David Golemon - Leviathan

Sarah looked up from the bed with a questioning look.

"As a matter of fact, the last man to occupy this very bed was also a colonel — an American, though."

Sarah didn't respond. She only waited out of politeness.

"This one called out for Sarah over and over again. In addition, a funny little name… what was it? Oh, yes… ' Short Stuff.' He would call out 'Short Stuff' in his sleep. It was—"

Sarah had turned completely white. The words had slammed into her like a punch to her stomach. Her voice was caught somewhere between her esophagus and her lips.

"The Mediterranean?" It came out as a whisper.

"Excuse me, young lady?"

"Was Leviathan in the Med lately?" she said, her voice cracking.

"Why… yes, the captain was studying a recent disturbance in the sea there and we were attempting to save… well, the event was seismic in nature, I believe. That was where we recovered my most recent patient, the American colonel."

Sarah leaned over and was suddenly short of breath. "Is… is… he here… alive?"

"Very much alive… at least upon his release. I can't say beyond—" The doctor suddenly realized to whom he was speaking. "Oh, my… you are that Sarah?… Colonel Collins's Sarah?"

Sarah didn't hear the question. She lost her balance and almost fell.

"Here, here, are you all right?" the doctor asked as he helped Sarah regain her balance.

"Where is he?" she asked as she was led to a chair in the corner.

"Why, the captain released him. I imagine he is wherever your people are."

Sarah closed her eyes. She didn't know what to do; she looked around like she was trapped in a place with no exit. She started to stand, then she sat back heavily into the chair. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to jump up. She wanted all of these things until she saw Farbeaux looking at her. He had awakened and their eyes locked, and Sarah saw the Frenchman for who he had become. The man was now renewed and his sense of purpose had returned, just as surely as Sarah's life had just been returned to her.

"I am happy for you, Sarah McIntire. Very happy."

The smile never reached Henri's eyes.

With a real-time projection of Saboo Island on the main viewing screen in the director's office, Pete, Jack, Everett, and Dr. Robbins sat and listened to the phone briefing on Saboo's present condition by one of Pete's computer techs.

"There are several structures on the atoll, Colonel, but upon examination, they look as if they have been abandoned since the end of World War Two. No indigenous animal life and no fresh water. It's basically a coral rock sitting at the end of the island chain."

"Thank you," Pete said, and terminated the call with the comp center. He looked from the map to Collins, who waited for Pete to give him his cue. The temporary director nodded, then stood up and walked toward the large monitor and pretended to study the map.

"You think Charlie Ellenshaw's theory about this being the original Heirthall's home is viable?" Pete asked without turning. "It's a large gamble, Colonel. We could be sending the only asset we have in the area to the wrong spot. They could lose the only advantage they have — that submarine may be anywhere but Saboo."

"Since the president informed us of the report received from Missouri , if Saboo is friendly turf for these people, the possibility of them going there for repairs, while a long shot, is the only chance we have."

Everett pushed his chair back and stood. He paced around the table and came to the chair where Gene Robbins was sitting. He stood still, then placed both hands on the computer man's shoulders.

"What are your thoughts, Doctor?" he asked.

Robbins moved his shoulders until Everett released his hold. He half-turned and looked at the captain.

"You already know my opinion on Professor Ellenshaw's theory. Unlike most of you in this complex, I refuse to take at face value a theory concocted by a man who believes in Nessie and the Abominable Snowman."

Pete turned away from the map and looked at his young protege.

"You know, Gene, Charlie Ellenshaw advanced more than one theory during his time in the Leviathan vault. I don't know if you heard that one. Well, my apologies, it was he, the Colonel, and Captain Everett here who thought it up."

Robbins again turned back and looked at Carl, who remained behind him. He then frowned and looked back at Pete.

"I wasn't aware of another theory," he said.

"It seems they believe that Virginia — while brilliant in physics, and while she could very well be very knowledgeable in exotic explosives and accelerant — the assistant director is like most of the personnel in this complex. She doesn't know her way around a computer save to sign in and out, and maybe access Europa for her research. Security protocols are far beyond her."

"Anyone is capable, especially someone as brilliant as Ms. Pollock, at learning Europa's protocols. Besides, wasn't it you, Pete, and the esteemed Professor Ellenshaw, who advanced the idea of the assistant director's culpability in the sabotage?"

"Yes, indeed. What they call a rush to judgment." Pete strode toward the table where Robbins sat, then placed his hands on the polished surface. Collins just swiveled in his chair, and Everett remained irritatingly close behind the computer genius. "However, as great a mind as Charlie Ellenshaw is, I was perplexed as to how he thought to run a check on any correlation between Alexandria Heirthall and Virginia Pollock through Europa, especially with all he had on his plate."

Robbins swallowed but said nothing. Everett cleared his throat and then tossed a plastic bag in front of him. When it landed, Robbins flinched. He could see the glove inside.

"I found that in the clean room, Dr. Robbins," Jack said, looking right at him. "Since only you, the director, and Dr. Golding are authorized inside that high-security area without escort, we have to assume that that glove, brimming with what is called magnesium particulate, used in the burning of hazardous materials, belongs to you."

Everett again leaned over and whispered in Robbins's ear. "And guess what? Forensics found a fingerprint inside the index finger of said glove. It didn't match Dr. Golding, so I'll give you three guesses who it did match, and the first two don't count."

The three men had to hand it to Robbins — the man was fast thinking.

"Come on, I visited the Leviathan vault myself after the attack. I may have gotten the accelerant on my glove when there." He turned and faced Everett. "Let me get this straight. You're accusing me of sabotage, and with that, murder and kidnapping?"

"You bet," Carl said, leaning further in to Robbins.

"Prove it," he said, turning once more away from Everett.

"Dr. Robbins, you are misunderstanding your situation," Jack said as he stood and made his way around the table. "You are assuming we're in a court of law, where there are rules."

Everett smiled, spun the doctor around in his chair, and then went nose to nose.

"No rules."

Robbins shied away from the captain. They could all see the fear this man had of Everett.

"Colonel Collins, Captain Everett, I know I agreed that anything goes as far as getting truthful answers, but you cannot subliminally threaten one of my people with violence," Pete said, much to the visible relief of Gene Robbins. "I think you should come right out and say it." He smiled for the first time since the attack on the complex. "Subliminal be damned."

"You're right, of course," Everett said as he reached down, grabbed Robbins by his lab coat, pulled him from the chair, and shook him once, twice. "Jack, do you have that resignation letter?"