The Last Goodbye

By

Beth

Harriman Nelson, owner of the submarine Seaview and the marine research institute that bore his name sat behind his paper-strewn, ornate desk, a phone trapped against his left ear as he fumbled for a cigarette, lighting it quickly.

“Sounds like a wonderful opportunity, George! I can’t see anything on my schedule for the next two months that can’t be delegated,” he said in an excited tone as he flipped open his massive calendar and perused it quickly. “But I should check with my staff and make sure there’s nothing I’m forgetting. If it all works out, I could have someone fly me out there in the Flying Sub and be there by…oh Monday.”

A knock on his office door caused Nelson to put his hand over the receiver and call out a brusque, “Come!” Smiling, he saw his tall captain, Lee Crane, whatever he was about to say abruptly halted when he saw his boss on the phone.

“Yes…I think that all sounds magnificent, George. I’ve seen the photos from your press release when Triton was first powered up. I must admit to being quite excited by what I saw. The sheer scope of what you’ve done there is amazing! And I can’t even begin to imagine what kinds of breakthroughs you’ll achieve there. All right then…I’ll get back to you shortly. Thanks, George.”

Harry put the phone down and sat staring at it with an enigmatic look on his face as he tapped his fingers on the desk, his mind worlds away from NIMR.

“Admiral?” Lee called softly after a few minutes had gone by. “Angie said you wanted to see me?”

“Oh, Lee! Yes,” he said excitedly. “That was George Sorenson from Scripps! You’ve heard about their institute’s new sea lab?”

“You mean Triton?” Lee asked with a grin, knowing how enthused Nelson was whenever he talked about the newest underwater research station.

“Yes, Triton! George has asked me to fly there and spend some time on Triton…do some experiments and research with his scientists.”

“That sounds like a great opportunity, Admiral!” Lee replied, knowing Nelson rarely took the time for vacations and pleased his friend seemed so excited about the prospect. “How long would you be gone?”

“Well, that’s the thing, Lee. George said two months,” he answered as he rose from his seat and began walking about his office, his cigarette waving in the air as he walked. “I’ve looked over the schedules and there’s nothing that you and Chip can’t handle in my stead. With Seaview’s crew on an extended shore leave and only that one minor cruise planned in about…oh…six weeks I think, I can’t see a reason to not tell George I’d come, can you?”

“No sir, I can’t,” Lee agreed, smiling as he watched Nelson resume his pacing, one hand rubbing over the side of his head as he walked, lost in thought.

“That cruise as I said is minor. I could reschedule it I suppose but it’s something you and Chip can handle easily enough. Or I could ask Roy Park to go along on the cruise,” he reasoned, naming an old navy friend that had stood in for Nelson when situations didn’t allow Nelson to go out on a mission, as he continued to pace and chatter, almost as if he was unaware he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary, sir. The cruise is hardly complicated. As I said, I think it sounds like a great opportunity for you! I know how closely you’ve been watching Triton’s construction.”

“Yes, yes I have. It’s a remarkable project, Lee!” he exclaimed as he walked to his desk, stubbed out the remnants of his cigarette and rifled through a stack of papers, searching through it until he found a folder. Pulling it out from the pile, he handed it to Lee.

Opening it, Lee pulled several photographs from it and whistled softly. “This is the completed sea lab?” he asked in astonishment.

“Yes, yes it is. They were taken a few days ago actually. George just sent them to me yesterday,” Nelson said as he finally stopped pacing and seated himself on the edge of his desk and leaned towards Crane, who gazed at the photos in awe.

“This is…unbelievable, sir,” he said in a hushed tone as he perused the photos. “It’s quite an expansive underwater lab, isn’t it?”

“Triton isn’t just a singular structure, Lee but a whole complex of structures, each connecting to a central living area. These transparent tunnels that connect the pods are made of Herculite,” he said, naming the material he himself had developed. Made of the same material as his submarine Seaview’s front windows, it allowed the ocean outside to be viewed, perfect for observing the sea around them. “They connect pods of work stations in a circular configuration,” he continued, pointing to the photographs that showed a central structure ringed by four smaller ones. Each of those had three smaller pods connected to it by tunnels that radiated out from those four. More tunnels connected the smaller pods together so each could be accessed without having to walk back to any of the other pods. “All told, there are sixteen pods connected to the central living area and to each other.”

“What about air revitalization and water desalinization?” Lee asked, intrigued by the layout.

“In case something catastrophic happened to the main structure, each of these mid-sized pods has its own air revitalization system that connects to its outer pods. Desalinization system is found solely in the central structure and funneled through the tunnels to each pod. An emergency water supply would be stored in each of the mid-size pods.”

“So the pods would be self-sufficient if something were to go wrong,” Lee said nodding in appreciation of the safety features. “And communications?”

Nelson smiled as he heard the wonder in Lee’s voice. “All sixteen pods have their own communications system so that messages or data can be sent back to the mainland or ships…anywhere actually…without the need to relay it first to any of the other areas or the central communications station. Each of these pods,” he continued, pointing to the four larger outer pods, “and the smaller outer pods have their own access to the ocean by these hatches placed between every other pod. Scuba equipment is stored in these larger pods and the central living area.”

“Fantastic.”

“It is, Lee it is.”

“It reminds me a lot of that underwater city that maniac Leopold Zeraff built in the Aegean Sea a few years back.” *

“Yes, it reminds me of the same thing, also,” Nelson murmured, remembering the city under the sea that had been built by Zeraff to control the resources of the world and thereby, the planet. “It would be hard to forget that one, wouldn’t it? But Triton is far and away on a much different level than Zeraff’s. George expanded Zeraff’s city’s features on all levels. And of course, Triton’s mission is an entirely different one; one of pure research rather than world domination,” he smirked.

“Always a good thing,” Lee quipped

“Since Zeraff and his underwater city, different countries, agencies and groups have attempted what he did for many uses…mostly all for the advancement of science…and have succeeded…to a degree. Triton, however, is on a different level than any of those previous attempts, even Zeraff’s. Now that Triton is a reality, I can’t help but think of what the future may hold if things go well there. Why, some day a whole underwater city far larger than Triton could become self-sustaining! No need for weekly or monthly supply runs.”

“How would you get food?” Lee asked, turning his eyes to Nelson who gazed off into space, a grin on his face as if he could see into the future and liked what he saw.

“We’d grow it!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “The surface of the ocean is a vast open, untouched area, Lee. Food could be grown in self-contained pods on the surface, harvested and transported below to underwater labs.”

“What about storms? Wouldn’t that destroy the farms?”

“The pods would have the ability to be covered then lowered to a safe level. Once the storm passed, they would be raised to the surface again and the pods opened to the sun and air. Of course, we might have to choose a relatively calm area of the ocean for that but the possibilities are there.”

“What about power?”

“Oh, any numbers of ways are being looked into by various countries, mostly the Japanese. One idea would be to use solar array panels on the surface to generate energy and transmit it to the lab below or possibly underwater turbines would convert ocean currents into energy, much as wind turbines do on land. A new idea being advanced uses heat from the ocean’s warm surface to vaporize a refrigerant such as, oh say ammonia. The vapor would spin a turbine, and generate electricity. Why some day we could even tap into thermal vents and harness the energy within to heat undersea labs or cities!”

“That sounds incredible but how close are we to that?”

“Oh, not for a few years I would imagine. Probably more than a few years but the possibilities exist, Lee! The next few months on Triton will go a long way to deciding on the efficacy of it and will determine whether NIMR gets involved wholesale in the undertaking or not.”

“You’re thinking of investing in it?”

“Possibly. This type of research is, quite frankly, expensive. The biggest hurdle sometimes in research isn’t ideas or implementation, but money. That’s why this opportunity to spend some time there and do some research is an excellent idea,” Nelson reasoned as he rose and began his pacing again.

“And you’d get to play,” Lee joked, trying hard to hide the smile that threatened to destroy the complacent look he was trying to maintain.

“Play?” Nelson asked in a confused tone as he came to a stop in front of Lee.

“Play,” Lee repeated, finally allowing his face to break out into a huge grin. “You sound just like a kid that’s been given a whole box of new crayons and doesn’t have any idea which one to use first.”

“I’m sorry, Lee…I just…this is such a wonderful opportunity. I guess I got carried away,” he said sheepishly.

“Understandable. When do you leave?”

“I told George I could be there by Monday if you didn’t have any problem with my going. It is for two months. Just in case you need the Flying Sub during the next cruise, I’ll have someone fly me out there in it and then return. Once Seaview’s next mission is over, you can pick me up.”

“I don’t have a problem with you going at all. In fact if you don’t go, I’ll kidnap you myself and take you there!”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he laughed.

“I have to admit to being a bit envious,” Lee said, looking at the pictures once more. “This looks like a fantastic venture. I wouldn’t mind spending some time there myself. I just wish Chip and I didn’t have that Naval Reserve training down in San Diego or I could take you out there myself and see this marvel.”

Chuckling, Nelson clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Tell you what…you take care of things here for me for the next few months and I’ll do my best to arrange for you to spend a few days there. Deal?”

Looking up into Nelson’s smiling face, he grinned like a schoolboy. “Deal!”

<<<>>>

The next few weeks moved quickly. Nelson, ensconced in the depths of the Pacific Ocean off the Australian/New Zealand coast, sent frequent messages back to NIMR. Each one filled with the excitement the project engendered in the world renowned marine biologist.

Shore leave and reserve training over, Seaview and her crew left on its short, uneventful cruise. The mission completed, she returned to Santa Barbara for a short leave before re-stocking for the sail to Triton to pick up the admiral and a few other scientists that were returning to Scripps or other institutes after their stay on Triton.

“Chip, how soon can we get underway?” Lee Crane asked, a touch of excitement in his voice as he bounded down the spiral stairs to stand beside his executive officer, Chip Morton.

“All supplies are loaded, the last crew members are aboard and we’re just waiting for you to give the order,” Chip said with a little twitch to his lips, knowing how eager Lee was to be away.

“Well, then…take her out, Mr. Morton.”

“Aye sir!” he responded, giving the orders to Seaview’s crew.

Once Seaview had cleared the harbor, Chip turned back to his friend, smiling again at his excitement. “So when are you going to cheer up, Lee?” Chip asked, the smile dropping from his face as he kidded his friend.

Looking up into Chip’s blue eyes, he smiled broadly. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, no. You’re always excited about going out on Seaview. I just know that you’re looking forward to this cruise.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m a bit anxious to get there. It’s been two months! The admiral’s going to have a lot of stories to tell us. From his messages he’s having the time of his life on Triton!”

“Yeah. He’s like a kid in a candy shop when it comes to exploring the ocean, isn’t he? Or living in it for that matter.”

Crane laughed softly. “That’s one reason he’s the world’s foremost marine biologist! He loves it. I can’t get over the size of Triton though. It’s such an enormous undertaking. I hope all goes well with it. The future of underwater research may be down there.”

“Well, from what you’ve said, I can’t wait to see this place. Most of the sea labs we’ve seen or run re-supply missions to are simple one or two compartment structures.”

“Trust me, they’re nothing like Triton,” Lee said with more than a touch of awe in his voice. “I can’t wait to see it in person.”

“Are you going to be this giddy for the next few days?” Chip asked, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to ruin his stern face.

“Maybe. We’re ahead of schedule so we may have some time there before we pack up the admiral and all his experiments. Hopefully, there will be a little time to explore and experience life in the sea lab!” he said with a big smile.

“You know, you seem to have caught the admiral’s passion for marine biology. You sound just like him sometimes.”

“Sorry, Chip. I guess I’ve always loved the sea but it wasn’t until I met the admiral that I really began to see it as more than just water and creatures that live in it,” he shrugged unapologetically. “And when I came to work for the admiral, well, I don’t know how you can work for him and not get excited. Can you?”

“Nope. I understand completely. When I think of what I’d be doing right now if I’d stayed in the navy, I cringe,” Chip said shaking his head as he made a notation on their location in the log.

“So…how long yet?” Lee asked, trying hard not to laugh at Chip’s annoyed look.

“You are not going to keep asking me that. We just left port. You figure it out!”

With a laugh, Crane smacked his executive officer on the shoulder and headed off to make some checks of his own on Seaview.

<<<>>>

A few days later, Crane, still haunting the Control Room making sure everything was going perfectly, was hailed by Sparks. “Skipper! Call for you from Triton. It’s the admiral!”

“Thanks, Sparks. Put it through to the Observation Nose,” he called, a little smile lighting his face. “Come on, Chip. Let’s see what he’s got on his mind.”

Walking to the view phone in the Nose, he flicked it on, watching as the picture coalesced into the image of a smiling Admiral Harriman Nelson.

“Lee! Chip! Good to see you both! I apologize for calling you so late! I just now looked at my watch and saw the time! I’m afraid I was engrossed in an experiment,” he said sheepishly.”

“Not a problem, sir. We were just about to hand the sub over to Mr. O’Brien’s capable hands before heading off to get some sleep,” Lee replied, smiling broadly.

“Well, I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to…oh wait a minute,” Nelson said nodding to someone off screen. “Lucas, before you head out for the night, could you come here a minute? Lee, Chip… I know you three will meet shortly but I’d like to introduce you to someone that we may have working for us at NIMR in the near future if I can pry him away from Scripps. Lucas, these are the two I was telling you about…Lee Crane and Chip Morton. Lee, Chip, this is Lucas Stein, a brilliant young researcher. I’ve been trying to woo him back on land to come work for me at NIMR. So far he seems intent on staying underwater.”

“Can you blame me, Admiral?” Lucas laughed uneasily after briefly acknowledging Lee and Chip’s greeting. “Not that NIMR isn’t tempting, believe me, but my…my work here isn’t quite done yet.”

“But when it is, if you want, come see me, right?” Nelson added with a huge grin.

“I…I will.”

“Sorry for keeping you, Lucas. Head on out and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes, sir. Good night,” the young scientist said, flicking a brief smile in the view phone’s direction.

“He seems a bit…quiet,” Lee said with a nod to where Lucas had disappeared.

“He’s not usually that way,” Nelson answered thoughtfully as he gazed off towards where Lucas had gone. “Perhaps he was just tired. Anyway, how are things going on your end? Are you on schedule?”

“We’re ahead of schedule actually, sir. At our current speed, we should be there by early tomorrow morning. I hope that’s not a problem. We could take Seaview for a spin around the block if it is,” Lee joked.

“No, no, no…not a problem at all,” he said waving his hands in the air. “It’ll give me a chance to pay you and Chip back for taking over for me by showing you around! Give you a chance to experience what I’ve been doing for the past few months.”

“We’re looking forward to it, sir. How are things there?”

“Good! Wonderful actually. Aside from a few problems we’re doing well!”

“Problems?” Lee asked.

“Our desalinization plants have been acting up lately. We’ve been forced to conserve our water a bit.”

“How bad is the trouble?” Lee asked suddenly concerned.

“Not all that bad,” the admiral answered with a smirk, having heard the concern in his captain’s voice. “Plants are working, just not filtering the amount of water we thought they would be. We’ll have to get Kowalski to work his magic on them, see if he can get them functioning more efficiently when you get here. We have enough drinking water. It’s just the extraneous uses we can’t afford to use it on.”

“So how is everything else going?” Lee asked, only slightly mollified at Nelson’s assurances the problem wasn’t severe.

“Fantastic! Such fascinating research going on here, Lee! We observed a pod of humpback whales migrating a few days ago. Up close and personal observation! Amazing creatures. We made several recordings of their vocalizations, also. I can’t tell you what a soothing sound that is. Oh, and our experiments on the use of seaweed for the reduction of infections and possibly in the treatment of certain cancers are showing merit. What we’ve been able to do here may translate into breakthroughs, possibly at NIMR on some of our new drug research contracts.”

“Sounds like you’re having the time of your life there! Are we going to be able to pry you loose from there?”

“I admit, it’s going to be hard to do but I have commitments back home I need to attend to,” he said frowning slightly. A slight beeping drew Nelson’s attention from the screen to something over his head. “That’s strange. Why would…”

“Is anything wrong, Admiral?” Lee asked as he watched the confusion on Nelson’s face when he stopped talking.

“Uh…not sure,” he answered as he flipped a few buttons Lee couldn’t see. “Just got a notice that a hatch was opened which usually indicates a diver is out.”

“It’s kind of late at night for a dive, isn’t it?”

“Normally, yes but there are a few people on the far side of the complex that may be working on something. Just because it wasn’t scheduled doesn’t mean anything I suppose,” he said with a frown before turning his attention back to Lee. “Now, where were we?”

“You mentioned there were a few problems…other than the desalinization problem, what else is going on?” Chip asked.

“Oh, it’s probably nothing but we detected a submarine nosing around a few days ago. We had a few divers out at the time that thought they spotted it but didn’t get a clear look. Sonar confirmed it was there. We sent out a message but they didn’t return it. Shortly after that, they left the area. As I said, it was probably nothing. It’s not as though what we’re doing here is top secret. We’ve also noticed an uptick in surface traffic in the past few weeks.”

“What kind?” Lee asked.

“Mostly freighters.”

“That’s not unusual is it, sir?” Chip asked.

“For other areas of the south Pacific, no. But this area isn’t known as a high traffic area. It’s just a bit strange.”

“We’ll be careful on our way in for any signs of your sub and surface traffic. I’ll warn sonar and radar to be extra cautious.”

“Easy, Lee! As I said, what could they have wanted? Anyway, we haven’t seen the sub for a few days. I suspect it was simply…”

Suddenly a loud explosion rocked the sea lab, knocking Nelson off the chair he sat in and plunging the pod into darkness.

“Admiral! Admiral, are you all right? What happened? Admiral!” Lee called; panic pouring through him as he watched the screen intently for any sign of the admiral. The sirens and alarms going off in the background did nothing to allay his concern.

