Jerry felt the boat take on a moderate down angle as they descended from periscope depth. With the last submarine broadcast of the day on board, the crew could now settle down for a quiet midwatch. As much as Jerry liked to be in the control room during PD evolutions, he had stayed in his stateroom for this one, finishing up the E-5 evaluations that were due in a couple of days. Besides, having the captain always in control sent the wrong message. His crew had to know he trusted them, and that meant leaving them to do their work without him constantly looking over their shoulders.
Settling into his chair, he grabbed his iPad and thumbed through the digital library. The idea of doing some recreational reading before going to bed sounded really good right now. He’d barely kicked back when the Dialex phone rang. Sighing, he picked it up. “Captain,” he answered.
“Captain, Officer of the deck,” said Lieutenant Junior Grade Quela Lymburn. “The evening broadcast has been downloaded into your in-box. The commo reports nothing earth-shattering, mostly administrative traffic, but we did receive some personal e-mail.”
The last part caught Jerry’s attention. “Thank you, Q. I’ll be turning in shortly, so keep her between the buoys.”
“Yessir, good night, sir.”
Jerry hung up and immediately logged on to his ship’s account. He bypassed the official message traffic and went straight to his e-mail folder. Opening it, he found several messages waiting for him. Most were from Emily, one was from his sister Clarice, and at the bottom of the list was an e-mail from Aleksey Petrov.
“Petrov,” he whispered. “I haven’t heard from him in quite a while.” Curious, Jerry opened Petrov’s e-mail first and began reading it. Soon a deep frown formed on his face. He glanced up at the bulkhead clocks. One was set for Washington, D.C., time, and he shook his head. He quickly typed out a three-word response, “Received. Understood. Standby,” followed immediately by forwarding the e-mail to his friend and mentor Lowell Hardy.
Placing the two e-mails in the outgoing folder, he logged out and headed to control. Normally, he’d have to wait for the next communication cycle to get these messages out, or get the captain’s permission. Since he was the captain, he’d kick the e-mails out now. Sometimes it’s good to be the king.
3
MOVEMENTS
“…and no, I’m not going to support a resolution on India at this time! We know almost nothing about what the hell is going on over there!” bellowed Senator Lowell Hardy as he burst through the door into his outer office.
“But Senator, both party leaders are in unusual agreement about this issue,” croaked Theodore Locklear, Hardy’s chief of staff.
“Based on what, Theo? The presumption that India nuked Pakistan? How about a little evidence before we start passing legislation?”
“Sir, I understand your reluctance, but it’s a nonbinding resolution. It’s really just for show, to demonstrate to the American public the Senate can act in a bipartisan manner.”
“Oh that’s wonderful! We’ll hold hands, sing ‘Kumbaya,’ and then collectively look stupid! I’m sure that will be very encouraging to the U.S. public… not!” Hardy stopped just inside his personal office, turned, and thrust a finger at Locklear’s nose. “Do you know what usually happens when one attempts a fast-draw shot from the hip, Theo?”
The chief of staff shook his head; he was used to his boss’s occasional outbursts — a personality quirk left over from his days as a submarine commanding officer. But to Hardy’s credit, he had warned Locklear when he interviewed for the chief of staff job that he’d have to patiently listen to the senator when he had to vent, or as Hardy put it, “perform a steam generator bottom blowdown.”
“You end up with a bloody hole in your foot!” thundered Hardy in conclusion as he removed his suit coat, tossed it on the easy chair, and ran his fingers through his thinning hair.
“Look, I have no problem acting when there is evidence that something needs to be done. We have no indications, no evidence — just rumor and innuendo, so sitting on one’s hands is a perfectly reasonable thing to do.”
“Yes, sir,” Locklear replied mechanically. Then, with a hint of humor in his voice, he said, “Have you successfully completed your bottom blow, sir?”
Hardy chuckled and slapped Locklear on the shoulder, “Yes… yes, I have. Smart-ass.”
“Then what would you like me to tell the majority leader?”
“Please let him know that I would be more than happy to support such a resolution… after I’m provided with some factual data that indicates India’s culpability. You can candy-coat it as much as you’d like, but that is the gist that needs to get across. Now, I’m going to check my e-mail and grab some lunch before my meeting with Senator Kirk at… ah…”
“Fifteen thirty, sir. His office.”
“Right, got it. And, Theo, thanks.” Locklear smiled, nodded, then turned and left. Hardy dropped bodily into his chair, and logged on to his Senate e-mail account. He grimaced when he saw the contents of his in-box. Thank God his secretary screened the account and would flag him when she felt he needed to personally deal with an e-mail. There were a few, but nothing that required immediate action. He switched over to his personal account, one used only by family and friends and not easily attributed to him directly; there were considerably fewer messages. But about halfway down the page, he saw an e-mail from Jerry Mitchell. The senator shook his head. Receiving e-mail from an individual on a submarine at sea seemed… well, it just seemed wrong!
“The times be a-changin’,” Hardy said to himself as he opened the e-mail. At first, he sat relaxed. Then he slowly straightened and leaned forward as he reread the message. “Oh my God…”
He punched out a quick e-mail, attached it to Jerry’s, and forwarded it to his wife’s personal account. He then whipped out his smartphone and sent her a text message:
Just forwarded you an email from Jerry to your personal account.
Please read ASAP!
Love, Me.
Joanna Patterson felt her smartphone buzz; only a few people knew that number, all of them important. She looked quickly at the screen and saw Lowell’s message. By the time Joanna had finished reading the text, she’d pivoted in midstride and almost ran back to her office. If her husband thought it was important enough to text her at work, it was a big deal. She logged on to her account and read Lowell’s e-mail as she sat down.
Darling,
Please read the last email very carefully. Petrov sent Jerry a request for a meeting with a mutual acquaintance of theirs. Yes, the email is vague, but this is Alex we’re talking about. I believe he has demonstrated sufficient credibility with us in the past that we owe him the benefit of the doubt. I know it’ll be a pain for the Navy, but I believe it’s in our best interest to accept the invitation. BTW, Petrov is currently in India.
Love,
Lowell
The last sentence caused Joanna’s eyebrows to rise. She paged down and quickly read Jerry’s e-mail, and then Petrov’s. When she saw that an Indian submarine captain wanted to meet with Jerry concerning the most recent events, she practically fell out of her chair. Without even blinking, she shouted out to her secretary, “Kathy, call the CNO’s office. I need to speak with Admiral Hughes immediately.”