“Tomboy! … ’til I was nineteen, then hormones, pheromones or something-mones kicked in and suddenly…
“No more boys being the enemy?”
“Something like that…”
“What would the loading have to be in order to affect the hysteresis dynamics?”
“Loading is not the issue; the issue is power frequency. A half-cycle deviation would result in a six-percent loss in flux and a twenty-five-degree increase in heat output.”
“And if there was a ten-cycle shift?”
“The curves are not linear, so at ten cycles either side of the center frequency you would have ninety percent loss of flux and meltdown of the coil.”
“How long would the meltdown take?”
“At these operating voltages and given the superconductivity, two seconds to liquefy the structure.”
The “Engineer” knew he had just impressed his employer — strike that — his partner, in the great battle that would be over within two seconds of the first shot.
“Do you have the list of what you need?”
“Yes, but are you certain of the timing of the event?.”
“You leave that to me; my unwitting source is impeccable. You focus on your team. With you to guide them, they will not fail.”
“Thank you for your faith in me.”
“My faith is in God; He guides you and me.”
With that, the man, whom The Engineer only knew as “The Architect,” left and melted into the crowds on the tourist-encrusted Route Suisse, the main road that surrounded the Swiss end of the lake. The Engineer went in the opposite direction, where he would meet with the woman he had hand-picked for his team and the main part of this grand vision.
The old gangplank had a banner on the side that read USS Tiger Shark. It was a relic and a leftover from when Midway had a naval facility. At 560 feet, the nearly two-football-field-long Nebraska dwarfed the utility dock, which was now only used to moor small freighters and supply ships. Mush had four seamen weighing down each end of the questionable gangplank just to make sure it was safe. He escorted Brooke and the stretcher carrying seaman Bennis down to the dock where the U.S. Park Service Envoy for Midway met them. He and his car were pressed into service to drive the half mile to the airstrip where a U.S. Air Force G-4 was waiting to return Brooke to Washington. Her condition aboard ship having been upgraded, the hospital check-in wasn’t required. She had been given a set of dress browns befitting an ensign, her last naval rank. She opted to wear the hat so the salute she gave the men cramming the deck to say goodbye would be even crisper.
She watched as Mush said goodbye to the injured seaman as he was loaded into the Midway Hospital ambulance. She was taken with how gentle he was as he put his hand on the man’s and leaned over, no doubt saying something supportive and encouraging. He snapped a salute as the doors closed and then walked over to Brooke.
“Well, Agent Burrell, I guess you’ll be glad to get back to D.C.” Mush said, removing his hat for the first time.
Finally seeing his entire mane of red curly hair made her smile. “Captain, thank you so much for the VIP treatment.”
“After all you went through, it was the least…”
“I know that space is a luxury on a sub and there is no such thing as an extra stateroom. Thanks for giving me your cabin; it was a magnanimous gesture that I really appreciate.”
“If my exec snored, you would have been out of there in a minute!”
Brooke wanted to say something more but thought better of it, and instead she simply said, “Captain, if you ever get to the East Coast, I’m usually free any day that ends in a ‘y.’”
“Good, ’cause today ends like that.” With that, a yeoman brought the captain’s bags to the trunk of the car and placed them inside.
“Where are you going?”
“The exec and crew can get Big Red back to Pearl for repairs. I’ve been ordered back to Washington to tell them first-hand about Jonah and the whale.”
“My offer still stands.”
“I already took you up on it.”
“No, I mean to be a witness in support.”
“Thanks. Hopefully it won’t come to that.” He said.
“It will be nice to have company on the long plane ride home.”
Smiles became the uniform of the day.
“A what?”
“He says a whale!”
“Joey, is this some kind of swab term for a mini-sub or something?”
“Bill, I don’t know; I wasn’t Navy. But even Brooke reported hearing a warning about a whale.”
“I’ve got five or six guys on the rings who are oceanologists and marine biologists; I’ll run it by them.”
The “rings” were the organizational center of Bill’s SCIAD Network. The name was a double entendre of sorts in that he was the science advisor to the president and his shorthand title in White House memoranda was SciAD. It was his innovation and it brought massive brainpower to all the nasty things that could go click in the night and bring America to its knees. From cyber-attacks, approaching asteroids, nuclear proliferation, and world resource shortages, to medical, biological, and synthetic life, science played big as a National Intelligence asset. Bill’s SCIAD rings gave America a fighting chance to counter any technological, man-made, or natural disaster.
“Do you think we can convince Ray to go to bat for us with the Navy?” Joey asked.
“What do we want?”
“A submersible recovery vehicle to plumb the depths of the wreck Brooke got blown off of.”
“You think the crucibles are down there?”
“Not me, Brooke.” Joey laid the top-secret stamped report down on Bill’s desk. “She was on the Vera Cruz to confirm the brokers actually had the crucibles. They were in the hold of that ship!”
“Okay, I’ll ask him at the afternoon staff. Anything else?”
“I need tomorrow off.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Going to sign up Joe Jr. to the D.C. Little League.”
“How’s he adjusting to not being in San Francisco anymore?”
“He’s doing fine, makes new friends in an instant. Phyllis? That’s another story.”
“I’ll ask Janice…”
“Bill, Janice doesn’t have time to be welcome wagon queen. Phyl’s got to get out and meet folks.”
“Take it easy on her, okay? It wasn’t her idea for you to rip up your roots and plant ’em next to me here in the district.”
Brooke had tried on six different outfits in front of her full-length mirror, changing shoes to boots to sling backs to sandals and back to boots. Pearls to chain to choker and back again. Long skirt to short to mid-length to sluttily-high to sensible to pants. Dangles to studs to jackets to feather things. And there was eye shadow, lip liner and four different shades of lipstick on wet wipes and tissues in the trash pail. She tried in vain to cover her scratched cheek and hands with copious amounts of makeup, but abandoned it. He’s already seen me scuffed up. It was seven thirty, she was meeting Mush at eight, and she was exhausted already! Just choose a look already and get out.
In the cab on the way over, she had a panic attack, thinking she should go back and put on the lower cut top. No, that would be too… desperate. She took a deep breath and thought, It is what it is.
Looking out of the cab window as they passed the National Mall, she tried to control the wild horses she felt inside. Despite her apparent reputation as a girl who must have a lot of admirers, her real life after work was rather boring. In fact, Mush, the submarine captain, had been the cause of an unexpected bit of undercurrent in her lower depths. Although they shared their flight back to Washington, they were well chaperoned by Navy and Air Force personnel attending to their every need… except the one she really needed to address. Through the long night’s flight, she hoped he was feeling the same impulse and desire to be alone with her, but she couldn’t read him. Don’t make a fool of yourself, girl. He may only want you as a witness for the board of inquiry. She didn’t believe that last bit of propaganda, but she needed a sober thought to avoid gushing like a schoolgirl when she saw him.