Chapter 8

The next day brought brilliant blue skies and a sweet clean smell to the air. Evidence of the storm's wrath was unmistakable on the beach and on the grounds of the Institute, a fact that went unnoticed by most. News that the search for Admiral Nelson had been suspended washed over the campus of the Institute, as well as across the country, like a tidal wave as the knowledge that it was only a matter of time until the four-star admiral, creator of the Seaview and the founder of NIMR, would be declared dead.

Dawn had barely appeared before newspapers began to announce the suspension of the search for Admiral Harriman Nelson, some almost gleefully declaring that the four-star admiral was surely dead. There would be no body to bury, but the man was gone anyway. Prematurely declared dead by people that hadn't known him, had never seen him, heard him…loved him. Those few words had the power to still the air, silence the world of sound and hurt like a sharp knife against the skin. The Institute mourned. Its people mourned the loss of not only their employer, but their friend.

Seaview's crew went about their duties listlessly, as if the soul of the great submarine had died when Nelson had disappeared. The officers of the submarine mourned in silence and alone, unable to bring themselves to share their sorrow, hoarding it as if sharing the pain would lessen its significance.

Lee Crane grieved quietly, his face a carefully controlled mask as he tried, unsuccessfully, to keep his emotions hidden.

Early morning found a bleary-eyed Lee Crane, standing by the admiral's sailboat, trying to find the courage to go aboard.

"Skipper?"

He turned at the hesitant voice behind him and saw Chief Sharkey standing there, grief written plain as day on his weathered face.

"Chief," he acknowledged before turning back to his perusal of the sailboat. "I've been trying to get up the courage to go aboard her. Funny thing to say, isn't it? Courage to walk aboard a boat."

"I understand, sir," he murmured, knowing the thought of seeing reminders of the admiral would be hard for him, but harder still for the man before him. "If there's something you need, I could get it for you."

Lee sighed audibly. "Angie said the admiral took a briefcase with him when he left Friday. She doesn't think there are any critical or sensitive papers in it but I should find it. It may have something of importance in it we don't want anyone to see."

"I can do that for you!" Sharkey offered as he climbed aboard and disappeared below quickly.

Shamed at his weakness, the tall captain climbed aboard himself, stopping when he saw the broken mast, his breath catching once again when he pondered what the admiral must have gone through. But why? Why had he been out there? Why hadn't he come back before the storm hit? Why?

"Skipper? Uh…there's no briefcase below. Is Miss Angie sure he took it with him?"

"She said he was planning to work on some reports or proposals. I checked his car and it's not there. Maybe he left it at the house. I'll check there next," he said distractedly as he walked to the remains of the mast and gathered the frayed harness tether in his hands, cursing the ragged edges.

Sharkey came up beside him and reached a hand out to the tether. "That's strange."

"What is, Chief?" Crane asked disinterestedly.

"This tether…it's not the one I put on the harness when I checked the boat before the admiral left."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Positive. I changed the old one because it was a bit frayed. Not as badly as this one but I thought it best to replace it since that storm was coming. This isn't the same one. It's not even the same make," he continued, examining it more closely. "The admiral uses a West Marine dual hook safety tether. This one's a West Marine also, but it's a standard single tether and isn't the best quality. The admiral always told me that when your life depended on a few strands of nylon and quality clips, money didn't matter."

Crane looked closer and saw what Sharkey saw, wondering why he hadn't seen it before. "You're right, Chief. It isn't the same kind he uses."

"What do you think it means, Skipper?"

"I have no idea, Chief. There are a lot of explanations for it I suppose. Maybe his tether rope broke and he used something from his stores or he stopped some place and bought a replacement? Maybe one that had been older and worn and he didn't notice."

"I guess it could be," Sharkey agreed quietly.

"But?"

"I guess I'm just looking desperately for a reason to think he ain't gone."

"We all are, Chief. I don't know what difference this could make though other than it's an inferior tether. He's still gone."

"Yeah…I guess," Sharkey agreed sadly as he threw the tether down.

"I'm going to head over to his house, Chief. See if the briefcase is there."

"Do you want some company, sir?" Sharkey asked, knowing it was going to be hard for the man to enter the admiral's house.

Crane lowered his head as he thought over the offer, then shook his head. "I need to do it sometime. Might as well be now," he said softly as he jumped off the boat and walked to the parking lot, climbed into his low slung sports car and drove off.

