Silent Waters

Chapter 4

“Would you mind giving me a hand with one of these?”

McCann turned around and saw the ship super walking toward him. She was trying to juggle her clipboard and two hard-plastic carrying cases. Another large bag hung from her shoulder.

He fought back any comment about her claim of being able to handle it on her own. “You got saxophones in those cases, Ms. Russell?”

“How did you know? I thought we could jam a little in our down time.”

He took one of the cases from her. The thing was damned heavy. “Sax nothing. You’ve got a dead body in here.”

“Yeah, but the identity of the body, I’m afraid, falls under the category of ‘need to know.’”

He tried to take the other briefcase, too, but she shook her head and led the way out of the shop.

Crossing the road, McCann glanced up the alley where the security guards had gone. There was no sign of them. Amy led him through the same door into the Ways. The place was dark, except for a few security lights along the walls of the vast building. They walked along the wall toward the pier that extended out into the river. The fifty-foot high doors at the end of the building were closed, but there was an exit door to the left of them.

“So, other than a dead body, what else are you hiding in these suitcases?” he asked as the two of them walked out onto the rain-swept pier.

“Testing equipment that SPAWAR insists on us using before we do an ESGN replacement,” Russell explained. “It runs the diagnostics that tests the lateral systems, too, including the GPS.”

“We don’t have one of those on board.”

“Of course. It takes a highly qualified individual to run and handle the data analysis.”

He shot her a sideways glance. “Come again?”

“I guess the navy must be too cheap to buy you one,” she deadpanned. She looked over at him and smiled. “Actually, this unit’s brand new. And I’m not complaining that you don’t have it yet. As one of three who went out for the training, it’s job security for me.”

A squall of rain whipped across the pier, and McCann breathed in the salty smell of the tide.

“It’s Amy, you said?”

“That’s right.”

“You said ‘job security’. I thought women engineers are in high demand.”

“I hear they are, too. But not in Groton, Connecticut. And not anywhere around here, either. At least, not for someone with my specific qualifications.”

McCann knew all about Electric Boat’s layoffs over the past two decades or so. Only a skeleton of the old workforce remained. He doubted any of the remaining personnel had any feelings of job security. “You could always relocate if there are more cuts.”

“Easier said than done. I have more than myself to worry about.”

It was none of his business to ask, but his curiosity won out. “Family?”

She nodded but didn’t elaborate.

Amy stopped when they reached the gangway leading out onto Hartford and looked across at the submarine. The curved top of the hull and the sail shone in the rain. McCann looked over at her and was surprised by the expression on her face. It matched the one he used to wear whenever he looked at the boat. Those were the days when he was smitten with his job, his life. He’d been much younger then. The wind and rain swept around them, but she didn’t appear to mind.

“She is beautiful.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “That’s a nice thing to hear, coming from someone who builds them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the cabinetmaker is the one who sees all the flaws invisible to everyone else.”

“True, but a successful cabinetmaker never points them out.”

“Point taken.”

“But she’s still a beautiful boat,” she said in a low voice, adjusting her shoulder bag before stepping onto the gangway.

The sailor standing the topside watch saluted McCann as they boarded the vessel.

“Nice night. Eh, Barclay?” McCann said. The seaman was from Mississippi and right out of sub school. Hartford was his first submarine after serving on two surface crafts. “Must feel just like home.”

“I only came on watch at 0300, Captain. I can still feel my toes.”

“That’s good. We don’t want to amputate anything, if we can help it.”

Amy put everything down next to the open hatch.

“After you,” she told him.

Maneuvering down the ladder was a little tight. McCann knew it was often a challenge for surface types, especially when they were carrying gear. He descended first, pausing on a rung of the ladder to help her find her footing. Instead, she stood waiting to hand the test equipment down to him. He took down the case he was carrying and came back up to find the next case being lowered to him. When the equipment was all down, he didn’t have to go back up because she was right behind him, climbing down the ladder like a seasoned sub rider. She landed on two feet, unzipped her jacket and wiped the rain off her face.

“I’ll start in the control room.” She pointed in the right direction, picking up all the equipment except the case he’d been carrying.

McCann followed her lead, heading for the sub’s command center. The passageways were empty. It was quiet on board, the normal human sounds that were part of submarine living not there yet. Still, it was cool and dry, and it felt like coming home for McCann. The pathetic thing was that Hartford was more of a home to him than his small, empty house overlooking the river in Mystic. She stepped into the control room ahead of him.

“Stop right there. What are you doing on board?”

