and carpeting before the elevator even came to a stop. The doors opened and he stepped out into the long, curving hallway. Europa had restored all of the electrical systems, and Collins could see fifty men combing through the wreckage of the vaults.
He shook his head and started forward, passing one of his security men who was armed with an M-16. He stepped through the now-dead security portal and into the vault area.
Professor Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III, head of the cryptozoology department, had volunteered for cleanup on the level, and so he had been placed in charge of documenting, cleaning, and restoring the artifacts that had been damaged. Collins saw the professor was still very upset at the wanton destruction of the vaults. Jack watched the professor run a hand through his wild white hair.
"Colonel Collins, it is so very good to see you. I and my crypto department were very pleased to hear—"
"Thanks, Professor," Jack said, knowing he couldn't take one more pleasurable greeting at how happy they were he had returned from beyond the river Styx. "Vault 298907?"
"Oh, uh… there's not much left, I'm afraid. It's right here." He gestured to the large vault three enclosures down from where they stood. "It seems that vault and the two nearest it received the brunt of the damage, possibly because of its size, and its fragile and dangerous content."
"Dangerous?"
Ellenshaw looked at his clipboard. "Oh yes, it seems there were five hundred batteries inside the artifact — old, but with enough dried acid to have reacted with the fire, causing a considerable explosion."
"Thanks, Professor," Jack said, patting him on the shoulder and making his way to the large vault with the scorched steel door standing ajar. "And Charlie, it's good to see you, too."
Ellenshaw smiled, nodded, and then went back to work, with a last look back at Collins.
Jack had to use the strength of both arms to push the door open. The vault was filled with temporary lighting that cast shadows on the burned and broken remains of the submarine recovered in 1967. Jack remembered it had been one of the first artifacts shown him upon being assigned to the Event Group. It was also one of the more intriguing items he had ever seen during his time here.
Jack opened the file, standing next to one of the temporary light stands, and read the vault synopsis. Carbon-14 dating had placed the submarine's age at 150 years, plus or minus ten years. He lowered the file and looked at what remained of the skeletal shape of her hull. The iron had melted away during the intense heat of the fire, and her battery system, one that had even shocked the few engineers brought in from General Dynamics' Electric Boat Division, was a melted lump at the bottom of the artifact. At one time, you could clearly see that this was once a miracle of technology.
Jack had been told that it had possibly been the model for Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. At the time it was wholly believable, because you could still make out the spiked conning tower and rounded bow. At more than three hundred feet in length and displacing twenty thousand tons, she was almost the exact model of today's advanced attack navy boats.
"She's a mess."
Jack turned and saw Everett and Mendenhall standing just inside the vault.
"That she is. Tell me, Carl, you're a navy man. If this sub was built before or just after the start of the Civil War, how far do you think the technology would have advanced by the present time?"
Everett entered and tried not to splash sooty water on his jumpsuit. He dodged a hanging piece of electrical line and placed a hand on what was once the curvature of the spherical bow.
"I couldn't begin to estimate the advances this science would have made if it wasn't checked. You think we're dealing with the same people who built this?"
"Why not? It makes sense. The fact that they destroyed a link to their past is convincing enough, but seeing this—"
"From looking at the outside in, Colonel, the notes on this investigation really had nothing to say. At least nothing stands out that would make them want this artifact destroyed."
Everett and Jack turned and looked at Mendenhall. They never remembered the new lieutenant using such a long sentence before.
"What?" Will asked, wondering what it was he had said wrong.
"You're right, Lieutenant, that's all," Collins answered. "What were they afraid of us uncovering from this boat?"
Everett and Mendenhall were as perplexed as Jack.
"Whatever it is, it's in this file, and in this wreck. Either something found during the original forensics on the artifact in nineteen sixty-seven, or something we may find now. So, we need someone combing through the file, and we need another workup on the remains."
"And hope it all wasn't burned to hell."
Jack slapped the file into Mendenhall's chest. "Right, Lieutenant. You have your job. Grab anyone you need, form any team, and get me an answer."
Will took the file and almost dropped it in the dirty water; his expression said that the order would be hard to complete.
"Yes, sir…. Can I have any doc or professor I want?"
"Yes, just grab them and go. We need answers, Lieutenant, so get it done."
The first officer climbed the spiral staircase slowly, making his way into the observation lounge on the lowest deck of the conning tower. He knocked, opened the hatch to the captain's private suite, and saw her sitting in the large, high-backed chair, staring silently out of the thirty-five-by-twenty-foot port window at the passing sea outside of the pressure hull.
"Captain, I am sorry to disturb you, but I thought you would want to know that you were right in what the presidents of the United States and Venezuela would try to do. We have confirmed the sailing orders of four crude oil tankers from Portsmouth this morning. They have Royal Navy escort, with at least one Trafalgar class submarine shadowing them."
"Venezuela?"
"Two tankers with Chinese and Venezuelan escort vessels," Samuels answered, looking away from the captain as he did. When he looked back up, he could tell the captain was thinking with eyes closed, as was the custom for the master of Leviathan.
"Will we allow them passage, as you wished to do this morning?"
As he watched she opened her eyes, and the first officer saw that at the moment she wasn't medicated. Her eyes were clear and full of fire — hate-filled and angry.
The captain stood in the green-tinted sea reflection mixed with the darkness, and then stepped from the raised platform. She stepped slowly to the large rounded window and held a gloved hand to the thick glass, then leaned against it with a sigh.
"Captain, are you all right? Would you like the doctor to—?"
"The planned attack is ready?"
"Yes, Captain, but your orders were to avoid any further bloodshed."
"I have a change of orders for you. You will target the warships only. Leave the tankers, they are to go on their way unmolested. I suspect a small deceit, at least on the British and American side of the board. I also do not want one Chinese or British warship, or the Americans if they join them, to ever see port again. Loss of life be damned." The captain slapped at the glass and then took a step back. "They are testing the wrong person, James; explain to them in no uncertain terms how Leviathan can be in two places at one time."
"Perhaps we can meet with our guests first…. I mean, Captain, we have the time; these vessels will take a week or more to reach their destinations. We could avoid the loss of life while we explain why we have taken actions in the Gulf of Mexico."
"Mr. Samuels, we need fortitude in doing what needs to be done. We are not fighting for ourselves. There has been too much loss of sea life in the Med to lose what we have in the gulf. Now, please, do as I command."
The first officer bowed his head. "Yes, Captain."
"James, you have never hesitated in following my orders before now. Perhaps you had better explain your hesitancy in this instance."
The first officer paused at the large hatchway, then slowly turned.
"I will never question your orders, Captain. However, you're countermanding everything you laid out before we sailed. I am wondering if maybe you're not telling me something — your health, the sessions with the doctor? And why is Sergeant Tyler present at most of these appointments?"
The face never turned from the window, but he could see that the captain's eyes were closed and she was biting her lower lip. For the life of him, he could swear she was in conflict deep within herself.
"I… I don't recall meeting with the…"
The words stopped as she turned and made her way back to the large chair, signaling an end to his questioning.
"I will report on the attack as soon as we have long-range damage assessment, Captain."
He waited for a response, but when none came he slowly left the private control room.
As the captain sat with eyes closed, she tried to remember the last medical session with the ship's surgeon, but she couldn't recall anything through the pain of her current headache. She remembered the early morning visits to the sickbay to check on Colonel Collins — those moments were clear, as she remembered forming her plans. If these other sessions had happened, why was Sergeant Tyler present? If he was, she must get an explanation as to why.
Niles heard the knock on the door just as Henri Farbeaux stepped from the bathroom, looked at him, and saw he made no move to answer it. He tossed the towel he was drying his hands on over his shoulder and opened the door.
"Excuse me, gentlemen. Our captain has asked that you join the first officer in the command center," a young-faced officer said, stepping aside and allowing the senator, Alice, and Virginia to step by him. "The others are ready to go, as you can see."
Niles, resplendent in his issued red jumpsuit, walked past Farbeaux and out into the companionway.
"Colonel?"
"I think I'll stay."
The officer kept his politeness. "The captain has informed us since you are an uninvited guest onboard, you are highly expendable, so please, Colonel, come with us."
Henri smiled, pulled his jumper top up, and bowed. "Your power of persuasion has moved me. I must thank your captain in person."
"You'll have that chance very soon, sir." The officer closed the door, the polite smile gone when he knew they could not see.
As they were shown to a rail overlooking the control center — the very brain of Leviathan—they were stunned. With the dimensions of a basketball court, it coursed with a pulse that was electric. At least sixty technicians operated stations that were unrecognizable to anyone but a science-fiction aficionado. There were large-screen monitors and 3-D displays of their surroundings. The tech stations were bathed in dim lighting of greens, blues, and reds. Sonar stations, weapons, environmental control — but that was as far as Niles and his knowledge went. The other stations were as much a mystery to him as the origins of this vessel. There were holograms showing the status of missilelike weapons and torpedoes. An even larger hologram, which showed the distinctive shape of Leviathan as she sliced through the sea underneath the surface, took up what they thought was the navigation platform. The navigation console was like a cartoon, animated and accurate in every detail.
"Officer of the deck, we are at station precisely three hundred miles offshore of Venezuela. We have multiple surface contacts. Air search is negative at this time," a female operator called out.
As they watched, they saw the first officer for the first time. The man was of normal height, maybe six feet, one inch. His hair was blond and he was clean-shaven. His uniform was impeccably starched, and it wasn't a jumpsuit. His attire was tan, almost as if he were serving in the U.S. Navy. He didn't sit in the large command chair that sat upon a raised platform, but stood at its side with his arm resting on the pedestal above as he studied the hologram of Leviathan and its surrounding waters in a five-hundred-mile circle.
"Very well. Long-range sonar, what do we have off the Scottish coast?"
Niles turned to a brown-suited Senator Lee, somewhat jealous that he and Alice were accorded the comfort of civilian clothes. Lee even had his customary bowtie.
"They have a sonar suite that can operate that far?"
"I suspect we may be in for a lot of surprises, Niles, my boy," Lee answered.
"We are picking up the power plant noises of the HMS Monmouth and her sister frigate Somerset; one Type 45 destroyer, HMS Daring; and one Type 42, HMS Birmingham. Two other destroyers have yet to join the convoy. We also have the prop signatures of VLCS tankers—Exxon Gale, Palace Guard, Texaco Sky, and the Shell Madrid. Propeller depth indicates fully loaded oil bunkers."
"Thank you. Weapons, give me a status report, please." The first officer bowed his head and closed his eyes as he listened to the reports.
"Torpedo tubes one through ten loaded with standard Mark eighty-nines. Standard war shot with delayed sonar activation; their computers are active in the tubes and tracking. Vertical tubes ten through fifteen are hot with type-forty Vengeance cruise missiles, and outer doors are ready at your discretion."
"Very well. Diving officer, make your depth three hundred; slow speed to five knots."
"Aye, chief of the boat, slow to five knots; make your attack depth three hundred."
The command was relayed to the helmsman and planesman sitting in airlinelike pilot seats. They wore strange-looking helmets that covered their entire heads as they watched their virtual-reality displays that were invisible to all others, followed their orders, and made their speed and depth adjustments. Leviathan started a climb toward the surface.
"Goddamn it, they're attacking two different convoys," Niles said, stepping forward.
Farbeaux quickly grabbed Niles by the arm and stayed him.
"Mr. Director, if they are forced to shoot you, a stray bullet may very well strike me, and that just would not do."
Niles closed his eyes and nodded, getting Farbeaux's meaning and intent. He was placing the others in jeopardy, and Henri pointed that fact out using his dry wit. Sarah nodded once in thanks, and Farbeaux looked at her intently.
"Officer of the deck, we are at station. IP is achieved."
"Thank you, helm. Weapons, you are free to launch forward tubes one through ten. Give me a full spread and let me know when the weapons have achieved station keeping."
"Aye." The weapons officer turned a key in his large console and then pushed the brightly illuminated buttons lining its top, one at a time, until they were all green.
Lee, Farbeaux, Virginia, and Lee all noticed that when it came to the launching of weapons, the crew of Leviathan used the old-fashioned, hands-on way, rather than trusting the holographic imagery technology.
"Tubes one through ten are empty, and torpedoes are free of the boat. All are traveling hot, straight, and normal." The weapons officer watched the large hologram in front of him. The small torpedoes (at least compared to the size of Leviathan) were seen traveling away from the red depiction of the submarine. "Weapons have stopped dead in the water and have gone to passive search. We have achieved station keeping for delayed-attack profile." The torpedoes floated in the water and were now arrayed like an open fan, just sitting there.
"Thank you, Mr. Hunter. You have permission to fire vertical tubes. You are weapons-free." The first officer lowered his head, brought his right hand to his chin, and waited. When the weapons officer reported all tubes and weapons were launched, the first officer chanced a look into the gallery fifty feet above the control center. He looked at each accusing face in the semidarkness above him, then just as quickly looked away.
They all watched the hologram at the center console as five missiles lifted away from her hull just forward of the conning tower. They traveled up and out of the water, which was represented by a soft green, wavy surface. Then, three hundred feet into the air, the five cruise missiles turned and headed east.
"Mr. Hunter, you have the conn. I'll be in my cabin."
"Aye, sir, I have the conn. Navigation, set your course to three-two-zero. Let's take her to the ice."
Niles took a deep breath and looked at the senator.
"Whoever they are, we just learned that they are entirely capable of doing what they threatened to do, and that means a very slow and very painful strangulation for the world."
The others turned and followed Niles out of the observation gallery, never knowing that eyes were on them from the deep recesses of the balcony overlooking both the gallery and the control center.
The captain of Leviathan stood motionless in the dark and watched the members of the Event Group slowly file out. Then the large eyes closed and the head lowered, and as it did, hair the color of the darkest pit of hell fell free and covered the captain's face and shoulders.
The president had excused himself from lunch with his wife and a visiting women's group from Kansas City so he could go to his office and check on the progression of the British and Venezuelan naval convoys. He had been absent from the lunch mentally, at any rate. He fielded questions from the ladies without actually hearing them, much to the dismay of the First Lady who had taken up the slack brilliantly. The news from the home front and overseas had been bleak all day. Riots in China over fuel shortages, fights breaking out at the largest fish markets in Japan over no fish, and even brawls at gas lines at home for the first time since 1978, and things were far worse than the public really knew. The United States' strategic reserve of oil and gas was down to 25 percent.
As the president entered the Oval Office, the national security advisor followed him quickly inside.
"If you're here this soon, this can't be good news," the president said, sitting heavily into his chair.
"I wish it were. Both the British and Venezuelan convoys were attacked almost simultaneously."
"Christ," the president mumbled.
"Admiral Fuqua and General Caulfield are on their way over to brief you fully. However, we do have some details. The Royal Navy was bloodied, Mr. President. Two frigates and two destroyers were lost, with only five survivors. The submarine HMS Trafalgar was also sunk with all hands. The tankers were also struck and sunk. It's like they knew they were a red herring."
The president rubbed his forehead and then slammed his hand on the desktop. The plan to ambush the entity trying to kill their sea commerce included the bait of the four tankers. However, the president and British prime minister had made the decision that the danger of a massive oil spill in the oceans would have been far too costly a gamble, so the tankers had been filled with seawater.
"Is there anything these murderous bastards don't know?" he said as he tried to calm himself.
"No, sir. It seems they also knew the Venezuelan tankers were full of crude. While weapons of unknown design took all four warships apart, the two tankers were struck in the rudder and engine compartments by very low-yield torpedoes. They are presently being towed back into port as we speak. They accomplished their goal without causing any environmental impact. The weapons used were waiting for them; they must have been placed in the water hours ahead of time."
"Advise Admiral Fuqua that I want the Nimitz battle group turned back for home. We can't lose anything else to these madmen until we get a handle on who in the hell they are. They wanted to show that we are combat-ineffective against their technology."
Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III sat on an overturned file cabinet with his bone white, bare feet in the sooty water of the burned-out vault. Members of his crypto team were silent after they had removed most of what was left of the old submarine, placing the parts on long tables for examination. Ellenshaw took a deep breath as he turned the last page of the original file — metallurgy results conducted back in 1967 on the sub's internal bulkheads.
"Nothing extraordinary, just iron, strong iron to be sure, but just iron," he mumbled to himself.
Nancy Birdsong, an Native American student from the University of North Dakota sitting next to her professor, gently removed the file from his hands and closed it.
"Professor, we're cryptozoologists. Did you ever think we're a little out of our league here? I mean, the research aspect, yes, we can do that, but analyzing metal shards and the remains of prototype batteries from history, when most of us can't even understand how a battery works today?"
Ellenshaw smiled and looked at the girl over his glasses.
"We know you want to do your part to find the director and the others in the worst way. We know how you feel about him, but maybe we can help in some other area. Get more engineers in here, not just crazy Charlie and his creepo team."
"Why doesn't the ribbing and teasing from the science departments bother you as much as many others?"
Nancy stood and smiled. "Don't you know? We feel about you the way you feel about Director Compton." She took the file and moved away.
Ellenshaw knew her to be right. They needed to get out of the way down here and let the engineers have a go at the forensics end. He looked at his watch. Maybe by now the engineers were freed up from their safety inspection of the complex's rock strata.
As he looked around at his hardworking department, he stood, his long lab coat slipping into the foot-deep water. As he took a step forward to announce to his team the suspension of the search, his foot came into contact with something that moved on the vault floor. He rolled up his already wet sleeve, reached into the water, and pulled the object free. As he lifted it, he could see it was hardened rubber. He turned it over in his hand until he recognized it for what it was — part of the outer casing for one of the batteries once encased in the bottom of the hull. He looked at the tables in front of him and saw what was left of the three hundred batteries. For the most part, they had been reduced to blackened and hardened lumps by fire and explosion.
"A shame, for someone to have invented batteries like these years before the advent of electrical power. Well — just a shame," he mumbled as he placed the melted, smelly piece upon the table.
"Not only that, rubber was hard to come by at the time. It had to come from Southeast Asia, from a plantation in Dutch Indochina, er… uh, Vietnam," the young technician said as she placed the Leviathan file next to the rubber.
Ellenshaw stood stock-still as her words soaked in. Plantations? He walked over and picked up the file, splashing dirty water on the young woman as he did.
"These batteries would have had to be designed long before the boat was built, wouldn't you think?" he asked as he hurriedly paged through the open file, his white hair moving as he read snippets of the report.
"I guess so — what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that a mass quantity of rubber would have to have been ordered for experimentation and research — not counting the amount it would take to actually construct them," he said, lowering the file. "It's not here," he said, looking at the far wall lost in thought.
"What's not there?" she asked, stepping up to stand next to him.
"The analysis on the battery casings."
"You mean the rubber?"
"Yes," Ellenshaw said as his gaze wandered the interior of the vault, not settling on any one spot.
The cryptozoologist walked over to the lump of burned rubber and ran his slim fingers over its rough surface.
"Several tons of raw rubber would have been used in the research and construction of the many, many batteries enclosed in the vessel. I'm sure of it, it's so obvious," he said as he finally looked down at his assistant. "Traceable rubber." He smiled for the first time.
"I don't think you can trace rubber, Professor," she said.
"Not the rubber, Miss Birdsong — the research and development, and the plantations that produced it."
"You think you can trace the research and plantations back that far?"
"One thing you can always count on is the fact that companies and universities the world over require data — progress reports for the expenditure of funds — and those reports have to be filed."
"But it's been so long—"
Ellenshaw didn't hear her words as he shot out of the vault and disappeared.
The meeting inside the main conference room on level seven began on time.
"Before we get started, I just overheard several conversations about the kidnapping of our personnel. This has to stop. It may sound cold to many of you, but that train of thinking will just get in our way. It will make you try too hard, press, and believe me, you'll screw up. Now, let's get started."
Pete nodded toward Will Mendenhall, who turned and opened the door for three women to enter the conference room. They were carrying two large plastic containers. They placed these on the conference table.
"This is Professor Angela Vargas, of the physics and nuclear sciences department. She's heading things up in Virginia's absence," Pete explained.
As the young physicist pulled material from the first box, Jack noticed for the first time that Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III was not present; he never made it back from the burned-out vault area. In addition, Dr. Gene Robbins was missing from the meeting. Collins hoped both men were getting somewhere with their individual assignments.
"This is one of the protective jumpsuits the attackers were wearing, recovered from one of the bodies — the one killed by Lieutenant McIntire," Vargas said as she looked at her notes.
Everett chanced a look over at Jack, but he sat stoically and did not react at all to Sarah's name or her killing of one of the assailants.
"At first glance, we thought it was a standard special forces-issued garment, until we placed it under the electron microscope per Dr. Golding's orders to leave no stone unturned. Well, he was right." She handed the black jumpsuit to Jack. He didn't react to the dried blood. "Colonel, feel the material. What would your opinion be?"
"It feels like standard issue, maybe with some Kevlar weaved in, what we would call Nomex IIIA."
"Very good, Colonel, however you are wrong. Not Nomex, not polyester, not a Kevlar weave." She looked around the room for dramatic effect. "It's seaweed."
The department heads mumbled as they looked at the material.
"That's right, Callophycus serratus, very rare, very expensive. This seaweed has also been known to kill cancer cells. Therefore, if someone has such an abundance of this seaweed to make clothing, they must have a rich farm of unknown size in the ocean depths."
"Where is this seaweed found, Professor?" Jack asked as he and many others were busy scribbling on the pads.
"Two of the only known sites in the world are located just off of Fiji, and the largest is off Papua, New Guinea. The rest of the seaweed beds in the world wouldn't be enough to make a string bikini, much less outfit a bunch of pirates."
"Very good, nice start, Professor. What else have you got?" Pete asked.
"This." She brought out one of the strange-looking weapons. It was short, powerful looking, and jet-black.
Carl Everett sat up and looked at the weapon Professor Vargas was holding so cavalierly. When she suddenly tossed the weapon at him, he caught it with both hands. Then his eyebrows rose and he stood away from the table. The entire weapon, with ammunition magazine, could not have weighed more than three pounds.
"It's light, too light to be real," Carl said as he handed the weapon to Jack.
"There's a reason for that, Captain. It's not made of steel. Believe me when I say no gunsmith in the world has ever seen anything like that weapon. I fired it myself at the shooting range. It's compact and extremely accurate."
"Okay, you've amazed us, Professor. What's it made of?"
"All we know is that it is some kind of polymer. Plastic, but unlike any plastic we have ever seen before. It will take months to break the matrix down so we can analyze it. However, a new plastic is not what's so amazing about this weapon — it's the characteristics of the material. For the first time in history, someone has invented a biodegradable plastic that will disintegrate, with only natural forces working against it, in fifteen to twenty years of being buried in soil."
"Impossible," several men and women said at the same time.
"Our environmental chamber experiments are documented and are available, and confirmed through Europa. It's there, read the report. We don't know who we're dealing with here, but whoever they are, they're far more than a century ahead of us in technology."
The room grew quiet as everyone absorbed what the professor had said. Their hopes of finding and stopping this group were growing fainter.
Carl looked over at Jack and stood.
"I'm getting back to work. Dr. Robbins needs supervision."
Collins nodded as Everett left the conference room.
"Thank you, Professor. Please inform me when you have conducted tests on all material recovered from our intruders." Pete rubbed his forehead and tried to think, but he was just too tired. He removed his thick glasses and looked at all the department heads.
"You have your assignments in front of you. Some departments will be coordinating with others that seemingly have no business being put together. We are shorthanded and have been for the past six weeks. The next few days won't be any different. We're calling in former members to assist in filling vacancies, but that will take a while. Thank you, we'll meet again when we—"
At that moment, the doors opened and in came Ellenshaw. He held up a sheath of papers and several computer discs. He nodded at Pete, indicating he had news.
Pete nodded to Ellenshaw, who in turn gave several discs to the audiovisual technician who dimmed the lights and turned on the main holographic machine. The hologram projector used a micromisting system in the ceiling to create the 3-D effect without the need for a screen, and the four projectors hit the water mist from four sides, producing the hologram effect.
"Okay, what we have here is a visual of vault 298907, placed inactive for further investigation on nine October nineteen eighty-three. This is file footage of the vault before the fire. We do have detailed pictures and listings of everything documented on that submarine. Dr. Golding assigned me the task of digging through the mess inside the vault, while the engineers were busy shoring up the affected levels. I have a rather bizarre and fantastic theory I would like to advance, which I am accustomed to doing, about the submarine and its origins."
The man with wild white hair looked around the table. His lab coat was dirty and water-stained from the flooded vault, and one of his pant legs was still rolled up past his right ankle. He smiled and raised his half-moon glasses into his crazily swirling hair.
"As you may know, we have had many discussions in the past about this strange vessel and its origins. Being as old as it is, let us say it's made for some very far-out speculation in crypto, I'll tell you. Number one among most theories, and it's common knowledge I support said theory, is that Jules Verne may have received inspiration for his novel, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, from this very artifact. The chances are just too farfetched not to connect the dots here. However, that is not of importance at this time. What is of paramount importance is why this modern-day crackpot wants to destroy something that is at least a hundred and fifty years of age and seemingly could cause them no harm at all?"
Ellenshaw nodded toward the navy signalman, who changed the view on the hologram.
"Thank you, Smitty. As you see, this is the vault as it is now, burned out and most items unrecognizable." The professor lifted his notebook, walked into the micromist, and pointed to items lying on the floor. "The batteries, burned and almost unrecognizable, reduced to large lumps of rubberized crud due to the heat produced internally by the dried acid within. Correct?" He looked around the conference room but saw no one as the mist was hiding them.
"Professor Ellenshaw, could you speed it up?" Pete asked, a bit impatient.
"Right, well, we combed through the debris and for nine hours we went through the files with a microscope." He hunched his shoulders and threw up his arms in exasperation. "Nothing; not a damn thing. We didn't know why destroying this thing was so important. We were at a dead end."
Pete was eyeing him, the same impatient look on his face.
"But we weren't." He pointed once more to the batteries. "That is what's known as a composite material, basically a rubber and graphite mix. During the time we believe the submarine was built, natural rubber was in common use; however, graphite was not. It's a simple carbon-based material we once used in pencils and is a base used in batteries today. We know there was more than a ton of this composite material used in the construction of the battery system utilized on Leviathan." He smiled. "With the assistance of Europa, I was able to trace a large sale of graphite and an even larger sale of rubber from a Malay plantation in eighteen thirty-seven, purchased through the engineering department at the University of Oslo. It took several hours, but Europa finally uncovered the name of the professor involved — Francis N. Heirthall."
"Okay, where does that lead us?" Pete asked.
"Our good professor was not your normal engineer; he was wealthy beyond measure and only utilized the university's laboratories for security reasons. His real engineering skills were that of a marine engineer, and he held advanced degrees in biology."
Pete was silent as the information was absorbed. He pursed his lips and examined the hologram, confused on one point — why would anyone destroy the vault to protect a hundred-and-fifty-year-old professor?
"Has this been verified by Europa?" Liz Patrick of the engineering department asked.
"Absolutely. I have already turned the results of my inquiry over to Dr. Robbins for further investigation."
"Anything else, Charlie?"
"One other thing. We did come across something in the files that became of interest only after we discovered the destination of these large orders. The barnacles recovered from the submarine's hull back in nineteen sixty-seven were a mixed breed of organisms. However, the bulk of these originated near the southern Mariana chain of islands, Guam in particular. Cirripedia acrothoracica, a new species of barnacle discovered only recently and indigenous to that area and those islands."
The audiovisual tech switched pictures after a nod from Ellenshaw. On the hologram, a map of the South Pacific appeared. Ellenshaw once more stepped up into the mist cloud. He pulled a laser marker from his coat pocket and placed it on Papua, New Guinea. "Now, I was given a report on the seaweed earlier, and if I was informed correctly, this seaweed used in the manufacture of our bad guys' clothing came from here, correct?"
Jack was looking at the map intently, knowing what Ellenshaw was trying to do. Pete Golding nodded his head at Charlie's question.
Ellenshaw then drew a laser line from New Guinea north toward Guam, then abruptly south to the southern chain of the same islands. The figure formed an elongated triangle. "I daresay it's a long shot, but that's what the crypto team is good at: placing silly bets on lost causes."
"Wait, what is the third marker for?" Pete asked.
Ellenshaw smiled. "The island at the southern tip of the Marianas was owned by a very wealthy family from Norway — the Heirthalls."
"You're saying that the people we are seeking — or at the very least, their ancestor — frequented this area?" Pete asked, taking off his glasses.
"No, what I'm saying is that this is more than likely their lair — or to be more precise, what used to be their lair. In addition, you may ask how could a vessel such as this ply the waters in the eighteen-sixties, and not be spied more frequently. It couldn't have," he answered for them, "at least not in the crowded oceans near industrialized nations. It would have to have been based in a region where there was virtually no water traffic, and what better place than the Marianas?"
"Doc, I think you may have something. It's gut instinct, but everything you've said makes sense… in your always strange points of fact. The evidence, at least, says we may have a starting point."
Ellenshaw looked at Colonel Collins, and with his eyes and a dip of his chin thanked him for supporting his theory.
"Okay, good work, Charlie, we'll run with what you have. Now let's see what Batman and Robin can do with Europa and your new information."
As the department heads left, Collins stayed behind. He looked from Ellenshaw to the tired-looking Golding.
"Are you resting, Pete?" Jack asked, watching the man's eyes, which were a nice light blue when not covered by glasses.
"No… but I will."
"You know who the saboteur is, don't you, Pete?" Jack asked. Ellenshaw stopped gathering his paperwork and watched the exchange. As he did he pulled a printout from his notes and waited.
Golding bit his lip, turned to look down at his own pile of notes and briefing materials, then slowly started to gather them up.
"Yes, I believe I do. I wanted more evidence, because what I have is circumstantial at best."
"Pete, all they had was circumstantial evidence on Ted Bundy, but they still knew who he was and what he did," Jack said. "Whoever it is cannot be free to roam the complex. That person is responsible for the death of our people, and the kidnapping of our friends."
Pete meekly tossed the papers back down onto the table and turned his back on Collins and Ellenshaw.
"Who, Doc?" Jack persisted, almost afraid to hear his answer.
"The complex at least, I believe, is safe for right now. The person I suspect is no longer here."
Collins closed his eyes, wanting not to see Pete's mouth move when he spoke the words.
"It was Virginia, damn her soul, Virginia Pollock, who sabotaged the vaults and tried to kill Europa when she let those animals into our home."
Collins was stunned. The air in the conference room almost became unbearable to breathe as each man took the information, allowing it to sink in and corrupt all good thoughts.
Jack's mind refused to bridge the name to the act of cold-blooded murder.
"During both failures of Europa, Virginia was the only person online. Professor Ellenshaw confirmed my suspicions when he mentioned the name Heirthall. At the same time Virginia sabotaged Europa, she was tasking the computer on several queries."
"I still don't believe it," Jack said as he looked at the computer login times.
"I was hesitant to bring this up, because in a court of law it would be thrown out as guilt by association," Ellenshaw said as he removed his own glasses and rubbed his eyes. "That and the fact I really like Dr. Pollock. She's a dear friend."
"Charlie, please," Pete said looking at the cryptozoologist.
"I ran the name through Europa's database, looking for any correlation between the name Heirthall and any person working within the complex, just to be thorough." He tossed a printout and Jack picked it up. "That is the list of the MIT graduating class of nineteen eighty-one."
