Seawolf End Game (6 page)

“Listen,” Brodie said showing rare frustration, “I’m sorry she’s got problems. But everyone on this boat’s got problems. If she didn’t want to swim with the big boys she should have kept her ass in the shallow end of the pool, shouldn’t she?”

COB blinked his eyes as if he’d been struck deaf and dumb. He shook his head as he slipped off the sail and stood on the bridge. “Someone fucking pinch me,” COB swore to the air in disbelief. He looked up at Brodie incredulously. “What the hell has gotten into you?” COB asked, forgetting about Kristen. He’d known something was eating at Brodie for several weeks but had assumed it was world events. Now he was having second thoughts.

“I’m fine,” Brodie snapped, his fingers white knuckling the edge of the sail.

“The hell you are,” COB said as he pointed an accusing finger at his captain’s chest. “You ain’t sleeping. Gibbs says you ain’t eating. You work out on that fucking machine in your cabin like you’re trying to torture yourself. Now, what the hell is going on?”  COB had never spoken to him like this before, never imagining he would have to, but he was beginning to fear that after four years in command of the
Seawolf,
Brodie was finally succumbing to the pressure. It couldn’t be easy commanding a submarine with one hundred and forty men at the best of times. And this was hardly the best of times. Not to mention because of his reputation, the Navy had been feeding the hairiest, most sensitive and critical jobs to the
Seawolf
for several years now—jobs that had kept Brodie on the ragged edge for a very long time. Perhaps too long.

“Just worry about the crew, Master Chief,” Brodie said, not looking at his friend.

COB again blinked his eyes, not recalling Brodie ever calling him anything other than Spike. It was like an invisible wall had descended around Brodie. COB could see Brodie’s powerful forearms tense. He looked angry and he appeared to be literally fighting to control himself. “I
am
worrying about the crew, Captain!” COB said more formally than he could recall ever having spoken to Brodie when they were alone together. “But I don’t understand you anymore,” COB told him bluntly, trying to jar some sense back into his friend. “Three days ago you tell me and the XO to lookout for her, maybe get her off the boat and let her blow off some steam. Now you’re going to sit there like a fucking statue and tell me you don’t give a shit?” COB again jabbed an angry finger at Brodie. “Well, I ain’t buying it.”

COB had expected many possible reactions. He’d even anticipated Brodie’s legendary anger bubbling over and punching him in the jaw. He would have welcomed that reaction, knowing that if anyone on the
Seawolf
needed to blow off steam, it was the captain. But Brodie’s response was the exact opposite of what COB had hoped for.

He slipped off the sail and glanced at COB. “Best get back to work, Master Chief,” Brodie advised coolly, the mask of command he wore around everyone else descending across his face. “I’ve got a boat to run.”

COB watched disbelievingly as Brodie, without so much as another word on the subject, climbed down into the sail, disappearing. COB had been worried about Brodie before, now he was nearly frantic to get down below and find Graves, hoping that between the two of them they might figure out what was eating away at their friend.

COB found Graves in the wardroom. The two of them went forward into the empty torpedo room where they could talk in private. Graves listened intently as COB explained what had happened, finishing with, “I’ve seen the Blade fiery mad, I’ve seen him drunk as a skunk, I’ve seen him in the control room under attack, and I’ve seen him quietly comforting a sobbing midshipman who just learned his mother’s dead. But, I’ve never seen him like this, Jason,” COB explained in worry. “Something’s wrong, and he won’t talk to me.”

Graves nodded his head thoughtfully, and COB had the distinct impression Graves had been worrying about Brodie, too. “I’ll talk to him.”

“I was thinking we might take him out and pour some booze into him. Maybe get him laid or something,” COB offered, knowing Brodie wasn’t a whore chaser, but COB was feeling a bit desperate at the moment.

“No,” Graves replied thoughtfully. “I think I might have an idea what this is about.”

“Do you mind cluing me in?” COB asked in frustration.

The three men had been together a long time, and secrets weren’t something they generally kept between one another. Graves looked around the torpedo room, making certain they were alone. Then, in a hushed voice, explained his concerns to COB.

USS Seawolf, Sasebo, Japan

K
risten pulled her heels back on once she reached the deck. She preferred loafers instead of the regulation pumps, but the uniform for the formal dinner called for mess dress. So, considering she was now in a floor-length skirt, pumps were the order of the evening. Once the uncomfortable heels were in place, she crossed over to the pier where the rest of the
Seawolf’s
officers were gathered alongside a fourteen-passenger van. She greeted the others who were looking a bit uncomfortable in uniforms that, for most of her fellow officers, hadn’t seen a tailor shop in about twenty pounds.

Graves, whose uniform fit perfectly, was checking a couple of his officers, adjusting a few ties and making certain everyone looked as presentable as possible.

“Good evening, sir,” Kristen greeted him with a salute.

He was working on Ski’s bowtie and apparently having no luck. “Are you any good with ties, Lieutenant?” he asked.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Kristen answered with a smile and took over. “Good evening, sir,” she said politely to Ski as he lifted his chin so she could work on the drama dangling from his collar.

“Good evening,” Ski replied as he fidgeted in a uniform that looked a size too small.

The tiny harbor was absolutely packed with naval vessels that had sped from their various patrol areas across the globe to reach the Sea of Japan. Many of these vessels were undergoing necessary repairs before, potentially, heading into battle off the coast of Korea. 

“Why the hell do we have to wear these damn monkey suits,” Ski grumbled as Kristen finished.

“Admiral’s orders,” Graves reminded him. “Admiral Griffith has a thing for formal occasions, and with so many ships in port, he thought it a perfect time for a gala.” Officers from every ship had been invited to a formal dinner at the officers’ club overlooking the anchorage.

