Майкл Ридпат - Launch Code

Mom had more or less explicitly laid the burden of looking after Bill and the other girls on Alice, knowing all the time that it was a burden Alice would be happy to shoulder.

And she had told Alice other things.

One morning, towards the end, when her mother was barely strong enough to get in the car, Alice had driven her along the coast to a spot where it was possible to park on a hard concrete apron right by a creek. The place was popular with boaters of all kinds: kayaks, dinghies, sailing boats, fishing boats and skiffs bobbed on the incoming tide, ready to be taken the half mile through the marshes to the sea.

Alice had parked high up on the concrete, near the sea wall, but there were three cars parked close to the creek, one of which was an expensive electric-blue Jaguar. She and her mother spent a couple of hours just sitting in the car together, watching the boats being lifted from the muddy banks of the creek by the incoming tide, and the sea creep over the concrete towards the wheels of the parked cars. The two old bangers were quickly moved, but the Jaguar seemed to have been abandoned as the water lapped at its tyres.

Alice had a desire to do something to save the vehicle — what, she wasn’t sure — but her mother was watching transfixed, a wicked half-smile on her face. So Alice did nothing. And in their mutual helplessness against the relentless tide, she felt a kind of mutual strength. She knew her mother felt it too.

The water had just about reached the underside of the chassis, when they heard loud, deep shouts, and a large figure in dark red trousers splashed through the water to his Jag, cursing. The vehicle started, and he reversed off the concrete in a thick spray of seawater.

Donna smiled at her daughter. ‘Oh well,’ she said, with a chuckle.

‘We had better move soon,’ said Alice. The water was still a dozen or so yards away from their car, but it was getting closer.

‘Wait a moment, sweetie,’ her mother had said. ‘There are some things I ought to explain. About Dad and me. Things somebody should know, and I’m sure Dad will never tell you.’

Two weeks later, the end had come. Her mother’s ashes were now resting in St Peter’s churchyard beneath an ancient yew tree, barely a hundred yards away from Pear Tree Cottage.

Alice had been ready. It had felt good to help her father to sort through her mother’s stuff, to help him administer the estate, to comfort her sisters, to make sure that the Guth family remained strong together.

She had passed the bar exam and joined a New York law firm. As soon as she could, she had secured a transfer to their London office so she could be near her father. And there she had met Toby. Tall, dark, with warm brown eyes that seemed to understand her immediately, she had fallen for him. Hard.

Alice was good under pressure, she thrived under pressure. The challenge of being a good lawyer, a good wife, a good daughter and a good sister all at the same time stretched her, but she liked it that way. And one day, perhaps one day quite soon, she would be a good mother as well.

But this? This was stretching even her to breaking point.

Did she have a breaking point? Everyone had a breaking point. So where was hers?

She didn’t know, and she was determined not to find out.

‘OK, Mom,’ she said out loud, to the marsh. ‘I can do this.’

Brooke, Megan and Justin were hanging out in the kitchen when Toby and Lars returned.

‘Want some coffee?’ Megan asked.

‘Thanks,’ said Toby, accepting a cup. ‘Where’s Alice?’

‘Upstairs,’ said Megan. ‘Working on her big deal, I guess. I don’t know how she can think about that with all this going on.’

‘Alice can focus,’ said Toby. Although he agreed with Megan.

‘Hey, Lars,’ said Justin. There was an ominous tone to his voice that Toby hadn’t heard before; Justin was usually a model of politeness. He was sitting upright at the kitchen table, arms crossed, his shirt pulled tight over his bulging chest. ‘I just talked to Vicky on the phone.’

‘Who’s Vicky?’ said Lars.

‘You know who Vicky is,’ said Justin coolly. ‘Craig’s sister. My aunt.’

‘Oh yeah, yeah. Vicky,’ said Lars. ‘I know.’ He sat down at the kitchen table opposite Justin. Brooke was seated next to her husband looking hunched and miserable, gnawing at her thumb.

‘Can I have some of that coffee, Megan?’ Lars asked.

‘Sure,’ said Megan, pouring him a cup.

‘I called Mom first,’ said Justin. ‘To tell her what had happened to Sam Bowen. She said Sam had come to visit her in New London but she hadn’t told him anything. Apart from to speak to Craig’s sister Vicky. So I called Vicky in New Jersey. She was really upset that Sam had been murdered.’

‘Of course she was,’ said Lars.

‘She told me what she had told him.’

‘Told him?’

‘Yes. About that last patrol. And Craig.’ Justin was staring directly at Lars as he spoke.

‘Oh.’ Lars shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

‘You told Vicky right after the patrol that my father’s death wasn’t an accident. You said he was killed.’

‘What? Poor Vicky must be confused. I never said that.’

‘She says you did.’ Justin’s voice had become quieter, but they could all feel the anger. ‘She says you told her exactly that: “Craig was killed.”’

Lars’s discomfort increased. ‘Like I told you, she got confused. It was late one night. We had both been drinking, we were both upset about Craig. “Craig was killed” doesn’t mean someone killed him. She just got it wrong, is all.’

‘She said you wouldn’t tell her what really happened.’

Lars sighed. ‘I did tell her what really happened. It was an emergency drill and Craig was sliding down one of those metal ladders on submarines. They’re steep, you hold on to the railings on either side, and slip down. People do it all the time, they never fall. Never. But Craig must have caught his foot in a step or something, because he tumbled and hit his head. He was out cold for an hour at least. We were worried, but then he came round. And a couple of days later he got a headache, lay down and just died.’ Lars took a deep breath. ‘Right there. Just died.’

Lars stared at Justin. ‘They said afterward it was bleeding in the brain caused by the fall. But I told Vicky all that.’

‘And she didn’t believe you?’

Lars rubbed his moustache. ‘She thought I’d said it wasn’t an accident. Wait! She told Sam Bowen that, didn’t she?’

‘Yes, she did,’ said Justin. ‘And he had told her about the false launch order. She thinks the two are related.’

Lars snorted. ‘So that’s why Sam asked about Craig’s accident? Bill explained it all to him. They can’t have been related. The argument about whether to launch the missiles took place in the control room. Craig was in the missile control centre. It’s a whole different department. It’s on a different level.’

‘Were you there?’ Justin asked. ‘In the control room? When the order came in?’

‘Yes, I was,’ said Lars. ‘I decoded it. With Bill.’

‘What happened?’ said Justin.

Lars hesitated. ‘I can’t tell you, Justin. I’m sorry but I really can’t tell you. All I can say is your father wasn’t involved.’

‘What is this?’ said Justin, his voice rising for the first time. ‘You left the Navy decades ago. The Cold War is finished. Which enemies of ours are going to care about what happened on that submarine? Arab terrorists? The Taliban? Just tell me! Tell me what happened to my father!’

Brooke moved her hand to clasp her husband’s but he flicked it away. He looked angry and he looked determined.