The lean veteran cleared his throat and spoke with a monotone mumble that hypnotized Olivia to the edge of consciousness.
“Absolutely concur. Nothing on the executive officer either. I took a look at all the officers, in fact, and saw nothing. Not that our information is perfect or complete. It never is, and we may be unaware of an acute shock to a crew member’s life, but there certainly is no trend leading to treason for any of them.”
“I know,” Olivia said. “What about you two?”
“We didn’t have as much data per person on the enlisted crew,” the young female said. “But there was enough in most cases to determine little to zero risk of treason or mutiny.”
“This is the conclusion from everyone,” the young man said. “It’s been a thorough effort.”
Olivia inhaled slowly to grant her lagging mind time to process information. She recalled that if she had read Jake Slate’s past dossier, she would have judged him incapable of stealing a Trident missile submarine. Then again, his dossier omitted a crucial shock, and one event could change a man.
“Each crew member’s information has been read at least twice by three people,” she said, “and we’ve broken into groups to discuss and brainstorm extreme possibilities. But there’s not a danged hint of evidence that any Israeli sailor aboard the Leviathan would have the slightest motivation to break from state control.”
“The Israeli submarine fleet is a small, elite, well-trained, well-screened, and cohesive force,” the portly man said. “It’s like trying to find traitors among Navy SEALs. You don’t find them being bred. And if one snaps, changes motivation and allegiance, the warning signs aren’t always obvious, and the ones most likely to see the signs are his colleagues — not an analyst sitting across the ocean who’s never met him.”
The lean veteran droned.
“Sorry, Olivia. Sometimes the accurate answer is disappointing, but accurate for the available information nonetheless. You can wake the others for a final read through, but I don’t see it going anywhere.”
“No,” she said. “Neither do I. I’ll call Rickets and let him know we didn’t find anything. Unless he protests, we’ll wake up the others and tell them we’re done.”
Olivia earned time off for pulling one and a half all-nighters, but Rickets demanded that she come in by noon the same day. After a half night’s sleep, she felt like a zombie.
She retraced her steps to the secure room in which she had just spent many hours and punched in her access code. The door seemed weighty as she nursed her tiredness.
Gerald Rickets sat alone in the room, which remained a mess with files and notebooks strewn about, while he flipped through the dossier of the Leviathan’s captain.
“I wanted people to get rest,” she said. “The room is still secure for the Leviathan project. I’ll have them do a proper clean up tomorrow.”
“You’re sure there’s nothing?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “You wouldn’t have called me at three in the morning to call it quits unless you believed it. But I had to ask again. After at least a little sleep, do you still think this is a dead end?”
“Yes.”
“But you would have said the same thing about Slate if you had a chance to analyze him before the ‘Colorado Incident’, right?”
“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know. His accident was documented but not the HIV part of it. It’s unlikely that the accident alone would have motivated him to steal the Colorado, but I would have at least questioned it. There’s no accident or analog thereof for anyone on the Leviathan, Gerry. No careers turned short, no bad medical news, no second cousins hanging out in the wrong circles, no fortunes given or taken, no travel to suspicious places, no nothing. I’m sorry. There’s just nothing.”
Rickets stood and buttoned his blazer.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You did good work. Maybe great work. Only time will tell. You’ve just ruled out the possibility of mutiny, or at least lowered our estimation of its probability. That’s a big piece of the puzzle.”
“I still feel like I failed.”
“You didn’t. This might be your first assignment that turns up nothing, and that’s a good learning experience for you. Discovering nothing when nothing is the correct answer, is something.”
He started for the door but she stopped him.
“Gerry?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t bring me in for a pep talk, did you?”
“Oh yes, I had almost forgotten. I wanted to see if you were interested in a new case that’s perfect for you. I thought you deserved a slow pitch after this two-day sprint with the Leviathan.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Thirty-eight-year-old female. Iranian professor of psychology, on a teaching visa at Old Dominion, apparently making every effort possible to marry a sailor in Norfolk. She landed a big fish, the captain of the USS Bainbridge, an Aegis destroyer, who is now her fiancé.”
“Slow pitch?” she said. “That sounds more like a yawn. She may be older than the average husband hunter preying on sailors, but that’s what it sounds like.”
“Husband hunting?” Rickets asked. “It doesn’t fit a self-made woman.”
“She’s probably seeking American citizenship. Or something else boring.”
“The executive officer of the Bainbridge thought enough of it to call NCIS from his deployment.”
“Sounds like a career limiting move by the XO.”
“That took some guts, but NCIS will treat it like an anonymous tip, as will we,” Rickets said. “And it was the right call. Apparently, this woman has quite an effect on men and is on a mission.”
“Yeah, to get married and earn her citizenship.”
“Maybe. But NCIS investigated some local bars, and she has a peculiar taste for destroyer sailors, regardless of rank. There might be a pattern suggesting something beyond snagging a husband.”
“Why doesn’t NCIS keep it?”
“No evidence of a crime. Assessing foreigners for the possibility of committing a future crime is something you do. You’re one of the best.”
She sighed.
“I’m still one of the best, even after coming up with zip on the Leviathan?”
“Yes,” he said. “And let the Leviathan go. Some of our top minds were on that team, including yours. If you found nothing, the answer is nothing. Move on.”
“Why me — for this?”
“You’ll see similarities between yourself and the professor. You’re both psychologists, and you both have unique perspectives on the opposite sex.”
“You mean because I was beaten and raped.”
He curled his lips.
“That experience gives you insight that few analysts have,” he said. “We’re looking at an educated female from a male dominated society. That experience may come in to play.”
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Great,” Rickets said.
“Any hurry?”
“No, not really.”
“Good. I’m taking the next twenty-four hours off.”
“Okay, you deserve it. I’ll let your boss know.”
“You know,” Olivia said, “analyzing her might be a bigger challenge than you think. A woman is more complex than a man.”
“How so?”
“I can’t count on her to think with her penis.”
CHAPTER 10
The twisting dirt path took Jake Slate by a young couple resting against a rock outcropping.
“Hello,” he said.