“Row hard Scotty. We might not be alone out here much longer.”
Jake felt his back cramping, but he kept paddling until the raft bumped into fiberglass. A rope ladder landed by his knees. He climbed two rungs and accepted Mercer’s hand.
“Thanks, buddy,” he said.
Jake hugged his friend.
“You smell worse than my ass,” Jake said.
“Blame yourself. It’s a pain to shower in this thing, and you’re six days late,” Mercer said.
“We ran into some trouble.”
Jake reached over the trawler’s side and helped his companions up.
“This is Pierre,” he said. “And this is Scotty.”
“I was expecting four guys,” Mercer said.
“Lost two. Gained one. Long story,” Jake said.
“I hate to ruin the reunion,” Renard said, “but we still need to check our accounts to ensure that we’ve been paid. We will need to shift the codes before Taiwan learns of the Tai Chiang’s fate.”
“Go ahead,” Jake said.
Renard placed a wireless phone to his cheek. He spoke in French, but Jake didn’t need to translate it. The inflexion in the Frenchman’s voice and the smile that spread across his face told him that each man in the trawler was much richer than he had been the day before.
In the Oval Office, President Ryder studied a picture of the Tai Chiang. He inhaled through his bulbous nose.
“And you say this was a Taiwanese vessel, Admiral?”
“That’s correct, Mister President,” Mesher said.
“Taiwan tried to steal our warheads?”
“Yes, sir. We were right about the intent but assumed the wrong assailants when we focused on the Middle East.”
“The Prime Minister’s got some explaining to do, but I’ll have someone take that up with the unofficial ambassador. I want you to tell me how we’re cleaning up this mess. How’s the Miami?”
“Sir, the Miami made its way to a Coast Guard base in western Alaska. We flew in a welding team to place cover plates on its hull. We’re going to tow the Miami to Bangor, Washington, for dry-dock repairs. She’ll be out of commission for a year.”
“What about the crew?”
“Nine died in the attack.”
Ryder remembered comrades lost during Vietnam.
“This country owes them a debt.”
“We can’t publicize their heroism, sir,” Mesher said, “but we’ll honor them and compensate their survivors as we do with covert operations casualties.”
“How about the injured?”
“The rest of the crew escaped without major injury. The damage was contained to the engine room. We’ll need a crew aboard that ship for safety and security, but I’ve authorized the Miami to fly half of its crew home to Groton for a few weeks. Then they’ll rotate with the other half before they take the submarine south.”
“Good decision. All those men are heroes.”
“Yes, sir. They are.”
“What about awards? Promotions? That crew showed character. The skipper had guts.”
“Plenty of accolades, sir. And the captain, John Brody — turns out he knew Slate. Slate actually saved his life a few years ago.”
Ryder reflected upon the irony of Slate having saved Brody’s life so that he could later deliver his death blow.
“So Brody swallowed his feelings and did his job,” Ryder said. “We need more men like him in command.”
“Agreed, sir.”
“What about the Colorado?” Ryder asked.
“We’re anchoring an oceanographic research vessel on top of her. The water is shallow enough that we can use divers to retrieve the warheads.”
“Then what? If the public discovers that a Trident submarine is lying in a hundred feet of water thirty-five miles from the Russian coast, there’s going to be hell to pay. I said that thing was destroyed in the Atlantic for Christ’s sake!” Ryder said.
“After we remove the warheads, we’ll remove the missiles and dismantle them in guarded secrecy. We’ll repeat the process with the torpedoes. The reactor core will be moved and carted piece by piece to Idaho for burial. It’ll take the remainder of the summer.”
“There will still be a huge chunk of a Trident’s carcass on the ocean floor.”
“We’ll snap its hull into smaller pieces and dispose of them.”
“Won’t there be scattered evidence on the sea bed?” Ryder asked.
“Yes, sir, and it’ll take until after next winter’s thaw to clean. But this took place in the middle of nowhere, and we’ll be guarding the site.”
Ryder stood and stared out the window at the White House lawn. He began to believe that his legacy could survive the Colorado Incident.
“How soon until the bodies of Slate and his accomplices can be recovered and verified?”
“Sir, an ADCAP torpedo can vaporize metal. I can’t promise you a body.”
“I feared as much, but he’s not the only guilty one in this. What are we doing to those bastards who gave Slate HIV and covered it up?”
“The investigation revealed that Commander Thomas Henry knowingly transferred HIV to Slate. It took some bold men to step forward and admit to homosexuality and risk their careers, but with their help, we got to the truth.”
Ryder grunted.
“I dislike how we treat gays in the military. Brave witnesses just gave up their careers to support a system that doesn’t support them.”
“Not necessarily,” Mesher said. “There’s a little known clause about homosexuality and military service.”
“Oh?”
“A serviceman may experiment with homosexuality, but unless he admits to being, or is proven to be, a practicing homosexual, there’s no need for administrative action.”
“So to make the case against Commander Henry, you’re going to have witnesses say that they were just experimenting?”
“No, sir. We won’t ask and they won’t tell.”
“Well put,” Ryder said.
“As for Henry, given that his charges include physical assault against an officer by knowingly giving Slate HIV, I’ve had him thrown in the brig. The senior officers who tried to cover up what Henry did to Slate are awaiting Courts Martial, too.”
Ryder crossed his arms and shook his head.
“A cover up involving a flag officer. Why?”
“Henry was the strongest candidate to replace the only black submarine admiral. They thought they were protecting the needs of the service by protecting Henry.”
“This mess is still ugly, but it looks like you’re covered on all fronts. I was damned anxious for a while.”
“I was too, sir,” Mesher said.
“You should have been. Your job was on the line.”
“I’m retiring in nine months,” Mesher said. “Thanks to Commander John Brody, I won’t have to retire nine months early.”
Ryder returned to his desk and sat.
“I’d almost forgotten,” Ryder said. “I assume I’m still invited to your farewell ceremony?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Any plans to add to your legacy — other than burying the details of the Colorado Incident so deeply that it would take a team of archeologists to unearth?”
“Just one, sir. I’m adding a submarine captain to the short list of people I want to make admiral.”
“Commander Brody?” Ryder asked.
“No, sir. Captain Brody, as of tonight.”
Wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, Brody took a limousine shuttle from Bradley International Airport to his home in Groton, Connecticut.
He tried to forget the faces of the crewmen he had lost. Although Pete Parks would tend to the Miami during his absence, he would always consider the Miami his.