“But what about Dupré? He’s a fed, or whatever the frogs call their national cops.” Joey mouthed the word ‘sorry’ to the French-born attaché in the US Embassy standing in front of him.
“If he couldn’t stop the judge’s orders on the streets, I don’t think he’ll have much luck up the chain, but I’ll check. Oh by the way, Brooke is in town, Paris, I mean. She is going to call you.”
“Okay, maybe between the two of us we can find this English twerp.”
“Hey Joey, that’s it.”
“What is?”
“If he’s English, we can get Downing street involved. That should get attention.”
“The more, the merrier. Meanwhile, Klaven seems to come up clean and a real officer and gentleman. He did some wild shit back in the Cold War. This guy tapped the Russian phone line to their missile bases. He used a decommissioned sub like the one they have in New York.”
“Sub in New York?”
“Yeah, I was on it ten years ago. The USS Growler — it’s right next to the Intrepid. Anyway her sister ship in the Pegasus missile system, the USS Halibut, was fitted with a DSRV and they clipped a bug onto an undersea cable.”
“Joey, wait! What did you say?”
“DSRV, Deep Submersible Recovery Vehicle?”
“No, the name of the sister sub was what, again?”
“Halibut.”
“Son-of-a-bitch. ‘Try the Halibut,’ he said to me at Mimmo’s that night, and I said to myself, ‘What a dumb ass, they don’t even have that on the menu.’”
“Fish stories aside, as far as I can tell, he is the real deal and you should have a talk with him. I’ll have the details encrypted and sent to you from the Embassy.”
“I’ll set up a meet for tomorrow. How’s Paris?”
“Like one of those movies they’d make you watch in Film Appreciation 101.”
“Oh, and Joey, I do tell you to be careful from time to time, don’t I?”
“Did you watch a chick flick or something last night?”
Bill’s car picked him up promptly at 6:45 a.m., as it did every morning, for the thirty-minute drive to the White House. Allowing five minutes to stop at the Starbucks on Wisconsin Avenue for his and his driver’s morning jolt always got him to his desk by 7:30. The driver pulled up to the loading zone and left Bill in the car, secure that the White House tag in the windshield would stop any D.C. cop from harassing him. Bill was leafing through the morning rundown when he was startled by an intruder who climbed into the back seat with him.
“You wanted to see me?”
“In my office, Klaven! God, do you always sneak up on people like…”
“Hands up, out of the car now!” Bill’s driver said, holding a Glock pointed at Klaven through the rear window.
“Bill, call off your dog.”
“Do you promise to stop scaring the crap out of me?”
“Oh, grow up and tell him to stand down before he shoots a patriot.”
“It’s okay, Warren. I know this man — he’s just a little unconventional. In fact, Warren, if you wouldn’t mind, get him a Venti… er, black?”
“With two sugars.”
“With two sugars, if you would!”
Warren holstered his weapon and announced to the shocked citizens that it was all a misunderstanding and to go about their business.
“Mr. Hiccock, I can’t be seen as part of this. I still monitor and try to keep the powers-that-be honest.”
“You do what now?”
“Look, from what I gather, you ain’t a political pussy. My sources tell me you are someone who acts, and you’ve seen your share.”
“I am a bureaucrat and a science geek.”
“Cut the crap, son. There’s a quarter trillion dollars-worth of warship deep in the Pacific Trench that begs to differ.”
“That’s extremely classified, sir, and you are in violation of the Secrets Act just bringing it up.”
“Are you going to stop treating me like I am some outsider? What you and Mitchell did was historic, heroic and demonstrated the utmost measure of devotion. That’s why I selected you.”
“You selected? Okay, I don’t know what or how much you know about the USS Princeton but…”
“Don’t forget that business up in New York and the first nuclear attack on U.S. soil. The way I hear it, you’re not there, and New York is a glowing graveyard for seventy-eight years. Instead we got a concrete containment dome encasing a botched H-bomb.”
“Can we get back to, ‘you selected me?’”
“Throw in the HCN complex 33 bio attack thwarted, and that escapade in the lead mine out West; oh, and saving the entire San Joaquin Valley, and I’d say I know what I am talking about and who I am talking to.”
“You know, when you put it that way, I should ask for a raise. Who the fuck are you?”
“One of many who took an oath to defend this nation. Being out of the service doesn’t reduce that honor and obligation.”
“I don’t know whether to let you out of this car or turn you in.”
“Relax, if you haven’t gotten the message yet, I am a big fan. Besides, you got the Bridgestone seal of approval.”
That name hit Hiccock like a ton of bricks. Master Sergeant Richard Bridgestone was a one-of — a-kind army of one. Bill had enlisted his special skills and secured unprecedented presidential authority for him to cut and tear his way across America and the globe searching for a suitcase nuke. Bridge had also saved the life of Bill’s wife as well as the lives of his mom and dad. In fact, Bill had named his son, Richard Ross Hiccock, after Richard Bridgestone and his partner, Ross, who had been killed in the Hammer of God affair. “Now I get it. Well, if you are a friend of Bridge, you are beyond reproach — and you are my friend. What can I do for you?”
“It’s what I can do for you. That mission you want the Navy to undertake? I designed it in 1965.”
“Yeah, the USS Halibut and the DSRV. Very impressive! But not as out-of-the-park as raising the entire Soviet Akula class sub that went down — and right under the Commies’ noses!”
“Now I am the one who is humbled, Mr. Hiccock.”
“Please call me Bill.”
“My friends call me Clay. So how did you find out about that Akula?”
“Let’s just say, I know some people as well.”
Just then Warren came back, balancing a cardboard tray with the coffees. Bill rolled down the window and handed Clay his and took his own. “Warren, wanna give us five minutes?” He then rolled up the window.
“Anyway, recovering the evidence you want, adjusted for today’s dollars, will be a one hundred million dollar operation, tops!”
“So you were right when you said they were soaking me to fund something else, what else?”
“Political campaigns.”
“Whoa.”
Joey and Brooke had set up shop in a small conference room at the US Embassy in Paris. In most spots on Earth, the US Embassy is the ultra-class way to go. However, having to eat, sleep, and work in the building, with Paris right outside the gate, was like a prison sentence, but they muddled through. Brooke worked out in the compound’s gym for ninety minutes every other day. Her training had always stressed peak physical conditioning, and surviving her ordeal in the Indian Ocean was a testament to that commitment. Even the guys from the Embassy’s diplomatic security detail weren’t as dedicated in their routines.