Sea Station Umbra

Chapter 3. Rendezvous

We met them on the entrance steps before they entered our building. My old friend Bill Harper was the first to approach and extend his hand. I shook with him and noticed the shiny gold oak leaf clusters gracing his shoulders.

“Hey, Bill, good to see you again,” I said. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander, on the promotion.”

Grinning from eye to eye he replied, “Thanks, Matt. Great to see you too. How’ve you been? Obviously busy.”

Even though we were reuniting after only three months, it seemed like years since we together faced imminent death but by the grace of God lived through it. Those terrifying memories were bittersweet and reminded me that my tasks were often life threatening but controllably so. I lived for the excitement of days like that but I could never tell when they were coming. I expected this was one of those days.

“Yeah I guess. Simple jobs but still busy.”

Motioning back, I added, “I was just promoted to Tech VP of MBORC today after all this time. Guess we did good huh? But I’m not really sure if the promotion’s for what I did or what I’m about to do.”

He answered with a wink and chuckle.

“It’s amazing what we have to do for a promotion isn’t —”

Carlos pulled on my sleeve dragging my attention to the two-star naval officer standing behind me.

“Admiral Greenfield, meet Matt Cross.”

He was everything I expected in a high-ranking naval officer: tall, graying hair and beard, meticulous in his appearance and almost a spitting image of Sean Connery. As a commercial once said his dress whites were whiter than white. All that I needed was to hear him speak with a Russian accent completing my image of Captain Marco Ramius, commander of the Red October hunted by the USS Dallas in my favorite book.

“Good morning, sir. My pleasure,” I said, starting to salute. Then I caught myself and redirected my hand toward him for a handshake, trying not to appear too obvious. The Navy routine I had recently endured rushed back to me attempting to change my civilian reflexes. I had a feeling it would become an even greater influence in the upcoming mission back aboard another naval ship or whatever vessel Operation Deep Force involved.

He shifted his briefcase to his left hand, shook my hand, and looked me over.

“Hello, Mr. Cross. So you’re the genius diver that left our Navy and then outplayed us on that pi-day scenario. It’s truly a delight to meet such a naval-minded civilian.”

His comment confused me not knowing if it was a compliment or sarcasm. I did know that I detected a slight northeastern U.S. accent probably from Massachusetts or somewhere nearby and his was the voice on the phone from my early morning call.

Carlos laughed trying to break the awkward silence.

“Well, Admiral, we have him now and I just promoted him within our organization. He’s now a VP.”

Frowning, the Admiral darted his attention to him.

“Now, Mr. Montoya, does that mean that he can no longer get his hands dirty with our work?”

“Oh of course not, Admiral. It means he now has to get every part of his body dirty,” he scoffed.

Greenfield lifted his mood showing a sly smile.

“Good that’s what I want to hear.” Then looking back my way he said, “Well then, let’s get down to business. Carlos, lead the way.”

Standing with us Harper begged off the meeting excusing himself for some time on the beach.

“Gonna catch some rays and maybe a few seashells gentlemen. When you need me Admiral just buzz.”

Greenfield nodded his consent as Harper saluted and walked away.

Meandering up the stairs and down the hall toward the conference room, I kept thinking Why is the Admiral here now? He was supposed to call me at noon on the secure phone. My lack of filtering reared its ugly head again but I couldn’t help it.

“Admiral, you said on the phone this morning that you would call me at noon. Has something changed since then? I mean you’re here in California now and you were in Florida when you called right?”

He stopped and turned to me. With fiery eyes, he growled back.

“Now, mister, do you think I just flew over two-thousand miles across country in the back seat of a goddamned F-4 Phantom fighter jet at twice the speed of sound then suffered another hour on that damn vibrating whirly-bird out there just to save a phone call? Hell yes things have changed!”

Obviously, I had touched a nerve. I could almost see steam coming from his ears so I retreated hoping this was not a harbinger of things to come.

“Sorry, Admiral. I misspoke.” I felt ten inches tall after his lambasting, wanting to disappear into a passing room as he turned and continued behind Carlos. Thinking just a few more minutes and he’ll sign the contract and be gone I carried on waiting for his pen to mark the paper.

The conference room was dark, quiet, and cluttered with the last meeting’s remnants: coffee cups, stirrers, and candy wrappers.

After we entered, Carlos set about clearing the table with a speed I had never seen before. The Admiral looked over at me and nodded toward him as if urging me to help. Unfortunately, I moved too slowly.

“C’mon, Matt, get your ass over here and help me out,” he yelled. “Nobody around here cleans up after themselves anymore. You’d think my staff of genius scientists could pick up their own trash. After this I’m putting up a big damn sign in here that says ‘your mother doesn’t work here.’”

A chuckle from the front of the room reminded me that the Admiral was still waiting patiently watching our cleaning party. I thought it funny that my boss was so intent on cleaning the table ignoring the Admiral when we could have just used the uncluttered end to seal the contract. There were plenty of chairs for that and they were all clean.

“Now, Matt, for example look at that: a Payday wrapper,” Carlos snapped. “I know you’re the only one on our staff who eats Payday bars. Pick it up!”

As I swiped the wrapper and a nearby Styrofoam cup from the table, the Admiral spoke breaking his cleaning frenzy.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said. “I’ve been on planes, more planes, and automobiles without a head for hours. Can one of you please point me to the nearest one?”

Obliging his request, I walked into the hall and directed him two doors down to the right. Normally our visitors didn’t carry their briefcases with them into the restrooms but he did. I wondered why.

Stepping away, he turned back to me.

“Oh, Mr. Cross, would you mind having coffee served when I return? The flight attendant services in our Navy planes suck especially in fighter jets. I need some caffeine.”

Smiling I returned to Carlos and relayed his request.

“Well get on it, VP Cross,” he said to me. “You’re on a fast track to fame and fortune now. Might as well work for it.”

His sarcasm confused me; it didn’t make sense that he would put me in this position then begrudge me the honor. Maybe he had been pressured to put me there. Maybe he was expanding the chain of command at someone’s request and felt bitter. On the other hand, maybe he was just having a bad day. I couldn’t tell. I let it pass and called his secretary for a pot of fresh coffee.