‘OK Stan,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I’ll see you first thing.’
‘Sorry to wake you sir. The Secretary of Defence is waiting in the green room.’
The President put the phone down and looked at the clock which registered 4:16 am. His wife was still asleep so he padded across to the built in wardrobe, trying not to disturb her while he dressed.
Before he came to office it wasn’t his custom to check the mirror. But since he started in politics his aides impressed on him the importance of dress sense and grooming. He saw a tall, middle aged, clean shaven figure in the glass. The man staring back possessed a photogenic face, topped by a head of dark blond hair. The media were always referring to his Norwegian ancestry even though he was third generation American.
Five minutes later a tousled President Donahue made his way to the green room. He blinked in the harsh light. ‘Bit early in the day, Harris.’
Brindle Harris was already seated and didn’t get up. This was not out of disrespect but he had tiny pieces of shrapnel embedded in his spine from his time in the forces. And the President was not one for standing on ceremony; Donahue had known Brindle Harris longer than anyone else on his staff. They had met in college but went their different ways after graduation.
‘What have you got?’ Donahue said, settling down into the armchair opposite. He helped himself to a freshly brewed cup of coffee.
‘Sir, about seven hours ago we learnt that one of our experimental submarines disappeared.’
‘Isn’t that a minor matter — especially at this time in the morning?’
‘Well sir, the submarine is unmanned. At first we didn’t think there was any loss of life.’
‘And now you’re telling me there are fatalities?’
‘We’re not sure. Initially we thought there had been a collision and the sub had sunk. If that was all there was to it, it would have been written off as an expensive mistake.’
Harris popped a pill into his mouth and swallowed it down with some water before continuing. ‘Then we heard that somehow the main support ship was taking on water. The order was given to abandon ship while they were transmitting a MAYDAY signal.’
Donahue looked carefully at Harris but nothing in Harris’ expression betrayed the constant pain he felt from the shrapnel.
‘About an hour later a support ship went missing. Shortly after the second disappeared as well. There was a communications aircraft overhead, and according to their reports the support ships just vanished from their radar screens. We sent out a search and rescue aircraft immediately but it only managed to find some lifeboats.’
‘Casualties?’
‘We don’t know. We estimate there’s around forty six survivors so far. We’re sending a frigate to pick them up.’
‘So, what are the chances that all the ships were involved in some sort of collision?’
Harris stirred uneasily. ‘Slim to zero I’d say.’
‘Well, what about some other explanation like weather, or sea state?’
‘There was reasonably good weather at the time and the sea state was moderate.’
‘Enemy action?’
Harris shook his head. ‘We don’t have any reports of other ships in the area.’
‘Ships maybe, but what about another submarine?’
‘We’d completed a sweep the day before. If another sub did approach we would have picked up a trace. It’s not guaranteed of course, but it’s unlikely we would have missed anything like that.’
‘How do you explain it then?’
Harris looked the President in the eye. ‘I can’t right now. We should know more when we interview the survivors.’
‘Have any of the families been informed?’
‘Not yet.’
President Donahue re-filled his cup and stirred sugar into the black coffee. ‘What’s so special about this particular sub?’
‘It’s experimental. It’s called Cetus and she carries an unusual weapon. Our Defence scientists have been working on it for the last two years. The weapon generates powerful sound waves in water.’
‘What does it do — blast the enemy with Rolling Stones records?’ the President asked, trying to lighten the mood.
‘No — nothing like that’ replied Harris, straight-faced. ‘I’m told that all objects — including the biggest ships we have in the navy — have a natural frequency. That is, a frequency which will cause them to resonate.’
The President flicked the rim of his cup. ‘You mean like the opera singer and the wine glass?’
‘Precisely’ replied Harris. ‘When the singer reaches a certain pitch the wine glass starts to resonate at its natural frequency. If you have a loud enough note and the right pitch the sound can shatter the glass.’
‘We’ve developed a weapon that can do that — to a ship?’ the President asked incredulously.
‘That’s exactly what I mean sir.’
The President let his coffee go cold, thinking through the implications. ‘Have you tried this out?’
‘We’ve done some testing with a sound cannon in the lab, but not anything full scale. Cetus was on her sea trials when we lost contact.’
‘So that weapon could just have been stolen out from under our noses.’
Harris shook his head firmly. ‘We’ve no evidence of that.’
‘Suppose the sub turned its weapon on its supply ships?’
Harris looked shocked. ‘That’s not possible sir’ he said carefully. ‘For a start, the weapon system was locked down. It’s not possible to activate it.’
‘Well something must have caused the disappearance of the ships.’
‘We’re launching a full investigation when we pick up the survivors.’
‘Were there any communications before the sinking took place?’
Harris grimaced. ‘We’ve had some confusing reports that don’t make a lot of sense.’ He coughed lightly before continuing. ‘On one of the tapes we heard a loud buzzing noise while the crew were preparing to abandon the ship. It sank about five minutes later.’
‘Isn’t that the sort of thing that would happen if that sound cannon was aimed at them?’
Harris shook his head. ‘At that stage of the test the safety lock was on. The cannon and its ancillary systems could not be fired without an authorisation signal. That signal was never given — we have proof of that.’
‘Well, I want to know what happened.’ All trace of humour had left the President. ‘Get a task force down there, find the sub, and bring it back.’
Stan looked like a ghost. Natasha packed him off home and sat for a long time twiddling her thumbs waiting for any information about the rescue operation. After a couple of hours with no news she decided to pop down the corridor to see the System Manager. He was a big man and he waved a large gnarled hand at the only chair in the room that wasn’t piled high with printouts. ‘Has there been any more news recently?’
‘Some good, some bad, I suppose. The rescue aircraft from Costa Rica had to turn back due to poor weather. But a rescue ship from the naval base at Guantanamo is on its way.’
‘Guantanamo? You mean where the camp is?’
‘Yep, the same. Most people only know the place because of the camp, but the Navy has had a base there for over a hundred years.’
John sighed and rested his beefy arms on his desk. ‘I was really sorry to hear about Ben. I gather that you and he were, well…’
‘It’s come as a big shock’ she replied sadly. ‘You know Ben didn’t have any relatives here and his parents are too infirm to travel. So I guess I’m the one who will have to arrange the funeral.’
‘Aw, I’m sorry to hear that. Well don’t feel you have to do this on your own. I’d be glad to help in any way I can.’
Natasha smiled. ‘Thanks John, I always know I can count on you.’