“Kreshenko?”
“I don’t know what is running through that man’s mind. He’s disciplined, he’s loyal to a fault, and he is a career navy man. I suspect Captain Everett or that little naval aviator, Ryan, would have a better chance at getting into his head.”
“I’ve recommended that already. One thing is for sure: until we have an accurate guess as to what that murderous bastard has planned for us, we need Captain Kreshenko to make the right choice.”
Henri chuckled as he gestured for Jack to precede him back to the bow and the festivities there.
“So, we are hoping for a career Russian military officer to make the right choice between helping us Westerners or committing wholesale treason?”
“That about sums it up, Colonel.”
“Luckily, there is a precedent that shows the average Russian is capable of a little revolt against authority on occasion.”
“That, Colonel, sir, is what we are banking on.”
Sailors from both nations helped the villagers load their belongings into their small boats. The native people of this strange world were not going home empty-handed. Americans and Russians both gave freely of their own possessions. Children were leaving with so much candy, cakes baked by both mess crews, and other items such as mirrors and clothing. The villagers were now wearing everything from New York Yankees caps to Russian national hockey team jerseys. The natives were leaving with assorted pots, pans, and utensils that amazed and wowed each and every one of them. The sailors waved their good-byes from the railings of both Simbirsk and Shiloh.
Captain Kreshenko, who had not said a word to anyone during the final stages of this diplomatic endeavor, allowed the men of Peter the Great and Shiloh to continue to mix. There were now well over three hundred men comprising both crews on the old battle cruiser. They mingled and spoke in broken English among themselves, and as sailors, they all had similar stories of their duties and of home. Even Captain Johnson and his officers were enjoying learning more about Russian procedures. Even more surprising was the fact that the strict Captain Kreshenko allowed it.
Charlie Ellenshaw was abnormally silent as he stood alone watching the sails of the fishing boats grow smaller in the moonlight. He leaned heavily against the railing and didn’t notice the master chief step up next to him. The old navy man was eating something that resembled a banana but was totally dark green in color, but looked ripe after peeling.
“I didn’t see you eat anything tonight, Nerdly.”
Charlie turned and saw the master chief and shook his head. “Sometimes I don’t know how you and Colonel Collins can do it.”
“What’s that?” Jenks asked as he tossed the green banana peel into the sea.
“Professor Gervais. I believe he was a kind and gentle man who was murdered because of someone’s political or military aims. I feel terrible I spoke to him in the manner in which I did. Just terrible.”
“I’ll excuse you for that one, Doc, since you are an endangered species of hippie and all of that. We do it because if we don’t, others will meet the same fate as the good professor. This is a screwed-up world we live in, even here in this whacked-out place. And I know you probably think Gervais was a good man forced to do bad things, but that’s the choice most people in the scientific field must decide on for themselves. Now, as for what I would do?” Jenks paused and lit his after-dinner cigar. “Simple — I would have blown the whole project to hell and back before doing what he did. All he had to do was say something.” Jenks slapped Charlie on the back. “I think you’re one of those opposite-thinking kind, Nerdly. I think you would have screamed to high heaven if you knew about this experiment. And that, Chucky, would have gotten you a note on a toe tag in the morgue.”
“Thank you… I think,” Ellenshaw said.
“Ah, what the hell does an old sea dog know about it?” Jenks said and then guided Ellenshaw away from the railing. “All I want to do is get home and then live the rest of my life with a woman who will do all the thinking. Now, let’s get you some of those leftovers and get something into that skinny-ass body of yours.”
Charlie smiled, knowing that even a heavy brain like Jenks could think about the good of things.
“I envy you, Master Chief,” Charlie said as Jenks slapped a large piece of pork into his hand.
“Ah, crap. I envy you, Nerdly, having three names like you do. Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III,” he said, looking up at the moon and its trailing comet-like tail. “Now that is really a name you can sink your teeth into.”
Charlie smiled, as this was the first time Master Chief Jenks ever called him by his real name.
As the two men turned away from the sea, they failed to see the underwater bubbles pass by the bow of the Simbirsk. They were heading straight for Compton’s Reef.
17
Jack, Carl, Ryan, Henri Farbeaux, and a weary Captain Ezra Johnson watched from the darkened CIC far beneath the main deck of the heavy cruiser. They spied the activity on the wide-screen monitor on the bulkhead. Other members of the CIC teams were monitoring radar and sonar, but they watched the activity on the monitor, as did the officers.
The drone was flying high over Peter the Great. Most of the sailors were still settling in from their evening with the islanders. The night watch had been posted, and the crew, for the most part, went belowdecks for some well-earned sleep. Jack smiled when he saw that a lot of the Russian boys were wearing traditional United States Navy headgear. The reason for the covert flight was an attempt to spy on Salkukoff and his commandos. As the propeller-driven drone circled Peter the Great, they saw nothing of the colonel.
Captain Johnson patted the shoulder of the drone’s remote control specialist. “Bring her back home, Jenkins. We’re not going to see anything that bastard doesn’t want us to see.”
“Aye, sir,” the young man said as he input the correct orders into the remote system. The drone would fly back and land softly in the water next to Shiloh, where she would be recovered and recharged.
“Well, that was a bust,” Ryan said as he rubbed his eyes.
“Captain, we’re picking up something strange on the horizon,” young Seaman Jenkins said as he pointed to the large monitor. “We have a bright glow to the south.”
“Adjust angle of turn and bring the camera up.”
The drone turned, and instead of overflying Shiloh, she pointed her nose camera toward Compton’s Reef.
“What the hell?” Johnson said as he took a tentative step closer to the large monitor, as if getting closer to it he could actually see more detail. What the high-definition camera system told him and the others was that Compton’s Reef was burning.
Jack and the others were out of CIC in a flash. All sleepiness and weariness were now gone. As they hit the steps leading up, the general quarters alarm sounded throughout Shiloh.
“All hands, man rescue stations. All sea rescue elements to their stations; this is no drill. I repeat, no drill. Man rescue craft!”
Jack and his men gained the main deck, and all they could see was the Shiloh’s powerful searchlights probing the seas between herself and the island. Even Peter the Great was in the process of launching rescue crews in whaleboats.