~O~

Lee Crane, captain of the world's most sophisticated submarine in the world sat in his car and stared morosely at the door to the admiral's house in indecision. He didn't want to go inside, didn't want to feel the emptiness, and didn't want to see what was in there and who wasn't. Nor did he want to see the reminders of the man that had given him so much and was now dead.

Cursing his timidity loudly, he yanked the car door open, got out, slamming the door shut harder than necessary and walked purposefully to the door. Taking the key the admiral had given him years ago in case of emergency; he unlocked the door, stepping inside slowly. His gaze roamed the interior of the house and a pervading awareness of a presence filled him. It was as though he felt Nelson would simply come down the stairs in front of him any minute, smiling and asking him what he wanted to drink. But the knowledge that was not going to happen ever again overwhelmed him and he continued to gaze about the open room.

Everything was in its place as he knew it would be. He walked to the sliding door and opened it, stepping outside to the deck and stared out at the ocean below; seeing the rock the admiral liked to sit on to think or simply observe the ocean. Turning away, he went back inside and searched the house quickly for the missing briefcase but was surprised and a bit concerned when he didn't find it. Looking one more time through the spacious house, he gave up and drove back to the Institute hoping Angie had simply missed it in the admiral's office.

He walked into the outer office to see Angie on the phone and came to stand by her desk, waiting patiently.

"All right. You can send them up. Thanks," she said in an emotionless voice.

Lee watched as she dabbed at her reddened eyes with a handkerchief and looked up at him with a sad smile. "Did you find the briefcase?"

"No. It wasn't on the boat, it's not in his car and it's not at the house. Are you sure he took it?"

"I am. He said he was going to read over the reports while he lazed about on his deck. I remember telling him I was jealous," she whispered with a catch in her voice as she remembered the admiral as she'd last seen him.

Lee sighed loudly. "I don't know where it is then. It may have gone overboard I suppose."

"If he knew he was sailing into a storm, he would have had it below, wouldn't he?" Angie reasoned.

"I would think so but, it isn't onboard or in his car or the house. It doesn't make sense but it seems to have disappeared."

"It is strange," Angie agreed. "Another strange thing is that phone call I just got. There's a couple down at the gate wanting to talk to someone about the admiral. I told them to come on up."

"Any idea who they are or what they want?"

"Nope," she answered with disinterest.

"Well, I'll stick around and see what they want."

A few minutes later, an older couple walked into the office escorted by a security guard, their eyes sad as they acknowledged the two others in the room.

"Captain Crane, Miss Wood, this is Ed and Lucy Gathers."

"Thanks, Chuck. Please, come in," Angie welcomed with a forced attempt at a smile as she ushered them to chairs outside the admiral's office. "I was told you wanted to talk about the admiral?"

"Yes, we did. We heard this morning about how the search for Admiral Nelson has been called off and we…well we wanted to come here and tell you about an encounter we had a few days ago…early Sunday morning actually," Ed responded.

"An encounter?" Lee asked, sitting down by their sides, interest on his face.

"Yes. We were sailing down from Crescent City, California, headed to the marina in San Diego to see our boy who's stationed at the naval base there. Anyways, we were about ten miles off the coast of San Diego, when we ran into some trouble. We lost the wind and our engine up and died on us. We started drifting while I tried to figure out what was wrong but didn't have much luck. Anyways, a nice big sailing yacht came up beside us after we'd been drifting for a bit and helped us out. Had a nice chat with the man while he fixed the motor easy as you please. We were astonished to find out he was none other than Admiral Harriman Nelson! Well, me and the missus were shocked he'd take the time to help us out but he did. We thanked him for helping us and asked him where he was headed. Said he was going to the same marina we were in San Diego to ride the storm out and joked that he'd race us there. Said there was a big storm comin' and he wasn't about to be caught out in it. He was going to contact you all here and tell you where he was moored. From what we read, he didn't do that."

"No, he didn't. Did you see him again?" Lee asked, a frown on his face.

"Well, no. We were just about to get underway when we saw another boat…a big power boat…seemed to be having some engine trouble also by the sound the engine was making coming toward us and he waited for it."

"Did you see who it was?"

"It was a man…maybe 40 or 45, with long, blondish hair, slim. Had a thin face with round spectacles on. Admiral Nelson muttered something when the boat got nearer…a name maybe. Anyways, he told us we should get going to make sure we got to shelter before the storm hit, so we did. As we were heading off we turned back and watched them. Admiral Nelson tied the guy's boat off and…well, he looked like he was mad. Like whoever the guy was, he didn't want to talk to him."

