Майкл Ридпат - Launch Code

‘I’ve had enough of this. I want you out of my house now!’ Bill was shouting. ‘And you, Megan. Right now! And give me that damn letter.’

He reached out to grab it, but Toby held on to the sheets with both hands. Bill tugged gently, but it was clear that he couldn’t get it away from Toby without ripping it. Bill didn’t want to rip it.

‘Let it go!’

‘No,’ said Toby. For a moment he thought Bill was going to slug him, but he stood his ground. ‘Not until you explain it. You need to tell me what is going on here. What happened to Craig and what it has to do with Alice.’

‘I have to do no such thing. That’s my private correspondence.’

‘Yes, you do,’ said Toby, his eyes fixed on Bill’s. ‘Alice is in police custody. Unless someone does something she will be charged with murder. She may go to jail for the rest of her life. You need to explain this.’

Bill stiffened. Then he released the letter and walked over to the window. It had stopped raining; the marsh gleamed grey-green in the low November sunlight.

Toby and Megan watched his broad back. He took a deep breath and turned to them.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Sit down. There’s a lot to tell you.’

November 1983, Norwegian Sea

A petty officer, flanked by two sailors, flung open the door to the XO’s stateroom and shoved me inside.

The missile chief had grabbed me as Craig crumpled to the floor, next to Morgan who was groaning in pain. I dropped the wrench. We all stared at the blood seeping through Craig’s hair. I didn’t know if he was dead. He looked it.

Within a minute the XO was in the missile compartment, taking control. A minute later, I was in his stateroom. With Lars.

Lars was pacing the tiny room. He stopped and stared at me. He grinned, but his eyes were wild. ‘I heard the announcement terminating missile launch,’ he said. ‘Did you do it?’

‘Do what?’ I said, although I knew what he meant.

‘Kill Driscoll?’

I shook my head and lowered it.

‘Weps?’

I nodded.

‘Thank God,’ Lars said.

I looked at him. Part of me thought he was crazy. Part of me thought he was the only sane one on board.

‘Actually, I’m not sure he’s dead,’ I said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I hit him hard over the head. With a wrench, like you tried to do.’

‘And you don’t think you killed him?’

‘He’s out cold, that’s for sure.’ I felt my throat constrict and my eyes water. It took me by surprise; I never cried.

Lars threw his arm around me. ‘Well done!’ he said. ‘Well done, Bill.’

I pushed him away and slumped on to the XO’s bed. ‘I probably killed him, Lars.’

‘And stopped a war.’

‘We don’t know that!’

Lars bent down and grabbed my shoulders. ‘Look! If there’s a war, we’re all dead. But if there isn’t, it’s just Craig.’

‘Just Craig? But he was my friend. Our friend.’

‘Yes he was,’ said Justin. ‘But you did the right thing.’

‘I don’t know. But I’ve done it now.’

I sat and Lars paced. I looked around the XO’s stateroom. It was freakishly neat. With so many people crammed into a submarine, everything on board had to be tidy. But the XO’s desk was completely clear, with the exception of a black-and-white photograph of a woman set at a forty-five degree angle; the books on his shelf were perfectly vertical. It was as if he had used a protractor to adjust the placement of his things.

I stared at Mrs Robinson, if that’s who she was. She was beautiful. An open face, wide clear eyes, a smile that made your heart leap.

How long did she have to live? Was she dead already?

I sat on the bed, hoping. But I wasn’t sure what to hope for. That the launch order was an error, obviously. But that meant that I had to hope that Craig was dead, so that he couldn’t pass on the combination to his safe to anyone.

I didn’t want to hope for that.

But what difference did it make what I hoped for? I had done what I had done. If I was lucky I would live with the consequences.

The door was flung open and the XO entered.

I leaped to attention. Lars glanced at me and did the same.

Lieutenant Commander Robinson’s dark eyes flashed with anger. ‘You are both under arrest. You will be court martialled when we return to port. For murder. For attempted murder. For mutiny. And probably for a whole lot of other crimes.’

‘Aye aye, sir,’ I said.

Robinson glared at us; the anger verged on hatred. ‘The rest of the crew were willing to do our duty, what we have trained for years to do, but you two have let us all down. The entire crew of the submarine. The Navy. Your country.’

Neither Lars nor I said anything. Maybe he was right? It was done now.

‘If it was up to me, I would have had you both shot. Now.’

‘Is Weps alive, XO?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ said the XO. He gave me a tight smile. ‘He’s unconscious, but alive.’

‘Will he come around?’

‘We don’t know. But if he does we will launch those missiles, I can assure you.’

We waited.

The submarine was still operating under ‘operational security condition alpha’, which was the quietest operational mode. Non-essential machines such as washing machines, fans and the trash compactor were turned off, and the crew were particularly vigilant to avoid accidental bumps and clangs known as ‘transients’ which might alert Soviet attack submarines in the area.

A wrench dropped on the floor definitely counted as a transient.

So the submarine was quiet. In the XO’s stateroom we should still be able to hear announcements over the 1-MC shipwide broadcasts, but not the more specific orders. Changes in depth might give us a clue as to what was going on — the submarine would tilt either up or down.

Lars’s pacing was irritating me. It was difficult enough sitting still when you had a specific role as part of the crew, you knew what was going on and you had been trained for it.

But sitting on a bunk in a tiny stateroom with no clue what was happening in the outside world? That was difficult.

The speaker in the stateroom kicked into life. ‘Secure from battle stations missile.’ It was the captain’s voice.

A few seconds later the floor tilted downwards from the right of the stateroom, the direction of the bow. The crew was standing down from battle stations missile and we were descending.

‘What do you think that means?’ said Lars.

‘I guess it must mean that Craig hasn’t come around,’ I said. ‘They were probably waiting for him to wake up and tell them the combination. But he hasn’t, so they have given up on launching the missiles and descended again.’

‘Thank God for that!’ Lars said. ‘I mean that we haven’t started a war. Not about Craig.’

‘Maybe he’s dead?’ The relief I felt was only partial, and Lars’s face, his whole being, was still tight with tension. ‘Maybe a war had already started.’

‘I wish they’d tell us what’s going on!’

Lars banged on the door, which was opened by a petty officer armed with a rifle. Another stood back, watching.

‘Can you tell us what’s happening?’

‘No, sir,’ said the petty officer. His name was Calhoun, and when he was on watch, he was a throttleman in manoeuvring.

‘I want to speak to the XO. We need to know what’s happening!’

The petty officer hesitated. ‘Please step back into the stateroom, sir, and I will pass on your message.’

Five minutes later, the door opened. It was Calhoun again. ‘The XO says he is too busy to speak with you, sir.’

‘Screw him!’ said Lars as the guard closed the door. ‘We’ve got to know what’s going on out there!’