After what seemed an eternity, a light flickered on and Crane sighed in relief as he saw Nelson pull himself from the floor, a flashlight in his hand. Leaning heavily on the desk top he’d been sitting at only a moment ago, he put a hand to his head, then pulled it away to find his fingers covered in blood.

“Lee…we…we seem to have had an…an event of some kind. I…I need to go find out what’s going on. I’ll be back,” he said as he dragged himself upright and stumbled out of the picture.

“Chip,” Lee said in as calm a voice as he could, “Increase speed to flank.”

“Aye sir,” he said as he ordered the speed increase, concern for the admiral filling him.

“Sparks!” Crane called to the radioman, “There’s been some kind of explosion on Triton. Keep the line to the sea lab open in case the admiral can get back us! Then contact New Zealand and Australian authorities and see if they have any ships close to Triton for rescue if it’s needed. Tell them there’s been some kind of accident.”

“Aye, sir.”

Lee Crane paced back and forth anxiously; worry filling him at what could have possibly happened on the sea lab. Chip watched, helplessness filling him as each second passed. Turning his gaze to the men at their stations in the Control Room he saw their anxious looks flitting to their skipper who wore his fear and worry for their commanding officer on his face.

“Skipper!” Sparks voice called from the radio shack, “I contacted New Zealand and Australian authorities as you ordered. The closest ships to that area are at least eight to ten hours away. New Zealand has already diverted two of their ships to that vicinity and alerted hospitals in Christchurch and Wellington to be ready for victims. Australia is sending two ships also, sir.”

“Thanks, Sparks,” Crane called as he turned to Chip. “Eight to ten hours?”

“That makes us the closest boat to them, Lee. If we run flank, we can reach them in five, maybe four hours if we really push it.”

“Push it. All the way, Chip. They need help now, not in ten hours!”

Minutes ticked by in an excruciatingly slow pace before Crane who watched the view phone closely, noticed a light flickering from the direction the admiral had disappeared into. He frowned as he watched Nelson stumble to the desk he’d sat at a mere hour ago and slumped into it. A trickle of blood still oozed from the wound near his scalp and he was covered in a chunky, white substance, flecks of material clinging to his soaked NIMR tee-shirt and his wet, mussed hair. “Dear God,” he whispered as he placed his head in his hands.

“Admiral,” Lee called softly. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Looking up, a surprised look on his face told Lee the admiral hadn’t realized the line was still open. “Uh…I’m…I’m all right, Lee. But the…the sea lab is…is…”

“Is what, Admiral?” Lee asked gently, his heart in his throat as he watched his friend, boss and mentor seemingly at a loss for words.

Hesitating, Nelson’s eyes flickered from Lee’s fearful gaze to Chip’s before dropping them. Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out and tried again. “Triton’s gone, Lee. Most of it anyway. It seems to have been hit with some sort of explosion. I don’t know what kind but I strongly suspect it may have been a bomb judging from the…the scope of it. There wasn’t anything here that could have caused such destruction. At least not on such a broad scale,” he said almost mechanically, a dumbfounded look on his face. “There…there was nothing…nothing that…that should have caused this…this…but why a bomb? Why…?”

“Admiral,” Lee called sensing Nelson wasn’t talking to him so much as to himself.

Startled, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Sorry, Lee. I…I need to focus. I need to tell you our…my situation.”

“How bad is it?” Lee almost whispered.

“It’s…it’s bad,” he said with a slight laugh. Shaking his head he continued, “The watertight doors to this pod and the next are holding but I wasn’t able to get past the far hatch in the next pod which is attached to this one. However…I…I got far enough through them on this side to see that the central living area has been completely destroyed as well as at least three of the mid-level pods and the smaller pods connected to them. All those…all those people are…dead…I…”

“How many were in the pods and the CLA?” Lee asked quietly.

“At this time of night…most of the team I would say,” Nelson said in a pained voice as he looked at his watch. “There were only a few of us on this side still working. A few of the night crew were on some of the outer pods on the far side of the complex running some experiments but there’s so much sediment in the water right now, I’m not sure any of the other pods are still standing. Inter lab communications are either not working or…or…I’m the only one left.”

“Why do you still have communications, sir?” Chip asked.

“Each pod has its own communication system to the outside world, Chip. But…the fact I can’t raise anyone else from the station…well, it doesn’t bode well for them.”

“Admiral,” Chip called, trying hard to tamp down the concern, the helplessness he felt flood through him. “We contacted New Zealand and Australian authorities. They have ships coming to your location but they won’t get there for ten hours, maybe less. We’re closer and running flank right now. Our ETA is…”

“It won’t matter, Chip,” Nelson said softly, not looking his two friends in the eye.

“What do you mean it won’t matter?” Lee asked, a hard edge to his voice.

Nelson rubbed a hand over his wet, bloody face and struggled to keep his voice even and emotionless. “The water tight hatches are the only things that are keeping this pod from filling with water. However, the air revitalization system to the pods in this area was knocked out by the explosion. I tried fixing what I could from here but…it’s no use,” Nelson said softly.

“How…how much air do you have left, sir?” Lee asked, trying hard to keep his voice as expressionless as he could as he felt the panic rise in him.

Looking to a gauge overhead, Nelson closed his eyes briefly before opening them to look his best friend in the eye. “One hour. That’s all.”

“One hour?” Lee whispered in anguish.

“What about scuba equipment?” Chip asked suddenly.

“Unfortunately, all scuba equipment is stored in the main structure or the four outer pods unless a dive is planned to specifically go out from one of the outer ones. And none was from this one. You know there are a few things you can tell whoever tries to rebuild Triton. Make sure all pods have their own air revitalization units, not just the main ones, and store scuba equipment in all pods.”

“You’re thinking about future…Admiral…there has to be a way to rescue you. There has to be something I…we…can do!” Lee shouted as he smacked his hand down against the bulkhead.

“There isn’t,” Lee,” Nelson said calmly, knowing the pain his friend was in…knowing because he would be feeling the same if the situation was reversed.

“I can’t just let you die! I…”

“Lee, if there was a way, I know you’d find it. But there isn’t. You’re too far away,” he interrupted, trying hard to keep his voice steady as he stared at the two men on the screen who stared back at him with the dawning realization of what was ahead. No more would they sail together on Seaview again…never would they laugh over some joke…never anything again.

“Admiral…”

“Listen…I don’t have much time left,” Nelson interrupted as he rubbed a hand over his aching head, knowing a headache was one of the first signs of carbon dioxide poisoning, and shot a quick glance to his watch, surprised at how much time had already passed. “I…I want you both to know…to know how much your friendship…your loyalty…has meant to me. I…I can’t think of two men I’d rather call captain or exec…or friends.”

Lee and Chip stood as if rooted to the spot, listening in horrified silence as they heard Nelson, in his own way, say goodbye.

“Serving with the two of you has been so much of a privilege…so much more rewarding than I thought possible. You…you both have become…well more than friends to me. I lost my own brothers long before I ever met the two of you…but over the years…you both have come to feel like…like brothers. Although, I’m sure I probably never gave you that impression,” he laughed, running a hand over the side of his head. “I apologize for never showing you two that, especially you, Chip.”

“Admiral,” Lee whispered, his voice breaking on that one word. “I…”

“Please, Lee…let me finish. My time is running out. I know I never told either of you what was in my will, and I won’t now, but I ask you both to consider doing what it stipulates. Think hard on it and feel free to say no. No hard feelings,” he joked, a slight grin on his face.

When Nelson dropped his eyes from the two men that watched him in anguish, Lee opened his mouth to speak, closed it and tried again. “Admiral…” he whispered then stopped. What could he say to the man he thought of as more than a friend, more than a commanding officer? What could he say in the last minutes of the man’s life that would make a difference? To Nelson? Maybe nothing but he at least needed to let him know what he felt.

“Admiral, I…I don’t have brothers as Chip does and as you had, but…but I think the way I feel for you and Chip is what it must be like to have a blood brother. The past few years have been the best of my life. Living and working on Seaview…and with you…has been more than I ever hoped to do in my life and I…I can’t imagine…the future…to know you’re…you won’t…you won’t…”

Closing his eyes, he turned and walked out of sight of Nelson who lowered his head and slowly shook it, his only concession to the hopelessness of his situation, then looked up, his face carefully swept clear of the emotions he felt rolling about in him when he heard Chip clear his throat.

“Admiral…I want you to know…I…I mean…”

“It’s all right, Chip,” Nelson said with a smile, knowing the words he was struggling with would be hard for his normally reticent executive officer to say. “You don’t need to say anything. You’ve shown me over the years how you feel about me. A man can’t ask for more than that, can he? One’s actions speak volumes. I want you to know the feelings are returned, Chip. Believe me, they are.”

Chip lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “I…I would do anything for you, sir,” he whispered in a strangled voice. “And it’s…it’s killing me…us…to know there isn’t one damn thing we can do.”

“I know, Chip. I know. Lee!” he called softly after a moment’s silence, waiting until his captain came back in the picture, his face devoid of emotion. “Do the men…well, do they know what’s happening here?”

“Yes sir. The Control Room crew does at least.”

“Could I…do you think I could speak to some of them? Before it’s…soon?” he asked, hating the feeling of tightness in his chest as the oxygen in the room was replaced with carbon dioxide.

“Aye sir,” he said briefly turning away.

Over the next few minutes, Nelson talked to members of his crew that he’d spent the most time with over the years -- Kowalski, Sharkey, Patterson, Sparks, O’Brien, Jamieson -- and tried his best to put them at ease asking them to stay with the Institute and Seaview. In turn, they took the opportunity to say goodbye to the man they not only worked for but respected more than any other man alive.

When the last man had gone back to his duty station, Nelson’s eyes flickered up to the air gauge and he tried not to allow the panic he felt rise in him show on his face. The air was heavier now and it was becoming harder to breathe, his arms and legs feeling as though there were weights attached to them dragging him down into a black well. Air was harder and harder to pull into his oxygen-starved lungs and he fought the desire to struggle for breath, knowing it would only serve to upset the two watching in helplessness.

“Lee, there’s…there’s not much…much time left. I…I’m going to turn the view phone off now,” Nelson whispered knowing he was almost out of air and time. “I…I don’t want you two to…to…watch…”

“No, Admiral! Don’t! I…I don’t want you to be alone. I mean I know…just stay on the screen. Please!” Lee called, anxiety, fear and grief warring for center stage in him.

“It’s all right, Lee,” he said with a smile designed to put the young man at ease. “I…I’m not afraid. I’ve…imagined my death many times but…well, not quite this way. I’ve had a…a good life. Done…more than I ever dreamed I would…would do. Made some…made some good friends. And I think I made a difference. That’s…it’s all one can really hope for at the end of…their life. Don’t grieve for me. Please,” he managed to whisper as he felt the darkness closing in. It wouldn’t be long now. He couldn’t…wouldn’t…allow his friends to watch him take his last breath.

“Tell Angie I…tell her goodbye for me and…I…I appreciate her hard work for…for NIMR. And me.”

“We will, Admiral,” Lee whispered, his heart breaking.

“Tell Jiggs Starke…tell him I’m grateful…for the years…we…we spent as friends. And tell Edie…tell her I loved her as…as best as I could. I wish…wish I had done better by her…been a better…better brother to her. Godspeed both of you.” And with one final long look into each man’s helpless eyes, he reached up and turned the view phone off, his last view was of his friends’ horrified faces.

Breathing heavily as he tried to draw the last bit of oxygen into his lungs, he looked once more at the air gauge that slowly ebbed its way down and closed his eyes. Not long now.

Laying his head down on his folded arms on the desk, he waited…knowing when the darkness on the edges began to crowd out his vision more and more that he didn’t have much more time left on this earth. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, this dying by asphyxiation, or as it was really was, carbon dioxide poisoning. Not as much struggling as he’d thought there would be just a steady, painless oblivion that edged closer and closer.

A loud, metallic clang briefly roused him but he had no strength left to wonder at its cause and he allowed the darkness to creep closer as he pulled one more breath into his lungs. His last thoughts were of those he was leaving behind and he said a brief prayer for them, hoping they moved on easily and that all he’d worked for in his life would continue…his institute, his work, his Seaview.

“Seaview,” he whispered, a slight smile on his face as he thought of his creation and gratefully allowed the edges of the darkness to fold over him completely and carry him away to oblivion.

<<<>>>

“Admiral,” Lee whispered as he watched Nelson’s face fade away. “No…I…Sparks!” he yelled, turning from the screen. “Get the admiral back!”

“Lee, it’s not what he wants,” Chip whispered grabbing hold of his shoulder and squeezing. “Let…let him go.”

“I can’t, Chip. He…he’s all alone there. He’s dying all alone!”

“I know, Lee. Believe me I know. And it’s killing me, too. Would you want him to watch you suffocate? Die slowly, gasping…”

“All right. Stop,” Lee spat out in an agonized voice. “I…I get it.”

“Skipper?” Sparks hushed voice called. “I can’t raise him, sir.”

“Stop…stop trying, Sparks,” he called as he walked away from Chip and stood with crossed arms by the huge windows fronting the submarine. The admiral…his mentor, friend, brother …was dying, slowly and surely and there was nothing he could do to stop it, no words he could offer, no touch he could give.

As the minutes ticked away, far faster than he thought possible, he closed his eyes and thought, wondered, what he was going through. What did it feel like to die that way? To know there was nothing you could do to stop the air from being used up? To know there was no one to save you? To know that you would take your last breath in utter silence and in total solitude? Was there pain in that death? Was there struggling? Fear?

The thoughts came one after another to Lee Crane as he gazed out the windows of his friend’s creation and struggled to hold in the sob that threatened to tear from his very core. He glanced to the watch on his wrist, a present from the admiral a few birthdays ago, and felt the sob draw closer to the surface. It was over. His air was gone. He was dead. Admiral Harriman Nelson, hero, scientist, inventor… best friend…was dead and he had no idea, no idea at all, how he was going to get through each day that was left to him.

He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Chip, struggling to hold in the same sob he was, beside him. “He’s gone, Chip,” he managed to whisper. “His air…his air’s gone.”

“I know, Lee. I know.”

A few minutes of silence passed as the two officers gazed out at the water on the other side of the admiral’s windows, their thoughts centered on the man that lay dead mere hours from them.

Finally, when Lee thought he was able to speak, he turned to Chip and ordered, “Have Sparks contact the rescue ships…tell them what’s happened. Ask them to contact their respective governments. Also have them contact appropriate US and international agencies and get them started on finding a reason for what…for what we just saw. Tell them what the ad…what the admiral suspected was the cause. Get them looking for answers. Anything…something to explain what happened. Then contact Admiral Johnson at ONI. Let him know what’s happened and that the admiral suspected the lab was bombed. Maybe ONI has some Intel.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Chip murmured, his heart aching at the thought of the admiral being dead.

“Have Johnson contact Admiral Starke,” he added, naming one of the admiral’s oldest friends. “He should be told I guess if for no other reason than he can light a fire under certain people to get this investigation started. Then have Johnson contact me by view phone in my cabin when he can.”

“I will. What…what about the Institute? They need to know before someone contacts them about the admiral.”

Closing his eyes, Lee shuddered, not wanting to be the one to tell those back home what had happened and thought furiously. “Tell Sparks to have Johnson inform the agencies that the news of what happened to Triton needs to be kept quiet until we…until we can verify that the lab…and the admiral…are gone.”

“Why? They should…”

“He’s been declared dead before, Chip,” he said softly, pain in his eyes as he remembered those times he’d thought his friend dead. “And he turned up alive. I don’t want them to begin grieving before we know with an absolute certainty that he’s gone.”

Placing a hand on Lee’s shoulder, he said softly, “Lee, you heard what he said. You saw it. I know you don’t want to believe it but…do you think there’s any way he’s alive? He would have contacted us by now if he’d found a way out of...”

“I…I know, Chip,” he interrupted. “I just…want to make sure…make sure he’s really gone before we start letting other people…Angie, Edith…know. Just…just have Sparks have them keep it quiet. If they have any problems with that or they have any questions, have them contact me personally. I just don’t want to tell the people at NIMR or Scripps just yet. A few more hours won’t make a difference. Tomorrow after we get there is early enough.”

“I suppose it will be,” Chip agreed.

“Have Bobby take over the watch and…try to get a little sleep, Chip.”

“I…I’ll try,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, knowing sleep was the last thing on his mind

Glancing to the man by his side whose face was usually bland and expressionless; Lee saw the edges of his finely honed façade crumbling. With a gentle hand on his shoulder, he shook his executive officer briefly before making his escape rapidly up the spiral staircase and the refuge of his cabin where he didn’t need to put on a show, where he could allow the grief that filled him spill out.

Chip watched his friend disappear up the stairs then turned back to the windows and leaned on the bulkhead, wondering what the future held. How would he be able to sail on Seaview again knowing its creator would never be there again? He closed his eyes and pushed the feelings, emotions from him until he felt he could stand before the crew without breaking down.

Slowly, he turned away from the windows and stood for a brief second, watching the crew at their stations, some casting furtive glances his way as if to gauge his emotions or looking for the slightest hint of hope on his face. Drawing himself up, he pushed away from the bulkhead he leaned against and moved slowly to the radio shack to have Sparks make the calls, pausing when Kowalski called to him as he passed by.

“Mr. Morton? Is he…is it over, sir?” he asked in a soft undertone, a slight quiver to his voice.

Morton took a few minutes to ensure he could speak without breaking down and nodded. “It’s over, Ski. He’s…he’s gone.”

A few seconds went by before he heard Ski’s soft voice again. “Could I…could I be relieved, sir? There’s something… something I need to do, sir.”

“Sure, Kowalski. Someone will finish out your shift. Ron? Take over sonar,” he called to a nearby crewman.

“Thank you, sir,” he murmured as he rose and walked towards the hatch at the other end of the Control Room, hesitating when he passed Chief Francis Sharkey whose gaze was fixed unblinkingly on the floor, a muscle in his jaw clenching and unclenching in suppressed emotion.