"But he did?" Lee asked puzzled where they were going with the story.

"Yeah. It looked like they were arguing. Well, Nelson was angry. We could see that. The other guy just looked…don't know what..."

"He looked smug," Lucy said, speaking up for the first time.

"Yeah, you're right, Lucy. He looked smug. Like he knew something Admiral Nelson didn't."

"But what?" Angie asked.

"Don't really know. We watched them for a bit but we lost sight of them when the wind started to pick up and the waves increased."

"And you say this was only ten miles off the coast?"

"Yep. We only had a short run and got to San Diego by noon. Never saw the admiral there though but it is a large marina. He might have been some place on the other side for all we know."

"Can you describe the admiral's boat?" Lee asked.

"Forty…forty-five foot Columbia sailboat. Blue sails with yellow borders. Trim on the boat was blue. Name on the back read The Folly."

Lee sighed heavily. "That's the admiral's boat all right."

"What do you think it means, Lee?" Angie asked.

"I don't know. If he was that close, he should have made it to the harbor in plenty of time ahead of the storm. Can you describe the other boat?" Lee asked.

"Just a run of the mill power boat. Big one. Mighta been a rental," Ed answered with a shrug.

"It had the name Seaforth Boat Rentals on the back," Lucy said decisively. "Out of Harbor Island."

The other three looked at her in surprise. "You're sure?"

"Yep. I remember things like that…license plate numbers, faces…bumper stickers…logos on the backs of cars or boats…don't know why, I just do."

"You never told me that, Lucy," Ed said in surprise.

"You never asked me, Ed," she grumbled.

"You said the admiral muttered something…a name. Do you remember what it might have been?" Lee asked intently, a spark of something flickering to life in his chest.

The two looked at each other for a second before Ed nodded to her. "I'm not sure," Lucy replied uncertainly. "It was French sounding to me…like De something…Dejardin? Or DeGeorge or…"

"DeJean?" Lee asked in a harsh voice, leaning forward in his chair. "Was it DeJean?"

"DeJean! That's what it was! Does that mean anything to you?" Lucy asked.

"Yeah, it means something all right. You're sure of everything you've told us?"

"Wouldn't lie about any of it. Not sure really why we thought you needed to know but our son told us we should come here and talk to you."

"Well, we're grateful you did. Angie did you write down what they said?" Lee asked as he and the Gathers rose.

"I did," she said with a quizzical look.

Lee held his hand out to the couple. "Thank you for coming here and telling us about the last time you saw Admiral Nelson. It means a lot to us."

"I'm sorry he's gone. He was such a nice man. He didn't have to stop and help us but he did," Lucy said quietly with a tear in her eye. "Maybe if he hadn't…he'd be alive now."

"Doubt we'd have made it to shelter before that storm hit if he hadn't helped us," Ed said quietly as he shook Lee's hand. "He probably saved our lives."

"That's the kind of man he was," Lee answered softly as he escorted the couple to the door, opened it, and gestured to the guard waiting patiently outside. "Chuck? Could you escort the Gathers down to their car?"

"Yes sir."

"And I want to thank you both for coming in," Lee said. "You don't know how much it means to us."

"Lee? What are you thinking?" Angie asked as the door closed and Lee stood by it, a thumb absently stroking his lip in a gesture that reminded her painfully of the admiral.

"I don't know, Angie. I don't know."

"You're thinking the same thing I am, aren't you? Charles DeJean did something to the admiral," she spat out angrily.

"Maybe," he answered quietly as he walked back to the chair and threw himself into it. "But what? Contact this rental place and find out if Charles DeJean rented a boat from them and when. Find out if he brought it back. And if DeJean didn't rent one, find out if any boats were rented but not returned. I'll be in the admiral's office," he said, launching himself from the chair and striding off with a bit of a spring in his steps.

Lee entered Nelson's office and studiously avoided looking at the neat desk in front of him. Walking to the window overlooking the ocean below, he clenched his jaw in anger and frustration as he remembered Charles DeJean. A little over three months ago, Admiral Nelson had discovered DeJean, hired almost a year ago for NIMR's new Bioprospecting Research Division, was working clandestinely late at night on developing drugs he planned to sell to the highest bidders. Most were designer drugs such as psychotropics, but one of them was a drug that could cause intense pain to anyone injected with it. When Nelson had discovered what he was doing and saw the research for himself of that particular drug's intentions, and its prospective buyers, he'd blanched then became enraged that someone he trusted, someone he respected, would manufacture such a heinous drug and do it on NIMR property and with NIMR funds.

