“All right,” Sam agreed. “Let’s go then before they work it out.”
Sam, Tom, Veyron, and finally Genevieve donned the red RFD Beaufort SEIE Mark 11 — AKA submarine escape immersion equipment — and climbed up the ladder into the aft emergency escape lock-out trunk.
Already the submarine had started to level out. Genevieve was the last one up the ladder. Near the kitchen, the bulkhead door opened and one of the submariner’s raced through. Tom gripped Genevieve’s hand, quickly jerking her into the lock-out trunk.
Veyron closed the water-tight door.
Beneath them, someone tried to open it again, but Tom had already pulled the latch, flooding the small compartment. It filled quickly. When the internal pressure equalized with the outer seawater, the lock-out trunk hatch opened.
All four of them raced to the surface at a rate of roughly ten feet per second. Sam exhaled the entire time.
One by one, all four of them broached the surface of the water, their red SEIE suits ballooning on top of the ocean waves.
Matthew and Elise had plucked all four of them out of the water within minutes, and the Maria Helena was soon motoring at full speed to the closest harbor.
Sam grinned. “Thanks for pulling off the impossible. Now let’s go find out what in the world this was all about.”
Tom sighed heavily. “Sorry we might never know. We couldn’t find the metallic case on the USS Jimmy Carter. It must be lost for good by now.”
Sam laughed long and hard, far too amused for the situation they were in. He asked, “Tom, didn’t you notice it before…”
“Notice what?”
“Remember when the SEALs blew your emergency ballast sending you racing to the surface?”
“Of course.”
“Before they did, I dropped the case into your carry pouch on the back of your Exosuit. I thought you knew?”
“Nope.” It was Tom’s turn to smile. “Well, that’s good, then. That means it’s now time to find the truth.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Sam examined the metallic case. It had been state of the art at the time of the Clarion Call’s scuttling. Its titanium alloy was strong and light, keeping the contents well protected from the elements — even at a depth of 700 feet.
He took it to the engineering bay on the second level below deck, his friends following behind him like a row of ducklings. Fixing the case to a workbench using a large vice, Veyron used one of his drilling tools to achieve what two decades on the seabed could not — and opened the case.
There was a single folder, labelled: Clarion Call. Ship’s manifest.
Sam opened it.
On the first page, was a handwritten note, addressed to a senator named Peter Grzonkowski.
The name sounded familiar to Sam, but he couldn’t quite place it.
He read the first line.
Dear Senator, Peter Grzonkowski,
As requested, here is the proof you needed.
After you have taken possession of the shipping manifest, I’m going to go to ground and disappear until this thing blows over. As you can appreciate, this information is going to upset many powerful people. A lot of people from around the world — including my own brother and our government — are going to want to see blood.
So be careful.
Good luck.
Joseph Finney
Sam opened the binder and quickly ran his eyes across the first few pages. He didn’t go far. Instead, he stopped. His heart pounded in his ears, his throat constricted.
The truth was so startling simple, yet shatteringly clear in its validity. The world would never be the same once it was out.
How did the U.S. government think they had a right to withhold this information?
Sam swallowed hard.
More importantly, did he have the right to tell it?
He closed the manifest with a defiant snap, securing the metallic case.
Tom met his eye, and asked, “What is it?”
Sam shook his head. “How did they possibly get away with it so long?”
“What?”
“No wonder the Navy didn’t want us to reveal the truth!” Sam said, in awe. Instead of answering Tom, he turned to Elise. “Does the name, Senator Peter Grzonkowski mean anything to you?”
“Do you mean, Congressman Peter Grzonkowski from Illinois?”
“Yeah that might be him.” Sam pursed his lips, squeezing his eyes shut. “Where have I heard that name recently?”
Without hesitation, Elise said, “He was with Congresswoman Bledes when she was shot dead, while trying to escape the capital. I believe she was with Congressmen Grzonkowski and Carmichael at the time, along with three Federal agents.”
Sam stood up. “We have to go — now.”
“Why?” Elise asked.
Sam’s eyes focused on Genevieve. “Genevieve, get the rotor turning on the Sea King.”
Genevieve nodded and immediately left, without asking for a reason.
Sam turned to Tom. “Go grab another MP5 for each of us and meet me on the helipad.”
Tom said, “I’m on it!”
Elise repeated the question. “Why?”
Sam looked at her determined and fixed violet eyes. “Sorry, Elise. What was the question?”
She smiled. “What does this have to do with Congresswoman Bledes?”
“Absolutely nothing. Congresswoman Bledes was never the target.”
“Who was?”
Sam ground his teeth. With a cold, steely voice, he said, “Congressman Peter Grzonkowski.”
Elise asked, “Where are you going?”
“To protect the truth!”
“How?”
Sam took a deep breath. “By retrieving the Congressman before someone kills him.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
The Sea King helicopter took off, heading due west, toward Washington, D.C. The sea below appeared calm ultramarine blue with small white ripples, where the Maria Helena motored toward Chesapeake Bay. Inside, Sam picked up his cell phone and dialed Alex Goodson’s number.
Alex picked up on the first ring. “Hi, Mr. Reilly. How was your dive?”
“Very informative,” Sam replied. “Alex, I know the truth. I know what Werner Heisenberg did.”
Alex didn’t reply, instead there was only the garbled static of his cell phone.
Sam said, “Did you hear me, Alex? I said, I know what Werner Heisenberg did.”
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Alex said, his voice calm, yet also a bit sad. Almost like a kid being told it was too late to get an ice-cream cone, because the truck had just driven off. “I can’t quite hear you. I’m afraid it’s probably a bit too late for you to come over and play, anyway. I’m about to finish the game. Thanks for the offer, though.”
Sam tasted bile in his throat. His breathing became uneven, his nostrils flared. “It was never about Congresswoman Bledes. They were trying to kill Congressman Peter Grzonkowski! He’s the only one who knows the whole truth. They’re going to kill him!”
“Who?”
“Peter Grzonkowski!”
“Never heard of him, Sam,” Alex said, but there was no conviction in his voice. “I’m sorry, can I call you back? I’m at a really interesting part of my game. I’m afraid those names don’t help anymore.”
“No. Peter Grzonkowski can make this right!”
“No, he can’t. It’s too late now. The game’s nearly over!”
“Wait!” Sam yelled. “I can fix this.”