TSUNAMI STORM (8 page)

Washington, D.C.

Senator Bechtel sat across from Bob Schwartz in the small coffee shop on H Street.

“What I’ve got are rumors, gossip, innuendos and suspicions. Nothing official,” Bob said.

“I didn’t think there would be anything official, this
is
Washington, after all.”

Bob smiled and continued, “There’s a connection with the HAARP facility in Gakona, Alaska and several earthquakes around the globe. I’ve had a physicist friend of mine run some calculations. He doesn’t think the High Frequency Active Auroral Research Project in Gakona has enough power to do anything like generate an earthquake. The place is supposed to be civilian in nature, for research only, but it’s funded and jointly run by the Air Force and the Office of Naval Research.”

“The Senate Intelligence Committee has been informed that we have learned everything we need to know from the Gakona operation. It’s being shut down,” she said. She was intrigued by the grin on Bob’s face. “So what aren’t you telling me?”

“Rumor has it there is another facility – new and huge. Eighteen billion in earmarked funds for projects in Alaska didn’t end up where they were supposed to be.”

“Where did the money go?” she asked, unable to suppress a mischievous grin.

“Right now, it looks like it went down the magical rabbit hole and disappeared.”

She glanced around the coffee shop. This wasn’t a smoking gun by any means, but in Washington politics, it was close enough. She dug around in her purse and handed him a card. “This is a friend at the Internal Revenue Service. Let him know you’re doing research for me. That money’s going to show up on major contractor’s tax returns and I want to know who, and what they did for the money.”

“I’ll follow the money,” he replied. “Anything else?”

“Keep digging. If there is a new large facility they’re hiding, there’s more to the story than research. Find out what it is.”

* * *

Senator Bechtel’s office had called the National Reconnaissance Office in Chantilly, Virginia the day before for an appointment. It took 24 hours to get put on the official list of visitors. Even she couldn’t get past the front door without being on the list. An armed guard escorted her to an office, opened the door and motioned for her to enter.

“Where is she?” Bechtel demanded. “I had an appointment with the Director.”

“She’s busy. I’m Brigadier General Sid Beck. To what do we owe the honor of your presence today?” Beck was six-three, broad-shouldered and physically imposing in his uniform as he stood behind his desk. She had seen him on rare occasions when he testified before the Senate Intelligence Committee.

“We are investigating the earthquake in China,” she said. “As you are probably aware, all of our people have been expelled from China. I want to see everything we have.”

The General pushed a button on the intercom. “Send Rod in.” He motioned for her to sit in a chair and said nothing else until Rod Schneider arrived.

Rod spread the satellite photos out on the desk in front of her. “Here is where the fault erupted, along this line. As you can see, the damage was extensive not only to the buildings, but to the infrastructure as well. Here you can see the Chinese Army is still clearing roads. This area has not been reached yet, nor has any relief been provided to the area over here.”

She studied the satellite photos for a few minutes before she spoke. “Do we have any satellite coverage of the actual earthquake?”

“No,” Rod replied. “We didn’t have any assets in position when the quake took place. Sorry.”

You lying little piece of shit,
she thought.
Of course you had assets in place.
She tried her best to suppress the smile that was trying to form on her face. “And who gets to see these photos?”

“The usual agencies – Central Intelligence, National Security, Defense Intelligence, the President,” Rod replied.

“The
Senate
Intelligence Committee?” she asked, the smile finally breaking forth.

“Sure,” Rod replied. “Just put in a request. I’ll bring them to you personally.”

“Anything new or unusual taking place in China?”

“Like what?” Rod asked.

“Any new movement or activity by their military?”

“There’s a lot of activity because of the earthquake. Is there something in particular you’re concerned about?”

“Anything not associated with the earthquake?” she asked.

Rod glanced at General Beck and then returned his attention to her. “Nothing we’ve noticed. Any specific area you would like us to examine?”

“Any change in commercial freighters leaving Chinese ports?”

Rod glanced again at General Beck. She saw the general nod slightly.
Now we’re getting somewhere.

“No freighters have left a Chinese port in the last 48 hours.”

