Iris Johansen - Silent Thunder

"Cathy, Hannah. Henry Danforth proved to be a good lead. I'm following up on it. I managed to get back on the Silent Thunder , and I'm going to be there for a few days. Everything's fine. I'll contact you when I know something. Take care of yourself and the kids."

"Very good," Kirov said, when she hung up. "A brilliant job of avoiding lies."

"I hate lies. I'll tell Cathy the whole story as soon as I have anything concrete." She headed for her bedroom. "I'm going to pack my bag. I'll be with you in fifteen minutes."

ROCK BAY HARBOR, MAINE

In the parking lot adjacent to the Silent Thunder ramp, Hannah tossed a plastic card at Kirov, sitting in the passenger seat next to her. "You'll need this."

He picked it up and studied it. "What is it?"

"Your ticket onto the sub. If anyone asks, you're Lance King, my nuclear propulsion expert."

"He must weigh forty pounds more than I do."

"So you've been on the Atkins diet. No one looks that hard at the photo anyway. As long as the security people see you with me a few times, and the badge's bar code works, you're golden."

"No one here knows the real Lance King?"

"No. Lance's credentials were issued, but he never made it here before the project was disbanded. You'll be fine."

"If you say so." Kirov clipped the ID card to his jacket as he climbed out of the car.

It wasn't until they passed the security checkpoint and walked up the ramp to the Silent Thunder 's forward hatch that it hit her.

Conner .

Hannah stopped as pain tore through her.

"Are you all right?" Kirov asked quietly.

"Yes."

Kirov moved closer to her. "Do you want me to go inside first?"

For God's sake, get a grip. She pushed past him and started down the hatch. "We have work to do. Stop treating me like an invalid."

"By all means." He followed her down the hatch to the engineering deck, where they stopped to let their eyes grow accustomed to the dim illumination of the work lights.

Kirov sniffed. "Diesel fumes."

"That's the first thing Conner said." Another painful memory. She tried to smile. "I told him the Oscar IIs had poor ventilation."

Kirov made a face. "Believe me, it never felt as if the fumes were being ventilated at all. The few times we had to use the auxiliaries, it made most of the crew sick." He glanced around. "Well, everything seems to be in order here."

"Did you spend much time in this section?"

"More time than you'd think. I told you, it was my goal to be able to do each job on this vessel better than every crewman." He motioned ahead. "Shall we move to the control room?"

They walked down the main corridor, past the turbines and radio plates, until they reached the control room.

She switched on a light above the instrument plates. "Is it like you remembered it?"

There was no reply. She turned to see Kirov standing in the entranceway, staring silently. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry." He still didn't look away from the control plates. "I never felt more… whole than I did in this room. I don't expect you to understand." His hand touching the bulkhead was caressing. "Magnificent," he said quietly. "There will never be another quite like her. A machine with a soul."

"Now you sound like my brother. What is it about men and the sea?"

Kirov smiled. "You people design and build these things, but they're not truly finished until after they're put to sea. That's when their true character comes out. I don't know how it gets there, but believe me, it exists."

"Uh-huh. So what's the Silent Thunder 's character?"

"She's a noble soul. She's always at her best when you need her most."

"Sentimental rubbish."

He shrugged. "Believe me, I've been on vessels where that wasn't the case. But I'm telling you, maneuvers that were impossible for her suddenly became possible when the chips were down, and the crew's lives were at stake."

"You had a captain who knew what he was doing. Leadership can usually sway the balance between the possible and the impossible. You said yourself Vladzar was extraordinary."

"You prefer to believe in a man rather than a ship?"

"Any day. And there are hundreds of variables that can affect performance. Speed, churn, shock waves from those mines you were probably dodging…"

Kirov smiled. "I'm afraid that I side with your brother on this issue. I suspect I would have liked him."

"I don't know if he would have liked you." Yet she had an idea that Conner and Kirov would have found a strong common ground. Strange when their characters were so different. "But I'm sure he would have loved teaming up with you to torment me. Where next?"

"The officers' quarters." He waved his hand. "After you."

She climbed the mate's ladder and stepped into the dark corridor that would take them to the Section 4 living quarters. A dim light shined from a hatch about thirty feet toward the bow. "This is where I first saw Vladzar's book with the Samsovian symbols."

He moved toward the bookcase across the cabin. "I'm surprised they're still here after all these years."

"They probably wouldn't be if the officer who brought the sub here hadn't fought the Russians who tried to strip the sub. And, who knows, maybe they didn't consider Vladzar's personal effects important."

"I did." His hand touched the spine of one the books. "I borrowed every one of these books from Sergai at one time or another. We all traded books during the missions."

"Are they all here?"

He studied the books. "Yes. Plus one."

"What do you mean?"

Kirov picked up a paperbound collection of Greek myths. "This wasn't Sergai's."

"One of the other officers?"

"Possibly." He looked around the cabin. "Otherwise, this compartment is just the way Sergai left it." Kirov slipped the book into his jacket pocket. "Let's go take a look at the rest of the ship. Which areas did you miss when you were working here?"

"The turbines, the galleys, and what's left of the reactor room." She preceded him. "Though if the rest of the sub is like the command center, we're not going to find anything. It looks like a tornado hit it. It's shameful. We were so careful putting everything back the way we found it."

"This cabin isn't so bad. But maybe they didn't get to it yet."

The rest of the ship was in as bad a shape as the command center. Plates and cutlery strewn all over the galley. Radio logs scattered in the communications section. Mattresses tossed over every bunk.

"It's terrible. I hate to see it like this," Hannah murmured. "As soon as the team gets here, we'll get it shipshape. This was Conner's last job, and he'd want it tied up and neat the way he liked it. He was proud of his work, and he was so excited about this damn sub. He thought it was beautiful."

"She is beautiful," Kirov said.

She shook her head. "Conner died here."

"The sub didn't kill him, Pavski did."

"I can't separate them right now."

"You can't blame every vessel for the deaths of the people who served on them. It's not logical."

"Screw logic."

He smiled. "Screw logic," he repeated. "Forgive my pragmatism. Remember, I'm only a poor sailor who had to earn his berth on the Silent Thunder by being able to reason and calculate. I find it odd that you can hate the sub and yet be horrified about its state of disrepair."

"Do you?" She turned away. "Too bad. I don't have to explain myself to you. We're on board. Let's get to work. There are at least two areas that Bradworth didn't manage to reduce to shambles."

"I'll take the turbine room." He began to roll up his sleeves. "You should be happy that I relegate myself to the depths. When is your team supposed to get back?"