“Chief?” Morton called. “Your shift is over. Get some sleep.”

“Aye sir,” he croaked out, not really caring when his voice broke slightly.

Morton watched as two of the men in the Control Room fled, knowing the grief they were feeling, then walked to the side of another. “Bob? Can you take the watch?”

“Aye sir. I can take the watch,” Bobby O’Brien whispered. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Nodding, Chip Morton walked to the radio shack and gave Sparks the skipper’s orders, trying hard not to notice the look on the young radioman’s face or the slight shaking of his hand as he wrote down the messages.

Taking one last look about the room, he tried not to see the faces of the men that would now not look his way and tried not to hear the silence that seemed to fill the room. The admiral was gone and with him went the life force of his creation and the vigor of his crew. Turning on his heel, he too fled the Control Room in search of the sanctuary of his cabin where he could think through what the admiral’s death meant, to him, to Lee, to the crew and to those back in Santa Barbara and Boston that hadn’t heard the awful news yet.

<<<>>>

A few hours later, a bleary-eyed Lee Crane entered the Missile Room expecting to find it empty and instead found Chief Francis Sharkey busy checking out diving gear.

“Chief,” Crane called softly, an attempt at a smile on his haggard face. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I…couldn’t sleep, sir. I thought I’d check out the gear, make sure everything is ready to go when we get to…to the sea lab,” he said, his eyes never reaching Crane’s.

“That’s a good idea, Chief,” he said as he fingered a diving mask strap.

“I…I just can’t believe he’s gone, sir. I mean…it just doesn’t seem possible to…you know…never see him again or…”

“I know, Chief,” he said cutting him short as the man’s words unintentionally hurt. “I know.”

“Sorry sir. It’s just hard to accept. What about the teams?” he asked bringing the conversation back to a safer subject.

“I want three teams of three men each to go out. You can choose the men. I want two to be trained in demolitions, someone that knows what to look for as far as why the sea lab…exploded…and two photographers. I want a team solely to…to bring back…to bring the admiral home. I’ll be leading that team.”

“Aye, sir,” he said, his eyes focused on a diving mask he held in his hands.

“I’ll let you know when I want the teams ready. As soon as we spot the sea lab, I’ll let you know,” he said as he turned to go.

“Skipper?”

“Yes?” he said as he turned back.

Sharkey’s eyes rose to his, an almost hopeful look on his face. “Do you think there is any way…well could the admiral still be alive, sir?”

A muscle in Crane’s jaw jumped as he tried to answer. “I…I don’t know, Chief. I don’t see how. The admiral didn’t think there was any hope. He was there. He knew how much air he had.”

“But if there was anyone that could survive…”

“Survived suffocation, Chief?” he asked softly, hating the way the hopeful look fled quickly from Sharkey’s face. “I’m sorry, Chief. I…I want to believe he found a way out but there was so little time left.”

“But if there was a way, he would find it,” Sharkey almost whispered.

“Yeah, he would. If there was a way. We’ll know soon I guess.”

“Aye, sir. I’ll have the teams ready when you get down here.”

Crane watched as Sharkey lay the mask down carefully before heading over to the racks of diving equipment and began pulling scuba tanks from them, checking the air supply in each. Closing his eyes against the grief that welled up in him once more, he fled the room and headed slowly for the Control Room where he found Chip Morton leaning over the chart table, marking their position.

Walking to his side, he said, “You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answered brusquely. “I gave Bobby a few extra hours off. What about you?”

“Same. I went to the Missile Room to check on the scuba equipment for the dive teams but found Sharkey already there. I guess he couldn’t sleep either.”

“Seems to be an epidemic of that. How many teams do you want out?”

“Three I think. Two will investigate the…the remains of Triton, look for a possible cause. One team will…will bring the admiral’s…bring the admiral home. I’ll lead that one myself,” Lee said quietly as he leaned over the charting table looking intently at the charts before him.

“What?”

“I said, I’ll be going out to bring the admiral home,” he repeated in a stiff voice, looking up into Chip’s face. “It’s the last thing I can do for him, Chip.”

Nodding, Chip lowered his gaze. “Yeah. All right. I understand.”

“Skipper?”

Turning, Crane saw Kowalski, his face tinged with something Crane didn’t want to identify, standing by his side.

“Yes, Ski?”

“Sir, I’d…I’d like to be on one of the dive teams.”

Crane peered at the young seaman whose eyes never left his as if begging him to say yes.

“I…well, sir I was with the admiral for a lot of years. It…it would mean a lot to me to go with you to bring…to bring the admiral home.”

Crane was silent for a few seconds as he struggled to control his emotions before saying, “I…I can’t think of a better man to have at my side. I know he’d…he’d be honored, Ski. Head down to the Missile Room and give Sharkey a hand. Tell him I want you on my team.”

“Aye sir. And thank you,” he reply, fleeing the room quickly as if he weren’t sure the captain wasn’t going to change his mind.

“He’s a good man,” Chip said softly.

A nod was all Lee could manage.

“What did Johnson have to say?”

“Not much. He was shocked. He’s looking into what happened…looking for a reason if it was a bomb. He said he would contact Starke. The FBI, INTERPOL and the CIA have all been contacted along with a slew of other agencies. Our government is sending ships to the area to aid in the search for what happened. They’re all ‘looking into it’,” he said in disgust. “No one I talked to seems to have any idea why a simple research station would be sabotaged.”

“Maybe it wasn’t,” Chip answered. “Maybe something catastrophic happened. Something no one thought would or could happen.”

“I…I suppose that’s possible. Has the news been quiet about what happened to Triton?”

“Sparks has been monitoring the air waves. So far nothing has been leaked.”

“Good. That’s good. I don’t want anyone back home to find out by a news leak. How far yet?”

“About an hour. Just enough time for you to go grab something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Figured you’d say that. There’s coffee in the nose,” he said nodding to the table in front of the windows that had a carafe of coffee and cups on it.

“I think maybe I can manage that,” he said with a small smile. “Join me?”

The two officers walked slowly to the Observation Nose, poured coffee into two cups and seated themselves.

Long minutes of silence went by as the two gazed into their cups, drinking little of what was in them before Lee looked up and said, “You know, I always knew this day would come. If I didn’t go first that is. But, the reality of it is...” Shaking his head, he put the cup down, rose and walked to stand in front of the windows again, thinking, remembering. Lost in thought, he never heard Chip walk to him, his step light.

“This may not help but, I remember someone once saying to me that last goodbyes…the last chance you’ll ever have to say goodbye to someone…more often than not, never get said because, well we don’t know it’s the last time we’ll see that person. We…we at least had a chance at a last goodbye with the admiral.”

“There’s not much comfort to me in that, Chip. I guess I thought I was prepared for it…for his death I mean. We’ve all been close to dying so many times that I guess I thought it wouldn’t be this hard. But…but I was wrong. I just…I just wasn’t ready…prepared,” he muttered, shaking his head in sadness.

“I…I don’t think you can ever be ready or prepared for the death of someone you’re close to,” Chip whispered. “When my dad died, I watched him slip away and was amazed at the way it felt as though my heart were being torn from me. And I remember saying to someone…a nurse I think…that I thought I’d been ready for it. I mean, I knew he was dying. I’d known that for a long time, but the reality of it…”

“I remember,” Lee said without looking away from the view in front of him. “It hit you hard. But the admiral wasn’t my father, Chip.”

“I get that. He was…more like a brother than a friend, I think. Just like he said. I think it’s the same feelings though. I’d feel the same if it were you. Just like I feel now knowing we’ve lost the admiral.”

“Like…like you’ve been blindsided?” he asked as he turned to Chip who avoided his gaze.

“Yeah. Like I’ve been blindsided,” Chip agreed, his tone soft.

“All the plans he had…we had…they’re nothing now. The future just doesn’t look as bright any longer. You know?”

“Yeah, I do. Somehow, we just need to get through it. One day at a time. And if that’s too hard, one hour or one minute at a time,” Chip said.

“Yeah…yeah I guess.”

“Skipper?” the crewman on duty at the sonar called. “We’re approaching the sea lab. Should be visible shortly.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Crane answered.”

Turning back the two Seaview officers scanned the ocean before them, searching for whatever remained of Triton.

“There,” Lee said. “Off our port bow,” he said reaching for the mic nearby. “Chief? We’re in view of Triton. Get your teams ready. I’ll be down shortly.”

“Aye sir.”

“Dear God, there’s nothing left,” Chip whispered, horrified at the destruction he saw before him.

“Just those two pods on the near side. Maybe one on the far side. I can’t see,” Lee said softly, his voice tinged with horror as he saw the destruction.

“What could have caused that?”

“We won’t know until we get there. The admiral felt sure it was a bomb. But why were all but these pods destroyed? Why were these pods left?” Lee asked quietly, his eyes focused on the two darkened structures before him, praying for a miracle, hoping that he’d suddenly see the admiral stand and wave to him. But the pods remained gloomy, shadowy shells.

“Maybe there are some answers for us out there,” Chip said.

“Maybe. I…I should head down to the Missile Room and get ready.”

Crane headed through the Control Room and walked through the corridors in silence, his steps slowing as he neared the Missile Room, dreading the dive before him. Normally, he took any opportunity to dive but now? To go out with the sole mission of bringing his best friend’s lifeless body home filled him with a mixture of repugnance and deep sorrow. For a split second he considered allowing Kowalski to lead the team and bring him back but knew he owed it to Nelson to be the one to recover his body. It was a small thing in the scope of what he owed the man: a very small thing. With a determined step he entered the Missile Room quickly and began suiting up.

When he and the others were ready, he gathered the teams to him. “Listen up. Triton was hit by some kind of explosion. The admiral felt sure it was a bomb. My team will head for the remaining pods starting with the one on the far right. We’ll enter the lock and move into that pod, searching for…for the admiral. If he isn’t in that one, we move through the next tunnel and lock and search in that pod. He has to be in one of those unless there’s a pod still standing on the far side that we can’t see. Remember, there’s no oxygen in the pods so keep your air on. Sharkey? Who are the team leaders?”

“I have Wingate on one and Henderson on the other, sir.”

“All right, good. Wingate? Henderson? You’re both trained in underwater demolition, correct?”

“Aye sir,” both men responded.

“I want you to take your teams and search the debris field for anything that looks to be an explosive component…det wire, unexploded bombs…I don’t have to tell you what to look for. Make note of it and have it photographed. Who are the photographers?”

“That would be me and Thomas, sir,” Patterson called quietly.

“Pat, Steve, photograph anything that looks suspicious or anything the team leaders ask you to. I want photos of the area as soon as we leave the airlock. We’ll wait while you two work. Be thorough. I want to know what happened and, if it was an explosive device, I want to know who did it. Everyone ready? Let’s go.”

Patterson, Thomas and the two team leaders entered the airlock, the dive chamber was filled and emptied and the next group entered.

Crane stood with the last group, trying hard to hide his anxiety. In some way he didn’t understand, he really didn’t want to be the one to bring the admiral’s body home. To see his lifeless body, to pick him up, to carry him back through the murky, cold water filled him with an overwhelming sense of horror. But he would fight any who tried to take his place and do what he felt was his duty…his honor.

He entered the chamber, waited until it was filled and opened the hatch that led to the ocean, swimming towards the small cluster of divers who gawked in disbelief at what remained of what had once been a fantastic experiment.

When Patterson indicated they were done with the long range photos, Crane fingered his throat mike. “Move out. Search for anything out of place. My team…let’s…bring the admiral home.”

The three teams split up, each heading to their designated spots. Crane led his team to the first pod nearest them, and entered the airlock at the far side of the pod, surprised it still functioned and entered the small room.

After the last man had entered, Crane called through his throat mic, “All right, let’s head into the main area of the pod. I…I’m not sure which pod the admiral was in.” Turning on their handheld lamps, Crane and the others headed through the short tunnel to the first pod that was enveloped in blackness.

Their lights flickered in the pitch-black darkness, only slightly illuminating the small space. A few experiments were sitting on a nearby desk while on a far wall; reams of papers littered a work station that also housed an array of instruments. But there was no body.

“Let’s…let’s try the last one,” Crane said as he led the way through the airlock and out into the Herculite tunnel, his heart clenching as he gazed through the transparent walls his friend’s always fertile, dream-filled mind had allowed to be created. Stopping by the last hatch, he reached a hand out to open it and hesitated, knowing what must be on the other side. Steeling himself, he opened the hatch and led the way inside slowly, his lamp flitting from side to side until he came to the desk he had seen on the video phone…the desk that Admiral Nelson had been seated at the last time he’d seen him alive, and saw nothing.

Startled, he called quietly, “Search the pod. He has to be here.”

But he wasn’t.

“Skipper?” Kowalski called. “He…he isn’t here. Where is he?”

“I…I don’t know Ski,” he said before fingering his throat mic. “Wingate? Henderson? Are there any other pods still standing?”

“Negative, sir,” Wingate called. “There’s nothing left out here but debris and…and a few bodies, sir that were covered in rubble. It protected them from scavengers.”

“Are any of them the admiral?” he asked, a small flicker of something he was afraid to give a name to begin to fill him.

After several long minutes, he heard Wingate’s answer and the unknown essence blossomed forth into hope.

“Negative, sir. None are Admiral Nelson.”

“Lee?” he heard Chip call from Seaview. “I’ve been following your conversation. What’s going on?”

“He isn’t here, Chip. There are only two pods left and he isn’t in either of them. And he isn’t outside. As far as we can tell.”

“Then where the hell is he?”

“I don’t know. We’re going to do a more thorough search of the pods then head outside and do more recon out there.”

“Could he have found scuba equipment and gotten out?”

“If he had, why wouldn’t he have contacted us? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I suppose you’re right. Anything I can do?” he asked a touch of optimism in his voice.

“Pray he somehow found a way out?” Crane said quietly. “And is alive.”

The dive teams searched, finding a few more bodies but none of them the admiral. Crane and his team, having torn the two pods apart, headed outside to continue looking for any sign of the admiral.

After a few minutes searching, he heard Kowalski’s hesitant voice. “Skipper? I’m over by the pod we just checked. You better come over here.”

“What is it, Ski?” he asked.

“Just…come here, sir.”

Hearing the urgency in the man’s voice, Crane swam to him and looked where Kowalski was pointing, his heart almost stopping at what he saw. On the underside of the pod was an explosive pack large enough to destroy it. Large red numbers on the front of the pack read 1:23:19.

“There’s another one on the other pod. Readout says the same…1:23:19.”

“Wingate? Henderson? Get over to the pods now. We have a problem,” Crane called.

“What’s the trouble, Lee?” Chip asked.

“Both of the remaining pods have explosives wired to their undersides. The timers have been stopped at one hour twenty-three minutes. I’m going to have them defused and brought aboard if possible.”

“Good luck,” Chip said quietly.

Crane watched as the two demolition experts swam to them quickly, stopping when Crane showed them the bombs.

“Can you defuse them safely?”

Wingate swam to one and examined it while Henderson looked over the other. “Yes sir. We can defuse them. It’s a rather simplistic set up. Shouldn’t take long. You can see right here why they didn’t go off. The lead wire on this device isn’t connected and they’re both linked to this bomb. When this one didn’t go off, neither did the other one. We can have them defused in a few minutes but just to be safe, you should get down behind those rocks there in case I’m wrong.”

Crane and the other divers did as they were told and hunkered down behind a large outcrop of rocks waiting for the all clear which came just a few minutes later.

“All right, get those back onboard. I want to know everything you can tell me about who made them. Everything. Let’s make one more search for anything we may have missed, then head back.”

The two team leaders headed back to Seaview with the bombs while the rest swept the area one more time before heading back when nothing was discovered.

<<<>>>

Back onboard, Crane got out of his scuba gear, dressed quickly and headed to the Control Room where he was greeted by Morton.

“What’s going on? And where’s the admiral?” he asked quickly.

“No idea. But he’s not on what’s left of the sea lab and we couldn’t find his body outside. Sparks!” he called, “Contact Admiral Johnson at ONI. Tell them the admiral wasn’t on what remains of Triton and that we found evidence it was bombed. Have him contact me when he gets a chance. Then put a call in to Admiral Starke. I’ll take it in my cabin when you have him.”

“Aye sir!” Sparks called with a little more vigor in his voice than before.

“I’ll let you know if he has any answers,” Crane said as he hurried from the room and to his cabin, a thousand thoughts swirling about in his troubled mind. Nelson had had no way out. He’d said so. Yet he was gone just the same. Question was, where was he?

Opening the door to his cabin quickly, he heard Sparks call. “Skipper? I have Admiral Starke for you.”

“Thanks, Sparks. Put him through,” he said as he reached for the knob on the view phone and turned it on, watching as the harried face of Admiral Jiggs Starke, one of Admiral Nelson’s best friends, flickered to life on the screen.

“Crane? Why the call? What’s going on? I thought you were picking Harriman up from that lab he was so excited to be living on for the past two months.”

“You haven’t heard, sir?” he asked, surprised the admiral hadn’t been informed.

“Heard what? I’ve been in meetings for the last few days. I just now walked into my office to find a stack of messages and a call from you waiting for me.”

“I thought Admiral Johnson would have told you.”

“I haven’t been able to take any calls while in the meetings. What should Bill have told me?” he grumbled.

“Triton was bombed, sir. It’s gone,” Crane said succinctly.

“What? When? Harriman…is he…?”

“We were talking to the admiral on the view phone a few hours ago when there was some kind of explosion. The admiral was in one of the research pods and went to investigate. He came back to tell us the main complex and most of the pods had been destroyed. He wasn’t able to get through the tunnels to the other side but he couldn’t see any of the other pods still standing.”

“You’re telling me the whole complex except for the pod Harriman was in was destroyed?” Starke asked in a hushed tone. “Everything…all those people…”

“Yes sir.”

