The Enemy Within
The control room of the SSRN Seaview had remained abuzz with activity since the submarine left the XP-1 sea lab four hours earlier. What should have been a routine mission—merely collecting oceanographic data on the seabed—had left Admiral Harriman Nelson agitated. And, it had far more to do with the latest research results, than with Nelson's personal dislike for Dr. Ted Jenkins, thought Lieutenant Commander Chip Morton.
His opinion had only been reinforced by the Admiral's urgent transmission to Seaview's sister ship, the USN Polidor in the Atlantic; the communiqué to a Dr. Claude Selby at the U.S. Geological Survey in Washington; and his call to the Pentagon. Something was definitely up, and Nelson wasn't sharing that information with anyone…yet. He had merely ordered the Captain to proceed at flank speed back to base at Santa Barbara.
* * * *.*
Chip slammed his fist down on the desk. It was a useless gesture, and did nothing to relieve the frustration he felt since the sub had docked. Hell, he was Seaview's Exec, and the Admiral had dismissed him from that meeting as though he were some green Ensign. In all his years in service, it had to reign as one of the more bizarre conversations he'd ever had with a superior.
Why in God's name would Nelson have called him in to discuss his relatives? He didn't even think the Admiral knew all that much about him. Yet, he had spent fifteen minutes making idle conversation about his sister and her family. Were they still at the Cape? When was the last time Chip had seen his niece and nephew? Was Pat still in charge of security at the Space Center? Fifteen minutes…before he had been politely ordered to return to duty, and excluded from the Council of War that was obviously being held between the Admiral and Captain Phillips.
But there was more to it than that; he was sure of it. Nelson had been genuinely concerned with his responses to those questions. And the questions that kept going through his mind were: Why? Had something happened that no one was telling him? Had Jenkins or Winslow discovered something at the XP-1 that might have an impact on the Cape?
There were just too many questions that needed answering. So, it was with a mix of both foolishness and nervousness that Chip was now phoning his sister.
Hullo?
Chip smiled as he tried to visualize his eight-year-old niece answering the phone. It had been two years since he'd last seen her. "Hullo. Paula, it's Uncle Chip. Is Mommy there?"
Uncle Chip! The squeal of delight was deafening, and he had to pull the handset away from his ear. I got the Barbie you sent me. She's beautiful. I play with her all the time.
I wanna talk to Uncle Chip! He heard his five-year old nephew's voice in the background.
He's talking to me. He doesn't want to talk to you.
Hi, Uncle Chip!
Everything sounded normal enough. Paula and Michael didn't sound any more upset than two siblings fighting over a telephone.
"Hi, Tiger," he yelled into the mouthpiece.
See, he does too wanna talk to me.
At any other time, Mickey's statement would have been true; Chip did enjoy his all too infrequent phone visits with the two of them. In many ways, they were a redux of his and Pat's childhood visits with their own Uncle Elwood. But there wasn't time for that right now.
"Cookie," he called her by the nickname he had given her since infancy, "can I speak with Mommy? It's kind of important."
She's still at the base. Dad's home. D'ya wanna speak with him?
While he wasn't security, he was as plugged in as Chip could get. "Sure. Put him on."
Dad! It's Uncle Chip for you! Paula's voice was known to carry from one end of the house to the other. If she decided to follow in her parents' footsteps for a career in the military, Chip had no doubt she'd wind up a four-star General.
He heard the click on the line as one of the extensions was picked up.
It's okay, honey, I've got it.
'S 'kay, Dad. Bye, Uncle Chip.
"Bye, Cookie. Bye Mickey."
Sorry, Chip, it's my turn to cook dinner…Paula hang up the phone. Now!
Chip laughed to himself. At one time, Roger had been the self-professed playboy at NASA—one of the few single men in the astronaut program. It was scary to think how domesticated he had become after marriage. Yet, Pat was happy; Roger had never stood in the way of her career. They were the exception to most military marriages. Besides, he adored her and the kids, and that was really all that mattered.
Tish's not home, but I expect her within the hour.
"I know. Paula told me." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Is anything wrong?"
Except that I'm about to burn… He paused as the meaning of Chip's inflection dawned on him. His reply became more formal. Not that I'm aware of. Heard something?
"Nothing definite. Just a feeling that something's coming down."
Don't knock those feelings. Over the years, I've come to rely on…my own sixth sense, as it were, in times of trouble.
"Maybe the problem's on this end."
*.*.*.*.*
Capt. John Phillips fumbled idly with the window controls of the limousine. The air conditioning hadn't worked properly since they'd started the drive to Vandenberg, and trying to find a comfortable window position had been a problem. After their return, he'd have to remember to tell Morton to have a conversation with the Chiefs about the work of the motorpool crew.
He turned a brief glance at his commanding officer and fellow passenger, and was surprised to see that unlike him, Nelson seemed to be unaffected by the summer heat.
"What's on your mind, John?"
The Admiral had an uncanny knack of reading him, and he found it disconcerting. "I'm just puzzled, Admiral, why you didn't share this information with Morton. He's a good man."
