Lucy Reed was a devoted navy wife — one oriented exclusively to her husband and his career, in that order. There had been times when she considered the idea of a job once the kids were off to college. A lot of her friends were doing that and they were loving it. One of them even called it a reclamation project; she was reclaiming an individual within herself that she’d all but forgotten. It sounded good to Lucy at first, but then she had considered the woman’s husband and concluded that, given the same man, she would have been walking the streets looking for any kind of work long before.
Being Lucy Reed, the wife of a man tagged as “a bright prospect” early on by the navy power structure, was quite enough for her. But much of that realization could also be called hindsight. She couldn’t have gone back to work when the last of the five kids went off to college because the Reeds, quite unexpectedly, had been surprised by a sixth child just when they were relieved that the toughest teenage years were almost over. She’d often told her friends that children were social animals, fun to compare to each other when you and all your friends in their twenties were surrounded by them all day. But when an infant appeared as you’re nearing forty, and all your friends are enjoying a new lifestyle, you learn more about the individual child. Both Lucy and Andy Reed found the new addition both challenging and appealing from their advanced perspective. They were sure it forced them to remain young.
Puttering around her kitchen now, preparing lunch for young Kevin who was home from school with a cold, Lucy’s thoughts circled for a moment, then centered on her husband. When he’d gone to sea as a junior officer, even as a captain, it seemed a perfectly normal thing. It was part of her life. Managing a large family with her husband often gone was standard for a navy wife — and she had been good at it.
But now, when Andy went to sea, without mentioning a word until just before he departed, it was something she couldn’t get out of her mind. Tradition be damned! Admirals don’t run off to sea like that!
At least Kevin wasn’t difficult to handle yet. After five kids so close in age, managing him was still a breeze. His brothers and sisters had monopolized every waking minute at one time, not to mention any worries she might have considered when Andy had gone to sea in the past. Now with one child and so much time to speculate, a gnawing fear crept into her thoughts, something alien, frightening, a pervasive intruder that could not be dismissed. While young Kevin watched television from his bed, Lucy made herself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table staring out the window. The cherry trees were gorgeous, almost past their peak. She wanted desperately to be outside cleaning up the winter yard, but the thoughts taking hold in her mind blended into the headlines in the papers and on the nightly news.
There was no doubt in her mind that Andy was involved. She accepted that. But admirals normally worked from desks. Hers was at sea and he’d said nothing about returning. Momentarily, she wished her mind was occupied by one of those jobs her friends held. Then she remembered how often she and Andy had talked about how lucky they were to be together; they could have each other completely when a free day arose rather than living in two separate working worlds. When Andy needed a day off, they could sail together. With the kids at school they could pack a lunch and head for the boat early in the morning — while most of their peers were working in two separate worlds.
No, she didn’t really yearn for the job that would occupy her leisure time. She relished the position she had in life, of being the partner of Andy Reed, who needed her so very much. She was satisfied to be a navy wife — and both of them were so happy that Kevin had arrived.
Then she thought about Kevin upstairs with that nasty cold and wondered how Andy was doing right now. One of his only complaints about late fatherhood was the childhood diseases that seemed so much easier to acquire as he grew older.
Andy Reed begrudgingly acknowledged the fact that he, too, was getting a cold. While most admirals managed to avoid the familial germs except for contact with their grandchildren, Andy and Lucy Reed learned to live again with the common cold as the result of their surprise arrival eight years before. While the rest of their family was in college or working, young Kevin could still seek out the most common germs in third grade and deliver them to his parents.
There was no place Admiral Reed would prefer less than a submarine when he was suffering from the common cold. At home, there was no one like Lucy to sympathize. While her willingness to break out the brandy at least improved his morale, there was no way he would ask the pharmacist mate for a tot from the locker. And with a runny nose, itchy throat, and plugged ears, it required all of his concentration to remain attentive to the unfolding tactical scene. The Russian submarines had made their move. There was little opportunity to sneak off for a nap, or even to feel sorry for himself.
Reed blew his nose and, trying to keep a reasonable distance from his operations officer, asked, “What’s the time to intercept for the one headed toward Olympiad.”
“If she maintains current speed, Admiral, I’d say about six hours… around zero-five-hundred tomorrow morning. But she’s got the horses if she wants to get there quicker. She’s waiting for something… I’m not sure what.”
“Waiting for Imperator to get closer. That’s what,” Reed said hoarsely. “They probably figure their chances of getting some solid readings are better with two boats than one, but they’re not taking any chances.”
The ops officer studied Reed’s face. “They’d just as soon take Olympia out as anything else I can think of. Is that what you figure, sir?”
Reed nodded, massaging his eyes slowly. They were sore and tired. “At this point, I think they figure Imperator’s important enough to go to just about any length.” He cleared his throat and sighed. His head ached, too, and he needed some sleep. “If this was a normal situation, I’d have a better idea of what they’d do. They’re usually predictable, but not now. Signal Helena to slip around to the other side of our guest. We’re going to exercise a little intimidation of our own. Maybe that’ll alter their movements up north.”
“Admiral, why don’t you try a couple of hours’ sleep? That cold of yours is a pain in the ass, and we can take care of everything here. I’ll wake you if—”
Reed interrupted, waving his hand. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Maybe a couple of hours will change everything,” he added, attempting to look cheerful. But he knew how long it took him to shake colds like this one. The next couple of days were going to be unpleasant.
Abe Danilov understood that he was treating Anna’s letters with a reverance that bordered on teenage puppy love. But perhaps that was as it should be. He’d never forgotten his first feelings of love for his wife. Though that young Anna Chuikov bore little resemblance to the dying Anna Danilov, he saw her in his mind’s eye as the same girl — only the outer wrapping had been altered.
The admiral’s mind had been occupied that day with assumptions of what might be taking place in the northern Pacific. Any intelligence that could be gained by spy ships or other submarines would certainly be worthwhile, but he saw no reason to sacrifice any other ship. Danilov knew exactly what he wanted to do if Imperator made it through the Bering Strait and how he was going to go about it. Intelligence was nice, but not an absolute. He’d been in the submarine-hunting business for so long that he knew how the Americans operated. He understood Andy Reed’s methods from their past encounters and he had studied the tapes on the man for hours. While a situation could arise that had yet to be inserted in the computer, Danilov was confident of his own ability. Long before there were computers, there were great submariners, men who survived on their own wits, and he was one of them. Danilov had also been familiar with Snow, but he had immediately filed the name when he retired from the U.S. Navy. Now that he was back, and admittedly in a unique position, the Kremlin had begun combing their computer files for details on the man. He was a maverick and Abe Danilov had no doubts that he was as capable as Reed.