When McCann heard his officer of the watch bark at the ship super, he pushed past Russell.

Paul Cavallaro immediately came to his feet. “Sorry, Skipper, I didn’t see you.” A lieutenant assigned to Navigation, Cav had been left in command of the vessel during the night when McCann had given the X.O. permission to go home.

McCann looked around and into the adjoining radio room and found his officer was the only one on deck. There should have been a communications man on duty.

“Lieutenant Cavallaro, this is Amy Russell. She’s the ship super who’ll be running the equipment installation.”

The two nodded, and the ship superintendent began setting up her testing equipment in front of the GPS system. She was standing on the port side of the control room and didn’t go any farther forward than the unit panels. McCann left her to her work and went to the conn.

“I didn’t think they’d get started until 0600,” Cav said quietly.

“I don’t complain when they’re early.” McCann replied absently, peeling off his raincoat. “Where’s your radio man?”

“I sent Gibbs to the officer’s mess to get me the ESGN spec sheet. I left it on the table when the X.O. called me to take the conn.”

McCann nodded and watched her take off her navy blue management coat. She was wearing a green flannel shirt under a vest and heavy khaki pants. He couldn’t help but notice that, even in the bulky clothes, she obviously had a nice figure.

“Where’s the rest of her crew?” Cav asked.

“She’s the expert. They’ll come aboard once she determines exactly what it is they need.” McCann was about to leave her with Cav and go hang his raincoat.

“This babe’s going to handle it herself?” Cav asked.

Change of plan. Maybe these two wouldn’t be best left alone.

“The ‘babe’ is an electrical engineer, and she’s just finished a training course with SPAWAR,” he said coolly, recalling what she’d said to him earlier about submarine officers and women. McCann wondered if he’d sounded as bad.

Cav glanced down at his watch.

“We’re ahead of schedule,” the commander reminded his junior officer.

“That’s not it,” Cav said. “Gibbs has been gone five minutes. If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go find out what happened to him.”

“I have the conn, mister,” he said officially, mounting the step to the platform at the center of the control room. The twin periscopes were aft of him. As Cav went aft, McCann checked the status of the systems on the LED displays. When he was satisfied that all was correct, he stood on the port side and watched Amy work.

It was immediately evident that she was competent. She worked quickly and efficiently. The two cases lay open on the floor, displaying an assortment of tools, gadgets, and testing apparatus. The shoulder bag had been unzipped, and a laptop had been connected to the defective unit and to a couple of testing devices in the briefcase. She was on her knees on the deck, her head bent over the equipment. She was in full concentration, monitoring the changing screens on the laptop.

“Anything?” McCann asked, sitting down on the nearby chief of the boat’s swivel chair. The COB had nearly torn the navigator a new butt hole when the ESGN had begun to malfunction.

“You’re the impatient sort, aren’t you?” she asked without looking up.

“No. I’m the hands-on sort.”

She glanced up at him.

“I mean, it’s tough for me to watch someone else have all the fun. Or doing all the work.”

“Well, this is no fun. And so far, it’s no work, either,” she said, darting another quick look at him.

He leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “What do you have so far?”

“Nothing,” she said. “The preliminary scan tells me that everything is running fine. I don’t see any malfunction in the software. It’s checking the unit hardware now.”

“Do you have the rejection report handy?” he asked, crouching down next to her.

She handed him the clipboard. McCann leafed through the documents until he found the initial report.

“Did you test these parameters?” he held the paper before her.

She glanced up briefly. “I sure have. Those were the preset values I started with.”

McCann turned to see if Cav was coming back. He was the one who’d initially signed off the report. It would be good if he were in on this. But there was no sign of him. In fact, there was no sign of anyone. It was too damn quiet. He glanced at his watch.

“I’m only in a primary phase,” she told him. “A lot more could show up once I run a more detailed diagnosis.”

“Is that usually the way it works?” he asked.

She started to say something, then bit her lip and concentrated more on the screen.

“Spit it out, Russell.”

“You say that like I’m a Russell Terrier, choking on a bone,” she said, looking at him sharply. “Everyone calls me Amy.”

McCann couldn’t help but smile. She had a quirky sense of humor.

“Spit it out, Amy,” he said.

“It’d be premature to say anything,” she replied, typing in a couple of commands on the laptop. “You’ll hold it against me if I’m wrong.”

“There’ll be no court martial,” he said lightly. “I’m just looking for your expert opinion.”

He noticed her eyes were dark blue when she looked up at him.

“No,” she said, turning her attention back to the screen.