Her stomach tightened noticeably at this news. “Are any freighters being loaded with shipping containers?”

“No. Anything else you need to know?”

She looked at the General and then back at Rod. She smiled and replied, “No. I think we’ve covered everything. Thank you so much for your time.” She was escorted back to the front door by the armed guard.
Well that was quite the performance,
she thought.
Very rehearsed and calculated. The questions were a nice touch. Not every day I get interrogated by an intelligence agency. And if ships aren’t leaving Chinese ports, in 10 days our ports are going to be empty, followed by hundreds of thousands of stores, and then millions of upset customers.

* * *

“Alexa, get Ann Miller over here. I need her services,” she said as she entered her office. Twenty minutes later Ann Miller, a partner in a large private investigative company, sat across from Bechtel.

“Who are we gathering dirt on today?” Ann asked.

“Rod Schneider of the National Reconnaissance Office. The little prick lied to me, and for that he’s going to pay.”

Ann’s eyebrows rose. “He’s the liaison between the NRO and the Pentagon. It’s not like I can have him followed.”

“I need to find out who he’s talking to. Use your assets – talk to girlfriends, mistresses, boyfriends, secret lovers. I need pillow talk, rumors, gossip – anything you think might be even marginally reliable. Talk to clerks, receptionists, anyone who might see where this guy goes and who he talks to.”

“How soon?”

Bechtel paused as she glanced up at the ceiling. “One week? Will that give you enough time?”

“Let’s see what shakes out at that time. Then we can decide if we need to go deeper.”

Submarine Squadron 5, Bangor, Washington

Lieutenant Tiffany Grimes had heard the stories about “the room”, but this was her first time inside. The room was actually a steel compartment housed inside a much larger building. In many ways it duplicated a compartment common to many different ships in the Navy, with steel bulkheads, overhead and floor, referred to as a deck. One watertight door led through a small four-foot long passageway with another watertight door on the outside. What made the room different from every other compartment on a Navy ship were the pumps, pipes and salt water tanks surrounding the room and the nature of the pipes, tubes, bulkheads and door inside the room. Every single item inside the room was designed to leak. The entire room was also mounted on hydraulic cylinders so it could move and tip, duplicating battle conditions on an actual ship.

“I am the Damage Control Officer on the
Massachusetts
,” Lieutenant Roger Kent said. He was five-eleven, muscular with a rugged face, and ears close to his head. Partially due to his name, and his job, the crew referred to him as
Superman
. Kent stood with his feet a foot apart and his fists on his hips. “I am here to guide you through this training. Lieutenant Grimes is your commanding officer. You answer to her, she answers to me. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir” came from the crew of ten sailors in the room. Petty Officer First Class Caleb Johnson was the senior enlisted member of the Torpedo Techs, and the only one to have gone through the Damage Control training before. The rest of the crew consisted of a Petty Officer Second Class, four Petty Officers Third Class, and four Seamen.

Tiffany breathed deeply, trying to calm the anxiety that had been building all morning during the classroom portion of the training where the damage control equipment and practices were taught. Now it was all hands-on. She glanced at the cameras in the upper corners that fed to a control room.
The Captain is going to be out there, watching,
she thought. Her heart began pounding as she heard the huge pumps start up outside the room. Lieutenant Kent looked at her and nodded his head. She turned to her crew. “This is it, gentlemen. Prioritize. Big leaks first, small leaks last.”

The collision alarm sounded, piercing the small room with an intensity she hadn’t expected. A loud bang and a strong jolt from the wall opposite the door startled everyone as cold sea water started spraying from a split tube in the overhead. The split tube was too high to reach from the deck.

“Tube clamp!” Tiffany shouted over the sound of the alarm. “Patrick, you’re smaller. Get the clamp. You, and you, lift him up so he can reach the split.”
Damn,
she cursed to herself, w
hy can’t I remember all of their names? They’re new to the boat and I just met them this morning, but they’re my crew. I need to know them better than this.

A second loud noise accompanied by another sideward jolt and a powerful spray emanated from a large pipe on the bulkhead. The force of the sea water coming from the side knocked the three men down before the clamp could be secured.

“Johnson, pipe clamp!” she shouted as she pointed to the leak.