Jack looked down the list and saw the names he was looking for — Alexandria Heirthall, and far below that, Virginia Pollock.
There was nothing left to say.
Niles, Sarah, Alice, Lee, Farbeaux, and Virginia were shown into the dining salon shortly after noon. They had taken an elevator and an escalator to get there, and still had not seen one quarter of the giant vessel.
As they stepped into the captain's dining salon, they were amazed at the artwork once again. There were originals from Picasso, Rembrandt, and even Remington was represented with an unknown original — not about the Old West, but of sailing men in the 1800s.
The long table was set with china that was embossed with the ship's logo, the now-familiar [?]L[?], and the silverware at each setting was sixteenth-century. It was Farbeaux who went directly to the heart of things. He picked up one of the four wine bottles sitting at the end of the table where he assumed the captain would normally sit, as this was the only high-backed chair at the white linen covered table. He examined the old and peeling white label on the bottle.
"Sauternes from Chateau d'Yquem, seventeen eighty-seven," he said, almost turning white. He placed the bottle down most gently.
"What is it, Colonel?" Sarah asked as she looked from Henri to the four bottles of wine.
"Sarah, my young dear, these bottles of wine, well… to put it mildly, they should be in one of your Event vaults. Sauternes from Chateau d'Yquem seventeen eighty-seven — in two thousand six, a single bottle of this wine was auctioned for ninety-seven thousand of your American dollars. There was thought to be no more than two in existence, and here we are staring at four of them, to be a beverage served at lunch."
"Never cared for wine all that much," Lee said as he used his cane to limp toward the table.
"Dear Senator Lee, let me put this in a perspective you may be able to appreciate. The grapes in these bottles were picked the same year that George Washington became your first president."
"Well, give it to him; don't care for wine."
The salon door opened at the far end, and the same blond-haired man they had seen in the operation center entered and then gently closed the two large hatches. He was dressed in a navy blue jacket and tie. The first officer of Leviathan smiled and stepped up to the Event staff.
"Good afternoon," he said, reaching Farbeaux first. "I am First Officer James Grady Samuels, formerly of Her Majesty's Royal Navy."
Farbeaux looked at the man with the soft English accent, and then down at his outstretched hand. The Frenchman finally shook hands.
"Colonel Henri Farbeaux, I believe, formerly of the French Army?" Samuels asked.
"Yes," the Frenchman answered. "This is Lieutenant Sarah McIntire," he said, placing a hand at the small of Sarah's back and allowing her to shake the officer's hand.
"I am well aware of Ms. McIntire and her credentials. Your efforts with the incident in Arizona two years ago, and then again last year in Okinawa, were well noted by our captain."
Sarah said nothing as she stepped out of the way.
The well-mannered officer stepped forward and smiled at Alice.
"Leviathan is indeed graced by your presence, Mrs. Hamilton. I have heard and read so much about you, it feels as though I know you," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. Then he smiled again and moved to Lee. "Senator Garrison Lee, I won't even begin to flatter a man of such deeds as yourself, for then we may never eat our lunch. Senator, war hero, OSS general, Event Group director, it is an honor—"
"Don't bother, son. I was a witness to your orders in your operations room. You'll excuse me if I refrain from shaking the hand of a murderer." Lee looked from the first officer's outstretched hand to his eyes, and then stepped away.
Samuels closed his hand and looked away for a moment, but he didn't answer Lee's accusation. He did, however, approach Virginia with renewed enthusiasm.
"Dr. Virginia Pollock, inventor of the saltwater conversion module during your time at General Dynamics Electric Boat Division. It is an honor, ma'am."
"Excuse me — Mr. Samuels, is it? But I think I'm of the same opinion as the senator. I find you and what you're doing very distasteful. You have taken the cause of ecology to an all-time low."
The man truly looked taken back as he turned and found Niles Compton.
"Director Compton, although you must be of the same opinion as your assistant director and former mentor, I would still like to thank you for being aboard. To answer the seriousness of the charges leveled against my captain and her crew, you must understand we consider ourselves at war, and believe we have conducted ourselves accordingly. All declarations have been made in advance. There is no murder here, other than that already perpetrated by the countries of the world against the very planet on which they live."
Niles pursed his lips and then nodded, but said nothing. He saw a slight hesitation in the first officer's words — it was as if he had to fight to get the speech out of his mouth.
"Then you're now going to enlighten us as to why my people were killed and we ourselves kidnapped from our complex?" Niles asked.
"The captain will answer your questions. For now, please, would you all take a seat; your host will join us shortly. The captain decided it would have shown a lack of naval etiquette to have you eat lunch in your staterooms," he said, just as a hidden speaker in the room sounded.
"Attention to orders from the office of the captain. We have received confirmation that the corrective measures taken in the southern Gulf of Mexico and the North Sea have been confirmed as successful. However, there has been significant loss of life. The captain has ordered a prayer service for the lives lost at twenty hundred hours in the chapel. A representative of each of the boat's divisions is mandatory. Thank you."
The room was quiet as the first officer silently gestured the group to their seats.
Lee was about to say something when Alice shook her head slowly, telling him to stay the insult or accusation brimming to get out.
The door opened and stewards entered, starting to pouring wine and fill glasses of water. Samuels nodded his head as he placed a napkin in his lap at the opposite end of the table from the empty captain's chair. He waited.
Before the Event personnel knew what was happening, two men entered the room, looked them over and then opened the double compartment hatches wide. As they watched, a dark figure, dressed in shiny navy blue pants and navy blue long-sleeved turtleneck blouse covered in the same color jacket with gold braid, stepped into the salon.
Niles stood as he saw the captain of Leviathan for the first time, and needless to say, he was speechless.
The woman was tall and stunning. Her jet-black hair flowed over her left ear. Her eyes were a brilliant deep blue, and they looked at each guest before she continued into the room, stopping just to the left of her high-backed chair at the head of the long table.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Event Group, may I present Captain Alexandria Olivia Heirthall."
The tall woman half-bowed, her blue clothing shimmering in the lighting of the salon as she looked once more at each of her guests in turn. Then for the first time, she smiled.
"I would like to welcome you aboard my vessel Leviathan," she said softly as she nodded her head. As she straightened, one of the large men that had accompanied her pulled out her chair, and she sat slowly and deliberately, taking the embossed linen napkin and placing it in her lap as she did.
"I must say, your vessel is a marvel to behold, at least the sections we have seen of her," Niles said as he sipped from a glass of water.
The captain closed her eyes and nodded once in Niles's direction.
She raised her glass of white wine. "Ladies and gentlemen — to the earth, and its many varying and wonderful species."
Niles looked from Captain Heirthall to his own people, then shook his head. Only Farbeaux took his glass and toasted.
"By all means — I am not passing up the chance to drink this marvelous wine."
Alexandria Heirthall took a small sip of her wine as her mesmerizing blue eyes looked at Henri Farbeaux.
"Colonel, you are impressed with the wine?" she asked, setting her glass down and avoiding any indication she took offense at the slight from Compton and the others.
"Yes, but I am more surprised it has not turned to vinegar."
"Ah, but it was found in an environment that would not allow that to occur."
"Where would that be, Captain?" Sarah asked, smelling her own glass of wine.
"Two and a half miles down in the Atlantic ocean, Lieutenant McIntire; in the master chef's wine vault onboard the RMS Titanic. It wasn't in use, and we were in the area a few years ago, so to speak, so we rescued them from the depths. I normally do not grave rob, but it would have been almost criminal to leave such a splendid wine."
The doors opened once more and the stewards brought in salads, placing them in front of each person.
"I think you'll enjoy the vegetables. They are grown onboard Leviathan in our hydroponics greenhouse, which you'll see later on your tour. They were actually grown in a twenty-four-hour time frame."
"Genetics?" Niles asked, looking at his plate.
"No, Dr. Compton, small-voltage electricity and fertilizer made from coral, all from the sea — simple, really."
They all began to eat their salads. Niles watched the captain, who made no move to touch her own. She did, however, accept something from the head steward, and then swallowed it with a sip of her water.
"Captain, I have noticed that when your vessel accelerates, there is very little vibration and absolutely no sound from your power plant. May I ask what power source you utilize?" Farbeaux asked.
"Of course; we wish to be as transparent as possible, Colonel." She was now looking directly at Virginia as she answered the question. She held the gaze for the longest time, and Virginia never once looked away. "We want you all to know whatever it is you wish to know. Leviathan uses nuclear power, the same as any submarine in service to the major powers of the world. Our system of propulsion is thermal-dynamic drive, or TDD. We utilize superheated water from our reactor core and run it through a series of pumps, mixing it with hydrogen and a substance not unlike baking soda, thus creating steam drive that is environmentally friendly and is quite substantial in providing propulsion for Leviathan."
"Captain, may I ask a question?" Niles said, placing his salad fork on his plate and looking at Farbeaux.
Only a small dip of her elegant chin was the answer.
"How many did you kill in cold blood this morning? I must tell you, at least before my friend and mentor Senator Lee does, that your actions seem quite insane."
To his left, Niles felt the eyes of the first officer on him. The man touched at the corners of his mouth with his napkin and then slapped it into his lap.
The captain smiled and shook her head lightly at Samuels.
" 'Cold blood.' To me that has always been an interesting catchphrase, Dr. Compton, one used by men who have no idea what justice sometimes truly is. Yes, when you plan to kill for no other reason than the want of killing, indeed, that is in cold blood. However, this morning's bloodshed was an act of hot blood, justified in all respects to even the basest laws of civilized man. I sincerely wish that is the last of it that is spilled in this cause, but I fear it will be not be."
"The demands that you are asking of the world, while justified in many ways, are impossible to meet. Nations will collapse and people will starve," Lee said, pushing his salad away as if stating he would have nothing from this woman.
"To you, this very vessel is an impossibility of science — is it not? To you, many things seem that way, but it just isn't so."
"Without alternative fuels in place, it is. Without more research, it is," Niles said, staring straight at the woman.
The captain flinched as if she wanted to react with harshness, but instead she slowly dipped her head and calmed herself. She then looked up, opened her eyes, and smiled, but all could see she was straining to argue.
"My family has tried in vain to get the benefits of our research and experiments to those that would use them wisely, only to see our go-betweens ridiculed, even murdered, and some, I'm sorry to say, bought off by the commercial corporations representing the oil concerns of the world. The world today is capable of running totally without the need of petroleum. I can supply the world with wind power, solar power, nitrogen, clean-coal technology, and clean nuclear power. It's all there for the asking."
"Then why—" Niles started to ask, but Heirthall continued as if he weren't there.
"But alas, I am sorry to say I have nothing magical that I can provide to stop the death of many magnificent species in the sea. Mankind has never realized that the oceans and humanity are symbiotic entities." She placed her fingertips together, and then intertwined them. "The only solution is time, Doctor, time. The sea needs time to heal itself, and my research has shown it can indeed heal itself. However, petroleum-based products are not only ruining life upon the land and air, they are destroying life in my seas. Acid rain, oil spills, and the deliberate dumping of chemical waste have joined together to do untold damage to the earth and its oceans."
Niles started to ask a question, but was interrupted by the stewards as they brought in the main course.
"I hope you enjoy your entree. It's black sea bass stuffed with red artichoke hearts — again, from our own gardens."
Niles looked at the fabulously designed dish, and then looked at the captain as if she were avoiding his questioning, which he knew she was not doing. She was actually inviting them.
Heirthall waved the attending steward to remove her lunch. Then she placed her elegant hands just under her chin and looked at Sarah, seemingly for study. Sarah returned the look as she took a forkful of sea bass.
"Lieutenant McIntire, I am told you were most resourceful in defense of your complex. You have garnered one fan among my crew. Sergeant Tyler tells me you acted in a far more aggressive nature than your geological education would have indicated you were capable."
Sarah lowered her fork to her plate and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. Then she fixed the captain with her own stare. "I'm a trained soldier first, Captain. Why would that surprise you? However, even the untrained will fight back when attacked."
Heirthall smiled and continued to study Sarah. "I suspect that you have had special training, perhaps from someone close to you?"
Sarah did not care for the line of questioning. Had she heard about Jack — his death? Was this her way of getting to her, perhaps mocking what she felt for him? She was about to respond when she was stopped by the intercom.
"Captain, this is the conn — ma'am, this is the officer of the deck. We have reached the coordinates for Mark Antony and picked up his transponder."
Heirthall continued to hold Sarah with her eyes for a moment longer, and then reached out and pushed something under the tabletop hidden to her guests.
"Thank you, Mr. Abercrombie. Order all stop if you please, and order the crew to quiet conditions for the next ten minutes."
"Aye, Captain. All stop."
Around the table, they felt the deceleration of the giant submarine as the propulsion system went to low power.
"Commander Samuels, if you'll do the honors, please," she said, once more looking toward Virginia.
The first officer nodded, stood from his chair, and approached the far section of hull, which held deeply embedded three-dimensional studies of sea life of every major category. The captain sat silently and watched her guests.
The first officer stood next to a small keypad and entered a code. Suddenly the composite inner hull separated into two pieces, slid apart, and then slipped down, sinking away into the hull. Then everyone saw another protective layer fall away, and then finally another. Triple layers of material separated them from the pressures of the sea. What remained was an illuminated view of the blue ocean. The water was crystal clear, and it seemed you could see forever with the help of the powerful lights outside the hull. Niles and the others stood, walked over to the forty-five-foot by thirty-foot window, and stared at the vastness before them. The captain remained seated as they took in the spectacular view.
"My God," Alice said as she took Garrison's hand and squeezed. "It is beautiful."
Heirthall pushed back her chair and joined them at the window. She placed her hands behind her back and watched the sea beyond the reinforced acrylic.
"We have just moments ago entered the Arctic Circle. Soon we will dive for deep water and make our passing under the ice. I thought first you might like to see just what it is we are protecting in this area of the sea."
They turned and watched as she flipped a small switch in the same panel that opened the viewing window.
Sarah felt it first, and leaned into Farbeaux as her ears started to ring. The others felt it a moment later. It wasn't an uncomfortable sound, just penetrating. Strangest of all, it almost felt and sounded familiar, as if an old song remembered.
"The sound you hear has been ingrained in your subconscious. From the dawn of life on this earth you have carried this sound with you. It's the sound of the very first mammals, the very sound of life and of the sea. The only difference is the fact our cousins here went back to the sea, while we stayed. We are one with them." She took a step back and looked down the line of Event personnel. "You see, Senator Lee, life can be coldblooded as you stated, but in the sea is found 'the hottest blood of all.'"
As she spoke the words from the D. H. Lawrence poem, "Whales Weep Not!" a giant humpback whale swam into view. It swam slowly up to the glass, making everyone but the captain and first officer step back. The huge mouth rubbed up against the acrylic window, and the whale flipped over on its back.
"Excuse me, Colonel Farbeaux," the captain said as she moved to the center of the window and then slowly raised her elegant hand to the glass. This movement caught the whale's attention. It moved to the center of the window and started singing its whale song. The elongated flipper seemed to reach out and touch the glass right where Heirthall's hand was placed. The captain smiled, then closed her eyes.
"Amazing," Farbeaux said.
As they watched, another humpback came swimming casually through the blue waters and into the illumination of Leviathan's lights. The captain placed her other hand upon the glass, and the second whale rubbed its giant mouth against the very spot hers was placed.
"I would like to introduce you to Antony and Cleopatra. They and their pod are friends of ours."
Sarah smiled as she saw twenty whales come forth out of the waters surrounding Leviathan. She heard them singing, almost as if they were happy.
"It's as if they are saying hello," she said.
"They are, Lieutenant, they are saying exactly that. You see, once you have the fundamental mathematics down, you get the gist of what they are trying to vocalize — maybe one word in three."