“No, meaning you’re refusing an order?”

“No, as in, the answer to your first question is no.”

She was too clever. McCann had to think back to the exact wording of his question. “No, meaning…”

“No, that’s not the way it usually works. The system failures should show up with bells and whistles in the primary test phase. We run the more detailed diagnostics after that to pinpoint the specific location, and to make sure every i is dotted and every t is crossed. We want to make sure we’re replacing the right components.”

McCann looked at the GPS screen. Once the COB had finished lighting into the operator, the navigation man and Cav had been the only ones involved with the unit yesterday. The back-up unit had worked fine.

McCann should have gotten involved. This was a new system, but he was fairly familiar with it. Not as familiar as he should have been, though. He knew every valve, pipe, panel, cable and piece of electronics inside this fast attack submarine. But he should have been in Cav’s back pocket.

He’d always been that way. On the wall above the engineering officer’s desk was a large print of the piping and instrumentation systems of the nuclear plant, mapping everything from the core’s main coolant piping to the last condensate pump pressure control valve. As part of one of his EO exams, McCann had to be able to reproduce it from memory, and he still could, he thought, if need be. As C.O., he knew everything about his sub — except some of the minute details of this new system. When they got out to sea, he’d learn the ins and outs of this, too.

“My men didn’t imagine the system malfunction,” he said, hearing his defenses kicking in.

“I’m not saying that your men imagined a problem yesterday,” she said calmly. “What I’m saying is that, whatever the problem was, they might not have had the means of diagnosing it correctly.”

McCann felt a little better about that. It would have been a major problem if he’d curtailed the start of a patrol over a couple of officers and operators misreading navigation screens. “What else could be wrong?”

“Can’t tell, yet. Give me a little time to work on it first.”

She reconnected a couple of probes to the module and started running another program. Her face registered everything going through her head. He could tell the moment she had something.

“What have you got?” he repeated.

“Must be a pain in the ass to work for,” she murmured under her breath.

“What did you say?”

“I said your crew must be fast workers, Commander.”

“Right,” he retorted. “Just tell me what you see.”

“The first possibility is that you might have a local area network failure,” she told him. “Everything looked good before, but as soon as I test for results through the next system, I pick up some malfunctioning.”

“What could cause that? Wiring?”

She shrugged. “Any number of things. Could be faulty wiring. The good news is that, at this point, I don’t think you’ll have to replace the ESGN unit. The bad news is that unless we can retrace what specific functions were being performed when the problem started, we’ll be searching in the dark for the faulty connections… if that’s what it is.”

He thought about that for a moment. “We’d barely gotten out of the harbor. We didn’t do anything complicated.”

“In that case, we’re searching in the dark,” she concluded.

“You’re going to have to do better than that. I’ve got a thousand miles of wiring on Hartford. I want a plan on how you’re going to resolve this.”

“We’ll start with a check of the connections that feed out of the ESGN,” she suggested. “I’ll get a handful of guys in here and go to work. I’d say that if all goes well, we should be able to pinpoint the problem in a couple of hours. If we get really lucky, we might nail it in just a few min—”

She stopped as her pager went off. She sat back on her heels and dug the unit out of the pocket of her blue coat. He saw her frown as she looked at the display.

“The boss. Have you already been complaining about me, Commander?”

“Not me. It must have been some other pain in the ass.”

She smiled at him. She was damn pretty when she smiled, he thought.

“Just so long as it wasn’t you. Mind if I use your phone?”

“Not at all.” He pointed to the quartermaster’s telephone.

She pushed up to her feet, heading that way. McCann watched the program that she was running on the laptop, then followed the connection hook-ups she’d made. Common sense stuff. Four months ago, Hartford had been sitting in dry dock for a massive changeover to fiber optics. He wondered if that’s where the problem had originated. But they hadn’t faced any trouble on the subsequent sea trials or the trip south to load Hartford’s weapons.

Where the hell was Cav?

“Christ, it can’t be,” she snapped at the person on line. “I was there ten minutes ago. How did it happen?”

He looked up at her. She was staring straight ahead and was clearly upset.

“Did they get everyone out?” she asked.

McCann guessed there had to have been an accident. The shipyard was a dangerous place to work. Inside the sub, though, you couldn’t hear any of the sirens, if there were any.

She looked down at her watch. “No, we probably won’t need it, but we still have to get the crew lined up for six o’clock.” She nodded at something that was being said on the other end. “I’m coming over. No, that’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

McCann stood and watched her as she hung up. “An accident?”

