“That’s not what worries me, COS. Sure, we need to make every effort
we can to find any survivors. People survive under the damnedest
conditions, and if those men and women have the guts to hold out in a life
raft, I’ll do my damnedest to find them. But what worries me even more is
why they sank in the first place.”
COS shrugged. “Sounds like a massive engineering casualty to me.”
Batman looked at him thoughtfully. “Maybe. Or they could have even
struck a submerged iceberg. All of those are possible explanations. But
we don’t get paid the big bucks to think of the easy solutions. I want to
make sure we’re all thinking on the same wavelength.”
“You think they were attacked? By who, a coalition of angry fishermen
who want to kill whales?”
Batman shook his head. “I don’t know, COS. And that’s what worries
me. Until we have some evidence of what happened to them, I’m going to
assume they wandered into harm’s way. And I want everybody on this ship
thinking the same way.”
0800 Local
Adak
Tombstone heard a light rap at his door. He looked up and saw Pamela
Drake framed by the doorway.
“Do you have a moment for me, Admiral?” she asked politely.
“Only if you’re not going to rake me over the coals,” Tombstone
answered. “After yesterday, I’m not up to any more surprises.”
She walked across the room and settled into the chair in front of his
desk with that too-familiar combination of easy grace and sensuality. She
crossed her legs, not bothering to yank her skirt down when it rode up over
her thighs. “Off the record, Stoney–can I still call you that?”
He nodded. “There’s a lot of history between us, Pamela. I wouldn’t
change a bit of it.”
“Not even the way it ended?”
He shook his head. “Neither of us was willing to compromise. I won’t
quit flying; you won’t quit hop-scotching around the world in search of the
hottest story. It was inevitable. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
She smiled. “I suppose you’re right. Still, it’s good to see you
again.”
“And you as well. Now,” he continued briskly, “what’s on your mind?
Still off the record.”
She looked troubled. “This Greenpeace boat. It’s a tragedy, of
course. There are several million of my colleagues out interviewing family
members as we speak.” She grimaced, as though disgusted with the
inevitable state of how-does-it-feel-to-lose-your-husband questions that
were sure to be posed to the surviving families. “And as bad as it is for
the men and women who were on that boat, I’m not sure why you’re mobilizing
the entire ALASKCOM and a U.S. carrier battle group to look for survivors.
As your operations officer said, there’s little chance that the men are
alive.”
“Men and women,” Tombstone corrected. “Two years ago, you would have
chided me for making that mistake.”
“Okay, men and women. But still-”
“Why are we mobilizing a full-scale SAR exercise when we’re fairly
certain that no one survived?” He let his eyes rest on hers, and studied
the sea-green eyes flecked with gold. There had been a time when just
looking at her brought a thrill of anticipation to him, a tightening and
hardening he’d never been able to control.
Now, seeing her here, he was surprised to find he still had the same
reaction. Muted, perhaps, the edges smoothed away by his fascination with
Tomboy, but the echoes of their long relationship still sang in his body.
Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to pull her toward him, run his hand
over the smooth curves and sleek skin, feel her body warm to his touch and
respond to him. He shook his head and tried to push the image of Pamela
naked on the bed beside him out of his head. “A short lesson on
governmental politics is in order,” he said, aware that his voice had
softened and become more intimate.
Pamela caught the change. “It’s still there, isn’t it?” she said
softly. “Me, too, Stoney.”
He sighed. “And the more senior each of us gets, the less likely
we’ll do anything about it. For now, let me see if I can bore us both for