Kilo Class

you listen to Bill, and do exactly what he says.”

“Not sure about that,” said Jo. “Not the way he’s been going on with Mrs. Anderson!”

There was some levity as Jo made a great, lazy circle in the bay and headed slowly north. “There’s kelp beds all the way to starboard,” said Bill. “Stay close to the mainland, where it’s deep and clear.”

Jo slurped her coffee and kept chugging. Laura miraculously produced a plate of hot buttered toast, and the four of them munched contentedly while Roger and Gavin continued to furl the big mainsail and Jeff sorted out the sail wardrobe under the foredeck.

At 1140 Boomer went for’ard to give Jeff a hand and to make sure the storm jib was right on top of the pile should it be required in a hurry.

At 1141 Bill Baldridge saw it. Two hundred yards off their starboard bow, slicing through the water leaving a V-shaped feather on the flat surface was…he could not believe his eyes…no it couldn’t be…a shark’s fin maybe.

“BOOMER!!” Bill yelled at the top of his lungs. The Captain of Columbia thought he’d gone over the side.

He swung around to face the cockpit to see his shipmate pointing out in front of him, still bellowing, “BOOMER!! BOOMER!!” Commander Dunning followed the direction of Bill’s right arm, and what he saw almost took his breath away. “JESUS CHRIST!!” he shouted as they both stared at an utterly unmistakable sight cutting across Choiseul Bay at about five knots, heading southwest.

It was the raised periscope of a submarine — about three feet of it, pushing through the water.

About twenty seconds later it vanished beneath the surface as swiftly as it had arrived. Neither Jo nor Laura had seen anything. But then neither of them were submariners.

In the White House office of the National Security Adviser, Admiral Arnold Morgan was beaming with good spirits.

“Well, well,” he was saying. “So you’re the fabled daughter of Admiral MacLean, the lady who captured this rascal’s heart — and also did us a thousand favors a year and a half ago?”

Laura smiled. “That’s me, Admiral. And I believe I have to thank you for the very mixed blessing of throwing Bill and me together.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied the Admiral. “This office is actually just a front for my famous dating service.”

Bill could hardly believe his ears. Arnold Morgan making small talk? Chatting to a lady? “Jeez,” thought Bill. “Politics are turning him human. The President better watch that. The Admiral might lose his edge.”

But the former Lion of Fort Meade was warming to his task. “Laura, I’m delighted to meet you at last. I’m a great admirer of your father’s, have been for many years. And between the three of us in this room, your insights during the Jefferson crisis were invaluable.

“I often wondered what you might look like. You have captivated two thoroughly outstanding Naval officers, after all, and now I know I’d trust their judgment…not just on submarine warfare.”

Laura laughed. “You’re too kind, Admiral. I’m actually very ordinary — at least I was until you sent your inquisitor across the Atlantic. Now I’m just very lucky.”

“So’s he,” chuckled the Admiral, nodding in Bill’s direction. “And I’m very glad you called me. We’re staying here for lunch in one of the private dining rooms. The President and Bob MacPherson both intend to stick their heads round the door to say hello. After that my driver’s going to run you both out to the airport. I can’t wait to hear about your sailing trip with Boomer; it must have been great.”

Bill smiled at him. “I’ll tell you about the journey during lunch. Meanwhile there is something I want to tell you about — it might be significant.”

“What is it?”

“Arnold, we took a little side trip down to Kerguelen, just to see the island. Boomer is really interested in that Woods Hole ship that vanished, the Cuttyhunk.”

“Yeah. I’ve talked to him about that. He is interested…I guess everyone from the Cape is interested…You didn’t find it did you?”

They all laughed. “No, we didn’t find it. But something happened on the morning of February ninth, just before midday.”

The Admiral nodded at the precision of Bill’s words, the way he stated only what he knew to be absolutely correct, the dead giveaway of the former Intelligence officer.

“I looked over the starboard bow and I saw the periscope of a submarine. It was a couple of hundred yards away, making about five knots. Boomer saw it as well.”

Admiral Morgan looked up sharply. “Are you certain about that?”

“One hundred percent.”

“But there couldn’t be a submarine down there. There’s nothing to be down there for. Not even aircraft fly over the place. It’s a military desert for thousands of miles in all directions. There’re no shipping lanes even, never mind ships — except for a few dingbat researchers from Woods Hole.”

“It was a submarine, Admiral,” Bill said calmly. “No ifs, ands, or buts. There is no doubt in my mind.”

“Did Boomer see it at the same time, or did you tell him it was there?”

“No. I did not. I just shouted his name, three times. And pointed.”

“What did he say?”

“He actually yelled, ‘JESUS CHRIST!’”

“Then what?”

“Boomer shouted, ‘That’s a goddamned submarine, or am I dreaming?’ I told him I knew it was a submarine. There was not, and is not, one shred of doubt. And you have to believe us. We both saw it, clearly and definitely.”

“Did you see it, Laura?”

“No. I was looking the other way. But I heard Bill shout, and I heard Boomer say it was ‘a goddamned submarine.’ It’s very quiet down there. I should think about three billion penguins heard him as well.”

The Admiral made some notations on a small pad on his desk. Then he picked up the telephone and issued the command he had issued so many times before. “Get me Fort Meade. Director’s office,” he said crisply. “Hurry.”

“Is Admiral Morris there? Morgan, Arnold Morgan. Hey George, how ya been? Yup,…fine…I wonder if you could run a check for me…Yeah,…now. Can you find out if there was any submarine that could possibly have been on patrol around the island of Kerguelen in the Southern Ocean around midday on the morning of February ninth? Yeah, I realize it’s the ass-end of the earth, George, that’s why I wanna know. Run the checks on everyone. Lemme know every submarine unaccounted for on that morning, including all the friendly nets, then gimme a call back. I’m in my office; the switchboard knows how to reach me. Thanks, George.”

He turned back to Bill, and said carefully, “Lieutenant Commander, as well as I know you, and as much as I trust you, if you had come in here alone with no corroboration for this story, I would not, could not, have believed you. And precisely the same thing applies to Commander Dunning, who I happen to think is the best submarine commanding officer in the US Navy. I would not and could not have believed him either.

“I also know you two could not both have it wrong. I am very certain of that. I believe there was a submarine down there, but what in the name of Christ was it doing there? There’s nothing to do down there, except feed the penguins and count the ice floes. But someone’s down there, or at least someone has been down there…and in the next couple of hours I’m hoping Fort Meade will enlighten us. C’mon guys, let’s go find some lunch.”

The small private dining room was elegantly set for three. Before the first course of smoked salmon had been served, the President of the United States stopped by to visit Bill. He walked through the door, smiling. “Don’t get up, Bill, good to see you. Arnold, holding back the enemy, right? And you must be Laura. I am a particular admirer of both your father, and your future husband, both of whom I count as friends. I’m not quite so sure, however, about one of your ex-boyfriends!”

Everyone laughed, and the President sat down next to Laura and poured himself a glass of sparkling water, which everyone was drinking. Bill marveled at the President’s ability to be smooth but not too smooth…Presidential but unfailingly able to say precisely the right thing to put everyone at ease.