Campbell nodded. “Near my parents’ house, there was this overpass that had a big water stain on one of the pillars. One day someone noticed it looked kind of like the Virgin Mary. The next day there was a three-foot mound of flowers and candles around it. You see what you want to see. Me, I just saw wet concrete.”
“I don’t think we’re going to find anything that dramatic,” I said, my smile widening as I turned back to the officer’s quarters. Campbell smiled back. Alongside the aura of black-clad killer he shared with the rest of the SEALs, it was unexpected and gentle.
The storage space over Lee’s bed had a lock mechanism but swung open. Revealed was the executive officer’s book collection: two shelves crammed with Korean titles. Nothing I recognized. And I wasn’t surprised to see another photo of the woman taped to the inside of the left-hand door.
Files filled vertical wire racks inside the cabinets mounted above the desk. They were color-coded, labeled and incomprehensible to me. As was much of the Korean officer’s life.
“Just curious-you know anything about Korean culture? From your training?” I asked Campbell.
He shook his head. “Not really. It’s an intensive course, but it’s still basic. At least it was when I quit.”
“Well, we’re coming back here,” I told Campbell. “I’ll need you to translate the file names in the captain’s room and in here so I can catalogue them.”
“Sure,” he said. “That shouldn’t be too tough.”
As I sealed the leather-bound book in plastic and slipped it in my bag, a shadow fluttered in the hallway’s meager lighting. It was followed by the appearance of another SEAL behind Campbell. I hadn’t met this one yet.
“Lieutenant Larsen wants you two in the control room,” he said, addressing Campbell but speaking to both of us. He still wore his stocking cap, which seemed to blend in with his swarthy face. “Situation update.”
Campbell nodded, and the other soldier turned and headed aft. I already was moving toward the doorway.
“What do you think is up?” I asked Campbell as he moved to the side.
He shrugged. His body language conveyed unconcern, and he said nothing as we walked toward the control room.
I swung myself through the hatch and into a crowd. Most, if not all, of the SEAL contingent was in the room. I could see a couple more crouched on the other side of the aft hatch, listening and watching.
“Myers, just stand out of the way,” Larsen said. “Myers,” huh? Guess I was one of the guys now.
As I stepped back, Campbell entered the room. The SEAL from the forward torpedo room squatted in the hallway.
“People, here’s the situation,” Larsen said. “Seaman Young says the engines were not shut off, they were sabotaged. Is that correct, Seaman?” Young was standing next to the aft door, leaning against the wall with his hands at the small of his back.
“Yeah. An oil line was cut. Oil pressure dropped, the temperature rose, and eventually it tripped an automatic cut-off switch.”
“Did you all hear that? The line was cut. A sabotaged engine.” Larsen looked like he wanted to pace, but the SEALs and control equipment left him no room. “What’s more, Miller and Martin are missing. Really missing. They’re not at their posts in the engine room, and they’re not anyplace else on the sub. Do you read me?”
I expected consternation to ripple through the assembled soldiers, but they just waited for Larsen to continue.
“That means one thing: there is someone besides us on this boat. Now, our job is to get to shore. Our adversary obviously wants to keep us from doing that. So two additional objectives have been added that we must accomplish. First, we must ensure that the boat is not sabotaged further. Second, we must find the saboteur and neutralize him.”
He looked at Young. “The engines. Can we get them running again?” So, the surfer dude also was a mechanic. The question seemed to deflate him a bit. He pulled his right hand from behind his back and scratched at his tanned neck.
“Well, kind of. I can fix the oil line, and because the engines cut off before the temperature got too high, there’s no permanent damage. But we lost enough oil that we can’t safely run them now. So…”
“What, we’re stuck out here?”
“No, sir. I can consolidate the oil supply to one engine. I would recommend running that one diesel until the bats are charged up, then switching to electric power for the rest of the run. I’d estimate we can make about six, seven knots on one screw.”
“Fuck me running,” Larsen said. “Chief, is that going to hurt steering?”
The SEAL who had fetched us from Lee’s quarters was leaning on a panel near the control wheel. In the somewhat dimmer room, his features were even tougher to make out. Dark skin, dark eyes and facial hair, ears covered by his watch cap.
“It shouldn’t affect us too much,” he said. “We’ll have to compensate a little with the rudder, and that’ll make us lose a little headway. It will work, though. We’ll get where we’re going.”
Larsen banged on the gleaming attack periscope next to him.
“Damn right we will. Listen up! Young, you and Wilkes are the engineering department. Henderson, you’re security. Get down there, get that engine serviceable and tell us as soon as it is,” Larsen said, holding his hand up above the milling SEALs. “Everyone: We are in a combat situation now. There is at least one hostile onboard. No relaxing, no taking anything for granted. Treat everyplace you go on this boat as new, potentially dangerous territory. Clear?”
The room reverberated with a chorus of “Yes, sir!”
“Good. Engineering department, get down there. And bring me Miller and Martin now. I’m goddamn serious-the plan has changed. Everyone else, return to your stations.”
The SEALs acknowledged the order and scattered. As the room emptied, I noticed Larsen looking at me. When he caught my eye, he strode over to my corner.
“You’re staying in the officers’ area. We just don’t know what’s out there, and right now, the boat’s operation-and your safety-are the overriding concern, not your investigation.”
“I understand,” I said. “But… how could there be someone onboard? All the Korean crewmen are accounted for.”
“I don’t know. Frankly, I don’t care,” he said, his expression stony and focused. “We’re getting the submarine to port no matter who’s trying to stop us or what their motivations are.”
“Don’t you-”
“I’m only going to say this one more time: The enemy’s name and his motives are not my concerns. Overcoming that enemy is. And that’s what we’re going to do. Maybe after we make it to shore and pick this tub apart, we’ll find out who we’re up against, and you can help us figure out what makes him tick. But right now, I could give a flying rat’s ass. Campbell?” he said, turning away from both the SEAL and me. “You’re security for the doctor. Ensure her safety. And make sure she stays put. Now get out of the control room, Dr. Myers.”
“Uh, c’mon, ma’am,” Campbell said as Larsen walked over to the SEAL by the steering console. “We need to get back to the officers’ quarters.” He stood aside as I climbed through the hatch, then followed me. As soon as I was back in the mess room, I motioned him inside and spoke.
“Look, what’s the deal here? Did Miller and Martin just decide to take a break, or are they missing? Larsen didn’t even seem worried until just now, even though two of his men apparently went AWOL on a boat where it’s impossible to be more than fifty yards from your commanding officer. What is going on? You can’t tell me this is just some contingency that you guys train for.”