John Avery - Black Cobra

“Yeah, a friend of mine is part of the team that’s consulting on the restoration project,” Aaron said. “One of the sub’s former officers was kind enough to show me around.”

“What a coincidence,” the girl said. “My father was hired as a consultant as well. He used to be the submarine’s captain. Sadly, his mind is not what it used to be, and I think he believes he’s coming here to sail her again.”

Aaron was too enamored of the girl to hear what she had just said. He stared into the gift case not knowing what else to say to her.

The young woman paused and looked at him. There was something compelling about him, and talking with him, in spite of being a little awkward, was surprisingly pleasant. She found herself wanting to know more about him.

She walked over and pointed out a simple, pearl necklace. “That would be the perfect gift for your girlfriend,” she said, resting her hand on his forearm.

Aaron’s heart did a double-beat. Her features were even more exquisite up close, and her touch was soft and warm, sending a wave of desire surging through him.

“What? Oh — I’m not seeing anyone,” he said awkwardly. His recent affaire de coeur in the Panama Canal with Brandy Fine came to mind, but he knew better than to elevate that brief interlude to anything higher than an aborted fling with a frustrated woman.

The girl lifted her hand from Aaron’s arm, appearing suddenly distant and a little sad. “I had a boyfriend back home,” she confessed, thinking of him. “We had hoped to be married, but my father strongly disapproved, using every conceivable excuse to keep us apart. And now that I’m here in the United States, all alone , it appears his wish has come true.”

“You’re here alone?” Aaron asked, surprised.

“My father promised we would come to America together,” she said, then added gloomily, “But I guess I was wrong to believe it was fitting for a man of his stature to travel with his daughter .”

She paused, brightening a little. “I’m Ekatarina, by the way.”

Aaron’s jaw dropped. “Wait a second… You’re Captain Pankov’s daughter?” Her accent made sense now.

“Why, yes,” she said. “How did you know that?”

He couldn’t remember. “I’m not sure,” he said.

She offered him her hand expectantly, “Pleased to meet you —”

“It’s Quinn, Aaron Quinn,” he said, returning her handshake. “It’s Irish.”

Don’t be such a loser! he told himself. Ask the girl out.

Ekatarina was thinking along the same lines. “If you’re around later, there’s a welcome party on the submarine tonight at 7:00.”

“I heard,” Aaron said stupidly.

“Are you planning on going?”

“I think so,” he said. “Most likely.”

Am I wasting my time here? she thought. Are you really that clueless? Or is it just my imagination?

“Then I guess I’ll see you there,” she said.

Make a move, you wuss! Aaron told himself . Don’t let her walk away!

He coughed once and swallowed hard, bracing himself for rejection. “I-I was thinking,” he said at last. “I have the Zodiac tied up outside, and well, we have a little time before the party. Would you care to join me for a quick cruise around the bay?”

The image of Boris sitting alone back home popped into Ekatarina’s head again, but to her surprise, this time she had no problem clearing it away.

“I’d love to,” she said, a little too quickly, and tried to slow it down. “I’ve been here two whole days and I haven’t had a chance to see anything . I’ll put together things for a picnic.”

Aaron checked his watch. 4:45 p.m. He hadn’t noticed how hungry he was, but now that she had mentioned it, he was starving .

Suddenly Ekatarina remembered she had to work late. “I don’t get off until 5:30, if that’s okay.”

“Not a problem,” Aaron said cheerfully. “I’ll meet you on the dock.”

He turned to leave, walking on air.

Point Loma

Jason’s taxi dropped him off in front of a fabulous Tudor-style house along one of the narrow, winding streets in the exclusive Point Loma hills above San Diego Bay. He walked up a brick path bordered with moss-covered stones under a thick canopy of luscious greenery.

Fagan greeted him at the door and invited him into an expanse of hardwood floors, fine leather furniture, and antique rugs.

“May I offer you a drink, my friend?” Fagan said.

“You read my mind,” Jason said. “Scotch rocks, thank you. Nice place you have here.” Fagan had moved up in the world since Jason had left the Navy.

Jason stepped into a living room that offered a stunning view of San Diego Bay and the sparking blue Pacific Ocean beyond. The sun was sinking low in the western sky, turning the ocean a bright pink.

He stopped next to a framed photo on the fireplace mantel: a black-and-white portrait of an exquisitely beautiful woman in her mid-to-late thirties.

“Who’s the pretty lady?” he asked, indicating the photo.

“Oh, that would be Martha, my girlfriend,” Fagan replied from the kitchen.

“You were always the one who got the girls,” Jason said, only half kidding.

Fagan smiled. “What can I say? Some of us have it and some of us don’t.”

Jason walked over and stood next to the large windows overlooking the bay, far below him. Toward the south, in the distance, the sun reflected on the waters surrounding Naval Base Point Loma. Jason could just make out the dark shapes of the nuclear submarines docked there.

Fagan returned with drinks and the two sat in the living room.

“You never told me you were seeing someone,” Jason said.

“Martha and I met in a bar a couple of years ago, in a small town on the East Coast. She had recently been in a serious car accident, and although she wasn’t seriously injured, she was pretty messed up mentally. I guess her only son was in the car and was killed. When I met her she didn’t even know her real name. She’d started drinking a lot, so I cleaned her up and named her Martha and brought her out to San Diego, hoping a fresh start would help.”

He took a sip of his drink. “She’ll be my guest tonight at the party. I’ll make it a point to introduce you.”

“You do that,” Jason said.

“You seeing anyone?” Fagan said.

“Yeah.”

“Is it serious?”

“Not really.”

The conversation quickly turned to the details of the mission.

“The crew have already started on the security tarpaulin,” Fagan said. “They should have it completed in a few hours.”

“I assume they’re removing all of the temporary public access equipment,” Jason said.

“Of course. Tourist walkways, decking, handrails… all gone. They will weld up any holes in the deck and pressure hull that were cut for temporary stairs, and they’re charging Cobra’s batteries as well.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought this through pretty well,” Jason said.

“As I’m sure you have, Jason,” Fagan said. “That’s what we do, right? We are trained to think.”

There was a knock at the door.

“That will be Captain Henk Zaane,” Fagan said, “from the cruise ship Neau Islander . I asked him to join us so you two could meet.”

He stood and started for the door. “After this I have to head down to North Island to do my VIP greeting,” he said, then added over his shoulder, “I’d ask you to ride along, but we both know you’d never get through security.”

Jason flipped him off.

Fagan greeted Captain Zaane at the door and they joined Jason in the living room.