"Are you telling me that you can understand what they are singing?" Niles asked as he looked from the whales to the captain.
She had her eyes closed and was leaning into the glass, allowing the whales to get as close as possible. They seemed hesitant at first; Heirthall had to open her eyes and coax them, almost looking concerned for the briefest of moments, but then Antony rubbed his snout against the glass in a gesture that made clear his nature toward the captain.
"The series of songs and clicks, like that of dolphins, is a mathematical form of communication, Doctor. It took my great-great-grandfather years to decipher their meaning, and we still haven't learned but a fraction of their language. Perhaps five percent — basically hello, good-bye, and" — she opened her eyes and looked at Antony, who was singing sadly—"dead."
The mood was solemn, and the captain attempted to lighten it somewhat.
"There are other words also, for instance, baby, or newborn, happy, sad, man, and woman. We still have many years ahead of us," she said, stepping away from the window, and as she did, the whales moved back into the abyss.
At that moment, Yeoman Alvera stepped into the lounge and handed the captain a piece of paper.
"The damage assessment for the strike, Captain," she said as she looked toward the glass.
"Thank you, Yeoman, you are excused," the captain said, seeming to wince. She folded the report and it crumpled in her hand as she again was hit with pain.
Yeoman Alvera looked concerned for the captain. She looked from her to the Event Group, then half-bowed and left the compartment.
The captain pulled down at the edges of her coat and swallowed, looking at the men and women around her. That was when they noticed that the captain's facial features seemed to droop. Gone was the fresh face of a beautiful woman; in its place was a new one that looked tired, and the eyes actually drooped down at the corners.
At that moment Sergeant Tyler opened one of the hatchways and entered. He didn't approach the group standing at the large viewing window, but stood just inside the compartment looking at Heirthall, who only glanced his way.
"I will not lie to you. The time is past for the options I have given the world. Far past. You are here to answer questions about what your Group knows about Leviathan and her origins. That will be the duty of Sergeant Tyler; he will get the answers I need."
The complete turnaround from hospitable host to captor caught even the suspicious Lee off guard. They looked from the captain to her first mate. He momentarily looked as confused as they at the suddenness of the change, but recovered far more quickly.
"You will still have freedom of Leviathan until such time when security will have need of you. Answer the sergeant's questions truthfully, and you may survive your visit. Lie, and you'll find Leviathan can be a very cold place to be."
They watched the captain as she rubbed her temples and then lowered her head. She paced to the large double hatchways, and the two guards opened them.
"Until you are needed you will not be interfered with, as you have the run of my home."
Niles stepped away from the window.
"Captain, we know nothing about you or any part of your existence other than the relic we had stored in our vaults."
Sergeant Tyler smiled as he held the hatchway for Heirthall. His look told the group he was looking forward to confirming what Niles had stated.
The captain paused at the hatch and half-turned. Instead of commenting on Niles's denial of knowledge, she said, "If any of you were wondering, whales usually do not travel in pods this large. You see, they are sick, frightened, and without hope. They don't understand what is happening to them; their birth rate is down to near zero. In addition, I honestly don't know how to tell them that it's my own kind that is doing this evil thing to them. There is even greater, more brilliant, and far more ancient life that it may be too late to save." After making this mysterious comment she walked out with her guards.
Tyler again turned to the Group, smiled, and then followed the captain out of the compartment.
"The captain is ill, Mr. Samuels. I don't know if you noticed or not," Alice said, looking at the man and waiting for a reaction.
Samuels looked as if he were going to answer, but instead turned and left.
"I don't know if all of you noticed or not," Lee said as he picked a roll off the table and placed it in his coat pocket, then followed that with another. "But that little lady is mad as a hatter."
They all looked at him.
"As insane as Lizzie Borden." The senator looked around the interior of the salon. "And she has one hell of a little hatchet to play with — it's called Leviathan. And now she wants to ask a few questions after showing us that ax."
"Captain?" Samuels said, nodding for the security element to step aside. They looked at Alexandria, and when she nodded it was all right, they moved away, all with the exception of Tyler.
Heirthall leaned against the composite hull and lowered her head. Samuels reached out and took the captain's arm.
"Please, Commander, I am all right, just tired," she said as she shrugged off his support.
"Ma'am, I have studied the files on these people. You can ask them anything you want, but if they don't wish it, they won't tell you a thing." He looked at Tyler, who watched Samuels with steely eyes. "Unless you plan to torture them."
"If I have to, I will. The captain wants to know what these people know about her and… her family, I will get the answers she wants."
"For what? What possible harm can this Group, or anyone for that matter, cause us or Leviathan? We are invulnerable. Once the world knows of the plight of the endangered species in the gulf, I believe they can actually assist in its survival. Bringing them aboard was a mistake, but a mistake they don't have to pay for with their lives."
"Commander, for the second time in a twenty-four-hour period you have questioned my orders. This can never happen again. Am I clear on that point?" Heirthall didn't wait for the answer. She turned and made her way down the companionway.
Tyler stepped up to Samuels and looked the smaller man over.
"Listen to the captain, Mr. Samuels; don't make me have to question your loyalty."
The first officer of Leviathan watched the head of security turn away and follow Heirthall. He slumped against the bulkhead and closed his eyes. He knew something was happening that he knew nothing about, and if Tyler knew, that something couldn't be good. And what was worse, his captain was changing right before his eyes.
Dr. Gene Robbins was staring a hole through Carl Everett. The captain returned the glare and added a bit more of his own.
"You cannot question Europa in the manner in which you have been, Captain. Do you think she responds to your anger? She probes other computers for back doors into their systems, bypassing any corporate or company security program added after that particular computer's manufacture and programming."
"I understand that, Doc, but you cannot sit here and wait. We have a tight time frame to get a handle on what we're dealing with. Professor Ellenshaw gave us a good starting point with this theory of his, and he gave us a name, so damn it, let's start there."
"I think we should verify the professor's findings first — that way we don't waste the time if he's wrong in his research."
"Listen, Professor Ellenshaw has proven to everyone in this complex that his work is viable. He's not a nutcase — that man is brilliant, and the sooner you get ahold of that fact, the better off you'll be. Start with his findings," Everett said angrily.
"Europa, do you have information regarding the research for a Professor Francis Heirthall — University of Oslo — say eighteen thirty-five on?" Robbins asked, not liking the lecture from Carl.
At that moment, Jack walked into the room pulling on rubber gloves. Robbins shook his head but continued to write on his notepad.
"Hope you don't mind. I need some quiet time while Pete arranges for transport to the Pacific for us," Jack said as he pulled out a chair and sat to the right of Carl.
"So we are going with Professor Ellenshaw's hunch?" Everett asked.
"I believe he said quiet time, Captain. May we continue? Colonel Collins, we are not using Europa clean-room protocols; you may discard the gloves."
Jack half-smiled as Everett turned back to face Robbins, but did not say anything. Collins walked to the trash bin and tossed his gloves inside. He noticed something under the discarded pair he had just thrown in. He reached in and picked up another glove coated in a silvery substance that looked familiar to him. He shrugged and almost tossed it back inside the waste bin, but instead wrapped it inside of one of his own gloves and pocketed both.
"Dr. Robbins, Europa has formulated the text of several verified experiments conducted by Professor F. Heirthall, University of Oslo, eighteen thirty-six to eighteen forty-three. List is as follows:
" 'The utilization of electrical current derived from reciprocating engine (steam).'
" 'Copper usage in the flow-through aspects of electrical current.'
" 'Hydrodynamic tolerances and depth degradation of oxygen filled platforms.'
" 'Oxygen purification — carbon monoxide poisoning.'"
As they watched the words appear and listened to Europa, they didn't realize at first that the list was complete.
"Europa, what do you have on the professor after eighteen forty-three?" Everett asked.
"Information extracted from the Oslo Herald, June third, eighteen forty-three, reported the death of Francis Heirthall in a University of Oslo laboratory fire."
"Being a navy man as I am, based on this list I would say the professor was working on systems that are consistent with submarine design," Carl said as he looked at Jack.
"I think you're right, Captain," Jack said as he leaned toward his microphone. "Europa, was the professor married?"
Europa placed one more program by robotic arm.
"Oslo census reports Dame Alexandria Heirthall, eighteen twenty to eighteen fifty-one, listed as spouse at the time of the professor's death. Son: Octavian Heirthall."
"Is there any newspaper account of the Heirthall family listed in historical records other than the accomplishments and research records of Professor Heirthall?" Robbins asked.
Europa started loading more programs.
"We may be barking up the wrong tree here, Doc," Everett said.
"Possibly, but let's go ahead and cut this tree down at any rate so we can move on with a clear conscience."
"One newspaper account from France dated September nineteenth, eighteen forty-six, is the only mention of the Heirthall name after the eighteen forty-three obituary for Professor Francis Heirthall," Europa said in her female voice, at the same time typing out the script on the large monitor.
"What was the gist of this French news story?" Jack asked without much hope in finding anything worthwhile.
"Headline reads as follows: NORWEGIAN ROYALTY BATTERS FRENCH AUTHOR IN CIVIL COURT."
"Okay, what sort of suit was brought against this author?" Everett asked.
"I don't see how this is connected—"
"The lawsuit brought by Dame Alexandria and Octavian Heirthall was in reference to libel and defamation of her husband's character," Europa answered, cutting Robbins's protest short.
"Come on, Europa, for crying out loud, who was the author?" Everett asked angrily, tired of this slow line of questioning and starting to think Robbins was right.
"The defendant in said case is listed only as A. Dumas, Paris, France. Occupation: novelist."
Jack sat up straight. "Europa, what was written about Heirthall? I mean, was it a book?"
Robbins shook his head in reference to the way Collins was asking questions.
"The item was listed as a manuscript not yet in book form that was sent to the family for comment."
"What was the title of the manuscript?" Jack asked.
"Holy shit," Carl said when the answer appeared.
Collins shook his head when it was apparent Europa had finished her research. He watched silently as the last words typed out blinked in a greenish hue on the big screen, and Europa verbally answered.
"Title of novel: The Count of Monte Cristo."
Niles thought it the best course for Alice and the senator to act as one team, he and Virginia another, and because Sarah seemed to tolerate Farbeaux far better than any of them, they would comprise the third team. The idea was that as they toured the ship in teams, they could cover more ground, and at least keep the eyes that would surely be upon them far busier tracking three groups than they planned. Niles stressed the fact that they were prisoners, not guests. Their task now was to find some way off this seagoing prison.
Niles and Virginia were the first to stroll down to the command center. As they entered and saw the center for the first time in close-up detail, they saw it looked nothing like any submarine they had ever seen before. It was thirty times larger than the mock deck of the starship Enterprise. They saw neither First Officer Samuels nor Captain Heirthall on duty.
The deck was quiet, exceedingly so, as operators manned their stations in silence. Niles spotted a man standing near the holographic chart table. The system was like their map visuals at the Event Group, only this one was more compact and didn't use a water-misting system. This was actually a three-dimensional view of the ice cap surrounding Leviathan.
"You know, when I was a kid, I can remember the first polar transit by USS Nautilus," Niles said aloud, gaining the attention of the man at the chart table, but also that of several of the operators at their semidark stations. He saw that their looks were anything but hostile, nor did they show annoyance at his breaking of the silence. Instead, they were polite and complete with smiles.
"Indeed, sir," the young man at the chart table said, looking up at Niles and Virginia. "I'm afraid I wasn't born at that time, but I can imagine the world was very excited at the news. Captain Heirthall's mother and father — they actually followed Nautilus on her journey under the ice — they wished to make sure she was in no danger. They were great admirers of the nuclear submarine program and wished to see it succeed." He looked around, almost embarrassed. "At least, that was the way it was taught to us in the Heirthall Midshipman School."
Niles just shook his head and looked from the young Norwegian-sounding officer to the others watching him and Virginia with curiosity. Several of these crewmen were as young as Yeoman Alvera; trainees, he figured, and obviously midshipmen in their teens as well. They didn't look quite as interested in Niles, nor the navigator's reminiscences. Their looks were almost hostile, not only at them, but also at the crew that listened.
"Well, I remember my father pointing to the headline at least — I was a little young myself. But in answer to your comment, yes, we were very proud, at least my father was. He was an engineer in construction, and I remember him saying, 'The world is now being opened before us.'"
The technicians exchanged looks and smiled, nodding their heads. They seemed to be very interested in Niles's remembrance of the time. This time, Virginia noticed the younger midshipmen exchange looks, and for some reason, those looks didn't look too friendly at all.
"I am Lieutenant Stefan Kogersborg. I am watch commander and officer of the deck. You must be Drs. Compton and Pollock?"
Virginia nodded politely.
"Would you like to see our position? I would be most happy to show you exactly where we are."
Niles stepped up to the table with Virginia and the young officer pointed at the ice cap above them, tinged in white light-emitting lines.
"As you see, the ice thickness above us is at varying depths and thicknesses. We have very large pressure ridges which are very dangerous to a submarine, even one as large as Leviathan." He moved his fingers along the three-dimensional outline of the ice above. Then he pointed to a miniature version of the submarine far below. "The captain has ordered our speed cut in half to seventy knots for safety reasons," he said in all seriousness.
Niles looked closer at the hologram simulation before him.
"That's Leviathan here?" he asked, pointing. "What in God's name is our depth?"
The officer of the deck pushed a button, and a projected speed appeared next to the moving vessel.
"We are currently at forty-five hundred feet."
Niles was stunned. "May I… may I ask how you can achieve such a depth without crushing?"
Kogersborg had to stifle a laugh. Niles and Virginia heard the other technicians, but not the midshipmen, chuckle at their stations as many of them exchanged bemused looks.
"Did I say something amusing?"
The officer cleared his throat loudly. The operators silenced and went back to their scanning and monitoring.
"Of course, you did nothing of the kind, Doctor. We here on Leviathan are so used to what this vessel can do, we sometimes forget our abilities are somewhat astounding to the outside world. Also, I would like to apologize for the technicians of this watch" — he looked around him at the crewmen of his shift—"as we sometimes do not utilize the manners our captain insists upon."
"No need to apologize. I am just… stunned, to say the least."
"Lieutenant Kogersborg, I don't think the captain wants you to go into such fine detail about many of the technologies in the control center."
They all turned to see Yeoman Alvera standing behind them.
"Yeoman, I am following First Officer Samuels's orders to the letter. Now return to your duties, and never leave your station while on duty upon this bridge, or you'll be called to mast before Mr. Samuels."
"Aye, Lieutenant," she said as she looked from Kogersborg to Niles and Virginia. "You have my apologies."
"Yeomen — they think they run the boat. I'm sorry for the interruption. In answer to your inquiry, Doctor, I could go into much detail about how we operate at this, and far greater depths, but I haven't the elegance to do justice to our captain and her family's science. Captain Heirthall will explain it all to you. You know" — he leaned in close to Niles and Virginia—"the captain is making a gift of all this to the world one day. She knows in order to fulfill the demands she's making upon everyone on land, there has to be a reward for the harsh times they'll have to endure."
Compton was sure the young officer had just give him a prepared speech. He thought the young man had been directed to sneak that little gem in somewhere to someone while they were touring. As he thought this, he felt the eyes of the younger trainee midshipmen on them, and for some reason he couldn't fathom, he didn't like it at all.
"I see. Let's hope we can dissuade her from the demands she's making, and maybe reach a middle ground," he said as he saw the midshipmen return to their training.
The blond officer smiled, and then leaned on the holographic table. "Perhaps."
"For such a brilliant woman, she has moments of sheer brutality," Virginia said, watching for a reaction.
"We all realize the stress that the captain is under, and her orders of late have been—"
"May I ask where it is we are going, at so great a speed and depth?" Niles asked, cutting off the officer's answer. He had noticed several of the young midshipmen looking directly at Kogersborg, and for a reason Niles couldn't quite understand, he stopped the officer from committing to an answer.
