Dave grunted, “A mistake like that, Jason, can easily get you killed. This is a hell of a breach-”
“I’m sorry, Sean,” Jason mumbled, blinking back tears.
O’Brien looked at Jason a long moment. He felt compassion for the kid-a young man who took his mistakes to heart. “I hope you’ve learned a lesson.”
“I have. I swear.”
“Call your mom. Tell her what’s happening before she sees the news.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll get through this. You’ll have something to tell your grandkids in a few decades. In the meantime, we need to think through how to minimize the risks.”
Jason tried to smile. Max sat at his feet, her eyes half closed.
O’Brien added, “We need to get Nick in here so that all of us can talk about what to do next. We’ve got to form a plan.”
Dave grunted. “This is about to get way out of our control.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Nick Cronus stood in Dave Collins’ galley and poured himself a tall glass of Ouzo. He said, “Never in my life have I ever wanted to slap a woman. They are God’s most special creations. I give her a compliment. But she kept askin’ me questions, even after I said there was nothing I could say.” Nick walked up the two steps from the galley to the salon and sat in a canvas director’s chair with the words ‘Key West, FL’ on the back. He leaned over and scratched Max’s head, her tail thumping.
Dave said, “This Susan Schulman is on a mission, no doubt.”
Jason looked at his watch. “News will be on in an hour. I don’t want to watch my stuttering face on TV.”
O’Brien peered out of an open slat in the blinds. “I see their satellite news truck in the parking lot. The other TV stations, the papers, and the national news, will be here soon. We have to plan for that and deal with it the best we can.”
“So what we gonna do?” Nick asked. “Just tell ‘em where the ghost sub is and let’s go on and let our lives get back to normal.
Dave said, “It’s not that simple.”
“Why?” Nick asked.
“Because the ghost sub, as you so aptly put it, is indeed a ghost sub.”
“What do you mean?” Jason asked.
“It’s a phantom. Officially, it doesn’t exist. You gents opened Pandora’s Box. Now the evil genie is out. The German U-boat 236 has no documentation in unclassified U.S. war documents. It seems that somebody didn’t want a record of it. Sean and I are working on a time-line. We’re not sure exactly when the sub you found was sunk. Probably May 19, 1945. The same day an eyewitness spotted it from Matanzas Inlet. He saw men leave the sub in a life raft and bury something on the beach. Perhaps more of the uranium canisters. I did some digging, spoke with an old contact in Germany. The manifest on file in Germany from U-boat 236 indicates there were ten canisters of U- 235 on board. You spotted two. Maybe the other eight were buried that night on the beach.”
O’Brien said, “The eyewitness Dave mentioned was an American not much older than you, Jason. He was shot and killed after he reported the presence of the sub and a party of four German sailors and two Japanese men burying something in the sand. This man saw one of the Germans shoot another. He said a man, maybe an American, came out of the bushes that night and met them.”
“The FBI and Navy,” Dave said, standing, “have no unclassified record of the sub’s existence. Why? Because they took down a sub with nuclear material on it, and they never found it. This was almost the twelfth hour before the dawn of the nuclear age. With the race to see who was going to make the bomb first, the least amount of information out there, less chance for a leak or to cause a breach. The other reason could have been connected to the shooting death of the young man or the mystery man who met them. I hope you now understand you have to be quiet about his. No more information to anyone. It’s too dangerous.”
“I understand … I won’t say a word,” Jason said.
Nick’s eyebrows arched. “I hope our guys didn’t kill the fella about Jason’s age who saw this thing goin’ down.”
“Authorities at the time reported he died in a mugging,” O’Brien said. “His surviving family-his wife, who’s now in her late eighties, and his granddaughter, have reasons to believe otherwise. Both live here and told me the story.”
“What reason?” Jason asked. “Was it some kind of a conspiracy?”
O’Brien said, “Maybe. But at this point, probably the least you know about things, Jason, it will be smartest and safest for you.”
“No problem-I don’t think I want to know anything else.”
“Good,” O’Brien smiled. “These news stories will be all over the planet in a matter of minutes, both on the Internet and international TV. There are ruthless people who would do anything to get their hands on weapons- grade uranium. Dave and I are going to give all we know to the FBI. You two don’t know the sub’s coordinates. That’s a good thing.”
“But,” said Nick finishing the ouzo, “nobody knows that. They see our faces all over the news and people will think we’re out there huntin’ for lobsters between the rib cages of human skeletons. Especially after that reporter tricked me and I told her I knew where the sub was and would take her there. When they show the story, they’ll cut out the part about her havin’ to wear a bikini.”
“Jason, where did you park?” O’Brien asked.
“My truck is on the north side of the lot.”
“Go up L dock, cross over to M dock, avoid the media in the parking lot near the Tiki Bar, and head on home. Tell your mom “hi” for me. We have a charter coming up.”
“Cool, maybe it won’t be so bad when the TV news is over.”
“Maybe not,” Dave said. “But just in case, be very careful. Say nothing to anyone and be aware of your surroundings.”
O’Brien stepped to the port window and watched Jason walk quickly down the dock. He saw two more news satellite trucks roll up in the far parking lot. He thought about Maggie’s face, heard her voice from the morning when she walked out of his past into the present.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Dave moved to the couch, sank into the cushions, and let out a deep sigh. “The more we understand what was going on in the summer of ’45 the better-1945, by the way, was the year I was born.”
O’Brien smiled, “’45 eh? Hope with age you got some wisdom.” Then he said, “Looks like Germany’s nuke world was in high gear at that time.”
“Indeed. If my old contact in Germany was right about the listing on the manifest, we have eight canisters MIA. They still could be somewhere on the sub.”
“Or they might be found on the beach where Billy Lawson watched the German sailors bury something. Maybe it was something they intended to use later. Who was the guy waiting for them, and what sort of deal did he cut?”
“So this Billy Lawson, he was the one shot, right?” Nick asked.
“Yes,” O’Brien said. “He was a PFC, sent home from the front for rehab. He may be the only U.S. soldier in World War II killed on American soil.”
Dave said, “In the intelligence world, you have selective information, disinformation and silence. This falls in the category of a void. Nothing. Not even up there on the same shelf with UFO sightings.”
