Poseidon's Arrow

Coast. The Farragut Naval Training Station was indeed named for David Farragut, hero of the Battle of Mobile Bay and the first full admiral in the U.S. Navy. Nearly fifty thousand men were stationed here at one point. After the war, the base closed down, and the land was conveyed to Idaho, which turned it into a state park.”

“There’s some trivia to fling at your next Pentagon cocktail hour,” Pitt said.

The road exited the park and corkscrewed down a hill into Bayview. The hamlet was at the tip of a narrow inlet on the large glacial lake of Pend Oreille. Pitt had to squeeze past some road construction equipment before dropping down to the main waterfront drive. Several marinas filled with bass boats, day cruisers, and a large number of houseboats occupied the northern half of the bay. The Navy Acoustic Research Detachment controlled the southern shore.

“There’s the lab’s entrance,” Ann said, pointing to a gated entry.

Pitt pulled into the visitors’ lot and parked next to the guard station. After they signed in with the guard, a uniformed escort arrived and chauffeured them into the facility in a gray sedan. As they drove along the waterfront, Pitt noticed an oddly shaped submarine with the designation Sea Jet tied up at dock.

The driver stopped at a towering beige-and-teal metal building built over the water, then escorted Ann and Pitt to the door. An animated man with bright red hair and dancing blue eyes greeted them.

“Chuck Nichols, assistant lab director,” he said in a rapid-fire voice. “Please, follow me.”

He waved off the driver and led Ann and Pitt to a small office crowded with papers and technical journals. He cleared off a pair of chairs overflowing with binders so they could sit down.

“We were all pretty shocked to hear about Carl and Manny’s accident,” Nichols said. “Have you figured out what happened?”

“Not entirely,” Ann said, “but we don’t believe it was an accident. We have reason to believe they were killed during a failed attempt by a foreign party to obtain the model prototype they were testing.”

Nichols’s lips tightened. “Yeah, Slippery Mumm. He was pretty secret about that one. I can’t believe anybody would have known about it.”

“Slippery Mumm?”

“He always had a pet name for his models. He called his last hull model Pig Ghost. He gave us lots of grief over naming our test boat Sea Jet.”

“Any significance to the name?” Pitt asked.

“Sure, but probably only to Carl and Manny. He said the Mumm was from a champagne he liked. He talked a lot about speed and bubbles in attacking the supercavitation issue, so that must be the connection.”

“Tell us about your facility here,” Ann said.

“Heiland practically built the place. His family had a cabin here on Lake Pend Oreille, so he fell in love with the area.”

Pitt noticed he pronounced the lake’s name “Pond-o-ray.”

“When he headed up acoustics at the Naval Surface Warfare Center,” Nichols continued, “he convinced the brass in Washington to open an offshoot research lab here, using some remnants from the old Farragut naval base. He pretty much built it all from scratch. About ten or twelve years ago, he grew tired of the day-to-day management and decided to retire. That’s when he started his consulting business. Carl was always an engineer first.”

“You’re a long way from blue water,” Pitt said.

“Yes, but the lake is an ideal testing ground. It’s large, lightly populated, and features depths of over a thousand feet. Our work here focuses on research in advanced hull and propulsion designs—ones that allow for submarines to operate with a minimum acoustic signature. The lake is a nearly perfect controlled environment in which to test new designs and technologies.”

“The Sea Jet being a test platform?” Pitt asked.

“Exactly,” Nichols said. “It’s what we call an Advanced Electric Ship Demonstrator. Though it looks a bit like a submarine, it is actually a quarter-scale model of the new DD(X) class of destroyer. We’ve used it to experiment with some radical new hull designs and propulsion systems. It was originally built with waterjet propulsion, but we’ve migrated to some other technologies I probably shouldn’t talk about. We were scheduled to test Carl’s latest tinkering related to the Sea Arrow project, but we’re at somewhat of a loss there now.”

“The technology in the Slippery Mumm?” Ann asked.

“Yes. He was here testing it in the lake just a few weeks ago. I remember him telling the boys that he was really going to be scaring the fish with it. A couple of the fellows were out on the lake at the time and they claimed he was registering some crazy speeds.”

“Didn’t he work on it here at the facility?”

“Not much. He’d come in and run things on our computers, but he was always three steps ahead of us. When he was in town, he was usually holed up at his cabin with Manny, tinkering away.”

“It’s important that we find and secure all of his research related to the Slippery Mumm,” Ann said.

“I already received that request from the folks at DARPA and I’m pulling together what we have,” Nichols said. “The fact of the matter is, Carl maintained ninety percent of the data. What wasn’t in his head is probably still out at his cabin. Here, let me give you the address.”

He checked his Rolodex and jotted down the address for Ann, giving directions as he wrote. “There’s a rusty bell sitting on the patio table in back. Underneath it should be his spare keys to the house and boat.”

Ann gave him a How did you know that? look.

“I’ve downed more than a few beers with Carl on his porch and his boat,” Nichols said with a wink.

Ann thanked him for his time, and they were escorted back to the front gate. Ann felt a sense of optimism for the first time. “See, I think this little side trip is going to pay off. Let’s go check out Heiland’s cabin, and then I’ll call the FBI to come secure the place.”

“No objection to having dinner first?” Pitt said. “It’ll be getting dark soon.”

“Only if I can buy.”

Their options in the small town were limited. Pitt selected a waterfront restaurant called the Captain’s Wheel just down the road. Ann sampled a Greek salad while Pitt polished off a cheeseburger and beer as they watched the marina lights begin flickering on.

Ann noticed a tranquil look cross Pitt’s face as he gazed at the lake’s still waters. There was something enigmatic about the man, yet she felt entirely safe with him. She had met him just days before and knew almost nothing about him—other than the disappointing discovery that he was married.

“I’m not sure I ever thanked you for saving my life in Tijuana,” she said.

Pitt looked at her and smiled. “I’m not sure jumping aboard a boat filled with armed thugs was the smartest act of law enforcement I’ve ever seen, but I’m glad things worked out.”

“I’m occasionally prone to rashness.” She thought of her uninvited visit to his cabin the night before. “I’m hoping that we can be friends in Washington after this case is resolved.”

“I’d like that.”

With a grin he slid the check across the table to her. “But for now, how about we go find Heiland’s cabin before it gets completely dark.”

Nichols had told them they couldn’t get lost and he was right. His directions sent them down a single-lane road that skirted the Acoustic Research Center and continued along the southern edge of the inlet. They passed clusters of cabins that grew fewer in number as the town lights receded behind them. The road tracked toward the bay’s entrance, then turned south, following the lake’s irregular shore. They drove another few miles before the road ended in a pine-clustered cul-de-sac. A narrow gravel drive led to a red wooden house facing the water.

“That looks like the place,” Ann said, confirming the address on a mailbox.

Pitt drove the rental car down the drive and parked beside an attached garage that looked large enough to house a dozen vehicles. No lights were on in the house, and a desolate silence permeated the grounds.

Ann noticed the first stars visible overhead as she felt a light breeze blow in from the lake. “I wish we had a flashlight,” she said, poking her crutches at the uneven ground that sloped toward the lake.

“Why don’t you just head for the front door and I’ll go look for the keys out back,” Pitt said.

He stepped around the side of the garage and followed a footpath to the rear of the house. Just a thin band