"You may indeed," Kogersborg said, somewhat disturbed at the abrupt change of subject. "We will subtransit the ice cap and be in Pacific waters before you sit down for the elegant meal the captain has planned for you this evening."
"The captain, she spends long periods alone?" Virginia asked.
"She has many duties that keep her away from the crew for long hours; research, mostly, but we understand what kind of stress she is under." He finally looked up at the two Event people. "All this death of what she, and we, love… well, she has placed this all upon her shoulders, and we are only too—"
"Lieutenant Kogersborg, First Officer Samuels has the conn. You are relieved."
They turned to see a freshly showered and shaved Samuels as he stepped up to the navigation console.
"Aye, I have been properly relieved. Commander Samuels has the conn," Kogersborg called to his chief of the boat, and then turned and bowed to Virginia and Niles. "It was nice sharing time with you, and I hope I answered all your questions. Good afternoon."
"Seems like a bright young man," Niles said as James Samuels took over the conn.
"Yes, he is one of our brightest." He looked at Niles. "His parents were missionaries in Somalia; they disappeared there after the UN troop pullout in nineteen ninety-three. The captain and Dr. Trevor discovered him as we have many of our midshipmen: destitute and alone. The young man was feeding himself on dried rice in the streets of Mogadishu when we found him while on a humanitarian mission to that country."
"It seems Captain Heirthall, and indeed the entire crew, is quite accomplished in acts of humanitarianism," Niles said, again watching closely for the officer's reaction.
Samuels glanced up from his course calculations and looked at Niles.
"Doctor, our captain wears many hats. She can be the most humane person in the world, but her wrath can be multiplied many fold if she is angered. Captain Heirthall did not want to take the course of action she has taken, but she has been angered most recently by the loss of sea life in the Mediterranean, and her family has been betrayed countless times in the past two hundred years."
"Two hundred years? May I ask—"
"Doctors, if you will excuse me, our watch change is very complicated and time consuming, and we are a bit behind schedule. I must apologize. May we take this up at dinner?"
"You said loss of life in the Med. You mean human life, of course?" Virginia asked.
The commander became silent for a brief moment. "Again, may we take this up at a later time, please?" he said, instead of answering her question.
"Yes, of course," Niles said as he took Virginia by the arm.
As they stepped from the control center into the companionway, Niles looked at Virginia.
"Something is eating at that man; I can't figure him at all. And what in the hell is with those creepy midshipmen? Nice and charming one minute—"
"Niles, I have to tell you something, I should have told you immediately after lunch when I saw who we were dealing with. I was hoping I was wrong, but…" Virginia whispered, looking pale and nervous.
"What is it?"
"It's Heirthall. I was—"
"Well, well, we were just looking for you two. I knew these bastards wouldn't let us into the weapons room — free rein of the boat, my ass," Lee said as he and Alice stepped through hatchway and into the companionway.
Virginia looked from Niles to Alice, then smiled. It was a weak smile and lacked sincerity, and then she turned back to Compton, shook her head, and mouthed, Later.
Samuels observed the watch change from the navigation console through the holographic image of Leviathan. The second command watch took their seats after the older crewmen exchanged watch changes, course adjustments, and joked with one another. The midshipmen, instead of their usual teenage talk, smiles, and warnings of training material ahead for them during shift change, nodded at one another and then quietly took up station next to their older trainers. He saw Yeoman Alvera look his way and smile — the same smile he had seen a thousand times before, only this time she held the humorless smile a bit longer, and he had to admit it to himself, he didn't like it at all.
Commander Samuels reached under the console, brought the phone to his ear, and punched in the captain's cabin number to report the change of watch.
"Yes," a male voice answered.
"Dr. Trevor, is something wrong? Where is the captain?"
"She's lying down. I've had to medicate her — her headache became much worse in the past hour, and I was just about to leave. Shall I wake her anyway, Commander?"
"Negative, Doctor. Thank you."
"Then I shall see you at the function this evening?"
Samuels didn't answer the inquiry as he laid the phone down on the console and stared through the hologram at nothing.
An hour later, Sarah stepped into the extreme forward section of Leviathan, followed by Farbeaux. After the many crowded sections they had passed through, the remoteness and silence of the bow was so extreme it was like stepping into a soundproofed room.
"My God," Sarah said as she lifted her chin and followed the massive beams to their height of a hundred feet above their heads. There were partitions in front that wrapped around the entire compartment. They continued to the ceiling and then to the midpoint toward the compartment's end. The effect was like a giant, retractable clamshell aircraft hangar. There were twenty chandeliers lining the ceiling in two rows. They looked almost Art Deco in their design, and were at present dimmed to a comfortable setting.
"I must say, when this woman builds something, she builds to impress," the colonel said, as he too craned his neck to see the expanse of the compartment.
Placed on the impressively crafted teak deck was an old-fashioned ship's wheel that faced the extreme bow. Placed alongside it was a gold-plated ship's enunciator. The white leaded glass was illuminated, and was actually set at all ahead. Sarah walked over and looked at the gold inscription on the ship's wheel.
" 'Leviathan—1858,'" Sarah said aloud. " 'For the sake of the world.' This is the original ship's wheel from the very first Leviathan."
She placed her hand on the wheel and looked around her at the richly upholstered couches facing the outer hull of Leviathan. There was a large conference table at the center, a larger area for serving meals, and spotlighting that highlighted the many aquariums that wrapped around the interior from midhull level to the floor.
"You remind me of my wife. She was always awed by what she saw around her. The human race, the past of the world, all made her feel it was her duty to understand it. I envy you your naivete, young Sarah."
She turned, looked at Farbeaux, and slightly tilted her head.
"Of all the things Danielle was, Colonel, naive she wasn't." Sarah saw the momentary look of hurt in Henri's features. "I'm sorry, I know you loved your wife. It seems the more we love, the more fate is destined to work against us. However, since the reason you came to the Event Complex was for murder, I can find little sympathy for you at the moment."
They were interrupted when the large double hatch opened and Virginia, Niles, Alice, and Lee stepped through. Sarah and Farbeaux watched them file inside and look around, equally as impressed with the domed room as they had been.
"Quite a place, huh?" Sarah said.
The lights suddenly dimmed to near blackness and the partitions lining the hull and at the extreme bow started to part and slide into each other, just like the salon, only on a much larger engineering scale. The action was mimicked on the seaward side. It was a double-hulled protection screen.
As they watched, the deep blue sea opened up before them, in front and over their heads, since the glass covered not only the front, but a hundred feet of upper deck. The expansive vista of Arctic Ocean stretched out before them, and the brightest lighting any of them had ever seen illuminated the depths. They could even see the massive conning tower high above them when they looked aft and out of the windows at the top.
"It's so beautiful… I… I…"
Lee patted and then squeezed Sarah on the shoulder as she hung on to the ship's wheel and watched the sea erupt before the passage of Leviathan. The glass nose was sectioned by forty-foot areas of acrylic, separated by composite beams that the glass fit into. The partitions that slid away to reveal the depths had all been packed neatly into the section beams. Their view was unobstructed as far as the eye could see.
"The engineering is beyond that of anything naval architecture has achieved thus far. It has opened a completely new world. It would be criminal not to come to some accommodation," Niles said aloud as he watched the deep blue sea beyond the glass.
"If it were as simple as that, Niles, I would agree," Lee stated flatly and without emotion. "However, we are not seeing something here. There is a touch of desperation beyond the captain's claim of pollution and the degradation of the ecosystem."
"I believe her, and I believe she thinks this is our only course." Virginia placed her hand against the cold glass, just as the captain had done earlier. She felt that coldness and let it travel up her arm. "No, in her opinion, there can be no other choice in this matter. She wants the unconditional surrender of the seas, and I don't believe she'll settle for anything less."
The others looked at Virginia in mild surprise. She had been so silent since their abduction she had begun to worry them.
"Ginny developed an environmental conscience rather late in her academic life."
Everyone except for Virginia Pollock turned and looked up toward the back of the compartment. On a ten-foot-wide railed overhang there was a large chair. The captain of Leviathan sat and watched the sea shrouded in darkness. Heirthall slowly stood and looked out over the wooden deck sixty feet below.
"Ginny?" Niles asked, looking from the captain to Virginia, who had merely lowered her head and placed it against the cold glass.
"Virginia always seemed so formal — so at MIT I called her Ginny. We were what they called child prodigies. She was always into books and study, but never noticed the world around her. However, she was always preaching God and country, but never allowed a thought to what her country was doing to the world's environment — indeed, God's environment."
"You two know each other?" Sarah asked before Niles could.
"You Americans are surprisingly entertaining," Farbeaux said as he walked over and started looking for the bar he knew must be in the compartment somewhere.
"We are… or I should say, at one time, the best of friends," Heirthall said from her high vantage point.
"Tell me you're not the saboteur?" Compton said, taking a step toward the glass.
Virginia turned, looking shocked and hurt.
"What?"
"You didn't allow this woman to attack the vaults and then the complex itself, killing our people?" Niles asked, even shocking the others.
"Of course I didn't. Just because I knew her many years ago, that makes me a traitor?" Virginia said as she left the window and advanced on the director.
"Please, no one here is a traitor to any cause." The captain turned away from the upper railing and started making her way down a set of winding stairs, holding the rail and looking at the group as she did. "Ginny could no more betray her country" — she paused and looked at Niles—"than she could her friends. No, the only thing she was ever good at was being loyal, even to a fault."
Virginia stopped and then sat hard into a chair at the large table.
"No, Doctor, she's not the person you are seeking, but she was a name to throw your security teams off the trail, so to speak," she said with a trace of a smile.
Niles nodded at Sarah, then walked over to Virginia and sat next to her.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
Virginia looked up and saw her face in Niles's glasses. She did not like her reflection.
"I was praying that it wasn't her." Virginia looked from the director to the captain. "Because I was frightened, scared to death. Niles — she's not bluffing, and yes, Senator Lee, you're right, she is quite insane, but not in the way you may think."
Heirthall turned, and none of them cared for her look. She was looking straight at them. Then she suddenly walked at a brisk pace toward the conference table.
"Insane? Let me show you the true meaning of insane." She hit a switch embedded in the table. "Commander Samuels, alter course to the coordinates we discussed earlier, please."
"Captain, we are beyond the point of center ice. If we alter course right now we—"
"Alter course to the impacted zone immediately," she ordered angrily into the small microphone in the table. "Bring her shallow, Commander. We have to show our guests the consequences of human folly," she said, slowly but firmly placing her hand down on the intercom, not waiting for the first officer's reply. She placed both hands on the table, looked straight ahead, and then suddenly rubbed her temples and visibly relaxed.
"Aye, Captain, altering course to three-five-seven."
Alice leaned into Lee and nudged him. "Her eyes, Garrison."
Lee looked and saw Alice's meaning. The captain's eyes were dilated almost to the point of becoming totally blue.
Alice looked nervously at Lee, and even Farbeaux had stopped searching for the bar long enough to show concern on his face when he saw the intense way Heirthall was acting.
Alexandria lowered her head and then sat in the center chair of the large conference table. She brushed back a strand of long black hair that had fallen loose from her tightly woven braid. She swallowed and then looked up.
"You have my apologies. Some words…. well… they are made to hurt. Insanity is such a word. What is the difference between this awful thing and passion? A fine line can be affixed in between the two and make them unrecognizable as opposites."
"Alex, your actions explain quite adequately your state of mind. What other conclusions can people draw from the things that you have done? Yes, as a species we are self-destructive, and yes, our country is one of the worst violators, but we need time, Alex," Virginia said.
The captain suddenly stood, walked over to Virginia, and placed a hand on her cheek. In the spotlights surrounding the room, the raven-haired woman was indeed beautiful. She smiled down at her old friend.
"Time has expired, Ginny." Their eyes locked, and Virginia saw something the others did not in those dilated blue eyes: a call for help. Heirthall was almost two people, gentle one minute, extremely violent the next.
Compton and Farbeaux felt the angle of the deck change before the others. Leviathan was coming shallow.
Virginia felt Alexandria's hand slide from her face as she walked toward the large viewing glass once more.
"My great-great-grandfather once trusted men. Octavian Heirthall committed evil acts to ensure the United States remained the light of the world, for in his opinion, they could do such magnificent things — so young, so naive, but they saw a path and they took it. The reward for his duty to his adoptive country?" she asked as she turned on them. "His friend assassinated, his family murdered before his very eyes, and his only remaining daughter, Olivia, hunted like a criminal for the rest of her life."
"We don't know—"
"I do not expect you to know anything, Dr. Compton. I am explaining why trust is no longer an option with my family. The test has been before you since the first particles of contamination flowed from the rivers and into the sea, when the first coal-fired factories started spewing their filth all over the globe. The test has been failed by the species, thus you have forfeited certain privileges, one being the right to transit the seas for profit." She held up a hand as she looked up and saw the first officer step out onto the balcony above and nod his head. "And now I invite you to see firsthand the effects of the world's murderous folly against nature." She turned and gestured out the window.
As they watched, there was nothing. Then a very loud bang sounded against the outer hull of Leviathan and echoed throughput the giant vessel. The collision alarms sounded all around them as Niles and the others went to the glass and started looking around.
"All hands, rig for multiple collisions," a voice said over the loud speaker.
"Oh, God, hang on," Niles said as he grabbed the rail in front of him.
Outside the glass, a quarter-mile-wide piece of ice cascaded down into the sea from the ice cap above. The jagged edge bounced crazily off the observation glass and then hit the bow before being tossed back along the hull and out of the way. Another struck and then another. Many hit the water after calving from the bottom of the pack, then rose back up because of their buoyancy. Still, giant shards of ice were being sheared off the bottom side of the polar ice cap. From above the surface, the larger pieces let loose with a loud roar as they split and fell through the thin pack ice and down into the depths.
Leviathan pushed and maneuvered its way through the minefield of ice. The glass withstood the pounding, but was in danger of being pushed in by mountain-sized pieces of frozen water.
"Captain, we are sustaining minor damage. We have leaks in engineering and the forward weapons room. Recommend we dive."
"The polar ice cap is melting above us. It is dying from a global phenomenon many politicians have said is only a cyclical happening. Global warming cannot be stopped, possibly not in our lifetime — that is not an opinion, but fact. The temperature in the past ten years has risen by six degrees."
"Science agrees that the outer edges of the cap are indeed melting, but—" Virginia started to say.
"We are under the direct center of the North Pole. At the rate of the meltdown, in ten years there will be no ice at the top of the world," she answered calmly and matter-of-factly. "Officer of the deck, resume previous course and speed, please. Take Leviathan to two thousand feet minimum depth. Secure the collision alarms and send a damage report to my cabin."
"Aye, Captain, resuming previous course and speed."
Heirthall clicked off the intercom and looked up as the bow of Leviathan dipped sharply, making them all grab hold of the table for support.
"There are far more disturbing things you will see before your time is up on Leviathan. Please, observe, and I will be happy to explain the depths of the oceans' despair. For now, I must leave you," she said, closing her eyes against the pain they all saw on her features. "I will see you at dinner." She looked up at them and tried her best to smile, but failed miserably.
"Captain, are we here to be interrogated or taken on a sightseeing tour?" Niles asked as he stepped away from the observation windows.
Heirthall closed her eyes, lowered her head, and then turned to face Niles and the others. She swayed, then grabbed hold of one of the chairs to steady herself. Farbeaux made a move to assist but Alexandria held up a hand and stayed him. She looked up and saw that First Officer Samuels was making his way down the spiral staircase. She almost looked conspiratorial when she looked back at Compton and the others.
"Please, give me time. I need you onboard for a reason I cannot go into now. When Sergeant Tyler asks his questions, answer any way you like; tell the truth, don't tell the truth, it is no matter, but buy me some time."
