Silent Thunder

THREE

Co

"What did you expect?" Ha

"I thought this sub was towed across the Atlantic."

"It was, but they piloted it here into its slip under its own power." She turned to the lieutenant. "The captain's quarters?"

He nodded. "This way."

A few minutes later Lieutenant Cox threw open the door of the stateroom. "Not exactly palatial but very comfortable compared to the rest of the officers' cabins."

"It looks pretty sparse to me." Ha

"No, these were here when we took it over from the Fi

Co

"Sure," she said absently as she moved toward the shelves. She'd always had a passion for books, and she was curious to see what this Russian captain had found interesting or entertaining. The cabin was so stark and impersonal that the introduction of such a personal note was almost shocking.

"I'll call you when I come to a good stopping place," Co

"Yeah," she murmured, her gaze never leaving the books. "No time at all."

Co

"Bite me." She took a slender blue volume from the shelf. "Get out of here, Co

"Yes, ma'am." He was still chuckling as he followed Cox from the cabin.

"Now let's see who you are, Vladzar." She flipped open the book. Russian. She wasn't going to find out much about the captain from this book, she thought ruefully. It appeared to be a textbook or navigational aid, but she couldn't understand either the language or the weird symbols or equations that appeared fairly frequently. She put the book back on the shelf and reached for a thicker volume next to it. That's better. English. The World According to Garp. Not what she would have expected from a good Communist like the man Bradworth had described. Nor was the next volume she picked up. English again. This time three plays by Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Julius Caesar. She sat down on the bunk and opened the book. The pages were well thumbed, and it felt strangely intimate as she tentatively touched one worn corner. The captain had spent hours in this cabin, reading this book and then rereading it. It was almost like touching him…

Christ, what was wrong with her? She snapped the book shut and shoved it back on the shelf. She'd never felt like this when she'd handled the Titanic artifacts. Co

It must be the memory of the Kursk that was triggering all this fascination and emotion. A clear case of substitution. So forget that old man who had died in his bed two years ago far from the glory of his military days. Get to work unscrewing the back of the desk across the room and check it out. Then move on to the head in the adjoining bathroom.

She bent down, opened her tool chest, and stopped. Why should she stop glancing through the books when that was what she wanted to do? They might even tell her something she should know about the sub. It would only take a little while to go through them.

An excuse?

Maybe. The Russians had probably taken everything that would be useful. But she knew she was going to take that time anyway, and she didn't need an excuse. She could do whatever she wanted with this sub, dammit.

She slammed the tool chest shut, stood up, and crossed the cabin again to stand before the shelves. She could feel a tingle of eagerness as she reached for the next book on the shelf. "Okay, Captain, you've got me. Now tell me something that will keep Co

Out," Co

"Is it?" She shut the book and scrambled to her feet. "I didn't think it was that late. I guess I was busy." She laid the book carefully on the bed. "How are you coming in the control room?"

"Better than you are here. I've got three panels off and photographed." He glanced around the cabin. "While you appear to have been slacking."

"I'll catch up." She passed him and went toward the stairs. "I'm almost finished going through his books. There's nothing that can help us."

"I don't know why you bothered. Cox told you that they took all the journals and logs. You couldn't expect to find anything."

"I guess not." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "So stop saying I told you so."

"No way. I don't get the chance that often." He gri

"Actually, I did find something in that Shakespearean anthology." She sat down on the pier and took the piece of chicken he handed her. "A photo."

"And?"

"Not helpful. It was a young woman. Blond, very pretty. Probably the captain's daughter."

"Unless he was a sailor who had a woman in every port."

"I don't think so." She made a face. "I guess I don't want to think so. I like to believe anyone entrusted with enough firepower to destroy Washington, D.C., was more stable than that."

"He was a man, Ha

"And it could very well be that he wanted to keep a picture of his daughter close to him."

"Lord, you're stubborn." Co

"Healthy?"

"At least, it hints at emotional involvement. Better an obsession with a dead man than a nuclear reactor."

"I'm not obsessed with him." She took a drink of coffee. "I'm… interested. And you're talking as if my sex life was nonexistent."

"How many relationships have you had since you gave Ken his walking papers?"

She was silent. "A few."

"A few rolls in the hay maybe."

"And I didn't give Ken his walking papers. He found someone else."