A popping sound at the end of the room drew her attention as a metal fitting flew across the room. Water streamed violently from a now open pipe. The lights began flickering, plunging the room into a series of flashes and partial darkness.

“Guzman, medium round pipe plug!” she shouted, pointing to the end of the room. Water was now over their ankles and rising fast. A split in the steel bulkhead began sending more water cascading into the room. “You, wood wedges, now!” she shouted as she grabbed a pack of wedges and headed toward the wall. The room listed to the side as more water poured in.

“Lieutenant Grimes,” Lieutenant Kent yelled over the increasing din. “You are the eyes and ears of the team. Look around you!”

Tiffany quickly scanned the room. Water gushed in around the water tight door. “Lector, extendable pole! Wedge the door closed from here!” She pointed to a pipe bracket welded to the bulkhead. “Another pole, here!” she shouted. The water was now over her knees. Two more pipes initiated their contribution to the flooding compartment with more noise and shaking of the room, and then another crack in the bulkhead spewed forth even more cold sea water.
There’re more leaks than I have people,
she realized as the water rose over her waist.

A loud ringing bell sounded as the powerful pumps fell silent; the inundation of the sea water ceased and drains opened in the deck. She looked down at the receding water level.
My first test as a commanding officer, and I failed. In front of Captain Jacobs and my crew, I failed.

A Petty Officer Third Class on her crew approached her. “Ma’am? It’s Hector, not Lector.”

“What?”

“My name, ma’am. It’s Hector, not Lector.”

Her brain was spinning and her face flushed. “I’m so sorry, Hector, I…”

“It’s okay, ma’am. Just thought you should know.”

I should know,
she thought as she watched him walk out of the room.
I should know them all.
Guilt flooded her crying heart. She mustered all of her strength to keep from crying out loud. As the last of the water swirled down the drain she stepped out of the room and joined her soaking wet crew gathered around Lieutenant Kent.

“The purpose of the room is to prepare you for a real emergency. Today was the easiest challenge you will face during your training in the room this week. As you all now realize, speed and efficiency are the keys to surviving a real emergency. You will spend the rest of the day at the eight stations around the practice area over here. Five teams of two, we will trade partners every thirty minutes. Go for speed, efficiency and teamwork.”

Tiffany stood with her head hanging low, wracked with guilt and shame.
If this is what being in command is like, I can’t do it. I can’t.

“Head up, Lieutenant,” Kent said firmly. “Your crew knows you feel bad. They do, too. That’s not the point.”

“Then what
is
the point?” she asked, doing her best to hold back the tears.

“Two points, actually,” he replied more gently. “First, you make the rounds with your crew as they practice. As long as one of them is here, so are you. Get to know them, encourage them, and help them learn the skills they need to do their job with excellence and proficiency. Second, let that strong sense of courage you have within you show through – not flashy, not showy – just the calm, firm courage I know is in there. If you don’t waver, they won’t. When you stand firm, they will, too.”

“But my failure today…”

“Is a starting point, not a destination,” he said. “You’re in that room to put into practice all of the leadership skills you learned at Annapolis. You’re there to bond with your crew, and to allow them to bond with you. By the end of this week, they will be
your
crew, and you will be
their
officer
. Trust me. Now go be with your crew.”

She walked slowly over to the first practice station, still badly shaken by her experience in the room. Petty Officer First Class Caleb Johnson was there working with one of the seamen.

“Hey, Lieutenant,” he said. “You did alright in there today.”

“No, I didn’t,” she replied, the feeling of shame rising within her.

Johnson chuckled. “No, really, you did. This is my second time through the room. The first time, the Lieutenant we had, he literally crapped in his pants.”

“No,” she said incredulously.

“Yes,” he replied. “True story.”

“So what happened to him after that?”

“He recovered. Last I heard he was the executive officer on a Los Angeles Class sub out of Charleston, South Carolina.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah, really,” he said with his eyebrows raised and a slight nod of his head. “You did alright. They set the room up to create a visceral fear response. If someone is going to freeze in an emergency, they want to know now, instead of waiting until there’s a real emergency out at sea.”