"Captain, are you all right?" Samuels asked as he took her by the arm.
Heirthall straightened and then looked at her first officer. "I am fine, Commander, just tired." She shrugged off his hand and made her way out of the observation lounge.
Samuels watched her go. "I must apologize for the captain's behavior. She's… she is—"
They noticed Samuels's words stopped when he saw that Sergeant Tyler was watching from above.
"Please excuse me," Samuels said and quickly left.
They watched Leviathan's first officer leave. When Niles looked up he saw that Tyler had disappeared also.
"I must reevaluate my earlier prognosis, Niles, my boy. It's not just the captain who is insane, but her entire crew."
"Senator, we need to buy some time. We have to give Captain Everett and Pete Golding time. They will find us. Until then we have to find out what's going on here, because from what I just saw, we may be in more trouble than I thought."
"Why? I mean, besides the obvious?" Lee asked.
Virginia watched the hatchway where her old friend had disappeared and knew exactly what Niles was thinking.
So did Henri Farbeaux, who was standing stock-still, his efforts to find the wet bar placed on hold.
"Because, my dear Senator Lee, a moment ago, for a reason only she knows, Captain Alexandria Heirthall looked terrified."
Niles felt ridiculous in the clothing he had been provided. While looking somewhat like a tuxedo, it was minus a bowtie, and instead a high half-collar with a blue sapphire stickpin was perched above the white dinner-jacket lapels. The material felt strange against his skin and was unlike anything he had ever felt before.
He watched the water flow past the massive bow windows, which had been fully opened once more to reveal the sea passing by as if they were in a fighter jet. He closed his eyes as someone touched him on the shoulder.
"Damned strange feel to the tuxedo, eh, Mr. Director?" Senator Lee said as he stood next to Niles.
As Compton turned, he saw at least a hundred members of the crew as they stood in various areas of the forward compartment, some eating strange-looking hors d'oeuvres and others just standing and talking amongst themselves. They all wore what Niles assumed to be the dress uniform of the Leviathan, consisting of a pure white short-tailed jacket with gold and blue braid at the cuffs, white pants and shoes, and again, like himself, no tie. The women crew members wore the same, except they wore knee-length skirts. All were elegant looking; even the senator managed to look debonair.
As Niles was about to answer Garrison, Sarah walked into the room, followed by Farbeaux. Many of the male officers turned to look at the woman and her evening dress. The deep blue and green gown was like the colors of the sea. It was long and flowing and was placed upon a woman who looked as miserable as Niles had ever seen her. Farbeaux, on the other hand, was dressed in his evening wear and looked as if he were made for it. They both approached and smiled.
"I hate this," Sarah said as she politely grinned.
"I keep telling young Sarah that for her to dress any other way would be a waste of God's talents as a designer," Farbeaux said sincerely.
"For once, I have to agree with our friend," Niles said as he took Sarah's gloved hand and looked her over.
"Hear, hear," agreed Lee.
"All right, old man, don't let your one good eye fall out of your head," Alice said as she took the senator's arm.
Alice Hamilton was dressed in a nice gown of blues that had a chiffontype material that covered her arms from the shoulder straps to her elbow-length gloves.
"This one eye is torn between viewing either Aphrodite or Venus, as both are so lovely," Lee said diplomatically.
"Indeed, Mrs. Hamilton, you are the very definition of grace and elegance," Farbeaux agreed with a bow.
"This, coming from a Frenchman and a has-been politician, makes me giddy all over," Alice said as she sneered at the two men, and then turned and started scanning the room. "I don't see Virginia," she said, craning her neck.
"Hasn't shown yet. I would like to get a chance to speak with her alone," Niles said as he saw the first officer, Commander Samuels, approach.
"Good evening — you all look very nice," he said, bowing.
"Yes, well, if our clothes hadn't been absconded with during our showers, I assure you, we would not have cooperated with you to this extravagant length." Niles locked eyes with the commander and didn't shy away.
"We thought for this occasion, the proper attire would be most appropriate. Your clothing will be returned cleaned and pressed."
"And that occasion is?" Lee asked, leaning on his cane.
"Why, the anniversary of Captain Heirthall's great-great-greatgrandfather escaping from Chateau d'If, of course, which coincides with the birth of Octavian Heirthall to the very day five years later, the very genius behind all of this," he answered, gesturing about the room.
"Chateau d'If? That sounds familiar," Alice said.
"If I may, Commander," Farbeaux said. "The Chateau d'If is a very old prison of some renown in my country, Mrs. Hamilton." He turned from Alice to Samuels. "More famously it is known for the setting of one of the world's great novels." He smiled at all in the half-circle around him. "French, of course—The Count of Monte Cristo."
"Very good, Colonel," Samuels responded with genuine pleasure. "One and the same."
"You're implying — just what are you implying?" Sarah asked.
"I imply nothing, Lieutenant McIntire. I am only informing you of a truth."
"I find that somewhat hard to believe, Commander," Farbeaux said without the mirth of a moment before.
"Roderick Deveroux was falsely imprisoned by the Emperor Napoleon in the year 1799. His crime was failure to deliver to the emperor his life's work on ship design and construction of naval vessels that would have revolutionized the navies of France — swift, cutterlike ships that would have been models for today's America's Cup vessels. Plans for steam and coal-fired engines, battery storage systems for electricity — the list would continue for several hundred pages."
"How could he have been so far advanced of the science of design and propulsion?" Niles asked.
"According to legend, Deveroux's intellect was staggering. He spent his life entirely at sea, and most of that time corresponded with the most brilliant minds in the world. He was slave to the betterment of humankind: advanced ways to gather the bounty of the sea, and still not over-fish the grounds — ideas and plans for alternative fuels that would save the lives of whales the world over, and stop men from seeking their deaths for lamp oil and lubrication. Yes, he was a man of science, but also a man of compassion who still believed in his brotherhood with other men. Napoleon guaranteed he would take another view after his imprisonment."
"The emperor couldn't get his designs, so he threw him in prison," Alice said aloud.
"Yes, but he escaped, just like Mr. Dumas said in his account of the story. That is where the tale departs on fits of fancy."
"The treasure was a fallacy in the Dumas story?" Niles asked.
"Oh, no. During his escape, Deveroux was washed ashore on a small island in the English Channel. While there, he discovered a treasure long lost to history: gold and jewels from the sacking of Jerusalem and the Holy Land. We estimate its value in today's currency," he bowed to Niles, "in American dollars, to be just a little less than three-point-seven trillion dollars."
"A sum like that would have destroyed the economies of most nations of the world. Having that much gold and precious stones thrown into the market."
Samuels looked at Lee with a smile.
"Not if the money is doled out slowly, evenly, and used only for the advancement of science being studied on a small, out-of-the-way island." He gestured to a portrait that sat upon an easel. The large painting showed the family Heirthall.
"Mr. Deveroux is seated in the chair with his son, Octavian, and his wife, Alexandria. As I stated before, Octavian was the real genius of the family. After the murder of his father, that left Octavian and his mother, who was severely ill and bedridden by that time by a malady called Osler's disease. The disease is passed from parent to child, and can cause blood clots throughout the body."
The entire Group noted the mention of the disease for later discussion.
"Where did they go after Deveroux's death?" Sarah asked.
"Nowhere; everywhere; America, Asia, the South Pacific — Octavian took his family's work and developed it into the very submarine that you had within your complex, the very first Leviathan. It was meant to save the world and render warfare useless. He would command the world's seas, and with that command he would guarantee to the world it could never war upon each other again, for without the sea, military measures are useless."
"What happened to him?" Sarah persisted.
"Octavian Heirthall struck a deal that would preserve part of the sea for his work. Abraham Lincoln recognized the legitimacy of his request and struck that deal — one that guaranteed for Lincoln that the United Kingdom would be kept from recognizing the Confederacy. Heirthall only wanted the Gulf of Mexico protected. As always, men failed the captain — which brings us to the current mistrust."
At that moment, the two large hatchways opened and the lights dimmed as the captain of Leviathan entered the observation lounge. The officers started applauding, the sound muffled by their white-gloved hands. She was dressed as they, only her uniform was a deep navy blue with sea green and gold epaulets and braid. She wore a pure white turtleneck, and her hair was pulled into a severe bun. She wore pants in lieu of a skirt, but her beauty was still unmatched by anyone in the room with the exception of Sarah. She bowed and then smiled.
"In case you're wondering, and if you'll excuse me, I'm beginning to understand how you think, the captain has earned the right to wear that rank. She served as a trainee and midshipman under her own parents. She has taken the final exams of both the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis, and the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth. Her scores have never been equaled. Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, duty calls."
Samuels took an offered glass from a midshipman.
"Captain, it is an honor to salute you and your ancestors on this yearly day of days," Samuels said aloud as the middy stewards passed around trays of something that resembled green Kool-Aid in champagne flutes. Once everyone had a glass: "Captain, to the great god of the seas — to Roderick Deveroux Heirthall, and to the creator of Leviathan, past and present, his son, Octavian, upon his birthday!"
"Roderick Deveroux — Octavian Heirthall!" the crew members repeated loudly.
Sarah and Alice looked at Niles and the senator. Lee deferred by raising his eyebrow over his patch to the director; thus it fell on Compton, who nodded his head to toast a great man and his son.
Henri Farbeaux smiled, finally agreeing with Compton, turned his glass flute upward, and drank heavily.
"Absolutely the most despicable liquid I have ever tasted." He took another drink, as did the others. "Yet, somehow it grows on you," Farbeaux said, still grimacing.
"I see you like our sparkling wine?"
They looked up to see Alexandria Heirthall standing before them. She nodded toward the Frenchman. Her eyes were normal, and with them she carried an air of aggressiveness in her look.
"No, I find it vulgar in the extreme… but somehow — how do I say—compelling?"
"Well, we say the fermented poison sac of the silver-spined sea urchin."
A questioning look crossed the features of the Frenchman.
"The drink, Colonel; it's the fermented squeezings of the poison sacs of small sea creatures that make up what we call Jonah's Ambrosia."
"Sea urchins? You go from the world's rarest wine to sea urchins? I believe you need to speak with your chef," Farbeaux said as he took another glass from a passing steward.
"There will be wine for dinner," she said as she took his arm.
As Niles watched her leave arm in arm with Henri, he looked at each person around him.
"She's living in another world. Birthday parties for fictitious characters, the whole Nemo thing, she's far beyond what I even thought," Lee said, watching the captain's back.
Compton didn't respond. He was busy studying the captain's movements. Her stride and demeanor seemed measured and precise as she made her way through the crowd of adoring crew members.
"Whether she's mad or not is irrelevant. Let's examine her achievements. Even if we don't take her at face value as far as her sanity is concerned, we better take seriously the toys her family invented, and the ones she plays with," Sarah said, nodding her head that they should join the rest at the long table that had been set up in front of the viewing glass. "Because insane or not, that woman holds one powerful hand of cards."
As the hundred officers and crew made their way to their places, a group of children, no older than twelve to fourteen, filed in and stood in front of the observation glass at the bow.
As an officer next to her seated Sarah, she saw the boys and girls were dressed in shorts and white shirts. They smiled as an instructor stepped in front of them, and then turned and bowed at the captain, who nodded. Soon the most harmonious song Sarah or the others had ever heard came flowing from the mouths of the children — it was slow, melodious, and sent chills through them. Sarah looked toward the head of the long table and saw that the captain, though Farbeaux was speaking to her, was looking directly at her.
Sarah nodded her head and the captain smiled. It was as though the woman had some great secret she held at arm's length about Sarah that was hers alone to know.
Outside the viewing windows, the cold Arctic Sea flowed by as Leviathan kept course for the gap between the Aleutians and Russia — what was known in naval terminology as a choke point.
Leviathan would soon learn there was good reason for that term.
The president listened to the story that Jack told him. After Europa and their investigative teams found out the name of the family they were dealing with, diaries and other government paperwork from history started flowing into the Group's lap.
The president understood that almost sixty percent of what he was hearing was conjecture, but given what the president had learned in his very short time of knowing these people in Nevada, he knew to throw out the percentages. Their guesswork was a better percentage risk than most agencies' facts.
"So your historical departments believe that this Octavian Heirthall assisted Lincoln in some capacity during the Civil War? And there was definite animosity between this man and Secretary of War Stanton?"
"From the few entries from diaries — with the mention of O. H., or the Norwegian — we assume these diarists were speaking of Octavian," Jack explained. "The most convincing piece of evidence comes from the official paymaster of the Confederate States. Five hundred dollars in gold was issued to Confederate Assistant Secretary of State Thomas Engersoll, and he was sent on a mission to Great Britain. His orders were unknown, but we have confirmed that he met directly with Queen Victoria and certain members of Parliament. There has been conjecture around here that a treaty may have been in the works between England and the Confederacy."
"What happened to this Engersoll, Colonel?" the president asked.
"He was lost in a storm in the Gulf of Mexico in eighteen sixty-three on his return trip, along with three British warships."
"Hmm, damn rough storm," the president said, shaking his head.
"Yes, it would have been, except for the fact our historians say there wasn't a severe storm in the general area for the entire months of June and July of eighteen sixty-three that could account for sinking three British men-of-war."
"Octavian Heirthall?"
"Yes, sir, we believe that was one of the missions he was tasked with. All the pieces of the puzzle fit together, Mr. President; we believe that the history is correct and it leads us right to Alexandria Heirthall."
"What do we do about it?"
Jack turned the meeting back to Pete Golding.
"Well, sir, we have a theory that places Octavian Heirthall somewhere within a three-thousand-square-mile area of the Pacific, where we believe he made his home base. That, coupled with physical evidence recovered here at the complex after the assault, makes us believe we may find them somewhere in between Saboo Island in the Marianas, and Guam."
"I need the chain of evidence sent over. The Russians and Chinese have set traps at the entrances into the Pacific and Indian oceans, around the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Horn of South America, and the Bering Strait."
Jack turned the monitor back to face him.
"Sir, this trap the Russians and Chinese have come up with — call it off. Get them to back away until we can figure out a more realistic plan of action. It's our opinion, as I'm sure is the navy's, that we can't outgun this woman."
The president sat motionless as he looked at the images of Pete and Collins. Then he thought a moment.
"Colonel, Admiral Fuqua has the attack boats Pasadena, Dallas, and Missouri dispersed in those ambushing groups. I cannot pull them out at this time. We would lose all hope of cooperation between our Asian and Russian allies in this mess. The Russians, Venezuelans, British, and Chinese are fuming after this morning's attacks."
The double doors to the office opened and Gene Robbins came through with a sheaf of paper. He placed it on Pete's desk and waited for the meeting to end.
"What exactly is their plan of attack?" Jack asked.
"A cordon of eight attack submarines, arrayed at intervals and different depths, lying quiet and ready to shoot at anything that comes out of the polar passages. The same amount has been placed at the other areas I mentioned."
Jack didn't say what he was thinking — that this would be a massacre beyond anyone's worst nightmare, and in favor of the wrong team.
"So, get me somewhere I can make a stand against these people. Come up with something, Colonel. Thus far the CIA, NSA, and FBI have nothing."
"Yes, sir."
The monitor went from the president's image to a blank blue screen.
"Did I hear right — they're setting a trap for Leviathan?" Robbins asked, removing his glasses. "Wasn't the loss of those British warships enough for one day?"
Collins looked at Robbins. "Do you expect the world to just lie down and not try to stop this madness, Doctor?"
"No… no, of course not… I just mean—"
"What do you have, Gene?" Pete asked, cutting off his quasi-apology.
"I just wanted to tell you that we have Europa completely back. I've close-looped the system with the exception of the clean room, and only we four currently have access to that area."
"That will be all, Gene," Pete said, gesturing toward the door.
