My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

23

For most of today, I enjoyed the view from my front porch under the ice, but when Chip surfaced in a patch of unfettered sea, I hightailed it to the conning tower as quickly as he had.  The air revitalization system needed a break from the constantly re-filtered air, not that we wanted to reduce speed, but I’d agreed with Chip that a few minutes topside wouldn’t make much difference to our speed.

“Mr. Morton,” Sparks called on the PA, “Colonel Sanders on the line for you. Thule Air Base, Greenland.”

“This is Acting Captain Morton,” Chip responded through  the mike.

“Colonel Sanders on this end, and please, no jokes about fried chicken.”

“Wouldn’t  dream of it. What can I do for you, Colonel?”

“Well, our planes couldn’t help noticing you, and we don’t get to see fellow American’s up here often. We were hoping you and Admiral Nelson might care to stop by and shoot the breeze. Most of our airmen, mechanics and pilots, would love to talk to you about your  fabulous flying sub.”

“Any other time, sir,” Chip said, “we’d be delighted, but right now there’s a situation in Europe and....”

“I should have realized that Seaview was on alert with the fleet.”

“She’s not, technically,  but we do have a vested interest.”

“Yes, of course. I met Captain Nelson-Crane when he was an ensign. I’d had to bail out due to a systems failure in my jet, and was in the hospital. I don’t know what had happened to him. Rumor had it that the brass was complaining that he was fearless to the point of recklessness and they didn’t know what to do with him. He looked a mess and no doubt was in a lot of pain but would you believe he palmed some of his meds? Was adamant that he’d heal faster if he wasn’t asleep 24/7. Not true of course. Sleep is the best medicine there is. In the end they moved him out of the six person ward, they had things set up like that back then, and into a private room. He was still in the hospital when I was discharged and frankly I lost track of him. I was pleasantly surprised to discover his name later on in the Stars & Stripes when he snagged his first command. And years later when he left active service to take command of Seaview....it was really too bad about his accident. He had a brilliant career ahead of him.”

“He still does, Colonel.”

“Oh, yes. I forgot for a moment that the blindness may be temporary."
"And I meant that blind or seeing, he's still a valuable member of NIMR. Well, sir, it’s been really nice talking with you, but I really have to get Seaview below. We’ve been topside a few more minutes than planned. Perhaps when this thing is all over, we can drop by on our way home. I’m sure the admiral would like to meet you.”

“That would be great. Well, bon voyage, anchors aweigh or whatever it is you bubbleheads say. Over and out.”

Later I tried, I really tried, to enjoy the French Onion Soup that Cookie had prepared for lunch. I think I’m the only person aboard who didn’t actually like it. When Cookie wanted to know what was wrong, I used my trump card, and said it must have been the imitation Parmesan Cheese he’d made the croutons with. Thank goodness Chip had told me about complaints from the mess specialists that there was only the fake powdered stuff aboard.

“Urgent call from ONI,” Sparks called over the PA without preamble “I’ve put it on the monitors.”

“Nelson?” Admiral Cartwright began. "We have a problem.”

“Go on,” I said, my heart in my stomach.

“Crane’s missing. His tracer and bug simply quit….”

“So he is on assignment.”

“No, no, no. But even he had the sense to use them. Anyway, Jackson lost track of him when  he, Jackson, had to use the head. They were in the Louvre and the fire alarm went off. You can imagine the chaos. And it was a false alarm too. Louvre officials are saying, publicly at least, that since the captain’s the only person reported missing, they think he may have simply have gotten lost and are increasing the search to the normally off limits sections of the building. But...here’s the kicker. When the security surveillance cameras were checked by police, they found someone who looked like Lee, at least from the back, in front of the Mona Lisa apparently listening to the audio guide, just before the fire alarm rang and the cameras went offline. But look, there,” he released the image to a split screen, “at the man to his right. Way too close to him. Experts think that glint in his hand is possibly a knife at Lee’s back. The man on Lee’s left, see there, is holding something that what looks like a remote control. That’s what’s really worrying  Washington.”

He clicked the picture to enlarge it more.

“It looks almost identical to the one Ozno used to blow up those ships," he continued. "Now, it may be that Lee was kidnapped by another criminal element. Lee knows too much. Vital data our enemies would pay for. But most of us think that these men were acting under Ozno’s direction. And the fire alarm was just too damn convenient, as was the camera breakdown.

“It’s likely these men used some kind of threat, especially if they had a control devise to blow up something, to get Lee to go with them. Where, how, God only knows. For all we know Lee could be miles away now. Harriman, you’d better prepare yourself. If this is Ozno’s work, remember the United States won’t bargain with terrorists. Oh, and before you ask, nothing had been disturbed from their hotel room.”

“Lee couldn’t just have vanished into thin air!” Chip said. “And how the hell did Lee’s tracker and bug just ‘quit’?”

“We don’t know what kind of technology we may be dealing with. Or,” Cartwright paused, “Lee may have turned them off himself...”

“I find that hard to believe,” I said.

“If it was for a good reason, there’s no telling what he might do.”

Yes, there’s no telling what he might do if he feels he has to. God help him.

I’ve ordered the flying sub be made ready for my departure to Paris. Not that I can do anything but wait.