“A fire.” She moved briskly to the laptop and test equipment. “The same shop we were in a few minutes ago is burning right now. I work out of that shop a lot.”

“The three guys that were working inside?”

“They got out, thank God.” She started disconnecting the wires, shut down the computer and quickly rolled the cables. She was all concentration, in spite of obviously being upset. “I have what I need for now. I’ll be back at six with the crew. We’ll comb through these units and find the culprit.”

She closed one briefcase after the other with a snap, zipping up the shoulder case with the laptop in it.

“You can leave everything here until you get back,” he suggested.

She looked around the control room. “I don’t want them to be in your way.”

McCann took the two heavy briefcases and stowed them away by the navigation panels. “We’re not going anywhere. They’ll be safe here.”

“I have to take the laptop,” she told him, looping the shoulder strap over her arm. “I can send some of this data to SPAWAR and leave a copy with our own engineering department so they can take a look while we’re here going over the wiring.”

She zipped up her jacket.

“How bad is the fire?”

“I’ll find out when I get there. The main reason they called was to take a head count to make sure everyone was out.”

“That’s a shame,” he said.

She gave a brief nod, still looking extremely tense. “Can I get out on my own or do I need an escort?”

“I can’t leave the conn, and we can’t let you roam around the boat alone, either.” He was reaching for the phone to call Cavallaro back to the control room when he saw him coming down the passageway.

“Done already?” Cav asked Amy.

“With the preliminary testing, yes. I’ll be back with my crew later.”

This wasn’t the right time to tell Cav that their findings yesterday had been off. “Did you find Gibbs?” McCann asked instead.

Cav nodded. “He’s on his way up, Skipper.”

“I’ll walk Ms. Russell out. Then we need to talk,” he told the officer before following Amy down the passageway.

“You said you worked out of that shop? How is that going to affect you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know how bad the fire is, yet, or what caused it. Depending on how the investigation goes, I might have bigger problems to worry about than losing my desk and a couple of framed pictures.”

She stopped by the ladder that led up to the hatch.

“If the need arises,” he said, “I can testify that you didn’t set a match to the place before we left.”

She almost smiled. “Thanks, Commander. I’ll let you know if I need you.” She placed one hand on the metal ladder, then hesitated before climbing.

McCann waited, but Amy continued to examine the bank of cables just outboard of the passageway. She climbed one rung, paused again, and then came back down.

“What is it?” he asked, curious now.

“I’m trying to remember. Right under the control room, under the GPS receiver and ESGN unit, is that the enlisted mess?”

“There are a number of spaces under there,” he explained. “The mess, the trash room, the officer’s wardroom, the ship’s office. They’re all below us here. Depends on where you mean exactly.”

“I’m thinking about the wiring under the unit.”

He thought for a moment. “That wiring runs along the underside of the decking. If it’s connections you’re looking for, they could be anywhere.”

She adjusted the shoulder strap of the laptop case. “On the last ESGN installation we did, on the Seawolf, there was a panel in the overhead of the space below that we could remove. With that out, we could get a clear shot at a panel of wiring connections leading to the navigation systems. Do you mind if I check it out before I go, just to see if we can do the same thing here? It shouldn’t take more than five minutes.”

He stepped back, motioning the way. “Be my guest.”

The stairs that led below were by the escape trunk. Shaking her head, she signaled for him to go ahead of her.

“After seeing your navigation officer’s reaction, I think I’d rather have you lead the way. I don’t want to startle anyone else.”

McCann decided that a sailor might have a slightly different reaction to the sight of such a good-looking woman in their living quarters. The fact that she was wearing a white hardhat and shipyard management gear wouldn’t really make a difference.

There was no one in the passageway. He led the way down to the enlisted mess. McCann poked his head in first. Surprisingly, no one was there, either.

This was the largest open area on the sub, capable of seating half of Hartford’s crew. The mess was a combination cafeteria, movie theater, game room, and training area. A place where the seamen could gather, it was rarely empty when they were on patrol.

Amy moved forward between the tables. Keeping her eyes fixed on the overhead, she turned into the adjoining galley.

“You’re sure stocked with food,” she commented, looking around.

“Before the problem with the navigation equipment yesterday, we had stores laid in for a normal patrol.”

“I’ll be really careful not to ruin anything.” She pulled a small flashlight out of her pocket and directed the light above. “Never mind the nuclear reactor. I know how precious food is to these guys.”