Robbins quickly left the office.
"I never knew the good doctor was so passionate about naval losses," Everett said.
"He's just frustrated," Pete said.
Jack nodded at Everett, and the captain pulled a small plastic bag out of his back pocket and handed it to Pete. Golding accepted the bag and looked it over.
"Rubber gloves?" he asked.
"Pete, when we head out to Saboo Island, I think we need a person from the computer center to accompany us. You never know, we may need one on this trip," Jack said, looking serious and tapping the plastic bag Pete was holding.
"I guess I can assign someone."
"Not just someone, Pete. I want the saboteur to come along for the ride."
After dessert, the choir had been replaced with a string quartet. They played classical music as the officers and Leviathan's guests stood talking.
"If I may ask, Captain, what is Leviathan's crew complement?" Lee asked as a designed intelligence question.
"Of course — we have seven hundred seventy-two officers and crew. We also have aboard fifty-two trainees and seventy-five midshipmen. They form an excellent choir, don't you agree?"
"I am becoming aware of your crew's extreme loyalty to you… and your philosophy, Captain," Niles said, choosing to ignore the question about the midshipmen.
"Dr. Compton, my crew's loyalty has never entered my mind. As for my philosophy, I never hold back any information from them. On the contrary, I rely on their research, their study, and their ideas."
"Can I safely assume there is a base involved with Leviathan's upkeep?" Lee asked, tapping the teak deck with his cane.
"Yes, there is a place we call home, actually two of them. My great-grandmother Olivia and her husband, Peter Wallace, established the first permanent base after the betrayal of her own father, Octavian. I along with my parents excavated the second base in the last fifty years." Her gaze moved away from the two men and she looked at the sea outside of the large windows, flowing above and around her. "The second one is a place that was unreachable for many years, until certain problems were worked out."
"And that base is where?" Lee asked.
She turned and looked at the two men, smiling.
"It would do me no good to tell you about it. We will arrive at the first in a day or so, and the second soon after."
Niles studied the beautiful woman before him. She had moments of clarity where she seemed as if she were just any other passenger on a cruise ship, marveling at the vessel and seas around her. Niles was close to the unalterable conclusion that he was indeed looking at the most intelligent person he had ever known, and as Lee had suggested on many occasions, the most insane.
"Captain, I am not a stupid man, but I'll be damned if I can figure out your hull design and the materials used in Leviathan's construction. How can you achieve such depths?" Lee again waved his cane around him, indicating the ship as a whole.
"Leviathan's hull is a composite material derived from nylon, spun steel, plastic, and an ingredient that is found only at the most extreme depths of—" She suddenly stopped and smiled at Lee. "You almost had me, Senator. I must say, your OSS history came into play there, didn't it?"
"I had to try," Lee said, not smiling.
"However, I see no harm in telling you a little something. You wouldn't understand the dynamics involved at any rate, so I will just give you the end result." She smiled at her small insult to the senator. "You may be surprised to know that the deeper Leviathan travels, the denser our hull material becomes. It compacts itself, quadrupling its strength."
Alice came up and took Lee by the arm. "Captain Heirthall, why didn't you sit down with the leaders of the world and show them what you are showing us before you started shooting?"
"Yes, Alex, why don't you explain why you didn't do that?"
They turned and saw Virginia standing behind the captain. She was dressed in a simple green evening gown, and her eyes were somewhat puffy, as if she had been crying.
"Certain developments in the Gulf of Mexico arose that made talking beforehand unacceptable. Immediate action was required, and I acted. The greed of a single country was—"
"Be careful, Alex, your hatred is showing through your words," Virginia said as she reached out and removed a glass of wine from the table.
Alexandria looked from Virginia to the other members of the Event Group, then smiled.
"Why, Ginny, are you still angry with me for setting you up? I've explained in no uncertain terms your complete innocence in my getting the information and intelligence I needed on your Group."
Virginia tilted her head after taking a drink of wine.
"No, not angry. I love the Group and the people I work with," she said, looking over at Niles, who lowered his own eyes to the floor. "They would have eventually found out the truth. I also thought I knew you, Alex. The person you are now kills innocents so easily. The Alex I knew in college would have convinced anyone who listened that she had a better way." She looked around, gesturing at Leviathan. "A person who creates something as magnificent as this, and she turns out to be as cold as the sea she claims to protect." Virginia drained the glass of wine and then reached for the bottle on the table. " 'With great power comes great responsibility.' I forget who said that."
Lee started to answer but Alice squeezed his arm for him to be silent.
"And I take that responsibility seriously, Ginny, you know that," Heirthall said, looking harshly at her old friend.
Sergeant Tyler stepped up to the group and held a glass of wine up in a mock toast. His look said that he was interested in the conversation.
Pouring wine into her glass, Virginia kept her eyes averted from the small group around her. "Yes, we've been witness to your responsibility, Alex. Now tell me, old friend, obviously you have another person inside our department who could have told you we know nothing about your family, their science, or your intentions. So why bring us here?"
"Sergeant Tyler will answer that for you soon enough."
"You're a liar, Alex; you need us for something. What is it?"
Alice stepped forward when she saw a spark of anger flare in the eyes of Alexandria. She took Virginia by the arm and quickly led her away from the table.
"I see I'm not the only one who is enjoying the wine," Farbeaux said as he and Sarah joined the silent trio.
"Captain, Virginia is—"
"Of all the people in the world, Dr. Compton, Ginny is one person you never have to explain to me." She lowered her head and made as if she were adjusting her white gloves.
"Excuse me, I must attend to something," Sergeant Tyler said, placing his untouched wine on the table next to him. His eyes locked on Alexandria's and something passed between them. It made the Group wonder who was really in charge on Leviathan.
As the uncomfortable silence continued, a wailing alarm sounded. It lasted for only a minute, but it was enough for officers and crew to start moving from the observation lounge in a hurry.
The first officer approached Heirthall, placed a flimsy message into her hand, then turned her away and whispered something. They all watched as the captain's face went slack, and then she squeezed her eyes shut and planted her hands on the table before her. Samuels quickly moved away from her and turned, angrily pulling off his white gloves.
As they watched, the captain switched on the intercom.
"Officer of the deck, all stop, maintain depth, order quick quiet on all decks and initiate side-scan sonar laser system."
"Aye, Captain."
Outside Leviathan, a sliding panel slid away from her hull and into the boat. This recessed area wrapped around the entire length of the submarine. Inside the abscess was what looked to be Christmas tree lights, glowing a deep red and growing in power by the second. As Leviathan came to a complete standstill, a thousand small lasers powered up and pierced the darkened waters of the Bering Strait, three miles off her bow. Light shot out into all quarters, revolving, spinning until the whole of the great submarine was wrapped in a glowing red cocoon of undulating laser light.
"This is the reason I am forced to do the unthinkable. With nations it is always their love of power. Their stupidity is matched only by their false bravado and their love for the sound of rattling sabers."
Confused, the Event Group watched as Alexandria hit another switch, making the ambient light in the forward compartment turn green and blue. When they turned to face the front, the glass was illuminated with a holographic image a hundred years ahead of any nation's technology. The hologram, of immense proportions, lined the shields. It was as if they were looking at an electronic image of the sea directly in front of them — in essence, the image replaced the glass and magnified the outside world. Embedded inside the composite glass plates were billions of microthin fiberoptic lines, set at different depths, allowing a 3-D image to appear. As they watched, the glowing image was magnified until eight objects, some deeper than others, came into view.
"Oh my God," Niles said as he stepped closer to the hologram, which was broadcast as if it were on a seventy-millimeter movie screen.
Heirthall was staring at the images, and Sarah watched as her jaw muscles clenched.
"Bastards!" she said as she turned away and stormed out of the compartment. Alice saw that her eyes were the deepest blue, and that they were no longer dilated.
Sarah stepped up to Niles's side and studied the image.
"I clearly count eight of them," Niles said.
On the hologram before them, standing forty feet high and eighty feet long, was the terrifying image of seven Russian-built Akula class attack submarines sitting motionless, waiting for their prey to appear.
"She's going to kill them all," Lee said as he slammed the tip of his cane on the floor.
"Jesus," Sarah said. "Is that one of ours?"
Sitting in the direct center of the line was the most advanced submarine in the American fleet, and therefore, the world.
"Yes, I believe it's your USS Missouri, a Virginia class vessel if my memory serves," Farbeaux said, setting his glass down for the first time that evening.
"They're not moving — they don't know Leviathan is here," Niles said.
"She's going to destroy them," Lee said again.
Niles turned and ran for the compartment hatch, but as he neared, Sergeant Tyler stepped through. He slowly closed and dogged the hatch, then raised an automatic pistol up and pointed it at Niles. Disturbingly, the man was wearing a grin.
"The captain has given orders that you bear witness to the treachery of nations."
On the giant hologram, Leviathan drifted closer to the eight menacing attack submarines.
Niles watched as Sergeant Tyler gestured for him to back away from the hatch, moving the gun back and forth menacingly, looking determined to keep the Group in check.
"I take it our freedom of movement aboard Leviathan has been revoked?" Compton asked, not backing away from the door.
"I suspect, Niles my boy, that it's only revoked when the captain is about to commit murder," Garrison Lee said as he stepped toward the sergeant.
"As much as my captain admires you, I will have no trouble disabling you further, Senator Lee, if you continue to advance," Tyler said, shifting the position of his aim. "Now, please turn and observe the hologram."
"Can't you see Captain Heirthall doesn't need to do this?" Sarah asked, stepping in front of Lee. "She's capable of running right past that trap."
On the giant image screen, the three-dimensional view of the eight attack submarines hadn't changed as Leviathan had come to a complete stop before them.
"All hands, prepare for subsurface action. All nonessential personnel to off-duty quarters. Seal the boat and move to action stations. The attack profile will be achieved through stealth," said the voice they recognized as Heirthall's.
Niles Compton closed his eyes and balled his fists at his sides, feeling helpless. He only wished there was some way of warning those subs that it wasn't they who were doing the stalking, that the fierce animal they sought was watching them even now — and it was getting ready to spring. He turned away and leaned on the table, trying desperately to think of what to do.
"Mr. Samuels, report Leviathan's status, please."
Niles looked up at the sound of the captain's voice.
"Isn't she conducting the attack from the control center?" he asked Tyler.
"No, she never interferes with the crew during an attack. She will give her orders from another location."
"Where is she?" Lee asked.
"Where she always goes when she has to do something this distasteful — to the conning tower, her sanctuary, where no one is allowed."
Niles knew he had to get to her to stop this horrible action. Leviathan could easily slip by the cordon of submarines without their ever knowing she was there. He had to convince her to allow those seamen to live, but as he looked into the eyes of Tyler, he knew the man would have no trouble shooting him if he tried to exit the forward observation lounge. It was as if he was anticipating the death of so many sailors.
Alexandria Heirthall was looking out of the giant acrylic port window on the lowest level of the tall conning tower, a totally soundproof compartment built just for the captain, which allowed her to operate the boat without being in the presence of her crew. Although the underwater lighting system of Leviathan was as bright as the sun, she couldn't see the line of submarines in front of her with ten miles of distance between the vessels.
Once more, she placed a hand on the bubbled glass and watched her own reflection, leaning in to feel its coolness. Then she reached into her dress jacket, brought out three pills, and placed them in her mouth. The powerful Demerol dissolved with a sickening rush of bitterness. She then turned and went to the large command chair, climbed the four steps, and sat down.
The captain eased her hands down to the chair's twin consoles embedded in the thick arms. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she seemed powerless to stop it. She jerked her hands away from the control handles and rubbed them together. Then the pain hit inside of her head in earnest. Her eyes opened and she focused.
She programmed in a request from the ship's computer and then closed her eyes once more. The lighting inside the lowest section of the conning tower dimmed to almost nothing, leaving only the illumination from outside of Leviathan. A deep green hue radiated from the view ports, relaxing the captain, just as music emerged from the speaker system hidden in the bulkheads. "House of the Rising Sun," a song she knew from her childhood, started playing from the hidden speakers. The doctor had recommended the music as a means to allow her mind to ease up during tense situations. It allowed her muscles to relax and let her access her thoughts for the coming attack. The music would bring that rush of adrenalin needed for her harsh actions, as it went against everything she thought she was.
Alexandria opened her eyes and clenched the armrests with her hands so hard the blood drained from them. Then, as the deep lyrics of the song started to coincide with the movement of Leviathan, the giant submarine started moving forward, and the captain started to become one with the deadliness of her vessel.
Tyler tensed as Farbeaux strode to the center of the room with a fresh bottle of wine. The gun moved from Niles to the Frenchman just as the hatch wheel started turning. He allowed his eyes to move in that direction as the large double hatch opened and Virginia came through, followed by Alice.
"Do not allow the hatch to slam closed, ladies. Leviathan is at quiet stations," Tyler said as he moved his head in their direction.
Farbeaux moved like a cat. The bottle of three-hundred-year-old wine was in the air before anyone realized it. The makeshift projectile struck the big Irishman on the side of his head, dropping him immediately. Virginia reacted first as she stooped to retrieve the weapon from the sergeant's hand.
Tyler recovered faster than anyone would have believed. From his knees he backhanded Virginia, knocking her away until she fell next to the hatch. Alice, startled, reached down to help Virginia. Tyler placed his hand upon the gun as Farbeaux dived to stop him — all the while wondering why he was doing it. Niles moved to help the Frenchman.
Tyler again reacted faster than anyone. He quickly raised the weapon and fired. The round grazed Farbeaux in middive. He rolled and was struck with a sudden, flaring pain in his side above the hip. Tyler quickly adjusted his aim toward Niles and brought the director to a complete stop. The sergeant wiped the blood from his temple and then stood on shaky feet. He sluggishly stepped toward the prone Farbeaux and stood over him, the weapon aimed at his head.
"Don't… we'll not give you any more problems," Alice said, taking a step away from Virginia by the hatchway.
Sergeant Tyler smirked and then aimed once more.
The newest Virginia class fast-attack submarine in the world was honored with a very proud moniker — the USS Missouri. In fact, she was so new that she was not even scheduled to see the water until the year 2011. After the recent run of terrorism in the world, the navy had stepped up her construction, since it was clear they needed the technology at sea, not sitting in the dry docks of Groton, Connecticut. She was silent, more silent than any vessel ever built, and made to penetrate the defenses of any port city in the world.
Captain James Jefferson, a man specifically chosen for the duty as Missouri's first commander, had fitted her out for sea with weapons delivered by supply ship from Pearl Harbor when they had rendezvoused at Midway Island. She had just finished the last leg of her sea trials, and was supposed to be headed home to Pearl, where she would officially be commissioned in three months.
Jefferson was destined to become the first black submarine commander-in-chief of the Pacific fleet (COMSUBPAC). Now however, he had his doubts if he would ever make it to that lofty position. The duty given to him at the last minute could very well be his boat's first war mission, and its last. The rumors had spread very quickly throughout the U.S. Navy, had infected the boat while in transit from Pearl, and had gotten worse with their six-hour layover at Midway. They knew they were being attached to an international line of defense, and also that they were going up against the biggest unknown in the history of the navy — a submarine with unbelievable capabilities had killed up to ten warships, and had yet to be spotted.
Jefferson stood looking at his navigation console and shook his head.
"That goddamn Chinese Akula is drifting on us again. Can't those bastards maintain their station? Hell, we won't need a supersub to take shots at us, we'll sink ourselves."
Missouri's first officer turned away from the feed he was receiving from the sonar suite.
"He's not the only one, Captain. Now we have the Russian on our starboard drifting toward us. The Leonid had reported problems with her navigation suite earlier."