The admiral had confiscated the drugs found in his NIMR lab and notified authorities. Charges were brought against DeJean, but before he could be arrested, he'd packed up and vanished, promising revenge on the admiral, the Institute and anyone connected with Nelson in any way with bodily harm.

After a few months with no sign of the man or his promised retribution, they'd let their guard down and had gone about their business. But what if DeJean had only been waiting, biding his time? If so, what had he done? Nelson knew of DeJean's threats and had taken them seriously. He wouldn't have just invited the man onboard, then turned his back. Would he? He ran a hand over his gritty, tired eyes and shook his head. Maybe it hadn't been Charles DeJean that the Gathers had seen. Maybe it had been someone else that had tied up at the admiral's boat. Maybe they hadn't seen what they thought they had. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Would they ever know for sure?

"Lee?"

He turned at the voice behind him and saw Angie there.

"Angie, did you get in touch with the boat rental place?"

"Yes, I did but no Charles DeJean rented a boat at any time last weekend or near then."

"Damn it! I hoped…"

"Wait…no Charles DeJean, but there is a John David Charles who hasn't returned his rental yet and he was supposed to have come back Sunday afternoon. He's one of the men the Coast Guard is looking for actually. I just checked."

"John David Charles?" Lee said thoughtfully. "That's too close to Charles David DeJean to be a coincidence. Did you ask for a description?"

"I did. According to the woman that rented the boat to him, it's the same description the Gathers gave us…thin, long blond hair, mid-forties, glasses. What does it mean, Lee?"

"I don't know, Angie. If it is DeJean…," he stopped what he was about to say, remembering the threats he had made against the admiral. "I don't know. Get Chip down here, will you? We need to talk."

Angie nodded and picked up the phone on the admiral's desk and called down to Chip's office, asking him to come down.

A short time later, Chip came into the admiral's office and watched as Lee paced back and forth in front of the window.

"Lee? What's up?"

Crane stopped his pacing and gave a brief synopsis of what the Gathers had told him and what Angie had found out.

"So, what are you thinking?" Chip asked as he seated himself in a chair by the admiral's desk beside Angie and watched Lee resumed pacing.

"What I'm thinking is DeJean did something to the admiral."

"Did something?" Chip asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You have to think it's suspicious, don't you? A man answering to DeJean's description goes onboard the admiral's boat hours before he's lost at sea. Don't you find that a big coincidence?" Lee asked as he seated himself on the edge of the desk and faced Chip who leaned back in his chair.

"It may not be DeJean at all, Lee. Just because the name sounded French doesn't mean it was him."

"Or it may be him. And if it is and he killed the admiral, I'm going to make him pay," Lee said harshly.

"All this is fine but what are we going to do? How are we going to find out if it was DeJean and where he took the admiral?" Angie asked, a hard edge to her voice.

"Took him? Why wouldn't he just kill him? He hated the admiral," Chip said.

"He did hate the admiral and when he left here after the admiral had told him he'd found out what he was doing, he was livid. He threatened to make the admiral pay. DeJean's not right in the head. I don't think he'd just kill him. It's too easy," Angie said with a catch in her voice. "I think he'd want to hurt him. Badly."

Chip looked to Lee who had closed his eyes, pondering what Angie had said. "Hurt him badly. But how? If the admiral hadn't confiscated that drug from the lab I'd think he was using it on him. But the admiral made sure it was all seized. And if it is DeJean, where would he have taken him?"

"Where? He could have taken him anywhere," Chip said angrily throwing his hands in the air.

"Look, we're kind of jumping to conclusions aren't we?" Lee asked quietly. "Maybe…maybe I just want him to be alive so badly I'm grasping at straws."

"How do we find out though? I'd rather be looking for a way for the admiral to be alive than sitting out there crying some more," Angie said quietly.

"Chip? How about you and I take a little road trip."

"To?"

"San Diego. Seaforth Boat Rentals, specifically."

"Let's do it," Chip agreed rising quickly.

"Angie, we'll keep you informed of what we find out," Lee said as he began to follow Chip.

"Lee? Do you think…is there any way he could still be alive?" Angie asked in a small voice.

"I don't know, Angie. I want to believe it. More than anything I've ever wanted before. I just don't know," he said clasping her on the shoulder.

"Well, we're never going to know until we get moving," Chip said heading out the door quickly, Lee on his heels.