“Thank you,” she said as she moved to the next practice station. “Petty officer Hector,” she said, as she smiled at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, mild embarrassment showing on his face. “I’m Oscar Ramirez Hector. Think Hannibal Lector, the cannibal – his H comes on the first name, not the last. Mine comes on the last name.” He smiled. “Just to help you remember.”

Tiffany managed a small chuckle. “I’ll remember. How could I forget now? Where are you from?”

“Austin, Texas, ma’am, Longhorns fan.”

“You picked a good team, Hector.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She continued around the practice area talking with her crew.
They aren’t ashamed of me. They’re good people, just like back home. Maybe I can do this after all.

* * *

Tiffany settled in at a table in the Officers’ Club for dinner, ordered, and waited for her food to arrive. Lieutenant Kent approached.

“May I?” he asked as he nodded toward the chair opposite her.

She waved her hand toward the chair without saying anything.

“You order?” he asked.

She simply nodded, trying to hide her embarrassment from earlier in the
da
y
.

He signaled for a steward, who came over and took his order. She watched Kent’s confidence and ease with envy. She felt anything but confident and at ease. Kent leaning back in his chair with a quick smile wasn’t helping.

“Everybody’s first day in the room is a bad day,” he said. “They set the bar high for a good reason – out at sea, an emergency is life and death – no time outs, no redo, no second chances. By the end of the week you’ll be ready to take on any challenge. Just let that quiet inner strength show through.”

She looked down and scoffed. “How would you know anything about what’s inside me?”

He chuckled, and glanced down as his grin spread across his face. He looked up. “You don’t remember me,” he said. “No reason you should, really. But I remember you.”

She looked up, feeling bewildered. He must have read the look on her face.

“I was two years ahead of you at Annapolis – graduated in the top third of my class – nothing you should have noticed. But you – you, people noticed.”

She nodded. “A woman in a man’s world.”

He laughed. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It wasn’t about being a woman. The navy’s gotten used to women going through their hallowed halls.”

The steward arrived with their meals, placed the dishes, filled the coffee cups and asked if there was anything else. There wasn’t. She took a sip of coffee, waiting for him to continue. He shook out the napkin and placed it on his lap.

“Where was I?” he asked.

“Annapolis,” she said.

“Honestly, you were the most amazing person to hit Annapolis in years – academics, physical training, discipline, and honor – the entire faculty was talking about you. It was like you were born to be there.”

She shook her head. “Those four years were the hardest, most terrifying years of my life.”

He smiled again. “Where in your class did you graduate?”

“Second,” she replied.

He looked up at the ceiling and nodded. “They couldn’t bring themselves to let you be first. As far as the navy has come – they just couldn’t do it.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Your inner strength, your courage – you inspired other people. You inspired me. I was struggling in the bottom half of my class. I didn’t think I could finish. Then I heard about Cadet Tiffany Grimes. I watched how you dug for the very last bit of strength in physical training, the last remaining effort in academics. I saw how your determination and courage stood, like an immovable force, against all challenges. Watching you gave me the strength to push myself harder, further, and beyond what I thought I could do. I spent my last year following your example. I graduated in the top third of my class because of you.”

She was stunned by his revelation. None of her instructors at Annapolis had said anything like this to her. Yes, they were all proud of what she accomplished, but it was as if they had expected her to do well. She was too focused on the struggle to see the rest of it.

He sliced into his steak and started eating as she sat there trying to collect her thoughts. She didn’t know if she could eat after that or not. She tried some of the scalloped potatoes. Maybe she was hungry after all.

“So where’d you transfer in from?” she asked.

“The
Connecticut
, I was the torpedo room officer for two years. Damage Control officer on the
Massachusetts
got promoted to Lieutenant Commander and moved to Executive Officer on a Virginia class sub. I moved into his slot.”

“Family?” she asked.

“Army brat, not married, no brothers or sisters. You?”

“My dad’s a disabled Marine Corp Major, oldest brother, James, is a Major in the Marines now, middle brother, Howard’s a Captain in the army. Danny is the youngest brother. He didn’t go into the military. He’s a police detective in the Staunton Police Department.”