“What…what about Harriman? Did he…”

“The admiral was hurt but alive. However, the air supply to the pod he was in was severed. He was trapped there. He had no scuba equipment with him. We talked to him up until his air was almost gone, then he…then he said goodbye and…disconnected,” he informed the admiral’s longtime friend.

Starke looked up when he heard the slight quiver in Crane’s voice. He knew how the two men felt about each other, rather like he and Harriman felt about each other, and he looked away. The thought of his friend being dead…dying all alone… hurt like hell.

“Harriman’s…he’s…What did you find when you got to the complex?” he asked in a quiet, almost hesitant voice.

“The admiral wasn’t in the pod.”

“What?” he shouted, raising his eyes to Crane’s. “What do you mean he wasn’t in the pod? You said he had no way out!”

“As far as we knew, he didn’t. There were two pods left standing but he wasn’t in either one. We searched outside for him but we didn’t find his body outside either. We did find two bombs that were connected to the last two pods but a wire had come undone. They never went off.”

“You found evidence the complex was bombed?”

“Yes sir. Our munitions experts defused the bombs and brought them aboard. They’re examining them now for clues.”

Starke sat drumming his fingers on his desk, lost in thought.

“Sir, do you have any idea what could have happened? Who could have done this and why? Everyone I’ve talked to seems to have no clue what could have happened.”

Starke slowly shook his head. “I…I don’t know. It makes no sense to bomb a simple underwater research station. From what Harriman told me before he left, they weren’t doing any research of a highly sensitive nature, just medical and oceanographic research for crying out loud.”

“Could the admiral have been the target, sir?”

“The thought that someone would deliberately kill all those people just to get to Harriman…well it’s hard to believe but…but possible I suppose. You know as well as I do that no matter how much protection you think he has, if someone is determined, they could have gotten to him if they’d wanted to.”

“Yes sir. I suppose so.”

“Then there’s the fact there were bombs planted underneath the last two pods. Perhaps those pods were intended to be destroyed at the same time as the rest but didn’t because of a simple malfunction. Harriman might not have been a target at all but Triton itself. But again, why?”

“Admiral Johnson had no information for me,” Crane said. “He seemed as stumped as you.”

“There has to be a reason for what’s happened.”

“But what? And where’s the admiral?”

“And is he alive?” Starke added. “Is there, well is there a chance Harriman left the pod without scuba equipment and you just couldn’t find his body?” Starke asked in a hushed tone.

“I…I don’t know why he would do that. He didn’t have much if any air left by the time he disconnected. We did search the area.”

“But the sea is very harsh, Crane,” he said carefully. “Scavengers…sharks…”

“I understand, sir,” Crane interrupted. “But…whether it’s just wishful thinking or not, I think the admiral was taken. Why and by whom, I don’t know.”

Nodding wearily, Starke ran a hand over his face, worry for his friend filling him. “I’ll make some calls, make sure our agencies have contacted INTERPOL, see if they have any idea what might have happened and who might have done it. I’ll get back to you when I hear anything.”

“One thing more, Admiral. Admiral Nelson said their sonar had picked up a sub nosing about the area. And he said surface traffic was heavier than what they thought normal considering Triton was well off the normal shipping lanes. I don’t know if it’s connected or not but I thought you should know.”

“A submarine? That’s interesting. Did you inform Johnson?”

“Yes sir. He also found it interesting,” he said dryly.

“I’ll have that looked into. If your men examining the bombs find anything, get back to me or Johnson as soon as you can. Keep searching the area around the sea lab. Look for any more bodies or any evidence of what may have happened.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Crane? You know Harriman. If he’s still alive and there’s a way out of whatever he’s involved in, he’ll find it.”

“Yes sir. If he’s still alive,” he added morosely.

“I won’t believe he’s gone until I have definitive proof.”

Crane nodded, a slow smile cracking his dour face.

Starke’s face disappeared from the screen and Crane reached up, turning it off. Slumping back in his chair, he ran his hands over his face, trying to think. What could have happened? It wasn’t the first time the admiral had disappeared. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought the man dead. But this time, there seemed to be no answers. The admiral may still be alive. That was more than he had to hang on to a few short hours ago. And knowing the admiral, as Starke said, if there was a way, he’d find it. He just hoped with all he had that there had been a way.

<<<>>>

A cold, bottomless darkness wrapped Harriman Nelson in icy hands as he struggled to breathe, his lungs seemingly consumed by tongues of fire. With a violent gasp, he inhaled great gulps of air into his oxygen-starved lungs feeling the burning lessen and his torpid brain begin to function again. His chest hurt with a fierce intensity as the air permeated his lungs and he slowly became cognizant of the fact he could see nothing but ebony shadows about him. As disconcerting as that was, even more so was the realization he could not move.

“I…I’m in Hell,” he managed to whisper, horrified that his eternity was to be this inky blackness.

A stridently harsh laughter greeted his ears and he was slightly mollified to know he wasn’t alone. Or deaf.

“Yes…yes you are in Hell, Admeeral. Very perceptive of you. Welcome to your Hell.”

The heavy accent that greeted his ears caused memories of a time he would rather forget to flood back and he groaned. “No…no…,” he whispered as he pondered what evil he had done in his life to be consigned to Hell with the man whose voice calling him Admeeral still haunted his dreams?

“Brynov,” he choked out, a strong sense of hopelessness filling him. He’d managed to outlast the exiled leader of The People’s Republic on a small raft in the middle of the Sea of Okhotsk after the yacht they were on had been bombed ** but apparently his eternal punishment was to spend eternity with the man.

“Close! But no, Admeeral. My Alexi is dead. At your hands,” the voice growled, the tone becoming harsher with every word.

Nelson felt a kick connect to his ribs and he barely muffled the cry that was forced from him. It was then he began to become aware of other twinges coming from his head, chest, and arms then realized his hands were cuffed tightly behind his back. He was briefly gratified to find he wasn’t paralyzed as he had originally feared, then almost regretted it as the pain from several unseen injuries filled him.

A vague sense of movement told him he was on a ship of some kind, a gentle vibration confirming the fact. One more well placed kick flipped him to his back while whatever blocked his vision was ripped from his face. Blinking rapidly in the sudden brightness, he looked up into the smiling face of Josip Stepankov, the staunch friend, aide and executioner of the former Premier of The Peoples Republic.

“You’re…you’re dead,” he managed to gasp out as he stared into the face of the man he had been certain had died after falling over the side of the raft that bore the two of them, along with other refugees, from ex-Premier Brynov’s sunken yacht.

“And so are you, Nelson,” he snickered. “Your people watched you die. I imagine they are quite sad.”

Gradually, Nelson’s eyes flitted about the hell he found himself in and frowned. Walls, a floor, chairs… “Where am I?”

“Ah…so you do not truly believe you are in Hell any longer?”

“Where am I? And what is it you want?” he asked angrily as he tried to sit up only to be knocked back down by Stepankov, a foot pressing hard on Nelson’s chest.

“What I want is revenge. Revenge for my Alexi and revenge for what you did to me.”

“I did nothing to you,” he managed to gasp out as the foot pressed harder.

“You left me for dead! You watched Konstantin and me fall overboard and did nothing!” he cried out, naming Brynov’s doctor who had also fallen overboard that night while fighting with Stepankov. “You left me for the sharks to tear apart!”

“I couldn’t help you even if I had been able. Your precious Alexi had a gun on me. With the storm that was coming up…”

“Silence! I will not listen to your lies. Alexi would have searched for me. He would have saved me! I have waited five long years to be strong enough physically and politically to extract my revenge for Alexi and this,” he cried as he lifted his right pant leg to reveal a prosthetic leg. “You took my leg from me as surely as if you had been the one to take it physically. The sharks did your work for you.”

“You’re mad,” Nelson gasped as the foot pressed into his chest again. “There was nothing I could do. If you want someone to lay the blame for that on, look to your precious Premier.”

“NO! Alexi…”

“Alexi had no use for you. He had no concern for you. When you went over the side, he didn’t even flinch, didn’t even look to see if you had survived. He simply kept that gun trained on me assuring that I couldn’t turn back for you and Konstantin if I had wanted,” he managed to grate out as he continued to struggle for air as Stepankov’s foot pressed harder on his chest. “Brynov is the reason you have one leg. Not me.”

With a roar, Stepankov leaned down and backhanded Nelson. “You will not say his name you filthy American pig! You are not worthy!”

Rage, sadness and grief filled Nelson as he stared in disbelief and dawning understanding at the man standing over him. “Triton…you…you killed all those people just to get your revenge on me?”

“You flatter yourself, Nelson,” Stepankov laughed, removed his foot and stalked away, turning back to watch him in amusement. “Your presence on Triton was, shall we say, a very happy coincidence. Once I knew you were there, I altered plans somewhat, making certain that we could destroy the sea lab and capture you at the same time. And all with the knowledge no one would look for you. When your precious Seaview arrives, they will find nothing left of Triton. Nothing left of you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Nelson croaked as he sat up, scooted his body backwards and leaned against a wall. “Two of the pods survived the explosion. They don’t find me; they’ll know I’m not dead.”

Stepankov threw his head back, a harsh laughter echoing about the room. “That’s where you are wrong, Admeeral! Those two pods were left standing to allow my accomplices to take you. When you were unconscious, they slipped in, put a wetsuit on you and dragged you out the airlock to a waiting submarine. Explosive charges under those two pods had a delay set in them. Once aboard and away, they blew, taking all evidence with them.”

“Accomplices?” Nelson asked slowly, real fear beginning to blossom in him.

“Yes, accomplices. Two of my men were on Triton. You wish to know who, don’t you? I will tell you that bit of news in my own time.”

“Then tell me what you’ve been doing since the raft. It seems you not only survived a shark attack, but appears to have…pardon the pun…landed on your feet. How did you manage to afford all this?” Nelson asked from his perch on the cold floor. “Or better yet, whose help did you have to perpetrate the senseless murder of over fifty innocent people? Fifty scientists for crying out loud who were only trying to do research! Why?!”

Stepankov strode to a chair, lighting a cigarette on the way and shrugged. “The raft was not the only vessel in the waters that night. We were followed by a small contingent of Russians. They heard of the yacht’s sinking and searched for us. Unfortunately, the storm prevented them from finding you and Alexi. You did not know that, did you?”

“Why? Why would Russians be searching for us?”

“Alexi had plans, Nelson. Deals upon deals with various countries. The Russians were a silent partner so to speak in Alexi’s plan to start a war with your country.”

“What would they gain by that? Would they also attack the United States?”

“Ha! No, they do not have the courage to do that but what they would gain would be a weakened enemy for one thing When Alexi knew things were going to go against him in TPR, he made a deal with a high-ranking Russian official. A very high-ranking official.”

“What kind of deal?”

“Once the war was over and he returned to TPR in glory, with their silent help, Alexi would make a treaty with Russia allowing them use of our ports on the Sea of Okhotsk as well as access to TPR’s vast uranium deposits.”

Nelson paled when he thought of the ramifications of Russia’s access to The People’s Republic’s vast uranium wealth. “They must have been pretty upset when he died.”

Yes…yes upset. But once I had recovered somewhat, I presented them with my own plan. One they seem to have grasped firmly and are…how do you say it? They are running with it.”

“And what does your plan entail?” Nelson asked, not liking what he was hearing.

“My plan is glorious but I think that will wait for another time.”

Nelson fidgeted on the hard, unforgiving floor as he tried to find a position that didn’t hurt. “Who beat the hell out of me anyway?”

“Oh, there were many,” Stepankov laughed. “Just enough to hurt but not kill.”

“I can’t tell you how glad I am of that,” he smirked. “You haven’t told me how you survived in the water or where the devil I am though. Perhaps you would like to share those tidbits of information with me?”

“No, I suppose I haven’t and I see no reason not to. Very well. When Konstantin and I went over…when we went into the water, we fought still. But, Konstantin was a soft doctor and no match for a trained general in The People’s Republic army. He began to sink and then…then the sharks came,” he said, his voice growing softer and his eyes unfocused as he remembered. “They…one of them grabbed me and pulled me under. I fought but I could feel my air going and knew I was going to die. But suddenly I was free and swam to the surface. I felt hands pulling me up and I gratefully lost consciousness. When I woke, days later, I found out the reason I was freed from the jaws of the shark was the loss of my leg. Later, I found this was to be my new companion,” he said slapping angrily at the prosthetic. “And all because of you.”

“Look, I keep telling you, I couldn’t go back. Your loss lies squarely at Brynov’s feet.”

Stepankov made a gesture of dismissal. “It matters not to me what you say. Alexi…the Alexi I grew up with, fought with in the revolution, ruled with…would have come back.”

“That’s the thing though. He wasn’t the Alexi you knew. He was a heartless, ruthless ruler changed because of the power he craved. He’d become a man who cared for no one. Not even you.”

When Stepankov remained silent, staring at him with cold disinterest, he continued. “Where exactly am I anyway?” he asked looking about the ornate cabin he was in. “And why did you find it necessary to kill all those people?”

“I suppose it does no harm to tell you what you wish to know seeing as how you will never see home again. Where you are is aboard a freighter headed for a secret Russian research base very near…too near actually…Triton.”

“Secret base? The subs we picked up on sonar and the surface traffic…is that why the lab was destroyed?” Nelson asked in shock.

“You are very perceptive! Yes, that is why Triton was destroyed. Our movements to and from our base were detected by your instruments. My people on the lab informed us the movements were picked up and you, among others, were growing suspicious.”

“Yes. There should have been no traffic as far away from the shipping lanes as we were. So you decided to destroy the lab and kill innocent people.”

“Oh, I did not decide anything. It was decided by higher ups in Russia. I however, added my own element to the mix.”

“What element?”

“I nearly drowned when I was pulled under the water by the sharks that took my leg. I wanted you to have a taste of what it felt like to suffocate…to know you were going to die and could do nothing to stop it. I wanted you to feel the terror as you gasped for breath, knowing there would soon be no more oxygen and you would die. How did it feel, Nelson?” he asked as he leaned down to stare into Nelson’s face. “Were you scared? Terrified of what was to come? I hope you were.”

“You said this is a freighter?” Nelson asked, ignoring Stepankov’s question. At his captor’s nod, he continued. “I’ve never seen cabins such as this on any freighter I’ve been on before.”

“Well, that is because outwardly, it appears to be a freighter but in reality very little cargo is carried on it other than some supplies. It is a way for us to travel about undetected without raising suspicions.”

“Where exactly are we headed?”

“We are headed to an island where you will be off loaded, put on a plane and taken to your new home in Mother Russia. My comrades are very eager to get their hands on the great Admiral Nelson and all the secrets locked in that brain of yours. Your knowledge of your country’s weapons, launch codes…well, so much more will be of great value to Russia. With your help we will take down your missile defense system, launch your own missiles against the United States. So much locked in that brain that you will either give freely…or quite painfully. You will either live comfortably as a scientist in Russia’s new science programs developing weapons or will die painfully. It will be your choice. Part of me hopes you resist. I want to see you suffer,” he said as he slouched back in his seat.

“So who were these accomplices you had on Triton?”

“Can’t you guess, Nelson?” he asked as he pressed a button on the desk he sat by. “One is of no concern. He played a minor role but the other will astound you. Care to guess?”

“No. I can’t think of anyone on Triton that would be cold-hearted enough to kill innocent people.”

“Not even if you think very hard, Admiral?” a hard, bitter voice asked from across the room.

As hard as he tried, Nelson could not keep the utter shock off his face as he saw the figure standing just inside the door, a sneer on his young face. “Lucas! I…I can’t believe you would be involved in this.”

“That is because you do not know me. Not who I am, not where I grew up, not who my father was,” he said in an accent Nelson had never heard him use before.

A chill ran down Nelson’s spine as he began to put the pieces together. He laid his head back against the wall behind him as he intently gazed at the figure before him. “Oh my God. You can’t be,” he muttered as he searched the face before him for any similarities and found several.

“But I can be. I see you have put two and two together. Yes, I am who you think I am. I am the son of Alexi Brynov.”

Stepankov burst into laughter as he watched the horrible realization steal over Nelson’s face. “It’s true Admeeral…you courted Alexi Brynov’s brilliant son to become your next protégé! I couldn’t have planned that any better myself! Allow me to introduce you to Luka Alexi Steinkov Brynov.”

With a smirk, Lucas closed the door behind him and walked to stand over Nelson, a look of utter hatred on his face. “Do you know how hard it was to not kill you? Day after day I worked with you, ate with, and all the time I was remembering that you were the reason my father was dead.”

“I’m getting tired of saying this but I didn’t kill him! We ran out of water. He…”

“Enough!” Stepankov cried. “There is nothing to be gained by saying the same thing over and over. We, who are the only ones who matter, hold you accountable.”

“And we will enjoy watching you suffer,” Lucas added as he seated himself near Nelson.

“So your father sent you to America.”

“Yes, he did. I was handed a new name, a whole new life, created to allay suspicions. My father wanted me to be educated in the land of our enemies but to be far enough away from his enemies within The People’s Republic. I was to learn all I could and return to my homeland equipped with all the tools I needed to make The People’s Republic prosper and take its place as a world leader. When the people turned against him, plans were made and we were to be reunited when he brought the microfilm to your country. But he was betrayed. And died.”

“And you…what? It’s been a few years since your father died.”

“I bided my time, waiting for the chance to avenge my father, waiting for a chance to return and help my country, to make it turn from the path it had been led down. I worked at Scripps, learning, waiting until I was contacted.”

“And willingly joined in a plan to kill people that trusted you, worked with you.”

“They meant nothing to me. Their deaths mean nothing. You mean nothing. Do you know how many times I saw you as a student and at Scripps? Do you know how many times I was near you? So close that I could put a knife in you?”

“I admire your restraint,” Nelson quipped.

Rage filled Luka’s face and he reached down, grabbed hold of Nelson’s shirt and pulled him to his feet, throwing him back against the wall, his face inches from Nelson’s. “I will kill you. When you do not spill your secrets, when you do not willingly help us, I will kill you. And it will not be a quick death. I will make it slow and painful.”

