Not at all impressed by this revelation, Andrei solemnly interjected, “Spare me the accolades, Doctor. Against my innermost wishes, you went and converted my theories into reality. And now humanity is going to have to pay the price. I guess you know that you’ve succeeded in opening a Pandora’s box and you could reap the most disastrous of consequences.”
Bolimin thoughtfully nodded.
“Though I don’t see it in exactly those terms. Comrade, I must admit that those side effects that I mentioned are a bit puzzling. We seem to be having particular problems with the transferal process.”
Looking somber and totally defeated, Andrei dared question.
“And where is this working prototype now?”
Bolimin sensed that his whitehaired colleague had taken the bait, and he readily answered.
“In the Bahama Islands, Comrade, beneath the waters of the Andros Trench.”
This revelation caused Andrei’s eyes suddenly to open wide with horror.
“You bastard! That’s where my daughter Ivana’s working!”
“Believe me. Comrade, the device is in no way related to the Mir habitat program,” urged Bolimin.
“All that they do is share the same support ship.”
“I don’t care whose authority you need, but you must find a way to take me there at once!” demanded Andrei forcefully.
Bolimin had to keep himself from smiling as he responded to this request. “What do you think that helicopter is doing outside, Comrade? It’s been provided for your personal use, to convey you to Kirov, where an Ilyushin IL-76 transport awaits to fly you to Havana. And from there, you’ll be less than an hour’s flight away from the waters of the Andros Trench.
7
The C-5A transport plane carrying Thomas Moore landed at Andrews Air Force base a little after five in the morning. Feeling tired and disoriented after his almost nonstop flight around half the earth, he decided to make a quick stop at his condo to freshen up before continuing on to the office.
A shuttle van conveyed him onto the Capital Beltway, over the Potomac River via the Woodrow Wilson Memorial Bridge, and into the heart of historic Alexandria, Virginia. It was a chilly, cloudless morning, and the first colors of dawn were on the eastern horizon as he climbed out of the van and ambled down the narrow brick walkway leading to his home. He ignored the collection of community papers that were scattered before the door, and after disarming the security system, reached into his pocket for the key. Much to his surprise, it wasn’t there, and only after searching the rest of his pockets and his wallet’s secret compartment, did he conclude that he had most likely lost it in the plane’s restroom.
It was Laurie who came up with the idea of hiding an extra key outside. Fortunately, he found it hidden beneath one of the loose porch bricks, still wrapped in aluminum foil and plastic wrap. It was a bit rusted, and Thomas mumbled a quick, silent prayer of thanks to his wife as he put it into the lock and felt the cylinder turn over.
What little he had in the way of luggage, he tossed onto the couch as he headed straight into the kitchen to brew some coffee. Because he hadn’t cleaned the coffeemaker after its last use, he was forced to do so now. He emptied the used filter and stale coffee grounds into the garbage, and discovered from the horrible smell when he lifted up the garbage can lid that he had also forgotten to empty the trash. He had to remove a thick stack of dirty plates from the sink to be able to position the coffeepot under the faucet. He filled it up to the six-cup line, and after emptying it into the brewer’s receptacle, went to get the coffee, which he found in the nearly empty refrigerator, alongside a box holding a moldy, half eaten anchovy pizza. To add to his distress, a search of the drawer where he kept the filters resulted in only an empty plastic wrapper, and he had to resort to removing the used filter from the trash to complete the final preparation.
While the coffee was brewing, he showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth. Because his extra uniforms were still at the local dry cleaner, he had to slip back into the same set of wrinkled khakis that had accompanied him on his long flight from Japan.
Never known for his organizational skills when it came to everyday household matters, he really missed Laurie at times like these. Even while holding down a full-time position as a teacher, she still managed to keep the place spotless, the refrigerator stocked, and his closet filled with clean clothes.
These were things that he had always taken for granted, until she was abruptly taken from him, and he realized how very much he had depended upon her.
The inviting scent of fresh coffee called him back to the kitchen. Though he would have loved nothing better than to get a couple hours of sleep, he knew that once he hit the mattress, he’d never get up in time to make it to the office today. Once more, caffeine would have to see him through yet another long day, until he’d have the time for a real rest. He filled his white, ceramic Naval Institute mug up to the rim, flicked on the radio, and sat down at the kitchen table. The black, Colombian coffee was strong, and as he contentedly sipped it, he listened to the morning news. There was the usual depressing economic news, and a report of a series of fatal shootings only two blocks from the White House.
Yet the story that really got his attention was the brief mention that an American ballistic missile submarine, the USS Lewis and Clark, was overdue in contacting command, and that a search for this boat was currently being initiated off the eastern coast of Florida.
Suddenly, thoughts of his own fatigue were far from his mind, as he struggled to figure out the true significance of this shocking news report. The one thing that was most evident, was that whoever released this story was deliberately misleading the American people. Because the Lewis and Clark was not missing at all, but was currently being towed to Okinawa by the USS Hewitt.
Yet why spread such disinformation to the public?
Could it be that the Navy actually couldn’t explain how the Lewis and Clark ended up in the Pacific, and that they had to release this report as a red herring?
All but forgetting his coffee, Thomas Moore knew that there was only one place where he could get the answers to these disturbing questions.
He hurried to the adjoining garage, stopping only to reset the condo’s security alarm. His only automobile was a 1969 Corvette convertible, which he hoped to restore to mint condition one day. Hurriedly, he yanked off the canvas car cover, and regardless of the fact that the top was down, jumped inside. A remote-control switch allowed him to open the garage, and he found the key waiting for him in the ignition.
He carefully pressed the accelerator to the floor three times, shifted the gear into neutral, and then turned the key, causing the engine to start with a throaty roar. Without waiting for it to warm up, he shifted into reverse, and backed out onto the cobblestone street.
The sun had already risen, yet Moore found the air to be crisp and cool, especially with the top down as it was. Sorry that he hadn’t taken the time to put on a jacket, he guided his vehicle down St. Asaph Street. Rush hour had yet to begin on the picturesque roadways of Alexandria, and he sped through the town’s historic section, where two-hundred-year old town houses were surrounded by majestic oak and elm trees, that once shaded the likes of George Washington and Robert E. Lee. The leaves of these ancient trees were just beginning to be at their peak of fall color, and Moore wished that he had more time to enjoy them.
Autumn had been Laurie’s favorite time of the year. She actually charted when the local trees would be their most colorful, and made certain that they’d ride their bicycles to Mt. Vernon at this time.