Kristen looked around the harbor, seeing the dozens of brightly illuminated ships, knowing that most of them had come from halfway around the world to reach the region in the event of war. But, because of what the
Seawolf
had learned from Dr. Dar-Hyun, she knew the North Koreans had no intention of invading the South and had simply been bluffing. Therefore all of these ships had made the journey for—what appeared to be—nothing. The reason behind why North Korea had decided to bluff on such a grand scale was still a mystery to her.

“Is the skipper coming?” Ski asked Graves. “I haven’t seen him in days.”

The captain had been spending an inordinate amount of time ashore at the base headquarters. Kristen wasn’t privy to just what these meetings entailed, but speculation in the wardroom was that it had to do with the real reason the North Koreans had risked war.

“He should be here,” Graves replied. “Unless he got called away again.”

Several officers looked around for their missing captain before Terry motioned toward the end of the pier. “There he is.”

Kristen was now helping Ryan Walcott with his tie and turned her head reflexively to see her captain.  Brodie, in his own mess dress uniform, was walking up the pier out of the darkness. A smoldering cigar was tucked between two fingers of his bandaged left hand, and his right hand was tucked away jauntily in his trouser pocket. She hadn’t expected him to wear the regulation cover like everyone else, and he wasn’t. Kristen turned her attention back to Ryan’s tie. Despite her best effort, Brodie was still a distraction to her, but she was determined to suppress whatever it was she was feeling regarding him.

“Everyone here?” Brodie asked after receiving a flock of salutes from his officers and responding with a polite nod of his head.

Kristen turned after finishing Ryan’s tie so she could face her captain, but at the same time she avoided eye contact with him. He took a few puffs on the cigar and reminded his officers there would be a “butt load” of admirals and other senior officers who would not think too kindly of a submarine load of drunken officers throwing up all over the head table, so they needed to watch their manners and “be on their best behavior.”

The officers’ club was brilliantly illuminated with electric and torch lighting. A massive main hall was positioned along the rear of the club and, beyond a series of large glass doors, was an equally expansive patio. The club was built on a hill overlooking the anchorage, with a gentle slope leading down to a road at the base of the hill. So with so many vessels in port, the view was spectacular for anyone who loved the Navy.

The evening began with a cocktail hour, which consisted of nothing but water over ice for Kristen despite her fellow officers encouraging her to tempt fate with a cocktail. But she managed to avoid having alcohol without too much trouble. Brodie had been drawn away from his officers almost immediately by a group of half a dozen ships’ captains, and she soon lost sight of him, for which she was thankful. Although she suspected he might be avoiding her, she knew she was doing her best to stay away from him. Simply put, she didn’t trust herself to think objectively around him anymore.

“You look nice tonight,” Terry offered her as they waited together for the doors to the banquet hall to open.

“So do you,” she offered with a friendly smile. “You clean up pretty good for a rogue.” She looked around the crowd wondering if he’d already found a date for the evening out of the handful of female officers present. “I would have thought you’d be out hunting already.”

“What makes you think I’m not?” he answered with the same devilishly handsome smile Kristen had come to expect from him.

“Won’t you ever quit?” she asked as she rolled her eyes, no longer taking him seriously.

“Hey, I am what I am,” Terry shrugged innocently.

Graves joined the other
Seawolf
officers, and with him was a British Navy commander.  Everyone turned to greet the British officer as the XO introduced him. “This is Commander Alec Gardener of Her Majesty’s Ship,
Audacious,”
he explained.  He was several inches shorter than Kristen and portly with flaming red hair.

Kristen nodded politely as Graves introduced her, “And this is the lady I was telling you about, Alec,” Graves said in a hushed tone.

Gardener clasped her hand with both of his as he shook her hand in greeting. “Indeed?” he asked. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Miss.”

Graves then lowered his head and explained to Kristen, “It was the
Audacious
we picked up heading out of Korea.”

“Jason tells me you heard our power plant signature,” Gardener said with a hint of skepticism.

Kristen nodded, remembering their encounter with the
Astute
class British submarine being shadowed by the Korean diesel electric boat. “Yes, sir,” she replied modestly. “We got lucky.”

“In my experience, my dear,” Gardener replied, “there is no such thing as luck.” He then spoke to Graves, “Tell Sean to hold on to this one, Jason. Otherwise I’ll steal her away.”

Graves chuckled. “No chance, Alec.”

“Bollocks!” Gardener replied with an engaging smile. “What are you drinking, my dear?”

“Water, sir.” More officers from the
Audacious
came over to meet Kristen and her fellow
Seawolf
officers.

“Water?” Gardener asked. “Good heavens, dear child!” he said scandalized. “Haven’t you heard, fish fornicate in water.”

Kristen was about to protest as Gardener ordered one of his junior officers to “fetch her a real drink,” but the XO intervened on her behalf. “The lieutenant has watch later tonight,” Graves explained with a polite lie.

“How do you know the captain, sir?” Kristen asked Gardener, liking the chubby Englishman.

“You mean Brodie?” he asked as he rolled his eyes.

“Yes, sir,” Kristen replied politely.

“I taught the bastard everything he knows,” Gardener told her pointedly.

Kristen raised her eyebrow at the defaming reference to her captain but Gardener continued, “We were students together at the Perisher Course, my dear,” Gardener explained as Brodie appeared in their midst. Gardener turned on Brodie with a mischievous grin. “And I’d have graduated at the top of my class if you hadn’t shown up, you dirty bugger!”

The Perisher Course was the Royal Navy’s submarine command course that any aspiring captain had to pass. It was generally accepted that Perisher was the most difficult command course in any Navy, and it routinely flunked out twenty-five percent of students, making the small number of qualified British submarine captains a truly elite breed.

“Hi, Alec.” Brodie shook his friend’s hand. “How’ve you been?”