A knock sounded on the door across from Nelson and he turned his gaze from Lucas’…Luka’s…hate-filled face and watched as Stepankov rose and walked to it. Yanking it open, he glared at the person on the other side. “I do not wish…”

The person on the other side leaned close, whispered in Stepankov’s ear then waited just outside the door. For a few moments, Stepankov stood by the door, then turned back.

“Good news I hope,” Nelson joked.

“Not for you.”

“What is it?” Luka asked, not letting his hold on Nelson slacken.

“We will discuss it in private. You my dear Admeeral, will be taken to less opulent accommodations. Luka…”

“You promised,” he spat out without turning his gaze from Nelson who watched him with an aloof look on his face.

Stepankov closed his eyes briefly before nodding. “Quickly. And do not kill him.”

Before Nelson could ask what he meant, he felt Luka’s fist explode into his stomach, then his face. He lost count of the punches thrown and shortly lost his tenuous hold on consciousness, kept upright only because of Luka’s firm hold on him.

“Enough!” Stepankov shouted. “He feels nothing. Let him go.”

Stepping back, Luka let Nelson’s limp body slide from his grasp and slump to the floor. He smiled in satisfaction as he watched the blood trickling down Nelson’s face from a split lip and countless small cuts, and saw the eyes already swelling.

“There will be more, Nelson.”

“But not now. You,” he said to the man that waited in the hall. “Take our…guest to his cell. Shackle him and stand guard. I want nothing else to go wrong.

The guard nodded briefly, walked to the unconscious Nelson and dragged him from the room, a thin line of blood trailing behind.

“What is wrong?” Luka asked.

“We have problems,” Stepankov answered vaguely.

“What problems?”

Stepankov turned to Luka. “The explosives you and Stephan planted did not go off. The last pods were not destroyed.”

“No matter. I will go back…”

“It is too late. The fool captain of the K-38 abandoned his position by Triton and headed back to the freighter. He has been relieved of his command and the new captain of the K-38 has been sent back to the area.”

“Why? Why would he abandon his mission?”

“He is Russian. He has no courage. The mere mention of the fact Seaview was a few hours away made him wet his pants and flee, I suspect. The new captain reports that Seaview arrived early. They must know by now Nelson is not there. And they must know Triton did not simply explode but was bombed.”

Luka’s face turned from smug to concerned. “What are our orders?”

“K-38 is being ordered to attack. The Seaview will be sunk. We will continue with our plan,” he shrugged.

“This Seaview…she will not be easy to destroy. Her captain…”

“…is nothing more than Nelson’s lackey. Seaview will be destroyed.”

“If you say so. What do we do?”

“I want our speed increased to best possible for this rusty bucket. By tomorrow morning I want to be at the base.”

“What becomes of Nelson from there?”

Josip shrugged. “It is not our concern. He will be used for the greater good of our new allies.”

“Or die?” Luka asked with a smile.

“Or die,” Josip agreed. “Painfully, I hope. Let us pray he lasts for a few “training” sessions though, hmmm?”

<<<>>>

Onboard Seaview, Lee Crane slowly descended the stairs leading to the Control Room, hesitating as he saw the head of every crew member on duty shoot up, hopeful looks on their faces. Lowering his gaze, he walked quickly to the sonar station.

“Anything, Kowalski?”

“No, sir. She’s all quiet.”

“Chip, I want you to send two men out in the Flying Sub to look for anything or anyone we may have missed. Send dive teams out to bring the bodies we’ve found aboard. At least some of the families will have closure. Tell them to also look for any evidence of explosive materials…anything that shouldn’t be there.”

“Aye sir,” Chip said softly as he contacted the Missile Room and had the dive teams go out. Turning his gaze to Crane, he watched the captain do a circuit around the Control Room, checking and re-checking instruments before striding forward to the Observation Nose and pacing anxiously in front of Seaview’s huge windows as he awaited word from Starke…Johnson…anyone that could tell him where Nelson was. And if he still lived.

The memory of the admiral’s steadily paling face, his lips tinged blue, his breaths fading to mere gasps, were forever imprinted in his memory. But the thought the man could still be alive filled him with a desperate haste and a sense of hope mixed with fear. If he had been taken, where was he? Who could have concocted this plan? He snorted as he knew there were too many options for that as he knew any one of a number of nations, people, sects or groups would love to be the ones to tap the deepest recesses of the man’s brain. His brilliant mind, his knowledge, experience and top secret information were a strong enticement.

“Lee? What did Starke have to say?”

Crane turned, seeing the worry and question in his exec’s eyes and shook his head. “Starke has no idea what’s going on or who may have him or why Triton was bombed. ONI, the FBI and INTERPOL have no idea why. No one knows!” he said in anguish as he resumed his almost frantic pacing. “A sea lab the size of Triton is destroyed and no one has any clue who could have done it or why. No whispers in the intelligence community, no agents hearing…damn. It just is so hard to believe. All those people. It was just a research lab!”

“Ever think it was the admiral they wanted and not the lab?”

“Yeah…yeah I have. So have Starke and Johnson. But it seems extreme, doesn’t it?”

“Those two pods left standing tell me this could have been planned to take him.”

“But the fact they’re still standing is…”

“Skipper!” Kowalski’s urgent voice called from the sonar station. “I have a contact coming in fast off our bow. Range is 80,000 yards and closing. Profiles as a sub.”

Crane and Morton sprinted to the sonar station and peered over Kowalski’s shoulder. “Class Ski?”

“It’s not one of ours,” he said softly. “Range 70,000. Profiles as…” He looked up at Crane quickly. “She’s a Victor class, sir.”

“Victor class,” Chip exclaimed. “Russians? In these waters?”

“How much water beneath us?” Crane called.

“One thousand five hundred feet, sir.”

“Well that gives us a little maneuvering room at least,” Crane said, then reached for the mic and clicked it twice. “Missile Room, ready torpedoes 1, 2, 3 and 4.”

“Aye sir!” came the disembodied reply.

“Just in case they aren’t coming just to say hello,” he said to Chip in answer to his silent question. “Keep on it, Ski.”

“Aye sir. Still closing…60,000 yards…depth…500 feet and dropping…speed 15 knots…closing in on our port bow…heading straight for us.”

“Sparks! Contact that sub! I want to know who she is and what they are doing in these waters!”

“Aye Skipper!”

“She’s not slowing down, Lee,” Chip muttered. “I’d have to say she’s up to no good.”

“You think?” Lee answered with a grim smile.

“Skipper, all tubes are loaded and waiting for your orders,” a voice from the Missile Room called.

“Stand by, Missile Room. Sparks! Any word from that sub?”

“Negative, Skipper. She’s not answering at all.”

“She’s not very friendly,” Chip quipped.

“No, she isn’t. Range, Ski?”

“50,000 yards and closing.”

“Can you give me an idea of what class Victor?”

“She reads…class one sir,” Ski answered after a second’s contemplation.

“That’s reassuring at least.” Turning to the man that stood slightly behind the two command officers ready and waiting for any orders, he asked, “Sharkey, what do you know about the Victor class subs?”

“Class ones are the oldest Victor class sub…Russian… top speed is significantly slower than us… 30 knots would be pushing it. Six torpedo launch tubes running Type 53 torpedoes. Capacity of 24 torpedoes. They’re no match for us,” he finished smugly causing Crane to look up with a smile on his face.

“You’ve done your homework, Chief,” he murmured causing the COB to allow a slight smile to cross his face.

“Range 40,000 yards…30,000…continuing straight for us.”

“Close crash doors, Mr. Morton,” Crane said, his eyes never leaving the sonar.

“Crash doors closed, sir.”

“25,000 and…sir! She’s opened outer doors and flooded tubes! She’s getting ready to fire on us,” Ski called out.

“Easy Kowalski. Missile Room, ready for firing on my command. Helm come to a course of 045, dive to 750 feet, ahead one third.”

“Aye sir.”

“Sir! Four torpedoes in the water!”

“Helm! Hard right rudder! Missile Room! Drop decoys! Fire all torpedoes!”

“Aye sir! Firing torpedoes 1 through 4!”

“Torpedoes closing…1,000 yards. 500 yards…”

“Helm, increase speed to two-thirds, dive to 1,000 feet.”

Crane and Morton stared at the ceiling as if they could see the torpedoes coming at them.

“Skipper, decoy acquired. Contact,” he all but crowed as a thump accompanied by a slight rocking of the Seaview confirmed the fact. “Decoy destroyed…other three torpedoes…complete miss!”

“And ours, Ski?”

“Closing. Target acquired. They’re making a run for it. Speed up to 30 knots.”

“Increase speed to full,” Crane barked.

“Still closing. Impact!” Kowalski yelled at almost the same time a loud thump could be heard. “She’s hit…sinking.”

“Depth?”

“She’s heading to the bottom…1,000 feet…1,500 feet.”

“She’s not made for that depth. She’ll implode,” Chip muttered a relieved smile on his face.

“Helm, set a course for the sub. Back off speed to slow. Open crash doors.”

“Aye sir.

Seaview made her way to the downed sub, hoping there were answers waiting for them there.

“Coming up on coordinates, sir,” Chip intoned.

“Let’s see if we can spot her,” Crane said quietly as he turned and walked towards the Observation Nose.

Both men gazed out at the murky water before them, their eyes searching.

“There, Lee. Off the port quarter,” he said pointing to the sub that lay at an almost impossibly acute angle, a hole in her port bow as well as one in her stern. “Not much hope for survivors.”

“No. But let’s try anyway. Sparks! Contact the sub. See if…” But before he could finish his order the two men saw the hull of the submarine before them begin to crumble as though a giant hand were crushing it and they knew there was no hope for any on the sub.

“Well, I guess we won’t get any answers from them,” Chip said quietly, horrified at the grisly death the men on that sub had just experienced.

“No…no I guess not,” Crane replied quietly, unable to look away. “Helm! Get us closer. Ahead slow.”

“Do you see any markings?” Chip asked.

“Can’t see her tower. Helm, left rudder. Take it slow.”

“There, Chip. She’s the…K-38. I want facts and figures on her. Sparks! Get me Admiral Starke. I’ll take it here,” he called.

Several long minutes went by before Sparks put the call from Starke through to the Observation Nose where the two Seaview officers waited anxiously.

“Crane? I told you I would contact you when I had word of…”

“Something’s happened, Admiral. I thought you should know. It may have bearing on what’s happened to Admiral Nelson,” Crane interrupted.

Starke leaned close to the view phone. “What is it?” he asked.

“We were just attacked by a Russian Victor class submarine. She fired four torpedoes that missed us. We retaliated. Two of our torpedoes hit and she sank below crush depth and imploded just as we got there.”

Starke closed his eyes briefly knowing the death the men had just experienced. “Any markings?”

“She was the K-38, sir.”

“Russian,” Starke whispered, his fingers drumming in agitation on his desk. “What would they be doing in these waters?”

“And do they have anything to do with what happened to Triton?”

“And Harriman,” Starke added quietly.

“Yes…and the admiral. Have you found out anything?”

“It’s only been a few hours,” he said testily, his eyes refusing to meet Crane’s. “I’ve been in contact with Johnson and a few others. We’re all working on it.”

“You have heard something, haven’t you?” he asked sitting forward in his seat and staring hard at Starke who closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I had more information but there have been a few hits. Nothing specifically about Harriman though.”

“Then what?”

Starke sighed deeply and leaned forward. “An agent we have working in Russia has sent several reports over the last year saying there have been rumors something big was going on…something that involved The People’s Republic. Something centered in the South Pacific.”

“Something big? That’s all?”

Starke was silent for a bit then asked quietly, “You remember The People’s Republic’s leader, Premier Brynov?”

“You mean the maniac that very nearly killed the admiral?” he asked in a harsh tone, remembering the mission Nelson had gone on for the United Stated government to determine if Premier Brynov’s supposed proof of his nation’s plans to start a war with the United States was valid. Slipping aboard the exiled leader’s yacht, he had examined microfilm purportedly showing missile launch sites. A traitor to Brynov’s plans exposed their position and the yacht was sunk. Only nine of those onboard the yacht had survived. Over the course of a few days, that number had dwindled to two...Nelson, who’d been shot, and Brynov, with the admiral being the lone survivor. He still had nightmares about pulling Nelson’s fever-wracked body from the raft.

“Ever since Brynov’s exile and death, The People’s Republic has been in a state of flux. No one true leader has emerged which has cost the country in terms of stability. But there has been chatter over the last year that someone from Brynov’s faction made a deal with Russia.”

“What kind of deal?” Crane asked.

“Word is…and this isn’t in any way substantiated…is that in exchange for help in returning someone from Brynov’s faction to power, something of value would be given to Russia.”

“Something of value? That’s rather vague.”

“I said it was chatter and I did say I was working on it. I’m waiting for a call from INTERPOL right now. If what you’ve told me about the possibility Russia was involved in Triton’s destruction is true…it’s not good news I’m afraid and lends credence to this report.”

“What could TPR give Russia that is big enough to warrant them getting involved in their affairs? TPR is a vastly smaller country than Russia.”

“And bordered by Russia and China, both considered to be enemies. There is speculation that if returned to power, Brynov’s faction would give Russia access to their ports on the Sea of Okhotsk.”

“That sounds innocuous,” Morton said with a frown. “There has to be more to it than that.”

“There is supposition the deal would also include access to TPR’s vast uranium and oil deposits.”

“Uranium…that’s not good news,” Lee muttered.

“No, it isn’t. If Russia were to gain the ports and the deposits, we could be looking at a prelude to all out war, not only in the region…but with us and our allies.”

“But why destroy Triton? They were merely a research station! And what does this all have to do with the admiral?” Lee asked anxiously.

Starke sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. “Again, I don’t have all the facts but apparently this agent we have working inside Russia has been warning the United States intelligence community for close to a year now that Russia may have built a new weapons research facility, possibly in the same area as Triton. Satellites have noticed an uptick in ocean going vessels in the area that normally is rather quiet.”

“And if they thought Triton was there to spy on them…”

“They may have taken it out, hoping it would look like an accident,” Starke noted.

“What they didn’t know was we were in contact with the admiral at the time,” Chip said.

“If you hadn’t been and if those pods had been destroyed, we would have no reason to believe otherwise unless explosive materials had been found onsite.”

“But there’s still the question of where the admiral is and was he taken off Triton,” Lee said.

Starke stared at his desk for a long time before looking up. “You know as well as I do that Harriman would be a nice trophy. His knowledge…his mind for crying out loud…would be a strong incentive for any of our enemies. If it was known he was there, the plans might have been to not only destroy Triton, but capture Harriman.”

“And take him to Russia,” Crane whispered horrified at the thought of Admiral Nelson a captive in Russia. The thought of what they would do to him, flowing through his mind.

“Yes…take him to Russia. Or this secret base.”

“Any word on its location?” Lee asked.

“No…no there isn’t. We’re not even certain this base exists. Satellites haven’t spotted anything but now that we have a slightly better idea where it may be, we’re redirecting our satellites to scrutinize the area Triton was in.”

“You said this agent…”

“This agent is not…I’ll just say the agent is not considered reliable and we’ll leave it at that.”

Crane stared at Starke trying to figure out why the man seemed so reticent to talk about it. “All right. What do we do in the meantime? He’s out there, possibly hurt…or dead…or headed for some Godforsaken gulag.”

“I don’t know that there’s much we can do right now, Crane. We have no idea where they may have taken him, if someone took him.”

“Something happened to him!” Chip exclaimed. “He’s not anywhere near the sea lab. If this secret base is near where Triton was, then why don’t we send the Flying Sub to the area to search?”

“It’s all supposition. The base, the weapons, Harriman’s disappearance…well, they may not be connected. But if the Intel is valid and if the Flying Sub or Seaview is spotted flying near where this supposed base is, you may just get Harriman killed. Look,” Starke reasoned, “I know what Harriman means to you both but we just need to be patient and wait until we hear something concrete. In the meantime, Seaview will stay in the area and search for any clues.”

“Aye sir,” Crane said dejectedly knowing it was going to be agony to wait for word on where Nelson was and if he was alive.

“I’ll be in touch,” Starke assured, his face disappearing from the view phone.

“Wait,” Lee snorted. “Wait for what? Wait for them to put him on a plane and fly him to Russia where he’ll never be seen again?”

“That’s what our orders are,” Chip said quietly. “Do we follow them?”

Lee sat for a long time staring at the now blank screen, thinking. Then with a sigh, he closed his eyes and nodded. “For now, we wait. But just one concrete piece of evidence and we go after him.”

<<<>>>

Waves of angry pain coursed through Harriman Nelson as he slowly fought his way back to consciousness. Blinking his eyes in an effort to get them to focus on something, anything in the stygian blackness that surrounded him proved fruitless and he gave up. Moving his head slightly, he groaned as he felt pain flare from various parts of his body. Lucas had vented his anger on him quite thoroughly.

An overwhelming sense of isolation assaulted him and after several minutes, realized his hands, still manacled, were raised over his head and attached to something in the ceiling above him that he was unable to see. An experimental tug on them told him he wasn’t going to get away easily.

“You got yourself into a fine predicament, Nelson. You’re headed to Russia and no one even knows you’re alive. Makes it a bit difficult to hope for rescue.” His words echoed in the vast space he found himself in.

Several long minutes went by as he catalogued all his injuries. His eyes, although swollen, opened, at least somewhat. The nausea and accompanying dizziness told him he in all likelihood had a concussion while the pain in his ribs told him a few were bruised, if not broken. Fire burned in his lungs still and he wondered what he had breathed to produce such a reaction. Perhaps it was simply the fact he’d been so close to asphyxiation.

