Iris Johansen - Silent Thunder

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess his photo appealed to me. All bearded and white-haired and leonine. He looked like the kind of man who could handle the responsibility of a nuclear sub. Sort of stern and wise. There aren't many men who would be capable of doing a job like that. He was born in Kiev and went to St. Petersburg Naval Academy. Evidently he was brilliant. He was awarded all kinds of medals and commendation during his years in the service."

"How old was he when he was in command of Silent Thunder ?"

"Early fifties. That would make him seventysomething when he died. Evidently Silent Thunder was his last command. He retired to Arcadia, Odessa, and lived there until he died."

"Maybe he was forced to retire if he was in command when the Russians 'misplaced' the sub."

"That's nonsense. Vladzar wouldn't have had anything-stop laughing, admit it."

"Listen to yourself. You don't know anything about him, and you're leaping to his defense." His eyes were twinkling. "I've always suspected you have a father complex."

"I do not."

"Sure, you do. Dad died when you were only nine, and you've been looking for a father figure ever since."

"Bullshit."

"White hair. Stern. Lionlike," he reminded her. "Sounds pretty fatherly to me."

"I just admire what I read about the man."

"And that's why you're going to check out his quarters first."

"No, blast you." She took another bite. "There will be plenty for both of us to do in the control room. I just want to eliminate the quarters so that I can concentrate on the more important areas." She finished the biscuit and pushed the plate away. "That's all I'm going to eat." She stood up. "And now I'm going to go shower and hit the sack. I suggest you do the same. We want to get this job done and out of the way. We both want to get back home in time for Ronnie's next game."

"Hmm. I don't believe I've ever heard you speak with such fervor." He took the glasses over to the sink and ran water in them. "And I don't think it has anything to do with Ronnie's soccer game. Could it be that you're a little on edge?"

"No, it could not. Why should I be on edge?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Good night, Conner."

"Good night, Hannah. Sleep well."

"Don't worry, I will."

Of course, she wasn't on edge, she thought as she climbed the stairs. She had fought through that weird case of nerves she'd experienced at the pier and now was ready to start the job. If she was eager to have it over, it was only because she wanted Conner to have his quality time with his family before they set off for Marinth.

She stopped at the window at the top of the stairs. Bradworth was right. The views were wonderful from this old house.

She felt a ripple of pain as she remembered what she'd told Conner about planning to show her son all the places she'd visited. Any little boy would love this old house, with all its wide porches and rocking chairs.

She drew a deep breath. It was never going to happen. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You have a satisfying life and a great job. Tomorrow that job would totally involve her, and this pain would once more recede into the background.

She could see the main street and beyond it the glimmer of water and the end of the pier that led to where the sub lay. She couldn't see the sub itself from this spot. Only a stretch of deserted pier and the moonlight-dappled sea.

But the pier wasn't deserted. Bradworth had assured her it was well guarded, and she had no reason to doubt the claim. And she had certainly been sure there was someone watching her earlier that evening. So stop staring out this damn window and obsessing over nothing and get to bed. She forced herself to turn away and moved determinedly down the hall toward her room.

Ms. Bryson? I'm glad to meet you. I'm Lieutenant Mel Cox." The young freckle-faced officer who was standing on the pier was smiling broadly. "Mr. Bradworth told me I'm to make your job as easy as possible. If there's anything you want to know, anything you want done, just ask."

"Thank you." Hannah shook his hand. "This is my brother, Conner. He's my right-hand man and going to be responsible for a great deal of the work."

"Honored, sir." The lieutenant shook his hand. "I hope you'll call on me. May I help you with that equipment, Ms. Bryson?"

"I think I can manage."

"You can help me," Conner said. "I don't have any female hangups about carrying my own weight in a man's world." He shoved a metal chest at Cox. "You can carry the Geiger counters."

Cox stiffened. "You won't need those. This sub is completely free of radioactivity. We made sure of that before we left Finland."

"We?" Hannah looked at him in surprise. "Oh, that's right. You were with the crew who brought the sub here."

"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Bradworth thought you'd prefer someone with experience with Silent Thunder . I was an officer under Captain John Samuel, who was in charge from the moment the Russians made the deal with the museum." He frowned. "I assure you, Captain Samuel would never have permitted the sub to have been brought here if there had been any question about there being remaining radioactivity."

Lord, the kid was serious, Hannah thought. But she found his youth and dedication very appealing in this cynical world. "I'm sure your captain did his job. But our job is to make sure when we remove those panels that there are no lingering pockets that might come back to haunt the museum later."

"The captain was very thorough," Cox said. "I'm sure that you won't find-"

"Then my report will reflect how efficiently he did his duty," Hannah said. "Those Geiger counters are here to protect us and any visitors to the exhibit. They're very basic. If we were here to investigate your captain, we'd have brought in a tech team with a truckload of equipment. Doesn't that make sense?"

He was silent a moment. "Yes." He shook his head ruefully. "Sorry. I guess I'm a little defensive."

"Why?"

"Captain Samuel had a few other headaches with this mission. He had to deal with the Finns, the Russians, and our own environmental protection agency. He doesn't need any more flack."

"He won't get it from me," Hannah said. "All I want is to do my job and get out." She met his eyes. "And I'll take all the help you can give me, Lieutenant. In spite of my brother's idea of a joke, I have no feminist reservations. Even he'll admit I'm fully capable of making you work your buns off."

"Oh, yes," Conner murmured. "You can see I'm a mere shadow of a man."

"With an extremely big mouth." Hannah handed the lieutenant the basket she was carrying. "You take this, and I'll carry my tool chest and satchel. After you show us around the sub, you can go back to the van and get some of the other equipment. Okay?"

"Okay. How much other equipment do you have?"

"Nothing very intimidating. We have to take pictures of everything we do, so we have a complete stock of cameras, tripods, and lights. Books, manuals…" She shrugged. "We'll only bring what we need on board, or we'd be tripping over the stuff."

He nodded. "I can see that." He looked down at the basket. "At least this doesn't look like Geiger counters."

"No," she said solemnly as she headed for the sub. "I wouldn't think of compromising your duty to your captain."

"Then what is it?"

She grinned at him over her shoulder. "Lunch."

Conner sniffed as he followed her down the hatch. "Diesel fumes."

"What did you expect?" Hannah asked as she glanced around the dimly lit engineering deck. "You know that when the nuclear reactor isn't functioning it's common to run the auxiliary diesel engines. I can tell from the design diagrams that the Oscar IIs don't ventilate the exhaust very well."