McCann leaned against the entry. The only galley crewman who’d stayed on board was Dunbar. He wondered why he wasn’t here getting breakfast ready. Amy zipped open her jacket and, as she looked up, her hardhat tipped off her head and clattered to the deck. Light brown, shoulder-length curls were barely held together in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Their heads were close together as they both bent to retrieve the hard hat, and he smelled the fresh scent of shampoo mixed with the smell of rain and shipyard on Amy’s hair.

“This place is smaller than my kitchen,” she said as she put her hat back on. He noticed she seemed a little flushed.

“I’d wager that you don’t cook four meals a day for 130 men in a space this size.”

“No,” she told him, eying the arrangement. “I only cook for three. My kitchen is a little larger, but I don’t think it’s laid out as well.”

McCann wondered if the three were herself, a husband and a child. He hadn’t paid attention to whether she was wearing a ring. That was no indication anyway, as most shipyard workers didn’t wear rings at work. One touch of a welding rod to a wedding ring would send enough electrical current through it to melt the ring right off your finger. Not a pleasant experience.

Amy was searching the overhead and above the appliances. She stopped suddenly and turned around.

“I just remembered where that connector panel is on the 688-class subs. We’re too far aft,” she said. “We need to be about eight frames farther forward and about twelve feet starboard of centerline.”

McCann understood her. The shipyard production crews identified the work areas in the submarines by the frames, or curved I-beams, that formed the ‘ribs’ of the ship’s hull. Those frames were numbered consecutively from bow to stern. The centerline was an imaginary line that ran right up the middle of the ship, dividing the sub into starboard and port sides.

“That would put you in the ship’s office,” he said. “Below the sonar equipment room.”

“That’s right,” she said, heading out of the galley. “You’re my witness, Commander. I didn’t touch any of the food.”

As they went back out through the mess, McCann glanced at the steaming pot of coffee beckoning to him. His clothes were still wet, and he was ready for a hot cup of java. He considered asking Amy if she wanted a cup. He didn’t get a chance to ask.

“I have to hurry,” she said, looking at her watch. “I need to see what kind of damage that fire has done to the shop.”

He nodded and followed her out of the mess. Amy moved forward along the passageway, past the trash room and his stateroom. She was looking into the overhead and following a bank of cables that threaded between piping systems and ventilation ducts.

She stopped to let McCann move ahead of her in the passageway. As he passed the officer’s wardroom and enlisted quarters, he glanced in. It was strange not to see any of his crew at all. For a moment, he considered reaching for the nearest phone and having Cav get every crew on the watch to check in.

“I’m sorry this is taking more than five minutes,” she called after him.

“That’s perfectly okay,” he said over his shoulder. “You mentioned that you’ve been at work since ten o’clock last night. Are we going to lose you when the first-shift people get here?”

“I don’t punch a clock,” she told him. “I’ll stay with the crew until I make sure you’re back in business.”

He went by the NCO’s quarters and stopped in the doorway of the ship’s office. “Sounds like you work some crazy hours. It must take its toll on your family.”

“It would… if it was a regular thing.” She avoided meeting his gaze and brushed past him to get inside the narrow office space.

The ship’s office was also a data center. It contained all the records and personal files that were part of submarine’s everyday life. Packed with file cabinets, shelves, a computer, a printer, and copier, the two-foot-wide aisle in the middle was filled with a single chair and several boxes of paper that must have been brought aboard at the last minute, before Hartford left the sub base. McCann frowned at the supplies that had not yet been stowed where they belong.

Amy climbed over the boxes and pushed in the chair before turning to him.

“You don’t waste an inch, do you?” she asked, peeling the laptop off her shoulder and placing it on the desk.

“We pack enough supplies to last us six months. There’s a place to stow these, though.”

“I’m glad I didn’t open either of those refrigerator doors in the galley. I’d hate to see what you’ve got in there.”

She looked away and took her hardhat off. Her hair looked soft, and it shone in the overhead lighting. She pointed upward and nodded toward a steel panel bolted to the decking overhead.

“Right there,” she said. “We have to remove the light fixture to be able to access the panel, but this will be the perfect place to start. Above it is the first main connector out of the unit.”

McCann climbed past the box to see if anything else needed to be removed to give her men access to the panel.

“Do you see it?”

He had to get very close to her in order to see past the light fixture. “It’s a crowd with the two of us in this space. How many are you going to put to work in here?”

He saw her glance past him at the door.

“What’s going on?” she asked someone behind him.

McCann whirled around in time to see the door to the ship’s office slam shut on them. He reached across the boxes on the floor for the doorknob. Before he could turn it, the lock clicked on the outside.