Moving slightly, he fought to keep from crying out at the pain that coursed through him at the simple movement. He laid his head back against the cool wall that vibrated with the thrumming of the boat’s engines and tried to think, to find a way out of his predicament but found nothing. Lee, Chip, his crew all thought him dead. For a brief moment he lamented the grief he knew they would feel at his death. If only he could let them know he was alive. But locked in this prison, headed for a future in Russia, he knew he was all alone and helpless to do anything. Except fight. And fight he would. He was no novice to the ways of torture and knew what was ahead. He would die before giving them what they wanted. His only fear was some drug that would break down the barriers he would set up in his mind to keep from becoming a traitor to his country. How could he defend himself against that? The thought of being a traitor, willingly or not, filled him with an overwhelming terror.

He was so lost in his dark thoughts that he almost missed the clink of keys outside his cell. Gazing into the deep blackness, he squinted hoping for a view of something, anything. He cocked his head as he heard a lock turn and a loud squeak as a door somewhere on the far side of the room was opened.

A click and bright light suddenly assaulted his eyes causing him to groan as the painful brightness bore through his partially open eyes and he turned away from the welcome light.

“Sorry,” the heavily accented voice said. “Thought they would have turned a light on in here.”

“No, I guess they forgot,” Nelson replied as he watched a young man in his late twenties with longish blond hair carrying a tray close and lock the heavy door, then turn to him, staring at him in interest.

“So you are the great Nelson. I never thought it possible that we would ever capture you,” he said with a heavy accent and slight smile as he walked across the floor and placed the tray just out of Nelson’s reach. “I’ve heard many things about you. Mostly how hard you are going to be to break.”

Frowning, Nelson watched the young man take something from his pocket, flip a switch and begin walking around the room. “I think every man has his breaking point though. Question is…what is yours?” he continued, finally finishing his circuit of the room and stopping in front of Nelson. Smiling, he flipped the instrument in his hand closed and knelt in front of him. “The room’s clear.”

Nelson gazed at the smiling man in front of him whose heavy Russian accent was replaced with a decidedly American one and tried to figure out what he was talking about. “Clear?” he managed to ask.

“Of bugs,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was hoping they would overlook the hold they put you in. Makes it easier to talk. They’re way too confident but it works to our advantage.”

“Oh,” Nelson said laying his head back. “You’re the friendly one.”

“Friendly one?”

“Yes. Make me feel as though I’m back home talking to a friend, someone safe to reveal secrets to. Not going to work.”

“I am a friend. I’m a CIA operative actually. I’ve been in their illustrious employ for five years now.”

“Uh huh. And I’ve been a KGB operative for twenty. It’s not going to work.”

“Well, anyway, I brought you some food and water. I can at least clean up your cuts a bit and try to make you feel a little more comfortable. We can talk while I do that,” he said with a smile.

“You can talk all you want.”

“At least listen to what I have to say,” he said as he took a rag, dunked it in water and wrung it out. Leaning close to Nelson he bathed the many cuts that peppered his face. “Lucas did a good job on you. The man has no restraint.”

“I think this was restrained. He seems to blame me for his father’s death,” he remarked, flinching as the rag touched a particularly painful spot over one eye.

“Yes, well, so does Josip and he’s definitely not right in the head. From what I’ve been told, ever since that shark took his leg away his brain’s been addled, consumed with revenge. Couple that with an all out belief that you and you alone can save your country and you have someone that back home they would call bat-shit crazy.”

“Seems to be the prevailing theme so far on this little excursion of mine.”

Finished with wiping the blood from Nelson’s face he sat back and gazed at him in compassion. “There’s not a lot I can do for you right now. Technically, I’m not supposed to be here but I bribed the one who was to bring you food and water. I doubt he would have been as gentle,” he smirked as he reached for a bottle of water and put it to Nelson’s lips. “Drink all you can. I don’t know when they will bring more.”

Nelson swallowed most of the bottle, grimacing as the cuts on his split lip burned at the simple action. “So what’s your name?”

“Peter Ivanov,” he said simply as he placed some bread in Nelson’s mouth, watching as he chewed.

“That’s not very American,” he said as he swallowed the morsels.

Peter shrugged inelegantly. “My parents were born in Russia. They defected to the United States around 1950.”

“Hmm, and when did you become an agent?” Nelson asked with a quirked eye as Peter continued to feed him small bits of bread, meat and cheese.

Peter looked up at the skeptical smile on Nelson’s face and shook his head. “I was courted by the CIA in college…George Washington University. I knew Russian, spoke it fluently, and had contacts in Russia…family members, old friends of my parents. They were very persuasive. They trained me, taught me what it was to be truly Russian, and one day I walked into the Russian Embassy in Washington and…defected,” he said with a slight catch to his voice.

“How did that feel?”

Finished feeding Nelson the little food he had brought, he sat down beside him, and wrapped his arms around his legs. “It was the hardest thing I ever did, even harder than some of the stuff I’ve been asked to do since then,” he said softly. “But, my country asked me to serve it…I serve it. Much like you, but not on such a grand scale.

“Touching,” Nelson replied.

Glancing up, he saw the look on Nelson’s face and knew he didn’t believe him. “Look, you don’t have to believe me but you should at least listen to me. You’re going to be taken to a secret weapons base on a small island near the Marshall Islands, very near where Triton was, called Marau. Once there, you’ll be interrogated. I know the man in charge there. He’s not friendly. He’ll do his best to break you because it will look good on his record as being the one that broke Admiral Harriman Nelson. Resist. Do whatever your training tells you is necessary to not give in. When he doesn’t break you, you will probably be flown to somewhere in Russia.”

“When he doesn’t break me?” Nelson asked with a smile.

“I’ve heard stories about you. You’re tough. You’d die to keep what’s in your head, in your head. I’ve read everything I could about you and others like you. Just in case some day…some day they do to me what I know they are going to do to you,” he said staring Nelson in the eye. “When I know where they will send you after Marau, I’ll try to set up an escape plan…contact agents, embassies…whatever. If I can mange it before, I’ll do my best to let someone back home know about Marau, that you’re alive and where you are. Otherwise, you’ll just have to hold on until they send you on to Russia. There are more than a few there that are eager to get their hands on you so I think your stay in lovely tropical Marau will be short…maybe only a few days.”

“Days,” Nelson whispered, already contemplating what was ahead for him and trying not to let his apprehension show on his face.

“I’ll do what I can to get you out of this and back home, even if I have to blow my cover.”

“You’re either a very good liar or what you say you are is true. Either way, knowingly or not, willingly or not, you’ve given me hope.’

Peter tapped Nelson’s leg gently. “I’m glad.”

“Do you know anything about this weapons base?”

“Not much other than it will be a platform to deliver their secret weapons to the world, and destroy or at the least heavily damage our country and our allies. I haven’t been privileged enough to actually go there. This will be my first venture. I know only a general location so I haven’t been able to pass any information on to my contacts other than to say it’s in the South Pacific.”

“Does anyone in the international intelligence community know of this base?”

“Speculation…rumors…nothing more. It’s a closely guarded secret. I only just learned the general location recently by hanging around places I’m not supposed to be,” he grinned. “I’m not exactly in Stepankov’s inner circle. He tolerates me but doesn’t truly trust me. Passing on secrets like the location of the base or any news isn’t something he does.”

“Perhaps for good reason,” Nelson smiled.

Peter acknowledged Nelson’s quip with a quick smile. “Anyway, as I said, I haven’t had a chance to contact my connection in Riga with the location yet. Although from what I heard, the message there’s a base at all was met with extreme skepticism by the intelligence community as a whole. I’m not sure why.”

“Do you know anything about Seaview?” Nelson asked in anxiety.

“You mean has she arrived at Triton? No. I would assume so but I don’t really know for sure. After you were brought aboard I did hear something about a sub being sent back to the remains of the sea lab.”

“Why?” Nelson asked, suddenly concerned for his submarine and her crew.

“Again, no one tells me anything. If I hear something about Seaview, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks. Is there any way you can get word out that I’m not dead or about what’s happening?”

“I’m working on a plan to do that,” Peter sighed. “Once we’re on Marau it will be easier to move about the freighter. Most of those onboard now I suspect will go ashore so the chances the radio room is occupied will be less. I’ll try to get a message out, send it to a trusted agent somehow. I have contacts…other agents, friends…in Moscow, Riga, Odessa…a few more. Moscow would be the most obvious place for them to send you after Marau, but I can’t help but feel they won’t send you there. It’s too conspicuous a place. INTERPOL or undercover agents are more likely to spot you even if you are thought to be dead. For some reason, I’m thinking they will send you to Riga. The head of the KGB there is a man known for getting his subjects to break.”

“Don’t risk yourself or your cover,” Nelson said.

Peter looked up and smiled. “So you do believe me!”

“Didn’t say that. But if you are who you say you are, be careful.”

“You too. I must go,” he said slipping back into his heavy Russian accent. “Be strong.”

Nelson watched as Peter, gathered up the tray and walked slowly to the heavy door, opened it and looked out carefully up and down the corridor. Turning back, he nodded, then closed and locked the door. The heavy clang of the cell door closing was chilling and Nelson fought the urge to shiver at the sound.

Laying his head back, he contemplated what Peter had said. Although most of what he had told him, other than him being an agent, wasn’t anything he hadn’t expected, he was relieved to know he wasn’t alone. Whether or not Peter was what he said he was or not didn’t matter too much to him right now. He’d given him hope whether he had intended to or not and had eased the feeling of solitude. With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes and drifted into a restless sleep, the grief-stricken faces of Lee and Chip coming to him throughout the long night.

<<<>>>

Onboard Seaview, the same restlessness filled Lee Crane. Unable to sit still after his conversation with Starke, and finding sleep just as elusive as it had since the admiral’s “death”, he roamed up and down the corridors of the mighty submarine hoping, praying that her creator would soon be back walking beside him, laughing at some antic of the crew or joking with him about some mundane thing.

Finally, his wanderings brought him back to the Control Room where he tried hard not to notice the hopeful, determined looks on the faces of the admiral’s handpicked crew. Continuing on, he stopped by the plotting table where Chip Morton stood watching him, an indefinable look on his face.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Lee asked unnecessarily.

“No. You?”

“No. I keep seeing him being beaten, hurt…dead,” he said looking down at the chart before him.

“That’s not going to help anyone, Lee. He’ll come through this just as he always does.”

“Someday…someday he won’t, Chip. Someday he…”

“Stop. This isn’t that someday.”

“I wish I had your confidence. We don’t know for sure where he is, who has him….”

“Starke…Johnson…someone will figure it out. And in time. We’ll get him back. You know he’s not giving up. Don’t you give up.”

Crane looked up, noticing Chip’s face turned to the chart before him, pretending to plot a course already set. “Thanks, Chip. I see why the admiral keeps you around,” he joked.

“He keeps me around so he has someone to complain to when you go off playing secret agent for ONI,” he muttered, glancing up at Lee, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well, let’s continue searching for something to tell us where he is then. Is the Flying Sub still out?”

“Yep. Last sweep of the area, and all the others, haven’t shown anything. Just debris. They did bring back twenty-three bodies. None the admiral,” he said softly.

“At least a few families will have closure,” Lee whispered.

“Yeah. A few.”

“What about the bomb we found? Have Wingate or Henderson found anything?”

“Not that I know of. They haven’t said anything at least.”

“Think I’ll take a walk down and see what’s up.”

“Good plan,” Chip said with a little grin. “Get out of my hair…work off that restless energy.”

“Don’t let the door hit me on the way out, Chip?” Lee quipped with a half-hearted smile. “I’ll leave you to going back to plotting that course that’s already been set.”

Looking up, Chip saw the smirk on Lee’s face and shook his head, knowing he’d been caught. “Get out of here, will you?”

A short walk took him to one of the admiral’s labs. Quietly walking inside, he watched as two men peered at the disassembled bomb, making notes periodically. When they seemed to reach a stopping spot, he walked to them. “Anything?” he asked.

Glancing up in surprise, Todd Wingate nodded. “Yes sir. I was just about to call you. Josh and I found enough to tell us it’s Russian, sir. All the components are Russian manufacture. The design is straight out of a Russian “How to Make a Bomb” book.”

“Well, that fits with some other information we got. Anything else you can tell me?”

“The reason these bombs didn’t go off was this,” he said holding up a thin wire. “It became disconnected somehow.”

“You make it sound as though that’s not something you’d expect.”

“Well…it isn’t. Josh and I…well we looked at this bomb and all the residual pieces of explosives we could find from the remains of the sea lab thoroughly. Whoever designed this bomb knew what they were doing despite the fact it’s a rather simplistic device. This wire shouldn’t have been overlooked.”

“You’re saying it was left undone on purpose?”

“I…I can’t say that for certain, sir. The person that set the charges may not have known what he was doing or…or ocean currents or the actual detonation of the rest of the charges may have knocked it off. Except…”

“Except what?”

“Well, it’s the location of the wire, sir. It’s not out in the open so water currents knocking it off aren’t really a viable reason for it to be undone. And if the wire had been connected, it would take someone a few minutes to unhook it. More than a few if they didn’t know what they were doing.”

Crane stared thoughtfully at the wire, then nodded. “Thanks, Wingate. You two, get some sleep.”

“Aye sir,” both men said as they walked out of the room, leaving Crane to ponder the puzzle presented him. It made no sense to have the charges set and not notice the wire had come undone. It could simply have been a mistake. In a hurried rush to get away the charges weren’t set right. Or simple ineptitude could be the reason. But deep inside, he hoped it had been a deliberate act by someone. But why? And who?

Frustrated, he threw the wires down and glanced about the room, noticing the admiral’s tools, notes, and other evidences of the man about the room. He could see in his mind the admiral standing by a microscope, making notes on some subject, oblivious to anything around him. He saw the admiral smiling in excitement as he explained some new discovery he’d made or showed him some experiment. Signs of the man filled the lab and he tried to push away the panic that he felt rise in him. He had to be all right. He had to come back alive. He had to because if he didn’t, he didn’t know how he would continue on.

Knowing there wasn’t anything else he could do, he headed to his cabin. Although he knew it was going to be a fruitless attempt, he decided to try to find sleep once more. Hopefully in the morning there would be news…good news.

<<<>>>

A swift hard kick to his side brought Harriman Nelson to consciousness quickly and he grunted in pain as another kick followed.

“Time to wake up, Nelson,” a cold voice said.

Nelson looked up through swollen eyes to see Lucas standing before him, hatred radiating from his body in waves. One of Josip’s guards stood in the open doorway, a gun in his hands watching their movements closely.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“You won’t be so glib when you see your new home,” Lucas said as he took a key from his pocket and began to unlock the cuffs that kept Nelson relatively upright. Once the cuffs were unlocked from the heavy chain, he fell to his side, unable to stop himself.

“Get up,” Lucas said harshly as he grabbed his manacled wrists and yanked him to his feet. “Today you will know true pain. I only hope I am there to see you beg for mercy.”

Thrusting him away, he smiled as Nelson stumbled and fell to his knees, landing hard then watched as he struggled to stand, swaying slightly.

Grabbing him by the arm, Lucas propelled him past the waiting guard, down a long corridor, up several sets of stairs and finally out into brilliant sunshine.

Blinking in the harsh sun, Nelson did his best to focus his eyes, trying to see what was about him and hoping for some sign telling him where he was.

“Well, Admeeral…I hope you had a restful sleep.”

Turning he saw Stepankov limp towards him, a sadistic smile on his face. “It would have been a bit better with a pillow and a blanket…maybe some decent food and water but all in all it wasn’t bad. There’s something soothing about a sea voyage, isn’t there?”

Stepankov paced closer to Nelson, the smile slipping from his face. “You will not be so amusing soon. Soon, you will find that Luka’s tender ministrations were nothing compared to what you will face.”

“Time will tell,” he said with a shrug. “Where exactly are we anyway?”

“A small island too near your precious sea lab. Our supply routes were too close to the same routes your lab used for re-supplies. But that is not any concern of yours. Come, let me introduce you to the man in charge of Project Pobeda.”

“Pobeda,” Nelson whispered. “Russian for victory.”

“I did not know you knew Russian,” Stepankov said in surprise.

“Just a few words,” Nelson muttered as he was propelled across the deck and down a long gang plank to a wharf, armed men all staring at him, some in amusement, some in disdain and a very few with interest. If there was anyone here that was a friend, it wasn’t obvious. Searching some of the others on the wharf and on the scant beach, he spotted Peter who stood with arms crossed, a look of scorn on his face and he unintentionally slowed his steps.

A blow to his back sent him to the ground as waves of agony coursed through him and he gasped for breath.

“Get up,” Stepankov said.

He felt hands under his arms yanking him up and he shrugged them off, doing his best to not lose his balance and fall again. He cast a last furtive look to Peter who had moved a few steps closer to him, the same look of contempt on his face as he walked by him. Perhaps he had been right in not totally believing Peter after all.

Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, he did his best to ignore the sounds and voices around him, the harsh tone of Russian echoing disturbingly in his ears. It had been a few years since his last almost disastrous visit to Russia and his grasp of the language had dissipated a bit, but not enough to not know he wasn’t liked very much.

“Ah, Admiral Nelson…welcome to Marau! Let me introduce myself! I am General Boris Vasnev. It is a pleasure to finally meet you!”

Nelson looked up at the overly joyful tone of the man before him who was dressed in the uniform of a Russian general. “I’d like to say the same but I find I can’t. Pardon me for not shaking hands,” he said as he held his manacled hands up, blood ringing his wrists where the cuffs had bit cruelly into his flesh.

“Surely, there is no need for the cuffs, Josip,” Vasnev said harshly, frowning at the blood that encircled Nelson’s wrists.

“Do not underestimate him, General,” Stepankov answered softly.

“I will do my best, Josip. Now undo the cuffs. Besides, where would he run to? Can he swim all the way to some hospitable land? I think even the great Admiral Nelson is not capable of that.”

Stepankov angrily jerked Nelson to him and unlocked the cuffs. “Do not try anything. I would love to put a bullet in your head but that would deprive me of watching you suffer.”

