“Look here, where there is a trench leading to the coast.” Perry flashed back and forth between the two shots. “By March, when it’s still colder than polar bear poop up there, they had not only restarted work, but had begun work on a cable landing station and installing cable anchors right up to the water’s edge.”
Perry turned off the flat-screen display. “That last image was the trigger for Toledo’s mission. The Russians must be building something underwater. Even if this activity wasn’t connected to the Status-6, we’d be curious. Knowing that it’s linked somehow to a monster unstoppable torpedo with a giant nuclear warhead makes it absolutely vital that we find out.”
“Hence Toledo’s mission,” Jerry concluded.
“Approved by the ‘Big Skipper’ himself.” Perry used President Hardy’s nickname within the Pentagon. “For what it’s worth, I’m very sorry about what happened to her. I’ve read Carter’s reports, same as you.” He sighed sadly. “In fact, it was my idea to use a sub, and I’ll take responsibility for that. I believe our decision to send someone to take a look was sound, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’ve lost over a hundred men. We’ve learned little, and have more questions than before. Anyway, that’s Tensor. You have been briefed,” Perry announced, and he closed the laptop. “Do you have any questions?”
Jerry did not, at least not right now, although he was sure there would be ones he could ask later. Perry and Travis assured Jerry they’d both be at Weiss’s debrief tomorrow, and Abbott returned to escort the commodore to his ride.
At the hotel, in his room, Jerry ordered room service for dinner. He needed to sort out what he’d learned, and see where it fit in with Lou Weiss’s two reports. He wanted peace, and for the moment, solitude.
His cell phone rang, and Jerry checked the time. It was 8:55; “Mrs. Jennings” was a little early, not that he minded. He answered, “Mitchell here.”
“This is Melinda. Can you hold for Mrs. Jennings?”
Melinda Brady was Joanna Patterson’s personal secretary. “Hello, Melinda. Of course.”
There was only a short pause. “Jerry!” Joanna Patterson’s voice was full of emotion. “I know why you’re here in town. I’m so sorry.” The phone line was completely unsecure, so she had to be careful what she said, but they both knew what she meant.
Jerry sighed without even meaning to. “At least we’re moving forward,” he said.
“Yes. I’m aware,” she replied. “I’m hoping that both David and I will be able to come for the service. And we’ll see you there, of course.”
“David” was President Hardy’s middle name, and much more common than “Lowell.” It was a given that there would be a public memorial service for the crew, once the loss was announced, and Jerry thought it was not inappropriate for an ex-submariner president and first lady to attend. And Lenny Berg’s ties to his old skipper were well known. In fact, questions would be raised if President Hardy weren’t there.
“I’ll bring Emily, and Carly, along.” The public service would undoubtedly be held in Groton, Toledo’s homeport, but that couldn’t be said right now.
“You’d better! Emily posted pictures of her in that ballerina outfit.”
Jerry laughed in spite of his somber mood. “She wore it to bed that night, and most of the next day, but Emily finally got it off Charlotte for her bath.”
They chatted about small matters for almost ten minutes, catching up and just enjoying being able to talk. Since becoming first lady, Joanna had been isolated by circumstance from her large circle of friends. He knew she had other things demanding her attention, but she seemed reluctant to end the conversation. Jerry was glad to talk to her, and waited patiently for Joanna to bring up whatever was her reason for calling.
“Jerry, I want to sit in on your meeting tomorrow.”
He quickly suppressed his initial response—“What?”—and after a very short pause, substituted the more measured, “Is that a good idea?” He knew she was referring to the Jimmy Carter’s mission debrief. Jerry wasn’t surprised that she knew about it. And come to think of it, classification wasn’t really an issue, either. Joanna had been President Myles’s national security advisor. When her husband Lowell had been elected, she’d had to resign, but she remained well connected. She’d handpicked her successor, Bill Hyland, of course.
But she had difficulties with the transition. Emily and Jerry had spent more than one evening talking about what it must have been like to go from being one of the most powerful people in the U.S. government to someone who was supposed to host social events and encourage children’s environmental programs. And to be completely on the outside of whatever was going on in the world.
“What does David think of the idea?” he asked carefully.
“He’s against it, of course. And I can see his point,” she admitted. “But this is very important to me, as well.”
“Why?” Jerry asked, trying to stall, as well as understand. He didn’t fly cross-country to get caught in a disagreement between the president and the first lady.
“I need to be there,” she insisted.
“Mrs. Jennings, I’m trying to understand why,” Jerry repeated.
“Because it was my responsibility,” she replied sadly. “In my old job, I remember signing off on the… tasking. I didn’t pick who did the work, but I was the one who endorsed the job.”
Jerry made the connection. As national security advisor, Joanna had recommended approving a CIA request to send a sub north to investigate Bolshevik Island. No wonder she was so distressed.
Jerry could relate, but he wasn’t moved. “This afternoon, I met the person who thought of the task. He feels pretty bad, too. And I’ll bet the person who actually made the decision to execute probably feels really bad, as well. But I don’t hold them, or you, responsible for what happened.”
“That’s what David said as well, but…”
Jerry understood how hard it was for her to let go of something she was so intimately involved with. “I don’t think we’ll arrive at any final answers tomorrow,” Jerry offered. “We’ll probably end up just asking new questions. And you are completely off the wiring diagram now. Even if they broke the rules and let you sit in, you couldn’t ask any questions yourself.”
She didn’t answer right away. Jerry asked, “Won’t you be there when they fill David in on what happened?”
“Of course,” she admitted.
“Then you can ask the briefer all the questions you want,” he pointed out.
“As long as David’s sitting next to me!” Joanna fumed. “But I guess that’s all I’m allowed.”
“I think your new job is harder than your old one,” sympathized Jerry.
“I should go,” she said finally. “Give my love to Emily and Charlotte.”
“And please tell David we’re all behind you both.”
She broke the connection, and Jerry relaxed.
Jerry took the Metro to the Pentagon, one more navy captain in a sea of uniforms passing through security and navigating the miles of painted concrete corridors. He found the office where he’d been briefed yesterday afternoon without a problem, but had wondered about the keypad. He assumed that there was an intercom, or at least a doorbell of some sort. But the gray metal door was propped open, with two armed sailors guarding the door and checking in all arrivals. Captain Mitchell’s name was indeed on the list, and after carefully examining his ID, they let him pass.