“‘Yesterday in his… quarters, we discussed our… nearness to the American coast and what we… might have to do. Hours later, when I was… sleeping, he… slipped a… letter under my door. The fact that he understands how I feel — and… feels the same way — makes me less alone. And feeling alone in this… tiny world is the worst… ’ something. ‘Worst… emotion I have ever experienced.’”
Campbell closed the book on his finger.
“Is that the whole entry?” I asked.
“Yeah. About two, two and a half pages. So what do you think?”
I could tell he had drawn his own conclusions. They might not be far off from where my mind was taking me.
“Well, it brings two questions to the forefront: First, what is the serpent? And second, was the captain involved in precipitating whatever happened here?”
“Face it, Doc, there was a mutiny. All Lee’s talk about having a terrible burden, feeling like he was betraying his friends… what the hell else could he have meant? I admit, though, it surprises me that the captain was in on it too. Could be a double-agent kind of deal, you know: he tells our CIA guys one thing, then turns around and ruins the whole operation.”
“It’s certainly possible. But what about the serpent? I’d like to know what he’s referring to.”
“Serpent… well, isn’t the submarine called the Dragon? He might just be saying that they don’t want the boat to fall into U.S. hands.”
“That makes sense. But what’s so special about the boat?”
“Dunno. Just national pride, maybe. They don’t want the filthy Americans to take her over.”
“It might fit with the mutiny scenario. But there’s one other thing I’m curious about: I think the piece of paper stuck between the pages is the letter he mentions in the book. Could you read it?”
“Sure,” Campbell said, unfolding the sheet and laying it on the table. “There’s no date on it.
“‘My… shipmate, my honored… colleague, my friend: I understand your fears and concerns. They… weigh on my heart as well. But I know that you, like me, are… aware of what will happen if the… serpent leaves this ship.
“‘And the nearer… we get to America, the more I, too, fear that we will have to take such a… horrible action. In some part of your mind-the… ’ ah, ‘emotional part, the human part-what I have asked you to do appears wrong. To… sacrifice so many men, to… condemn them to death for something they don’t completely understand seems… wicked.
“‘But the… rational part, Tae-Uk, that is what we both must focus on. Because in my imagination, I can picture the serpent reaching shore. I can picture the great… suffering that would… come. This is what we are… preventing.
“‘So we continue on, knowing that we… hold great… responsibility. I am confident in you. I know you have the strength and courage to do… what is necessary. And I will stand by you, fight beside you, to make sure we… prevail.
“‘Capt. Yoon Chong-Gug.’”
“They’re frightened. Both of them,” I said.
“Terrified.”
“But the serpent isn’t the submarine,” I continued as Campbell refolded the paper. “It can’t be. Otherwise ‘if the serpent leaves this ship’ makes no sense at all. And the captain…”
“Is the leader of the conspiracy,” Campbell finished. “Those two were working together, obviously.”
“Right, but to what end? What is this serpent thing?”
“I’ll bet it’s in here.” Campbell pointed his chin at Lee’s book. “I’ll read through the whole thing.”
“No, I don’t think the answer’s there. Look at the general terms he used when writing. It’s pretty standard for a diary… it’s written as if to a confidant, but all the details are left out in case someone finds it.”
“So we’re stuck, then. Why not just read the diary? We might get lucky.”
“Because the captain is at the heart of this. He gave Lee his orders,” I said, standing up. “And if there’s any documentation on something so super-secret and important, it’d be locked up. Human nature. Military protocol. There are only two locks on this boat: on the biohazard container and on the captain’s safe. I’m not about to open that locker, but the safe…”
“It’s locked.”
“Where would the keys be? The captain would have them. It’s not like he’s going to leave them lying around for someone to find.”
“But you can’t leave this compartment. It’s too dangerous, like Lieutenant Larsen said.”
“Yeah, I know. If the bogeyman didn’t get me, Larsen would. That’s why we’re going to go ask him if you can go collect some evidence.” Campbell stood, too, bringing our faces about a foot apart.
“Oh, sure. He’ll go for that.”
“Is it hurting anything to ask him? If he says no, I’ll stay here and you can check the diary for anything else useful. And he’s already pissed at me, so it’s not like I have anything to lose.”
“I’m not-”
“Fine, I’ll do it,” I said, stepping into the hallway and striding toward the hatch to the control room.
“Hey!” I heard from behind me. He jogged after me and, in a tiny, paranoid corner of my brain, I expected to be tackled. But I reached the door unmolested.
“Your funeral,” he muttered as I crouched and rapped on the hatch’s edge.
“Lieutenant Larsen?”
The SEAL leader was standing next to the navigation table at the aft end of the room, reading something on its surface. He looked up and skewered me with an expression of disgust and annoyance.
“What? Do you need a bathroom break or something?” he said.
One of the four or five other soldiers in the compartment snickered. “No, thanks. I actually have a favor to ask.”
“A favor? You need something from me? Why, I’m honored.” His mocking tone made my knuckles whiten on the lip of the door, but I stayed silent as he walked over to me, stopping a few feet away. “What, Dr. Myers?”
“I left out a step in my examination of the captain’s body. It’s crucial to the investigation.”
“Too bad. You stay in the officers’ quarters until we reach shore or catch the saboteur.”
“And I will,” I said as he started to walk away. “I’m not going anyplace. Just let Campbell go down there, look at the body and come back.” Larsen turned back toward me. I prepared myself for a sneer. But after a few breaths, he spoke, looking at me but addressing Campbell.
“You understand that the situation has changed,” he said, then continued without waiting for Campbell to reply. “Henderson says the forward battery bay is clear, but he hasn’t searched any compartment other than that and the engine room. I was going to send Vazquez to help him, but I suppose I can send you, too. Grab whatever evidence the doctor is looking for if you see it. Then get your ass back up here and report.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” Campbell said.
Larsen pushed the intercom button. “Vazquez, meet Campbell in the engine room and back him up as he goes to the forward battery bay.”
“Uh, conn, aft torpedo room, I copy. Aye-aye, sir,” came the reply. “There you go, Doctor,” he said, going back to the nav station. “Move, Campbell.”
I let Campbell pass, speaking to him as he climbed through the hatch. “Check his pockets.”
Larsen didn’t turn to face me, but I heard him laugh.
“Check his pockets? You forgot to check his pockets? That’s rich. You’re quite the sleuth.”
I ignored him and locked eyes with Campbell, who nodded and headed aft.