Playing on his hunch, Scott turned to the captain and said, "Executive Commander Howard…" Next, he turned to the SEAL and said, "Operations Commander…" Then, finally he turned back to the chief and said, "Command Master Chief…"
He smiled at each of their subtle nods, then continued, "The situation as it I see it is this… Everything is out of control. Someone sank the Bardot III in the early hours. The attack was designed to get a direct response from this strike group. Part of your response was to send two heavily armed NSW RIBs, with full crew and SEAL complements, to the Sea Shepherd.
"When the NSW RIBs arrived, a plan already set in motion was carried out, resulting in the sinking of the Sea Shepherd and the loss of the NSW RIBs. You believe all or nearly all of the crews from the Bardot, the Shepherd and the NSW RIBs are lost. You suspect this is the coordinated effort of a terrorist group, but no terrorist group is stepping forward and claiming responsibility.
"Search and rescue is finding precious little to recover. Seek and destroy fighters are chasing ghosts called out by airborne early warning. The fleet admiral of the carrier strike group has ordered a protective patrol, bringing all the ships back as a safeguard against an attack on the group."
Scott paused for effect. "How am I doing so far? Close enough to right to call it right?"
The Command Master Chief moved next to the Operations Commander. Executive Commander Howard said, "If you think you have answers, we're listening."
"For starters, where were the Mason and San Jacinto? Why weren't they with the main strike group? I also know that right now you're finalizing plans to launch a response strike force."
"Classified," the Operations Commander said. "And if speculation's all you have to offer, Tinsdale can show you the way back to the infirmary." He paused, stared directly at Scott, then called out. "Midshipman?"
Chapter 11
Midshipman Meredith Tinsdale heard someone pounding on the door to the women's lavatory. The tiny room had one private stall with a door that could be closed, a sink, a shower, and a changing area. It also had a lock on the outer door, which she had secured.
She squatted down on the toilet and almost dropped her phone as she shouted, "Just a moment."
Turning back to the phone, she said to the beautiful little face looking back at her, "Momma's coming home soon."
"Promise, momma?" 7-year-old Sarah asked.
Meredith smiled and tried to hold back tears that were welling up in her eyes. "Just like I promised, baby girl. Is Gramma Peg there?"
"She is. Do you want to talk to her?" the little girl replied and there were more tears in Meredith's eyes at how grown up her baby girl sounded just then. "I love you, momma."
"Oh, I love you too, baby girl."
"All the way to the stars and moon?"
Meredith tried to hide her tears as she wiped them away with a tissue. "All the way to the stars and moon. All the way to the stars and moon and back a hundred hundred times."
She didn't know why she said it exactly like that. It was just something they said to each other and it always made Sarah's face light up.
Meredith heard the door to the women's lavatory open with a bang and she called out. "Um, occupied. Almost finished. Do you mind? I need some privacy."
Though she didn't hear a response, she did hear the outer door close again, so she went back to her phone call. In the moment that she'd looked away, Sarah must have handed the phone to Peg and she said silently to herself, "Bye-bye, baby girl."
To Peg, she said, "I know it's late and I promised to call earlier. I'm sorry. Have you heard from him?"
Peg pursed her lips. "It's not late. It's after 8 in the A.M. here in Utah."
"I didn't realize. So much has happened-" Meredith tried to tell Peg she couldn't call before, that she'd tried to get away so many times but hadn't been able to, that she'd lost track of time.
Peg didn't want to hear any of it. "That no account son of mine hasn't been around if that's what you're wondering. Dead in a ditch somewhere maybe."
"He's my baby's daddy, Momma Peg. Please don't talk like that when Sarah's around."
Peg turned away from the camera on the phone. "Aw, she's off watching her shows. She didn't hear nothing."
"Did you give him the gift I sent for our anniversary?"
Peg wagged a finger in front of the phone. "Broke up means broke up and no I didn't give him nothing. I gave it to baby girl instead."
Meredith put on her brave face. "I still love him, Momma Peg. He can't help who is. Don't hate him for me. Love him for me."
"You mark my words, child. He'll break your heart again if he doesn't break your head first next time."
Meredith frowned. "I fell, Momma Peg. He didn't push me down the stairs."
"Like he didn't break your arm? Like he didn't-"
"I have to go," Meredith cut in. "I love you, Momma Peg. Take care of my baby girl."
"You know I will, child," Peg said as she hung up.
Meredith put away the phone. She broke down, sobbing, crying into her hands.
Eventually, she opened the stall door, wiping her eyes with a tissue with one hand while opening the door with the other. Her head was down but her eyes went wide all the same. Someone was standing outside the door, waiting for her.
Meredith pointed at the door. "This isn't the only lady's. There's another just around the corner."
"So sorry about this," the woman said as her arms grabbed and twisted Meredith's neck around.
Meredith felt an instant of sheer terror and pain before nothingness found her.
Chapter 12
In the administration building of the National Cybersecurity Initiative Data Center complex, senior data mining and analysis specialist Dave Gilbert sat in his private cubicle and noted the data stream from the Med was coming from a mindboggling assortment of sources. Everything from US and allied military, insurgent militias, and foreign governments to civilian emergency response. He hadn't gone home yet from his swing shift of the previous day. He was beyond tired but he had just confirmed the data was real.
Thinking there was a problem with the updates was a rabbit hole he'd fallen down for hours. Perhaps though it was because of the dead silence from the media too, and he'd had his second monitor displaying CNN Headline News, BBC News and Al Jazeera News all night long.
It didn't make sense because what he was seeing indicated a there was some kind of high-stakes operation going on. He hadn't seen such a flood of data coming out of the Med since the uprising that ousted and killed Libya's dictator, Muammar Gaddafi.
"Morning in Utah. Afternoon in the Med," Dave said aloud as he reminded himself of the 9-hour time difference. He started backtracking through the data to see when it all began. It didn't take long and soon he wrote 5:18 AM in large block letters on a yellow sticky note that he stuck to the lower left corner of his primary monitor. On another sticky note, he wrote 5:42 PM-the current time in the Med. This note he stuck to the lower right corner of his primary monitor. The notes were reminders to himself that he needed to fill in the gaps between to understand what was happening.
He told himself that none of this was directly related to his current job, that he should turn over what he'd uncovered to his old friends working the Mediterranean desk at NSA headquarters in Ft. Meade.
But what he was seeing was like a giftwrapped puzzle and he was for once in his life in the right place at the right time. He'd created the algorithms and search interfaces that sifted through the exabytes of data being gathered by the NSA every single day. He knew what he needed to do to unravel the puzzle.