A slight smile on Nelson’s face served to only anger the man more and he reared his hand back to slap him only to have his wrist caught firmly in Vasnev’s hand. “Enough. You and your friends have done enough damage. I want him alive and in complete control of his faculties,” he said as he pushed Stepankov away to stand in front of Nelson. Tipping his chin up with one finger he made a noise low in his throat as he saw the bruises and cuts that peppered his face and what could be seen of his chest above the tattered tee-shirt he wore. “My apologies. I had no idea the depths of hate some of my people…and others… have for you.”

“They do seem a bit angry about something,” he retorted.

“They have reason, do they not? Now, I think what you need to restore your strength is some food and drink. And perhaps a doctor to attend your wounds. Tomorrow will be early enough to begin our…talks,” he said lightly. “Josip, fetch one or two of your men. One who speaks English preferably to attend the admiral. ”

Still fuming, Josip bowed slightly then looked about him at the men about him. “Lev, Peter…take Nelson to…?” he asked looking questioningly at Vasnev.

“The barracks over there,” he gestured disinterestedly behind him. “You will be all alone there, Admiral. Take the time to rest and think this over…cooperate with us and you will live. Resist and you will know pain such as you have never known before.”

“Take him,” Stepankov gestured. “Viktor, Dmitry, escort him to his new accommodations. Stand guard.”

The two guards grabbed Nelson and pulled him roughly down the shell-lined path to a drab, decrepit, squat building that sat out in the bright, blazingly hot sun and was thrust inside. Rows of blanket-clad bunks lined both sides of the small barracks underneath windows that were open to the oppressive tropical breeze that wafted through the room, doing nothing to lessen the stiflingly hot air within.

“Sidet!” one of the guards called to Nelson, pointing to a bunk.

An upraised eyebrow directed at the guard and a shrug was followed by one of the guards grabbing him and knocking him backwards onto the bunk. A whole stream of words Nelson had trouble understanding were spat at him.

“Dostatochno! Ukhodi!” a voice behind the tallest guard yelled.

Peering around the guard, Nelson saw Peter Ivanov and another man approaching, then smiled as the two guards nodded deferentially and left.

“Spasibo,” Nelson said. “Thank you.”

“I take it you speak Russian?”

“Enough to know they wanted me to sit and that you told them to go away.”

“You play a dangerous game. This is Lev Grechov. He doesn’t speak any English from what I’ve been told.” Turning to Lev, he spoke a few words Nelson wasn’t sure he understood and watched as the small man with dark brown hair nodded and disappeared.

“He went to get some water and food. While he is gone we can talk.”

“Have you had any luck getting word out that I’m alive?”

“Not yet. I seem to be followed every time I try to get to the radio. I’m getting the distinct feeling it’s not just Josip that doesn’t trust me.”

“Any idea why?”

“No…no I don’t. I’ve never had any problems maintaining my cover but I’ll keep working on getting word out that you’re alive and here. At least for now.”

“How do you plan on getting that information out?”

“Not sure. It may take me a few days. I don’t know how long the freighter will be here though or if I stay here or go with Stepankov. I will do my best to contact someone. Now that I know where we are, I can send the coordinates to my contacts. If I can get to a transmitter I may be able to get in touch with my associate in Riga.”

“You’re pretty sure Riga is where I’ll be taken?”

“It’s a feeling. I can’t explain it. Moscow is too obvious. Riga is far enough away from Moscow, I think. Any searches for you by other American agents in Russia would be centered on Moscow, not Riga.”

“Well, I hope you’re right.”

A commotion at the door had Peter turning to see Lev entering the room with water, food and a sack that turned out to contain medical supplies.

After a quick conversation with Lev, Peter smiled, took the satchel and opened it. “General Vasnev was very unhappy with the tender ministrations of Stepankov and Lucas. He wants you in the best of health for what he has ahead for you,” he said as he began to apply antiseptic to Nelson’s injuries, ignoring the slight flinches the man gave.

“So nice of him.”

“Not nice, no. He wants you alive and he wants your faculties intact. He doesn’t want to run the risk you develop some infection in this tropical paradise and die.”

“You have an idea of what’s ahead for me?” Nelson murmured when he noticed the guards edging closer to listen to the conversation.

“Perhaps,” he muttered. “I hope I’m wrong. Just know…there will be pain as Vasnev said. Fight through it. Remember what you’ve been trained to do to endure interrogations. There! That’s all I can do for now. Eat, drink and get some rest if you can.”

Nelson took the offered food and ate it slowly as he watched his captors, furtively glancing about the room as he tried to discover a way out and finding none.

After a few minutes, the tray of food was yanked away and he was pushed down on the bed, his hands manacled to the rail along the top of the rather uncomfortable bed.

“Sleep while you can, Admiral,” Peter said with a slight smile. “Be strong.”

And with that, Lev and Peter left, the door closing softly behind them. Shadows at the bottom of the creaky door showed his captors had stationed themselves outside

With a sigh, Nelson laid his head back and tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Staring up at the bamboo ceiling, his thoughts drifted to home…to Lee, Chip, Edith…and wondered what they were doing now. Were they mourning him? He prayed they weren’t. He prayed they’d move on. He prayed that everything he’d built in the last few years would go on in case he didn’t find a way home. Lastly, before sleep found him, he prayed for that way home.

<<<>>>

Bright sunshine poured through the open windows as Nelson struggled to awaken from a deep sleep, his hands still manacled and cuffed to the bed that he had discovered in the wee hours of the morning was firmly bolted to the floor.

“Ah Nelson…you are awake. Good! I decided to come personally to inquire how your first night spent in Russian captivity was.”

Nelson looked to the door to see General Vasnev standing, hands on hips, in the open doorway.

“Little stuffy in here but I made do,” Nelson answered with a smirk.

“Well, you cooperate today and tonight you will spend in a place where the sand does not blow through your windows and the night creatures on this cursed island do not find you. Take him,” he ordered, gesturing to the two guards behind him who stood at attention. “Unlock him and bring him.”

The two guards walked quickly to Nelson, unlocked his cuffs and yanked him sharply to his feet where he swayed unsteadily for a moment as a bout of dizziness assaulted him.

“My apologies, Admiral Nelson. My men are not the gentlest. You must be hungry. Come, breakfast is being prepared for us.”

With guards on either side of him, Nelson was escorted from the dank barracks, up a long shell-lined path to a more opulent dwelling that sat up on a hill overlooking the azure waters of the Pacific, a gentle breeze from the ocean lightly ruffling his hair.

He stopped to admire the view briefly before an insistent tug on his arm propelled him through the doorway. Entering what he thought would be a simple dining room; he was shocked to find a large, lavish table spread with a brilliant white linen table cloth and set with china and crystal goblets. Spread about on the table were platters of eggs, sausages and an array of other foods. A large pot of what he fervently hoped was coffee sat on a small table off to the side.

“I do not believe in being deprived even though I have been assigned to this…tropical outpost,” Vasnev said as he gestured for Nelson to sit.

“So, this isn’t a prime assignment for you?” he asked as he sat at the table, trying hard not to smell the foods before him.

Vasnev shrugged. “I do what I am told. I am told to guard this pitiful island, make sure no one knows of its existence and to provide all that the scientists here need. I do it. You however, are a surprise. I was not told I would host the great Admiral Nelson for any period of time.”

“My apologies on crashing the party,” Nelson said with a self-deprecating smile. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Yes, well, I will take the opportunity presented to me and make the most of it,” Vasnev replied as he poured a large cup of coffee for Nelson and passed him platters of blintzes, sausages and eggs. “Ever had true Russian blintzes?”

“A time or two,” he answered as he began to eat, trying not to remember the times he had been in Russia. “Not bad.”

“My cook will be ecstatic to know you approve.”

“Where are my other captors today?”

“You mean Stepankov and Brynov?” he asked derisively. “They are onboard their ship. Hopefully, they will leave soon.”

“You don’t like them?”

“They are PR scum. I do not understand why my country feels it needs The People’s Republic’s help. If we want or need their ports or their deposits…we take them,” Vasnev said waving a fork in the air.

“Spoken like a true warrior,” Nelson remarked with a smirk on his face.

“True! You understand!”

Unsure when he would see food again and wanting to regain his strength, Nelson ate what was put on his plate. “So what fun activities do you have planned for me today? A walk on the beach? A swim in those waters out there?”

“Ha! Nothing so mundane! No, I thought we would start with a tour of our facilities. Show what our scientists are working on…work we would welcome your input on.”

“I doubt I can be of any help. World destruction isn’t my forte.”

“We will see. Once you have been…persuaded…we will see. Come…let’s be off.”

Nelson was once more grabbed by the arms and escorted down the path to a row of low buildings he hadn’t noticed before and followed Vasnev inside. “Welcome to Russia’s premier research weapons lab!” Vasnev said proudly as he spread his hands wide.

Entering, Nelson’s eyes went wide at the sight before him and he hesitantly walked closer, staring in horror at what he saw. Rows and rows of containers filled with a variety of vegetation met his eyes. Long, covered containers filled simply with soil lay beside those while in other sections, centrifuges and other medical equipment was scattered about.

“Biological weapons? You’re creating a whole cornucopia of biological weapons?” he spat out in anger as he began walking down some of the rows, noticing among others, castor plants for creating ricin and a variety of molds and fungi whose spores could be harvested and weaponized.

Staring at the containers of dirt, his blood chilled as he realized that in all likelihood, anthrax spores lay beneath the black soil. Turning to the medical equipment, he closed his eyes as if to blot out the horrors that could be waiting there… diseases to not only destroy human life but to also destroy crops or other food sources or highly lethal chemical weapons.

“Yes, of course. The next step in the road to world domination,” Vasnev answered proudly. “The use of biological weapons dates back to ancient times. Surely you know that, Admiral.”

“I do know that. I also know the use of such weapons was outlawed in 1972 at the Biological Weapons Convention and the Geneva Protocol!” he spat out in anger. “I also know the use of such weapons is barbaric!”

Vasnev waved a dismissive hand in Nelson’s direction. “Outlawed by those too weak to use them and considered barbaric by its victims, future and past.”

“As much as I detest your country, I find it hard to believe your country would advocate this research not to mention the actual use of weapons such as what you’re creating here. Anthrax, Botulinum…My God! Rational people would never use biological weapons offensively,” he spat out.

“Well, that is where you and so many others like you are wrong. World domination knows no limits. Not in its scope and not in its means.”

“Ah! Am I seeing the man I think I am?” a voice behind him said.

Turning, Nelson watched a small, wiry man dressed in a long, white lab coat, thin glasses perched on the end of his nose, walk quickly towards him.

“Admiral Harriman Nelson! I never thought the day would come when I would have the pleasure of meeting you!”

“Admiral, allow me to introduce you to “Doctor…”

“Dr. Yuri Andreyev,” Nelson intoned quietly, a look of repulsion on his face.

“You know me? I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear that you know of…”

“I know of your work,” he replied in distaste. “I know of your work in destroying people and their lives. You’re well known and not for anything good I’m afraid. Last I heard you were working on your mind-altering drugs, looking for the perfect truth serum to deliver to your gulags in a futile attempt at extracting information from helpless prisoners of your debauched country.”

Andreyev’s face paled as he listened to Nelson then reddened in anger. “I do what I am told. I do what I do for my country’s good…to save it from…”

“From what doctor? From its own failings?”

Andreyev took a step towards Nelson only to be stopped by Vasnev. “Stop. He is entitled to his views. He will change them shortly. You would welcome working with him?”

“I…I have always admired Admiral Nelson and his work. Some of his work is here, down in the marine section,” he smirked as he watched Nelson’s eyes narrow. “Yes, your work on venomous sea creatures is most informative. Such an array of poisons to be extracted and used not to mention the interesting things that can be found in marine sediment.”

“That research is not meant for destructive purposes. It’s meant…”

“For the greater good of all humanity. Yes, I know of your pathetic philosophies. Perhaps, you can be shown the error of your ways. I assume that is why he is here?” Andreyev said to Vasnev.

“That is one reason. However, you wanted a guinea pig for your new truth serum? Here he is. Why use one of our own? Take him,” Vasnev said to the two guards behind Nelson who gripped his arms tightly.

Vasnev stalked to Nelson and smiled. “You will break, Admiral. You will tell us what we wish to know. You will turn against your country. You will, or die.”

“Then I’ll die,” Nelson answered firmly.

Vasnev shrugged. “If you die, it will be on you. And I warn you…it will be more painful than you ever thought possible. Bring him.”

Nelson was taken out a side door to the research hut and to a small squat building set out in the open under the blistering tropical sun. Thrust roughly inside, a blast of humid, oppressive heat hit him, taking the breath from him. Hustled to a long table in the center of the room surrounded by trays of vials, syringes and other instruments, Nelson tried hard not to look at the array before him. He was grabbed, picked up and placed none too gently on the less than clean table and tied down. His shirt was ripped open and electrodes placed on his chest and on his head.

“We will monitor your condition throughout the…questioning,” Vasnev said with a smirk. “In case you do not react well to the…medication.”

“Questioning…you mean torture,” Nelson spat out.

“Semantics, Admiral. Mere semantics. Now, we will see how strong you are. I have heard how hard you will be to break, but I think they are wrong. Past failures do not equate to future failures. Would you not agree?” Vasnev asked menacingly as he watched Andreyev withdraw a vial from a small refrigerator and sucked the bluish fluid into a syringe. Laying the vial down, Andreyev looked into Nelson’s face. “I do not want to use this on you. Will you answer my questions without the use of this?”

Nelson clenched his jaw tightly and stared Andreyev in the eye but remained silent.

With a shrug, Andreyev injected the drug quickly and stood back, watching, waiting. Soon he saw the drug began to affect Nelson as he began to squirm on the table, his respiration and heart rate increasing.

Leaning close, he placed a cool hand on Nelson’s forehead. “Let us begin,” he heard Andreyev say quietly.

Over and over Nelson heard the questions…location of underwater missile silos, launch codes for missiles, defects in the US spy satellites, weaknesses in certain naval ships, names of spies working within Russia…and on and on. He fought with everything he had to keep the secrets locked inside his brain as he felt fiery fingers seemingly crawling through his mind looking for the right key that would open the locks his brain had set up.

Over and over the questions came and over and over he resisted until after several long, hellish hours, the searing fire he felt in his brain burned out. The welcoming arms of oblivion reached out to him, grabbed him, cradling him close, and carried him away to a welcoming numbness.

“Bah! Nothing,” Vasnev exclaimed angrily. “Take him back to the barracks. Have someone stay with him just in case he speaks. We will try again tomorrow.”

Nelson’s limp body was untied and dragged through the doorway out into the late afternoon’s softened light, the heat of the day beginning to ease into a more comfortable level as the sun lowered.

Off to the side, Peter watched, his jaw clenched tight as he watched them drag the unconscious form through the street. He hurried to catch up to the guards. “Anton! Wait!” he called out to one of the guards he had known on the ship.

“What is it? I have orders to get him back to the barracks.”

“Yes, I know. Did he break?” he asked with a hopeful smile.

“No. This one is as they have said…too tough to break. Tomorrow…we shall see. Now, we must go,” he said as he continued to drag the unconscious body down the walk.

Peter stood watching the three as they disappeared around a corner. He had to get word out. It had to be tonight. He didn’t know for sure if Nelson could hold out through another round of Andreyev’s drug. From what he knew of Nelson, he was certain he would die before he spilled his secrets, but he’d heard about the drug Andreyev had produced. He shivered as he thought of what it had done to Nelson.

<<<>>>

Darkness filled the night in a deep, inky blackness as Peter walked stealthily down the corridors of the freighter, quickly walking towards his objective. Morning was closing in and he knew he needed to hurry. Silently he cursed the guards and others onboard that insisted on not only spending their free time drinking and card playing until all hours of the night, but drawing him into their nightly games. Although, tonight’s games had produced a wealth of information: information that passed freely through lips plied with the best Russian vodka around.

It had only been an hour since the last of those stationed on the freighter had stumbled off to their beds, some lustily singing old Russian folk songs and others grumbling about those singing the old Russian folk songs.

He headed quickly for his own cabin deep in the bowels of the ship, relieved he passed no one. Entering, he shut the door, leaned back against it and closed his eyes. He had to get to the radio room tonight. He had to get word out that Nelson was alive and on this island but he needed to allow those he had just left to fall asleep. Looking at his watch, he knew that time was running out. Dawn was closing in. Nelson would be awakened shortly and taken to Andreyev for more interrogation. He couldn’t allow the man to go through another round. Not if he could help it.

Taking deep breaths, he willed his heart rate to drop, his expression to turn bland and peaceful, then opened the door, peered out and left the sanctuary of his cabin. Treading softly down the darkened corridors, he stopped outside one, listened at the door and opened it slowly.

Seeing no one in the room, he hurried inside and to the transmitter, clicked it on and sent a coded message to a contact in Riga, relieved when it was acknowledged, assured it would be sent on to other agents in Riga, Odessa, Moscow and ultimately to authorities in the United States.

Sighing, he sat back in the chair and thought. The agent he had contacted had to be ready, and had to alert others in the community to be ready. Plans to get the man safely out of Russia needed to be formulated quickly. Thankfully, the location of the now not so secret base would be forwarded to INTERPOL within the hour. Hopefully, once Nelson was moved from the island and on to Russia, a rescue plan, or plans, would already be in the works.

Knowing which city they would send him to would have been nice but none of those at the games tonight knew for certain. Some argued Nelson would be sent on to a secondary island he’d heard mentioned called Atai that also housed a research station. Others argued that made no sense. That of course the great Nelson would be sent on to Moscow where he would be broken. A few others argued for a smaller city, something he himself hoped for. He smiled as he thought of the brief fistfight that had broken out over the argument. Russians and vodka were a dangerous mix.

He was just about to rise and head back to his cabin for a few hours of sleep when he heard the subtle squeak of the door open and before he could react was grabbed and thrown against the wall.

