Behind them Frank Dubois burst into the room. “Just got your message, what’s up?” By the time the last word rolled off his tongue he realized he did not need an answer. He knew simply from the look on their faces. “Tell me it’s done.”
“Oh, it be done, Captain.” Lee grinned. He pointed to the screen as Dubois leaned in behind Chris and Alison. “All the variables have been identified. Look, if you add them up you get almost the exact same number listed with the video positions, divided by three.” He clicked another button and brought up the system log. “And look at this; it says the last variable was found almost two months ago, so there hasn’t been anything new in terms of behavior or sounds.” He leaned back with a cocky nod. “This envelope has been licked and stamped!”
Alison smiled. Lee always had a creative way with words. “I trust you’ve already made the call to IBM?”
Lee nodded. “I did. They’re coming down to verify.”
Now Chris turned and looked at the dolphins. “Who’s coming?”
Lee smiled. “Uh…everyone.”
“Fantastic.” Dubois turned and headed for the door. “I’ve got to make a call. You busy today Ali?”
She laughed. “Are you kidding?”
“Well, when you come down off of cloud nine maybe you can spare a few minutes…we’ll need someone to write us up a press release.” With that he let the door close behind him.
4
The silver doors opened and John Clay stepped out of the oversized elevator. With a sharp right he made his way down the long white hallway of the Pentagon’s D ring. From the far end of the hall, Admiral Langford spotted Clay and broke off his conversation with another officer. He walked to meet him and handed Clay a thick folder.
“Sorry, Clay.” The admiral was shorter by a couple inches but moved erect and with a sharpness that always made Clay feel he was looking up. They met several years prior when Admiral Langford took over the department. He’d been under Langford ever since.
Clay fell into step with Langford as he opened the folder and scanned the first page. “A computer glitch, sir?”
“Apparently there’s more to it,” Langford responded calmly. “It was originally filed as a glitch but we can’t replicate it.” He nodded to a woman walking past them. “Navigation system was working perfectly since the sub left port and then all of the sudden they’re fifteen miles off course.”
Clay tried to keep up while flipping through several pages of what most would consider random computer code. “Any changes in direction?”
“No change in direction, same course but fifteen miles further out.” Langford could see the problem taking hold in Clay’s head. Clay was one of the best analysts he’d ever had, with a mind like a steel trap. Langford never had to repeat anything to him.
“Sounds like that would rule out drift or cross currents. Might be something with the engines if it were one of the older subs but the new class measures speed by GPS too. How about a satellite problem?”
They turned and continued down another hallway adorned with pictures of past military officers. “That’s what I thought, but so far we haven’t had anything else reported.”
Clay spoke without realizing it. “Those sats are all semi synchronous, a GPS receiver is never locked onto the same six signals. Which means by now-”.
“They’re all part of other sets.” Langford pulled out a security card and swiped it through the reader next to a giant door that read DNI in large blue letters. “We identified all the sets that the Alabama was using for that entire week and ran checks on them individually. Nothing.” Langford swung the large door open. “How was the trip?”
“Short, sir.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
The Department of Naval Investigations was a large department and took a large part of the Pentagon’s second floor, rings A through E on the west side. Consisting of several hundred staff, most specializing in legal and personnel issues, the department was growing as a result of the softening of military policies. Personnel issues such as harassment had skyrocketed over the last several years as the military struggled to adapt to twenty-first century expectations. Next to legal and HR, the Navy’s technology group was small by comparison. Clay’s team was smaller still. Electronics and Signaling was a specialty that very few understood, let alone were interested in. Even the brass, who were often technology’s strongest advocates did not really want to know how, they just wanted it to work. Clay’s E&S team often had to find out why a technology was not working, where the failure occurred and why. It required expert level knowledge in a wide variety of technologies including computer chip design, networking, signaling and a thorough understanding of the electromagnetic spectrum.
Clay turned a corner and passed a number of offices. His aide, Jennifer, was clearly expecting him when he opened the door and walked through.
“Hi John.” She said hanging up the phone. “How were the Caymans?”
“You would have hated it,” he smiled and moved past her into his office, “No reality TV.”
She grinned and followed him with a folder of her own. “I’ll be sure to cross it off my list.” Jennifer laid the folder out and set aside his stack of messages which Clay eyed with dismay.
“All of these in just three days?”
“You’re a popular guy.” She flipped through the folder for his benefit. She pulled out a number of documents from the back. “And these need your signature.”
“What would I do without you?”
“Oh stop, you’re going to give her a big head.” They both looked up to see Steve Caesare in the doorway smiling. At six foot with matching dark hair and mustache he was one hundred percent Italian but without the ties to the mob, or so he said. Caesare and Clay had been friends since the beginning, meeting in the earliest days of their now twenty-two years of service and working through most of those years and several departments together.
Jennifer smiled and left the room, flicking him on the arm as she passed.
Steve entered and sat down in a chair across from John’s desk. “Our leaves are getting shorter and shorter, pretty soon they’ll be shorter than our lunches.”
Clay dropped Langford’s folder onto his desk and fell into his chair, turning it toward Caesare. “You’re lucky you didn’t come, the shorter it is, the more depressing the return.” He took a deep breath. “Tell me why we do this again, for love of country or something?”
“It’s the chicks.”
“Langford talk to you already about the Alabama?”
“Yeah, I gave him that same folder this morning.” Caesare stretched out his legs and leaned back. “It’s strange. I haven’t seen anything like it. Probably not earth-shattering but they want to put back out quickly before the crew gets lethargic. We’ve been working with their technicians, going through everything with a fine tooth comb.”
“Find anything?”
“Not yet. We’re about to start tracing out cables.”
Clay sighed and leaned forward, opening the Alabama’s folder. “Were there any other vessels nearby using the same satellites?”
Caesare shook his head. “No, the closest ship was only using four of the same birds, not enough for a true comparison-”. He was interrupted by his cell phone. He looked at the number before answering. “Hey, any news? Okay, be right there.” He ended the call and stood up. “Borger may have something.”
Will Borger was a true throwback from the hippy generation, though technically a few years too young to actually qualify. He wore his hair long in a ponytail, likely trying to make up for the top of his head which was losing ground. He routinely wore round glasses and loose fitting Hawaiian shirts. He was the epitome of the old computer geek and Clay and Caesare liked him immensely.