"One of the best," Nelson nodded in agreement. "But, Chip has family on the coast. Family he's close to." His tone became graver, "If your family were here and not in Denver, I'd be making this trip alone."
Realizing he had been chastised for his comment, the Captain let the matter drop. Phillips had been with the Admiral since Seaview had been commissioned; he knew his moods, his strengths and his weaknesses, yet he found himself always surprised when the man did something compassionate—it always seemed, to him, completely out of character. Maybe he didn't know his boss as much as he liked to think.
He reached for the window control again, and, looking out, wondered why a traffic helicopter was hovering along this deserted stretch of mountain road?
*.*.*.*.*
Chip's hand was shaking as he placed the receiver back onto its cradle.
Dead! The Captain and four of the crew assassinated. What the hell was going on?
He lit a cigarette to calm his nerves, and began making a mental list of all that needed to be done. The Admiral had been very guarded in what he revealed in their phone conversation, just asking him to make no mention to the crew of their Captain and shipmates's deaths—merely that there had been an accident.
The office suddenly seemed claustrophobic, as though the walls were closing in on him. This all had to be related to what the Admiral had avoided divulging earlier. So, he was still in the dark as far as knowing the reasons behind what was promising to be a very dangerous assignment.
As XO, though, his main priority was in learning how a leak had happened, and who was the traitor at the Institute. This might, at least, buy the Admiral some time. And he had a feeling from the urgency in Nelson's voice that time definitely was not on their side.
Picking up the phone, he dialed the Admiral's office to speak with his executive assistant, Angie, to set up his own council of war.
Good-afternoon, Admiral Nelson's office.
"Angie, it's Chip.
Why hullo there, stranger. She hadn't recognized the urgency in his voice.
"I need an emergency security meeting ASAP with Admiral Park and Commodore Emery."
What's wrong, Chip?
"Not over the phone." He was leaving nothing to chance. If there was a leak, there was always the possibility that the phones might be tapped as well. "Can you get them to the Admiral's office within a half-hour?" Chip knew that his superior's office was the most secure room on base.
I'll have them here in fifteen minutes.
"Good. I'll be right over."
*.*.*.*.*
The Admiral's office was just down the hall from his own, but Chip's guard was up. Anyone he passed in the corridor could be a suspect, and it unnerved him. Hell, as much as he didn't want to admit it to himself, in this situation, even Adm. Park and Cmdor. Emery were not above reproach.
Nodding to Angie as he entered the Admiral's reception area, he asked, "Were you able to reach them?"
From his posture, Nelson's assistant could tell this was no time for idle chit-chat. "Yes. They'll both be here in a few minutes. Do you want me taking notes?"
He nodded. He didn't know how far he might be crossing the line with the Admiral's orders, but as XO, it was his duty to put the wheels in motion to get to the bottom of things—at least on base.
Entering the Admiral's office, he slid open the security panel to activate the debugging devices: this way, anyone attempting to eavesdrop would get nothing but an earful of static.
Chip looked at the chair behind the Admiral's desk, but thought better of sitting in it; he had the disquieting feeling that the weight of the world resided in that chair at the moment. The conference table would do just as well.
There was a knock on the door, and he replied, "Enter."
Angie ushered in Adm. Park and Cmdor. Emery, and closed the door behind them, effectively sealing them all from the outside world.
"Admiral. Commodore." Chip nodded to each in turn, and indicated for them to take a seat. Angie was already seated with her notebook out to record the meeting.
"Commander." Park always maintained a more formal relationship with his subordinates than Seaview or NIMR's protocol demanded.
"Chip, what's going on?" asked Emery. The Commodore was the exact opposite of the Admiral, preferring instead an easy-going informality.
Each man had oversight of the two arms of the Nelson Institute for Marine Research. Admiral Park was in charge of the day-to-day operations of NIMR, and handled the duties of the Institute that fell under USN review. Emery handled the part of the operation that made the public's attention: its marine biology research, the public seaquarium, and media relations. While their duties overlapped from time to time, each was responsible, under the auspices of Adm. Nelson, for the two different facets of the Institute.
"Nothing said in here leaves this room," began Chip. "Even those with an Alpha-One clearance aren't to know."
With a nod, they gave their words.
"We've got a major breach in security—"
"What?" interrupted Park. "We do monthly re-evaluations on all personnel within the Institute."
"It could be anywhere, sir" said Chip warily. "I'll be re-evaluating Seaview's personnel, as well."
"What exactly happened, Chip?" asked the Commodore.
"I'm not at liberty to say, sir" he replied honestly. "The Admiral's not even aware I've called this meeting. So, you may be looking at your soon-to-be ex-XO."
Emery gave a wry smile. Morton was a thorough man, and had made a fine Executive Officer. His decision to go over the Admiral's head meant that there was something big looming on the horizon, and he was attempting to get a handle on it early.
Park wasn't nearly as impressed by Morton's initiative. "You're jumping Nelson on this?"
The Lieutenant Commander wasn't about to be intimidated by a superior; there were too many things that needed attending. "Let's put it this way, Admiral: considering what's just been dumped in my lap, I'd jump the Joint Chiefs if I thought it was necessary."
