“What the hell were they doing?”
Clay spoke up. “Will, can you tell in which direction they were pointed?”
“I certainly can!” Borger smiled. Clay was one sharp cookie. “Because subs need to approach the surface to discard their exhaust, I was able to identify the outline of the sub pretty easily. We can see that the sub’s direction was almost always pointed toward the city it was nearest to, which was Guyana’s only major city: Georgetown.”
Clay was interested in the direction the Forel was pointing for one reason. Aligning either the bow or stern with a target gave a submarine the smallest possible profile.
“So, it didn’t want to be seen by the city of Georgetown?”
“Not the city,” corrected Borger. “Something in the city.”
Borger continued typing and the picture on their screens scrolled slightly south, traveling through the wide mouth of the Demerara River where it met the Atlantic Ocean. Approximately two miles upriver sat an unmistakable shape.
“This is why I woke you all up,” said Borger.
The others were quiet yet again, this time studying the crystal clear image of a ship. It appeared to be anchored near the only bridge crossing the Demerara from Georgetown.
“It’s big,” Caesare offered. “Do we know whose it is?”
“The Chinese,” answered Langford solemnly.
“What do the Chinese have a ship in Guyana for?”
Langford’s voice was slow and deliberate as he continued studying the picture. “This came across my desk a few weeks ago. It wasn’t a priority. The word the CIA picked up was that it was there for minor repairs. They had been caught in a storm.”
Clay spoke up. “What kind of ship, Admiral?”
“A warship. A Corvette Class.”
“So is it just me,” Caesare said, “or is anyone else wondering what a Chinese warship is doing in the Atlantic?”
The Admiral said nothing, still staring into the eerie glow of his laptop screen.
“Will,” Clay changed the subject. “Any idea how long the Corvette has been there?”
“I only have three months of data. But it’s been there the whole time.”
“Can you zoom out again so we can see them both on the screen?”
Borger complied, zooming out until both vessels were visible as two large dots inside of the same shot.
Clay held up a piece of paper to his screen and angled it slightly. “Line of sight.”
“Ideal observation through a periscope,” Caesare added. “And pointing directly at it not only gives the Forel its smallest profile, but would also allow it to fire right up the mouth of that river. Potentially before that ship could even make it out.”
After a long pause, Admiral Langford cleared his throat. “I need to make some phone calls.”
15
Alison awoke and rolled toward the illuminated clock on her desk.
5:24 a.m.
She pressed her eyelids shut, hoping to drift off again, but eventually she gave up. It was no use. Her mind was already racing.
She lay in the darkness for several more minutes before sitting up on the edge of the firm couch. She used it often, especially when Dirk and Sally were there. With a sigh, Alison stood up and turned on the light, briefly blinding herself. She waited a moment before taking her hand away from her eyes and double-checked the time using her wristwatch.
Quietly opening the door, she walked down the dark hallway, feeling her way along the wall. She took the stairs down slowly and walked the length of the hallway until she spotted the wide door under a pale reflection from the moon outside. She opened it softly and stepped in.
The water in the huge tank was lapping softly. Near the surface of the tank, Alison could see the darkened shapes of Dirk and Sally, floating motionless as they slept.
Sleep was a very different experience for water-born mammals such as dolphins and whales. The ocean was teeming with danger, which made the practice of completely shutting down the brain during sleep, the way humans did, a dangerous prospect. Instead, the mammals slept by shutting down only half of their brain at a time. This allowed them to remain in a semi-conscious state for protection, yet still garner the eight hours of rest they needed.
Alison approached the tank, watching them sleep. Sally’s eyes suddenly opened. After a brief pause, she used a very soft sway of her tail to move down and forward. Sally stared through the glass at Alison but said nothing. Instead, she turned and looked at the microphone.
Alison took the hint and turned on the computer screen atop Lee’s desk. She then opened the window, which allowed her to turn down the volume of the speakers. When it was done, she leaned into the microphone and whispered, “Good morning, Sally.”
Sally moved in close to the microphone. Good morning Alison. You no sleep.
She shook her head at Sally’s question. She hadn’t been sleeping much at all lately. “Not much tonight.”
Why you no sleep.
“Too much work.” Interestingly, one of the several words IMIS seemed to have trouble translating was ‘work.' It appeared dolphins didn’t have a precise equivalent in their language. As a result, when Alison said “work,” the dolphins heard something more akin to their sound for “effort.” Nevertheless, Sally seemed to understand.
You work much Alison.
“I know I do.” She smiled at her own next thought. You know it’s a problem when it’s not just your mother saying you work too much, but the dolphins too.
Alison continued watching her float in place until Sally spoke again.
You no happy Alison.
“What?”
You no happy.
Alison frowned. “I am happy, Sally. I’m just tired.”
Sally emitted a very soft set of clicks and whistles for Dirk’s sake, as he was still sleeping near the surface. The external speaker on Lee’s desk emitted more of the translated words. Me happy. Me with Dirk.
Alison was about to reply when Sally’s next statement cut her off. Where you friend.
She meant John Clay. Sally had picked up on Alison’s relationship with Clay from the beginning. “He’s working too.”
He work much too.
Alison shyly nodded.
Why humans work much. Sally asked.
Alison took a deep breath. It was a simple question, but hardly a simple answer. She thought it over and finally shrugged. “To make the world good, I guess.”
Sally was quiet for a moment, as if considering her reply. World good now.
Alison smiled. “Maybe to make things better then.”
What better.
“Better is making things more good.”
Sally was quiet again. She remained floating in the water, looking at Alison and barely moving. World more good before.
She stood still, staring at Sally. Alison was overcome by a frightening thought. They were making the world better, weren’t they? To change the world; that was the point of the whole project. It was what she told herself year after year, working eighteen-hour days and having to overcome obstacle after obstacle. They wanted to change the world. But had they?
The initial breakthrough they made with IMIS shocked the world. There was no doubt. But through it all, what surprised her the most wasn’t the overwhelming press, the interviews, and torrent of visitors. It was the critics. She would never have imagined how strong the backlash from them would be. Skeptics in the scientific community were to be expected, but the nastiness from people in so many other fields was surprising.