"Damn," Jefferson said as he rubbed his chin and looked closer at the line of battle. "Izzy, I want to pull out of the line and take up station to the far starboard side of this mess. The way these two Akulas are acting, the hole we leave in the line will be filled soon anyway. I'm not risking my damn boat because two captains can't keep station for a few hours."
"Good idea, Captain. Do we report to the lead boat?"
"No, I'm afraid it will only confuse Captain Nevelov if we did that. Besides, he'll never hear Missouri change places."
"Hell, we can't even hear ourselves, Captain," the first officer said as the men on watch chuckled in their agreement.
"Izzy, back us out of line, dead slow and silent as a field mouse, before we have an accident out here. Bring us to a far-right position of the battle line."
Alexandria Heirthall watched on the smaller holographic screen in front of her as the Missouri started to back away from the battle line. The computer-enhanced image from nine miles away was crystal clear, and just as confusing.
"Captain, we have aspect change on the American boat," Samuels called from the control center.
Heirthall was wondering if the Virginia class boat had possibly heard something that dictated it move out of line. She studied the picture provided by the lasers that struck each boat in the line, and enhanced it into the shape of the actual submarines. The Russian and Chinese Akulas were keeping their stations — it was only Missouri moving away. Then she smiled as her blazing blue eyes caught the reason why. The Chinese boat to her left and the Russian to her right were drifting in the swift current of the opening to the Bering Strait. She struck her intercom.
"We'll keep the attack profile. Give me a weapons status report, Commander."
"Forward tubes one through twenty are loaded with standard Mark seventy conventional warheads, Captain. Vertical tubes are empty. We are ready to fire at your command. Captain, can you pick up the phone line please?" Samuels asked.
Heirthall didn't respond. She only watched the simulation before her as the first drops of sweat appeared on her forehead and her temples. The tone in Commander Samuels's voice told her the first officer was in disagreement with her actions. As she felt the first pain-relieving effects of the Demerol she had taken, her pupils started to expand. She shook her head, confused by the doubt about her actions that had started to creep into her thought process. She closed her eyes, then reached for the phone at the side of the large command chair.
"Yes, Commander?"
"Captain, may I recommend two courses of action? We can speed by the attacking force before they even know we are here, or we can simply use our stealth and drift by."
As if to counter the medication, a sudden pain shot from the base of her neck and deep into her brain. She winced and then slowly recovered.
She lowered her chin as she examined the submarines on the screen. She imagined them to be nothing more than steel and machinery. There were no men on their decks, only computers and weapons. She closed her eyes and shut out the imaginary beat of more than nine hundred hearts. There were no eyes that watched the waterfall displays of their sonar stations, and there weren't men and boys planning Leviathan's death—only machines.
"James, have the crew stand by for extreme maneuvering, and order damage-control parties standing by in all departments." Alexandria once more sat in her chair. "Keep feeding the torpedo tubes coordinates on the enemy vessels, but for now, we don't need them." The pain was fighting off the attack of the medication.
"Captain, this is not necessary. Leviathan can slip by without those subs knowing we were ever here! We can run rings around them, even outrun their torpedoes—"
"James, do I have to relieve you?"
"Aye, Captain. Attack stations — collision."
With that, the captain of Leviathan started the great ship forward and went to full ramming speed.
As the thermal-dynamic drive on Leviathan went to flank speed, the music inside the captain's observation suite grew to a crescendo. Her eyes were wide and bright as she leaned forward in her chair, her knuckles once more growing white on the armrest controls. What she was doing was fundamentally wrong, and somewhere in her conscious mind, she was fully aware of it. This was not her — but then again, just under the surface of her wakeful mind, she knew it was.
As she focused on the first submarine in line, her doubts faded and her determination became solid.
Alexandria didn't know that because of the pain and medication working against one another, and her haste to attack, she had made one critical error.
"All stop, chief of the boat. Watch her drift, use the momentum, and let's get her bow angled for a hundred-meter drop in depth, and—"
"Conn — sonar. We have a disturbance eight miles to the north and — it's gone now, Captain, but it was there. It sounded like an electrostatic crackling."
Jefferson was about to respond to the sonar room when he thought of what his brief on this mission had said: "Any unusual oceanic disturbance could mean the unseen enemy is close aboard."
"Sonar, is there any reaction from our Russian or Chinese friends?"
"Nothing, Captain, they are still at station keeping."
"Izzy, bring us to general quarters. Spool up tubes one through four — standard war shot."
"Aye, chief of the boat, sound general quarters. Weapons — report on tubes one through four."
"Take Missouri to six hundred feet and take us out of the line. All-ahead flank; get us down, Izzy," Jefferson said as he held on to the navigation stanchion.
"Captain, at flank speed they'll hear us all the way to Pearl," Sonar called out over the com.
"That's what I want — let everyone know something isn't right."
Outside the hull, Missouri allowed her scimitar propeller to bite at the cold sea surrounding her, creating a water cone that echoed loudly into the earphones of every submarine in the battle line. The more experienced sub commanders on the Russian side knew immediately that the American did what he did for a reason. Three of the Russian Akulas broke line and started for deep water.
"Sonar, I need something — anything — off our bow reported. I don't care if it's two whales screwing the hell out of each other!"
"Aye."
Leviathan was at seventy knots and closing fast. The captain had jammed her throttles too far, too fast, and created a burp in her propulsion system, a hole in the water as her jets created a cave, which was read on the Missouri's sonar. On the hologram in front of Heirthall, the submarines rushed at them so fast that she had to reach out and take the viewer off the magnification setting.
"Now," she whispered. Her eyes closed halfway as the music blared on. She threw the control sticks for both of the massive rudders to the right and forward, automatically taking on ballast and changing the angles of the dive planes at the bow and the conning tower. The deadly plane protector, made of laser-hardened titanium, sliced the water like deadly, knifelike wings.
Leviathan heeled to the right, almost losing the captain from her command chair. Leviathan went into such a tight turn that most modern submarines would have sheared off their planes in the fantastic stresses brought upon the hull. Soon the first line of Chinese Akulas came into view. They were in a position that was almost too perfect to believe — they had not moved one inch. They were bow-to-bow and just hovering, sitting there like three blind mice. Alexandria closed her eyes all the way and listened to the rush of water outside the glass. The music continued booming into her ears as the great submarine heeled in the opposite direction, straightening her attack angle.
Leviathan was now at one hundred knots as she straightened for her run.
"All hands, imminent collision — I repeat, imminent collision," Samuels called over the com system, far below in the control center.
Alexandria finally opened her eyes. The massive headache was easing as the adrenalin shot through her body. Just then the dark gray silhouettes of the submarines took on a ghostly shape before her. She clenched her jaw muscles and did what had become a ritual with her: She prayed to her family for the strength she needed to do what needed to be done.
As the slicing plane protector came within feet of the first Chinese boat, her mind suddenly became clear—Samuels was right, I could have gone deep and avoided this confrontation. Her reaction to this revelation made her very nearly throw her control sticks in the opposite direction, just as the sharklike bow plane of Leviathan struck the sonar dome of the first sub in line.
Leviathan slammed into the sonar dome of the Chinese boat, shattering it like an eggshell and sending more than thirty-five men in their forward spaces to a gruesome death. Then, as Leviathan barely slowed, she hit the second sub in line; it was just a glancing blow but enough to crack her hull, sending her sliding into the depths with her power plant screaming in reverse.
Suddenly, as if a switch had been thrown inside her brain, she became aware that it was as if something had taken control of her actions. She wanted to stop this insane attack, but part of her was beyond reason as she bore down on the unsuspecting warships.
The third boat was a Russian that had heard the collision of the first and second sub in line and had started to turn toward the disturbance. The attacking Akula was only one second from launching a spread of torpedoes when she was struck amidships by Leviathan. The collision was not meant to be in that area of the Akula's hull. Leviathan, though certainly able to withstand the blow, was still rocked as she slowed to fifty knots after the brief collision sent her rolling under the stricken submarine.
The American and the remaining submarines used that chance to defend themselves. The Russian attack boat Leviathan had just silenced snapped into two pieces and fell to the bottom of the Strait, crushing every soul onboard.
As the fourth Chinese submarine in line was struck, Captain Jefferson knew he had to find some sort of shelter. All hell was breaking loose, but for the life of him, his sonar team could not get a handle on it. It was as though the defensive line were getting rammed by an invisible ghost.
"Damn it, we're blind as hell — what in God's name is out there?" Jefferson said as Missouri heeled to the port side and her bow angled steeply down. "Sonar — conn. You don't have anything on your scopes other than the destroyed subs?"
"We get a ghosting of speed on the waterfall, then a shape as a collision happens. Then nothing, Captain — we're dealing with something that doesn't have the same hull construction as us or anything in the world. Some kind of stealth technology. We only know there are no torpedoes in the water!"
"Damn it. Take her deeper, Izzy — deeper!"
"Fifteen degrees down plane — all-ahead flank!" his first officer called out.
"All noises have stopped, debris descending to our starboard and port beam, sound of bulkheads collapsing. We also have noise conducive to four subs going shallow — yes, the Dubrinin, Tolstoy, Peter the Great, and the Chinese boat Tzu-Tang—I think we're all that's left down here, Captain."
"Damn, the last one out of the pool."
"Captain, we can't shoot what we can't see or hear."
"I know, Izzy, I know."
Alexandria's attempt to avoid the last collision had failed and the heavy maneuvering afterward to regain control threw Niles and the others in the now closed and watertight observation lounge. Garrison Lee went down in a heap, and Alice fell on top of him. Sarah saw an opportunity. Instead of being terrified, she had gotten angry. Virginia reacted at the same time. Tyler had fallen to a knee after the last collision and was struggling to gain his feet. At that moment he was hit simultaneously by Virginia and Sarah. Virginia went high and Sarah low, grabbing for the gun as she heard voices at the hatchway. Before she knew what was happening, several shots discharged from Tyler's weapon. The rounds missed everyone and ricocheted off the titanium bulkheads, making loud pings as they did. Niles and Lee started to assist the women but were grabbed by other security men before they could.
"Fools!" Tyler said as he regained his feet. Then he lost his balance once more as everyone lost their footing. Before anyone could take advantage of Tyler's predicament, several more security men had entered and leveled their weapons.
Leviathan again rolled to their right and all of them felt her accelerate. Captain Heirthall, all doubt once more removed from her actions, was aiming for the last target in the Bering Strait — USS Missouri.
"That's it — nothing else is out there, Captain," sonar reported.
"Damn it — where are you?" Jefferson said as he closed his eyes in thought.
Outside of Missouri's hull, Leviathan was closing once more at seventy-five knots, aiming straight at the bow of the American boat.
Suddenly, thuds started penetrating their hull. The soundwaves were faint, but after the silence of the previous attacks, the strange noise seemed as loud as cannon fire. The BQQ sonar was also picking up another sound as the great submarine closed on them — the sound of water rushing over a rough surface.
"Captain, we have what sounds like possible gunfire and something else, a thousand yards to starboard!"
"Izzy — match bearings on that noise and shoot!"
In the control center of Leviathan, Samuels was reluctantly about to sound the collision warning for the last time for their final target.
"Commander, we are making noise, I can't tell from where yet, but the sound is emanating from Leviathan." The technician pushed his headphones into his ears and listened intently. "We have torpedoes in the water — we have four fish — American Mark forty-eights — they went active as soon as they left their tubes. Torpedoes have acquired Leviathan!"
"Commander, someone has discharged a weapon onboard. It has definitely affected our stealth!"
There was no response coming from the auxiliary control station in the captain's suite at the base of the conning tower. Samuels knew he had to act.
"Hard right rudder, all-ahead flank — take her down to a thousand feet!" Samuels said as calmly as he could. "Launch countermeasures!"
Alexandria had heard the gunfire from somewhere down below. She closed her eyes as Leviathan started altering her course. She started fighting her emotions as the headache was suddenly under control. She need not contact control, knowing Samuels would do what needed doing. Her senses were draining of all input except regret at what she had done.
As she stood, she stumbled down the platform, caught herself, and then slowly walked to the large round viewing port. She tried in vain to smile, now realizing it had to have been Virginia and the people from the Event Group who had given their position away. She nodded her head as Leviathan started a run for her life. As Leviathan maneuvered and "House of the Rising Sun" went into its dramatic climax, she slammed against the glass. Alexandria slid down into a heap; she closed her eyes and her body slumped. As she slid into unconsciousness, she thought she felt movement inside her head. Before going completely out, she wondered if she truly was insane.
Leviathan went deep. One of the Mark 48 torpedoes had locked onto the sound of the fast-moving sub. The water became disturbed with every turn of her giant bow planes and aft rudders, until the Mark 48 snapped its thin guidewire and the giant sub banked hard to starboard. The torpedo was seeing and targeting the now-roughened edges of the bow-plane titanium shields that had been warped during the ramming.
The first and second torpedo lost contact as the great submarine dived beneath the thermal layer. They went for the bubbling and frothing canisters that were ejected from the stern of Leviathan. However, unbeknownst to the men and women onboard the giant submarine, the last two American weapons had driven underneath a large section of one of the destroyed Chinese Akulas as it sank fast to the bottom. The first Mark 48 turned downward to the deck of Leviathan, slamming into her vertical launch tubes just aft of the conning tower. The second hit a glancing blow off her port side, then went straight down after its rebound and exploded just below the engineering compartment at the aft portion of Leviathan. The great submarine was rocked, first downward and then up, actually bending almost five degrees at her midsection.
The crew was thrown around in their seats. Water leaks sprang up in a thousand places. Her thermal-dynamic drive went offline, sending out a screeching alarm throughout the ship. The four nuclear power plants scrammed and shut down.
As her life's work shuddered around her, Alexandria's eyes fluttered open. She tried lifting herself off the carpeted deck. She failed, then tried again, finally gaining her feet. She slowly wiped blood from her lip and knew she had blood coming from her ears. She staggered to her chair and hit the intercom.
"Report, Mr. Samuels."
"We're still getting information, Captain. Power plants are offline and we have already switched to battery power. We have preliminary reports of casualties in engineering and three out of the six weapons rooms. We have a hull breach in engineering — no report as to the extent of damage. The hull has sustained damage from the strike and from our own ramming to the point we must be heard by enemy sonar. We cannot repair the bow planes or the damage to the vertical tube hatches until we can dry dock."
"Very well — get Leviathan moving out past the Strait, then take us deep; three thousand feet will do. For now, plot us a course for Saboo. We'll use the deep thermal cline to hide our noise."
"Aye, Captain — Saboo."
Alexandria steadied herself, then decided it was time to go and see how Compton and the others were, and congratulate them on a surprise move that she would have never guessed them capable of. As she wiped the blood that streamed from her left ear off the side of her face, she knew deep down she was grateful for her, and Leviathan's, first-ever failure.
Captain Jefferson was in sonar listening on a set of headphones. He shook his head.
"I'm not sure, Captain, until I run the tapes back, but I think we hit her. The detonations were too far away for our fish to have struck any debris from the Akulas. After that we picked up a high-speed whine heading due south out of the Straights. We may not have caused that boat to sink, but we caused some kind of damage to her hull. We hurt her," the supervisor in sonar said. "The Mark forty-eights had to have picked up on some previous damage to her hull after the guidewires broke. That and the damage we caused are what we heard."
Jefferson removed his headphones, looked at First Officer Izzeringhausen, then back at the three sonar technicians. "Once the sonar recording is examined, can you find her again?"
"Unless they can dry dock whatever that thing is, yes, Captain, we can find her."
"Look, Izzy, there's been nothing for the past twenty minutes. Get to the surface and sweep for survivors. I want to get out of this valley of death as soon as we can go with a clear conscience. When we are up top, we need to call home and report this mess. And hopefully they'll send us some help."
Missouri had won a shortened fight because she threw a sucker punch just before they themselves were about to go down. Jefferson figured they had stretched their luck just about as far as they could.