Andreas cleared his throat. “Okay, gentlemen, let’s get a slot buoy ready. I want a detailed SITREP. Advise Commander, Pacific Fleet we are in trail of the
“Officer of the Deck, take her down to five-four-three feet and fall in behind the column, rig for modified ultra-quiet.” Andreas regarded his XO. “I believe an OPORDER is forthcoming. So have the Ops officer and Weapons officer in the wardroom in one hour with a plan to wipe out this Russian task force.”
“Aye-aye, sir.”
In his mind’s eye, Andreas saw the sub’s four UGM- 84G Harpoon antiship missiles and the Mark 48 (MK- 48) ADCAP torpedoes reduce those ships to burning buckets listing hopelessly until they sank to the cold depths.
NINE
The doorbell sent Major Alice Dennison bolting up from her sofa. She noticed the motion-sensor lights on the front porch had already clicked on.
She grabbed her robe from one of the bar stools, slipped it on over her long nightgown, fastened the tie, then finger combed her hair.
It was 9:26 in the evening. No call had come from the gate, so it had to be one of her neighbors, right?
A quick glance around her 1930s bungalow made her grimace. The rugs had been pulled, the paintings removed, all the light fixtures unscrewed from the walls and ceiling.
And that was just the beginning. She’d ransacked every room, every piece of furniture, looking for Doletskaya’s bugs. She’d even removed the showerheads.
Those bastards at the GRU had infiltrated Palma Ceia, the suburb of southern Tampa where Dennison had been living for the past few years. The bungalow she had once called a sanctuary was midway between the international airport and MacDill Air Force Base, where the Joint Strike Force had established one of its many command posts adjacent to United States Special Operations Command (USSOC). Palma Ceia, she kept reminding herself, was a highly desirable neighborhood, and she lived on a private canal, with access to Tampa Bay and the Gulf beyond. Maybe Doletskaya’s men had slipped in by boat to bypass her security system and wire her house for sound and video.
But she had yet to locate any of his devices, and that was driving her even more insane.
Maybe they’d already been removed.
Or maybe he was getting his information from another source. But who? The only friends she had were her colleagues, and they, like her, were so plugged into the work that there was barely any free time. Sleep, eat, get back to work, back to the war… She couldn’t remember how many nights she had spent at the command post, stealing four hours on a cot, putting in a twenty-hour day.
She grabbed her.45 from the kitchen counter, chambered a round, then started toward the door, not daring to get close enough to stare through the peephole, already imagining an assailant firing through the wooden door.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, Alice, open up.”
Oh, God. She almost collapsed as the tension washed down into her legs. She threw the dead bolt, removed the chain, and opened the door—
To find her father, shock of gray hair and gray mustache, holding a brightly wrapped present in his hands. He smiled and said, “Happy Birthday, sweetheart! I know I’m a couple of days early, but I’m going to be out of town and I wanted to surprise you before I left. That Charlie down at the gate is a good guy, let the old man have a little fun.”
His gaze finally found the gun in her hand, and he frowned.
“I wasn’t expecting company, Dad.”
“Well, Jesus, put that piece away. But I guess I should be glad you’re not taking any chances, especially in times like these.”
She moved aside, shut the door after him — but not before stealing a furtive glance at the porch and front yard.
“You should have called, Dad.”
“Holy… what happened?” He gaped at the place. “Were you robbed? Oh, my God. Did you call the police?”
“I wasn’t robbed. I did this.”
“You? What the hell?” He shifted over to the bar counter, set down his gift, which looked like a hardcover book, and came to her, gripping her shoulders. “Alice, what’s going on. Are you all right? Are you… angry?”
She opened her mouth once, closed it, stammered, “I–I’m… tired.”
His gaze reached the ceiling, the unscrewed fixtures; that did it for him. “You think you’ve been under surveillance.”
“I know I have been. Dad, I feel like I’ve been raped.”
“Come here.”
“I’m too old for a hug.”
“I don’t care, you’re still my kid. Give the senior citizen a hug.”
She did, and it felt good, reminded her of all those times as a child when she had fallen asleep in his lap, feeling utterly protected. And maybe she hung on now a little too tightly.
“If you’re worried about surveillance, I want you to move. You think they’re watching now?”
“I don’t know.” She wanted to whirl around, as she’d done earlier, flipping off the Russians.
“Why don’t you get a team in here to do a professional sweep?”
“I’m too embarrassed. When I’m off the base, I never talk about anything anyway. Everything he learned about me was personal, not professional.”
“You want to go sit in my car?”
“No. I’m okay.”
“Alice, what can I do to help?”
She shrugged. “Give me my birthday present.”
He fetched the gift, handed it to her.
“It’s a book, and you know I don’t have any time to read,” she began.
“This one you might find interesting.”
She peeled away the wrapper to reveal the title:
“Dad?”
He nodded. “Yesterday, the general and I played eighteen holes, and when I asked him how my daughter was doing, his reply was, ‘Excellent, though she’s obsessed with Russian folklore at the moment.’ I didn’t know what he meant, but for the daughter who has everything, I thought what the hell, you might like this, if you don’t have it already.”
“No, I don’t,” she said, thumbing through the pages.
“So, is this a new hobby, or does it have something to do with…” He trailed off, gesturing to the disaster that was her living room. “Or do you not want to talk here.”
“Maybe we will take a walk outside.”
She tucked the book under her arm, and they headed out, into the backyard, and moved down to the dock and the shimmering, still waters of the canal.
“And sweetheart, the book isn’t your only gift. I’ve placed a little something in the card. And I want you to use them, all right?”
“More plane tickets? Dad, I can’t take the time off right now. I mean, the entire world is—”
“Not your responsibility. We all need downtime — and it looks like you do more than ever now.”
