Aisha cleared her throat. “I need you to go back a minute. You said, ‘He made me take my coveralls off.’ Tell me exactly how those came off.”
The girl looked up, eyes suddenly blazing. “How they came off? I just told you, I fuckin’ took them off. He had a knife to my throat!”
Aisha kept her eyes on her notepad. The cracker was recording the interview, but taking notes added a distance that interviewees seemed to appreciate. “You said it was dark when he grabbed you. From behind, right? So how do you know he had a knife?”
“I fucking felt it against my throat.”
“Describe that, please.”
“A knife… a point… a sharp pointed blade. Cold. Metal.”
“Was the edge smoothly sharp, or serrated?”
“Smooth.”
“Now secure from rearming. Secure from rearming. Now darken ship. Darken ship. Make all darken-ship reports to the officer of the deck on the bridge. All hands stand clear of weather decks while transiting at high speeds. Stand clear of missile-launch areas. Now lay before the mast, all eight o’clock reports,” the 1MC said, very loud, out in the passageway.
Aisha held her pen in the air. “Is that for you?”
“No. Chief Wenck’ll take eight o’clock reports.”
“Can you tell me how long the knife was? Or show me?”
The petty officer held up finger and thumb four inches apart. “That’s a big blade,” Aisha said. “It would certainly scare me. Did you feel the handle? Did it make a noise, a click or a springy sound? Folding, jackknife, switchblade, straight razor, dinner knife, commando-type knife?”
“I don’t really remember. I was surprised. Scared.”
“I understand, believe me. But we’ll just go step by step and see what you can recall. When he held it to your throat, did you feel gloves, or bare hands?”
The corners of Terranova’s eyes crinkled. “He wore gloves. Leather. Soft leather gloves.”
“Okay, very good. Now, back to disrobing. Where were the two of you at that point?”
“The Equipment Room. He pushed me back in there.”
“Did you take your boots off? Are those the boots you were wearing at the time?”
“Well, my boots — I never did take them off. I just unzipped and pulled the coveralls down.”
“And then.” Aisha made a note, kept her eyes lowered.
“Then… you want to know exactly what he did?”
“I’m sorry, but we need specifics. I know this isn’t easy, but that’s what’s going to help us catch him.”
“Well. Then he pulled my panties down. And then he got between my legs and—”
“You were where? On the floor? The deck, I mean?”
“I was bent over the work surface. The table.”
“So he was behind you.”
“I told you that… no… I guess I only said he grabbed me from behind. But he… fucked me from there, too. Only not in the, um, in where you might have thought. And, oh, he stood me over the work stool. So I was up higher. But he didn’t take long, once he was in.”
Patiently, going back again when she skipped ahead, Aisha drew it out. The mention of the work stool seemed significant. From the geometry, it meant her attacker was considerably taller. Did she feel a beard at any point, heavy stubble? Mustache? Glasses? What did his clothing feel like — was it cotton, like ship’s coveralls, or the slick nylon of a flight suit, or the fine, snag-prone weave of twill polyester? Had she smelled anything? Terranova said she might have smelled something citrusy, like lemons. Aisha explored the voice. Rough, accented, high or low pitch? Terranova said it was pitched low, almost guttural, as if the rapist was disguising himself.
“So he was afraid you might recognize him,” Aisha suggested. “Which means you know him. Which also means, maybe, you should be careful.”
The young woman blinked. “Careful?”
“Not go anywhere without one of your girlfriends. Especially at night. Has anyone talked to you about that? Maybe Chief Toan?”
“No, but… you think I’m in danger?”
Aisha said she just meant to take reasonable precautions. “But if anyone threatens you, or harasses you for cooperating with me, tell me right away. Rape’s serious enough, but there are additional penalties if someone tries to silence you. Do you need to change your work center? Or maybe take some time off?”
Terranova said she couldn’t, the team depended on her, but that she’d report any harassment. She started to fidget, glancing at the bulkhead clock. “I should get goin’… need to get some sleep before I go on again.”
Aisha frowned. “Surely they still don’t have you on the watch bill?”
The frown lines deepened. Suddenly the girl looked older. More serious. “Do you got any idea what I do aboard here, Agent? Without my radar, we’re fuckin’ blind. I got a team to lead. They can’t take me off the watch bill. Not now, at DEFCON Two.”
“I’m not sure what that means, Beth.”
Terranova stood. Her voice rose. Her fists clenched. “We’re at war. Don’t you get it? If I can’t do my fuckin’ job, my shipmates’ll die. And it won’t really matter then who raped me, will it? So I have to stay on duty, no matter how I feel, or how much I just wanta fuckin’ run!”
Aisha kept her eyes on her notes. Victims often rode an emotional roller coaster. From stoic, to crying, to rage, to fear. It was hard not to ride it with them. “Beth, it’s natural to be angry. Rape is a terrible crime. I know. It happened to me. As a child.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And investigating it, this… process, well, it isn’t exactly fun for me, either.” She tried to steady her voice. “It’s natural to be affected. You may have trouble concentrating. Feel overwhelmed. Night terrors, panic attacks. All those are normal.
“But if we do this right, we can bring this guy to justice. And that’ll keep your friends safe too. Maybe not from a missile or a bomb. But so they can walk the passageways at night without being afraid.”
Terranova looked down at her, face white. “Without bein’ afraid,” she murmured. “Wow. Sorry it happened to you. I am. But you shueh make a lotta promises, don’t cha, Special Agent?”
When the petty officer slammed out the door, Aisha turned off the case cracker. She whispered a du’a, asking for patience. For wisdom, to help those who were hurt. And for a little bit of luck. She asked for strength, and for Allah to stay in her heart.
Then she wiped her face with both hands and sat alone, listening to the throb of turbines, the rush of a speeding ship through a dark and trackless sea.
8
The second day aboard the sub, in the cramped enlisted mess. Teddy was always taken aback by how tight it was. Every cubic foot was crammed with equipment, leaving only narrow vertical slots through which bodies could fit. The overhead was low, and there were only two dining tables, with bench seats; you had to pull your elbows in tight to your sides. You couldn’t complain about the chow, though. He was digging in when Lieutenant Harch stopped to murmur, “How’s the omelets, Master Chief?”
“Um, okay, sir.” Teddy was reserved with Harch. The heavily mustached, dark-complected platoon commander was ex-enlisted. Good in one way, not so great in another. You didn’t have to explain certain things, but he wasn’t as ready to defer to his senior enlisted’s advice. As to what kind of a leader he’d be when the chips were down… who the fuck knew.