“I still have the telescope so we can use it again,” Carol added. She looked at her watch. “It’s almost five o’clock now, how much preparation time do you need?”
“Three hours, four hours at the most,” Nick said, calculating swiftly. “With Troy’s help, of course,” he added.
“Gladly, my friends,” Troy replied. “And since Angie has reserved a special table for me at Sloppy Joe’s for her ten-thirty show tonight, why don’t we meet there and go over the details for tomorrow?”
“Angie Leatherwood is a friend of yours?” Carol said, obviously impressed. “I haven’t seen her since she made the big time.” She paused for a second and handed the envelope to Nick. “Look at these images in private. The whole set was taken just under the boat where we were diving. Some are obviously blowups of others. It may take a little time for your eyes to adjust to all the colors. But it’s the brown object or objects that we’re after.” Carol could tell that both of the men were eager to see the pictures. She walked with them toward Nick’s car. “So I’ll see both of you tonight at Sloppy Joe’s about ten-fifteen.” She turned to head for her own parking place.
“Uh, Carol, just a minute,” Nick stopped her. Carol waited while Nick, suddenly awkward, tried to figure out a nice way to ask his question. “Would you mind telling us why you were talking to Captain Homer?” he at last said tactfully.
Carol looked at Nick and Troy for a minute and then laughed. “I ran into him while I was in the office trying to call you guys. He wanted to know about the piece we retrieved yesterday. I put him off the track by telling him I was doing a feature article on all members of the crew that found the Santa Rosa treasure eight years ago.”
Nick glanced at Troy with mock disgust “You see, Jefferson,” he said with exaggerated emphasis. “I told you there was a legitimate explanation.” The two men waved at Carol as she headed for her car.
8
LIEUTENANT Todd,” the commander said with exasperation, “I am beginning to think that the U.S. Navy has overestimated your intelligence or experience or both. It is beyond me how you can continue even to consider the possibility that the Panther was commanded off course by the Russians, particularly in light of the new information you presented this afternoon.”
“But, sir,” the younger man answered stubbornly “it is still a viable hypothesis. And you yourself said in the meeting that a good failure analysis does not exclude any reasonable possibility.”
The two men were in Commander Winters’ office. The commander walked over to look out the window. It was almost dark outside. The air was heavy, still, and humid. Thunderstorms were building over the ocean to the south. The base was nearly empty. At length Winters looked at his watch, heaved a sigh, and came back across the room toward Lieutenant Todd. He was smiling only slightly.
“You listened well, Lieutenant. But the operative word here is ‘reasonable.’ Let’s review the facts. Did I or did I not hear correctly that your telemetry analysis unit found this afternoon that the commands rejected counter on the bird also incremented during the flight, beginning as early as off the coast of New Brunswick? And that, apparently, over one thousand command messages were rejected as the missile made its way down the Atlantic Coast? How do you propose to explain all this in terms of your scenario? Did the Russians deploy an entire fleet of ships along the flight path, just to confuse and capture one solitary Navy test missile?”
Commander Winters was now standing directly in front of the taller young lieutenant. “Or maybe you believe,” he continued sarcastically, before Todd could respond, “that the Russians have a new secret weapon that flies alongside a missile going at Mach 6 and talks to it en route. Come on, Lieutenant, on what reasonable grounds do you consider this bizarre Russian hypothesis of yours still viable?”
Lieutenant Todd did not yield. “Sir,” he answered, “none of the other possible explanations for the missile’s behavior makes any more sense at this stage. You now say that you believe it’s a software problem; however, our very brightest programmers cannot imagine how the only external indication of a major, system-level software malfunction could be that two, and only two, command counters go haywire. They have checked all the internal software diagnostic data that was telemetered to the ground and they can find no problems. Besides, the pre-release checkout indicates that all the software was working fine just seconds before the flight began.
“And we know something else. Ramirez has learned from Washington that there have been peculiar movements in the Russian submarine fleet off the Florida coast in the last forty-eight hours. I’m not saying that the Russian hypothesis, as you call it, is the answer. Just that until we have a more satisfactory explanation of a failure mechanism that could cause both command counters to increment, it makes sense to carry one option that assumes maybe the Panther was actually commanded.”
Winters shook his head “All right, Lieutenant,” he said finally. “I will not order you to take it off the list. But I will order you to concentrate this weekend on finding the missile in the ocean somewhere and identifying a hardware and/or software problem that could have caused either the command counter anomaly or the change in the flight path or both. There must be an explanation that does not involve operations on a massive scale by the Russians.”
Todd started to walk around Winters and leave. “Just a minute,” the commander said, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t believe it’s necessary, is it Lieutenant, to remind you of who will be held responsible if the outside world gets wind of this Russian business?”
“No, Commander . . . sir,” was the answer.
“Then carry on,” said Winters, “and let me know if there are any significant new developments.”
Commander Winters was in a hurry. He had called the theater right after Todd had left and told Melvin Burton that he was going to be late. He drove quickly into a hamburger stand, wolfed down a burger and fries, and headed for the marina area.
He arrived at the theater when most of the rest of the cast was already dressed. Melvin met him at the door. “Quickly now, Commander, we have no time to spare. The makeup must be correct the first time.” He looked nervously at his watch. “You’re in the pulpit in exactly forty-two minutes.” The commander entered the men’s dressing room, took off his Navy uniform, and put on the dour black and white regalia of an Episcopal priest. Outside the door to the dressing room Melvin paced back and forth, going through a final checklist in his mind.
Commander Winters was in the pulpit when the curtain rose. He had a strong case of normal opening-night jitters. He looked across the three rows of his stage congregation to the full audience in the theater. He saw his wife Betty and son Hap in the second row. Winters smiled at them quickly before the applause died down. Then his nervousness disappeared as he launched into Shannon’s sermon.
The short prologue sped by quickly. The lights dimmed another time for fifteen seconds, the set changed automatically, and he was in the final scene, walking into his hotel room in Mexico and still mumbling to himself phrases from his letter. Shannon/Winters sat down on his bed. He heard a noise in the corner of the room and looked up. It was Charlotte/Tiffani. Her gorgeous auburn hair was down over her shoulders. She was wearing a light blue silk nightshirt, cut low in the middle, which her ample and upright breasts filled completely. He heard her say, “Larry, oh Larry, finally we’re alone together,” and she came to sit beside him on the bed. Her perfume filled his nostrils. Her hand was behind his head. Her lips pressed against his, insistent, hard, searching. He pulled back. Her lips followed, then her body. He fell back on the bed. She crawled on top, her kisses continuing, her breasts pushed against his pounding chest. He put his arms around her, slowly at first, and then, lying on his back, he enveloped her with a deep embrace.
The lights flashed off and on for several seconds. Charlotte/Tiffani slid off of Winters and lay beside him on the bed. He could hear her labored breathing. A voice was heard, “Charlotte.” Then again, with a loud knock on the door, “Charlotte, I know you’re in there.” The door sprang open. The two lovers half sat up in bed. The lights went off and the curtain came down. The applause was loud and sustained.
Commander Vernon Winters pushed open the door and stumbled outside. He was at the alley entrance to the theater. The door, over which was a single light bulb covered with insects, opened onto a small wooden platform a few steps above the pavement. Winters walked down the three steps and stood beside the red brick wall of the theater. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.