“Lucas! What…what are you doing?” he blustered.

“Catching a spy I think. Josip was right not to trust you.”

“No! No…I was merely sending a message to my girlfriend. That’s all. I was hoping to meet her soon. If we take Nelson back to Russia, I…”

“I don’t believe you,” Lucas sneered before yanking Peter back to the transmitter and peering at the dial the frequency showed.

“Did you tell them the location of the base? Did you tell them of Nelson? Did you?”

“No! No, why would I? I told you…”

“It does not matter,” Lucas said as he released Peter and dropped him back into the chair. Sauntering to the door, he opened it and looked up and down the corridor before closing and locking it. Turning back, he drew a gun from a holster and pointed it at Peter. “Now, you will tell me what I need to know.”

<<<>>>

Dawn had barely made its presence known before Nelson felt himself yanked from what passed for a bed, dragged outside and down the walk to the squat building he knew held Andreyev and more interrogation. He struggled to fight off the dread that filled him as he thought of what he had gone through yesterday and the knowledge today would be more of the same. The fear that filled him wasn’t so much for the pain that awaited him, but was born of a profound dread that he would break. As many times as he had been through torture, interrogations, and brainwashing before, he was always cognizant of the fact, dishonor was near. A sense that one day he wouldn’t be able to hold out was never far from his thoughts and he prayed today wasn’t that day.

“Well, Admeeral, did you sleep well?” Josip Stepankov’s hated voice asked as he was dragged into the room to stand swaying before him.

“Could have been a bit longer. Oh, and the sheets need changed. You might want to get the maid on that,” he managed to say as glibly as he could. “Breakfast would have been nice, too.”

Inwardly he flinched at the look of rage that crossed Stepankov’s face and braced himself for the blow that snapped his head back.

“Stop! Do you want him unconscious for this or awake and aware?” General Vasnev’s voice called from behind him.

Stepankov turned and watched Vasnev and Andreyev enter. “Unconscious, he does not feel, now does he? You fall too easily into his plans, Josip. Be gone. We have much to do today, don’t we Admiral Nelson?”

“There’s nothing on my agenda,” he muttered as he did his best to focus his eyes and shift his jaw back to where it should be. Josip’s blow hadn’t quite been enough to render him unconscious, just woozy and he cursed the man.

“Bring him,” Vasnev said to the guards that held Nelson upright.

Once again he was placed on the table, tied down and given the injection. “Now, tell us what we want to know,” Andreyev intoned in a quiet, soothing tone. “The pain will stop. You will be given food, water, clean clothes…anything you want, but you must give me what I ask for. Understood?”

Nelson did his best to keep his face bland and focused his mind on anything other than the answers they sought. The questions began and the fire in his brain burned as hot as or hotter than it had the day before. He could not give in. He would not give in. If dying were the only way to avoid giving in to the pain, then die he would. Focusing his thoughts away from what he knew they wanted, he pictured Seaview, the Institute, Lee, Chip, his crew, Edith…anything that kept his thoughts away from the doors behind which were the answers they wanted.

The interrogation had barely begun when a commotion was heard at the door and Lucas burst in, out of breath and sweat beading on his face.

“Josip! General! There is a spy…I…I caught him in the radio room. He…he sent a message to an agent in Russia. He…he told them the coordinates for this base and that Nelson is alive and here. He also told them we have a secondary base on Atai. We must leave here. Now,” he managed to get out as he fought for breath.

“What spy?” Vasnev asked, his voice harsh.

“It does not matter. He is dead. He told me what I needed to know before he died. If this contact he radioed gets the message out to INTERPOL or the United States, they will be here soon! Seaview is close! She could be here within…”

“Yes, yes, yes…Seaview,” he muttered, cursing the fool who had captained the K-38 for his ineptitude in not being able to sink the mighty submarine. “Andreyev! Have Nelson readied for transport. We will take him with us on the plane to Russia. Have your work here loaded onto the freighter and head south to Atai. Take as much as you can and be ready to set up the operation there once you have received word from me that we are ready to continue with your work.”

“But…”

“Load the anthrax spores, the Botulinum spores, the plants, your supplies and anything else that can’t be easily replicated and put them, yourself and any of your staff you find indispensable on the freighter. Start setting up the operation there. Hopefully, Nelson will see his future is hopeless once on Russian soil and will cooperate and be back to help you in your work. Leave the rest of your people behind for the Americans to find.”

“But they know of Atai!” he protested. “Luka just said…”

“They know of an island named Atai, an island we named. They do not know the location. You yourself do not know. Do what I have ordered.”

“And what of you, General? Will you fly for Atai?”

“No, no we will fly home to Russia, not Atai. The KGB will love a chance to break Nelson,” Vasnev smiled. “Take what you can from here. Destroy the rest. Be ready within the hour.”

“An hour? I can’t…”

“Get what you can. Do it now! Go! Luka, take me to this traitor. I want to see him for myself. Stepankov, you will come with us.”

<<<>>>

Stepankov and Vasnev, Luka Brynov by their sides, looked down at the blond-haired man lying in a heap, blood covering his body. “I never trusted him,” Stepankov said simply. “You’re sure what he said was true?”

“I am,” Luka confirmed.

“This is one of your men, is it not?” Vasnev asked haughtily as he stared at the man at his feet.

“It is. What of it?” Stepankov frowned.

“Nothing. Just an observation.”

“What do we do now?” Stepankov asked.

“Andreyev has been told to ready his work and head to our secondary location on Atai and begin setting up his lab,” Vasnev said.

“He is doing that now?”

“Yes. Once the freighter is loaded, they will head for Atai and set up production operations once more. It is good we had a back up plan, is it not?” Vasnev crowed.

“Yes, it was good planning,” Stepankov said dismissively.

“Gather your men, Stepankov. You, Luka and I will head home to Russia and hand Nelson over to the KGB for questioning. I would have dearly loved to be the one to break him but I’m quite certain the KGB will.”

“But…the United States will know shortly that Nelson was here…that our country has him. Surely this…traitor told them Nelson was alive and our prisoner,” Stepankov said.

“And?” Vasnev asked. “We proclaim our innocence. What do they do? Send stern warnings? Order his return? They are nothing. They can do nothing. Now, do what I have said quickly. Pack your things. Be ready and on the plane in thirty minutes. I want to be out of here in one hour.”

<<<>>>

A sensation of motion drew Nelson back from unconsciousness, his body crying out in agony at the pain that the movement caused him. Daring to open one eye, he found himself staring out a plane’s window. Raising his head, he opened both eyes and glanced about him, surprised to find Lucas beside him, a look of scorn on his face.

“Finally. I was beginning to believe Andreyev’s drug had left you insensible,” he said harshly.

“Where…where are we?” he croaked.

“We are heading to your new home in Russia.”

“Why? What happened to the island?”

“The island, Admeeral, was evacuated. Thanks to a traitor in our midst, we had to change our plans.”

Turning his eyes wearily to the man that stood by Lucas’ side, leaning over the seatback, he smiled. “That’s too bad, Josip. I’ll miss the warm tropical nights.”

“Yes, you will. Russia is not as welcoming temperature wise…or any other way. Luka, get him something to wear other than that shredded shirt,” Stepankov said, waiting until Lucas had gone to the back of the rather large plane before sitting by Nelson’s side. “I am going to enjoy every minute of watching them break you. Every minute.”

“Everyone needs a hobby I suppose. So this traitor, I assume he’s dead?”

“Of course. Why leave him alive? He told us what we needed to know. Your rescue was imminent but now…there is no hope for you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. If there was one traitor in your midst, perhaps there are more,” Nelson remarked, smiling at the brief but thoughtful look that crossed Stepankov’s face before turning his gaze away to the view below. He frowned as he watched the plane fly over vast stretches of barren land and tried not to shudder. His only hope at rescue had been Peter and he was dead. He silently mourned the loss of the young man and prayed his death had been swift. His last thoughts before he drifted back into a restless sleep were of Peter. He was sad to think he would never be able to thank him for what he’d tried to do and for not believing him.

<<<>>>

Onboard Seaview, the crew waited for word of their missing admiral, grower more and more concerned as each hour passed with no word on the man’s location. Crane went from periods of almost frantic pacing to periods where he simply stared out the huge windows of Nelson’s sub, hands clasped behind his back. Interspersed with these periods were brief outbursts of anger and frustration evinced by a fist impacting with the bulkhead and angry muttering.

“I can’t believe no one has heard anything more!” Lee exclaimed, frustration in his voice.

“We’ll hear something soon,” Chip answered as calmly as he could from his seat in front of the huge windows.

“Soon. Everyone keeps saying that! We’ll hear something…”

“Skipper!” Sparks interrupted. “It’s Admiral Starke for you. He says it’s important.”

“Put it through to the Observation Nose,” he called. “Let’s hope he has good news.”

Flipping on the view phone, the two unable to sit, stood watching the monitor flicker to life.

“Crane…what’s your position?” the four-star admiral barked with no preamble.

“Still at Triton, as ordered, sir. What’s wrong?” Crane asked as he saw the agitation on Starke’s face.

“We just received word from an agent in Russia. We have confirmation that Harriman was taken alive from Triton by Russian and People’s Republic agents and sent to an island nearby where he has been…questioned. An island that apparently is this secret weapons base we’ve been told about.”

“Questioned,” Crane spat out. “You mean he’s been tortured. What are the coordinates of the island? We can set up a rescue…”

“Hold on and listen will you? We’re not certain he’s still there. The agent said Harriman was there but said he would be moved shortly, quite possibly as early as today.”

“Where to?”

“That’s unclear. The mostly likely place the agent mentioned obviously was somewhere in Russia, but there was concern he might be moved to a secondary base in the South Pacific if he didn’t break.”

“He wouldn’t have broken,” Crane said loyally.

“No, he wouldn’t have. Forces from Australia and New Zealand as well as forces from the US are on their way to this island called…Marau. It’s a small island in the Marshall Chain,” he said, looking to a stack of papers by his hand. “They’ll be there before Seaview but I want you to head there now. You’ll only be an hour or two behind. When I have any information for you, or if they find Harriman…I’ll let you know. Set course for these coordinates,” he said reading off the location of the base.

“Got it,” Crane replied as he wrote the coordinates down and handed it to Morton. “Get us underway, Chip. These coordinates. Flank speed.”

“Aye sir,” he answered, happy they had a destination and even happier to know Nelson was alive.

“Admiral, I can fly FS-1 with a small group of men to the island and be there by the time the…”

“No, Captain. You will stay with Seaview. There’s nothing you can do with a small armed force except get yourself and them killed. I understand. Believe me. I want to be storming that beach right now to rescue Harriman but…we need to play this out the way I’ve told you. Understood?”

“Aye sir,” he said forlornly.

“Look…Crane…he was alive. He’s still alive. They want him alive so he’ll stay that way unless you go off half-cocked. We’ll get him back but not by rushing in there guns blazing with a small force.”

“I… I just hate sitting around.”

“Believe me, I understand that. I’ll contact you when the strike teams have arrived. Get there as soon as you can.”

“Aye sir,” he said, watching in sadness as the link was severed.

“Lee? What are our orders?”

“Head there at flank and wait while someone else rescues the admiral.”

“As long as someone rescues him, what does it matter?”

“You’re right. Of course, I just…”

“Want to be there to knock some heads together? I get that.”

Crane laughed shortly. “Yeah. What’s our ETA?”

“Should be there in…four hours.”

“Good. See if you can get some more speed from the engines. I’ll be in my cabin,” he said as he rose and headed up the circular stairs, the relief he felt at knowing Nelson was…or had been…alive warring with the knowledge he had in all likelihood been tortured.

“Hang on, Admiral,” he whispered. “Just hang on.”

<<<>>>

Three hours later, Seaview cruised through the South Pacific waters, almost at her destination.

“We’re approaching Marau, Captain,” Chip Morton called out as soon as he saw Crane entering the Control Room.

“Good. Any word from Starke? Anyone? The strike teams should have been there by now.”

“Nothing yet. Maybe…”

What Morton was about to say was interrupted by Sparks’ call that Starke was on the view phone.

“Put him through, Sparks,” Crane called as he hurried to the view phone and flipped it on, anxiety almost overwhelming him.

“Crane, Morton…the strike teams arrived a little while ago on Marau. The…”

“The admiral…is he all right? Do they have him?” Crane interrupted.

“Listen to what I have to say, Crane. The island is empty. Only a handful of Russian soldiers and a few low level techs that seem to know nothing were there but there’s evidence the base was developing biological weapons. And no, Harriman wasn’t there.”

“Then where is he?”

“The USS Coral Sea has launched reconnaissance planes to look for an answer to that. Their radar reported air traffic in the area a few hours ago that may have originated on Marau. Getting information of any kind from the CIA can be next to impossible but, speculation is…they packed up and are headed to Russia,” he finished softly.

Crane seemed to deflate as he heard the words. Nelson was out of reach. He would disappear inside Russia, never to be seen again. That to him was far worse than thinking him dead. Dead, he felt no pain. Alive and a prisoner in a Russian gulag or cell, he would know pain for what remained of the rest of his life.

“What can we do?” Morton asked after throwing a quick look to the man beside him who stood with his eyes closed as if he could make the images in his head disappear.

“I…I really don’t know what you can do,” he sputtered. “Harriman…we just have to hope there’s some way we can get him back. Maybe, diplomacy or…” Starke stopped what he was saying and looked to someone off screen then took a paper and read it before looking up. “Search planes have spotted a freighter heading away from Marau. She’s headed on a southerly course. I want you to follow that freighter. Come to a course of 275.”

“Wait, Admiral why is this freighter so important?”

“The agent that contacted us said Harriman was taken from Triton, put on the K-38 and then transferred to a freighter before being taken to Marau. This agent confirmed he was on the freighter on Marau when he contacted us. Your orders are to catch up to the freighter and force her to stop, board her and confiscate her cargo, passengers and crew.”

“If she doesn’t stop?”

The muscle in Starke’s jaw began to clench and unclench and as Crane watched the indecision in the admiral’s manner, felt his heart drop.

“You will stop her any way you can. Even if that means putting a torpedo or two in her.”

“Admiral! Admiral Nelson may be on board! They might be sending him on to this secondary island and not back to Russia! You can’t ask me to fire on a ship that might…”

“I can and do order you to sink, or at the least, incapacitate that freighter, Captain! If that ship is loaded with biological weapons, it cannot be allowed to reach its destination,” Starke ordered.

In a softer tone, he said, “I know what I’m asking you to do. And I know how hard it will be for you. It would be next to impossible for me to fire on that ship knowing Harriman might be on it. But…it has to be done. You know it. You also know it’s what Harriman would expect from you.”

Several long minutes went by before Crane nodded slowly, knowing the admiral would expect no less from him. “Aye sir. I…I understand. Chip, set course 275. Flank speed.”

“Aye, Skipper,” he muttered as he rose to set the course.

“Let’s hope they give up,” Starke whispered.

An hour later, Seaview’s radar detected the slow moving freighter and Crane radioed an order to the boat to stop all engines: an order that was met with silence. Repeated calls and one torpedo fired off their bow did nothing to slow the lumbering boat down.

Lee Crane stared at the radar blip that seemed to mock him. His friend, commanding officer and mentor was quite possibly onboard. So were quite possibly weapons that were designed to annihilate lives and countries: weapons that needed to be destroyed. Steeling himself, he took the mic from its bracket and called to the Missile Room, “Chief Sharkey, load torpedo tubes 1 and 3.”

“Aye sir.”

“Sparks, call one last time to the freighter. Make sure they understand we are about to fire on them. Up periscope, Chip.”

But there was no reply to the last warning and Crane knew he had to give the order. “Missile Room…fire torpedoes,” he ordered after a slight hesitation. Striding to the periscope, he peered through it at the rusty boat.

A second went by before he heard Sharkey’s brusque, “Aye sir.” Then heard, “Torpedoes away.”

He heard Chip’s quiet voice count down, “5, 4, 3, 2…”

“Torpedoes ran true,” Kowalski called out. “Two impacts.”

“Ship is hit, slowing. Surface the boat, Chip,” Crane ordered, fear and worry echoing in his words. What if the admiral had been on the freighter? Had he just killed him?

“We’re on the surface, Skipper,” Morton intoned quietly.

“Open the hatches. Send rescue teams to the deck,” Crane called out quickly before rapidly climbing the ladder to the conning tower where he watched as the freighter seemed to shudder slightly before slowly sinking bow down below the waves that buffeted her. From all sections of the freighter, he could see figures diving into the rough seas and swimming towards them.

“Get those people aboard! Hurry!” he yelled to the crewmen that were launching rafts and heading towards the survivors. Grabbing binoculars that Chip held out to him, he scanned the ocean before him, searching for a familiar auburn-headed admiral, but failed.

Two hours later, a relieved Crane made a call to Admiral Starke informing him word from more than a few of the survivors was that Stepankov and his men, along with Harriman Nelson, had boarded a plane for Russia: final destination unknown.

“You’re certain he wasn’t onboard, Crane?” Starke barked.

“Fairly certain, yes. One of the survivors is a scientist named…Andreyev. He knew the admiral.”

“Andreyev…Yuri Andreyev,” Starke growled. “He’s known in international circles as a man bent on destroying the world with biological and chemical weapons. Did he have any news for us?”

“After a little persuading, he said the plan was for his men to set up operations on a secondary island called, Atai. Stepankov and his group, along with some high ranking Russian general, were headed back to Russia where…where they would hand the admiral off to the KGB.”

“Do you have a name for this general?”

“He said it was Vasnev.”

“Boris Vasnev,” Starke muttered.

“You know him?”

“Enough to know Harriman was in all likelihood not treated well while in his control. Did this Andreyev say where in Russia?”

“He didn’t know. He suspected Moscow but that may just be a sheer guess,” Crane said.

“Moscow…seems too obvious a spot to me but I’ll alert our agencies and our allies to have their agents be on the lookout at all KGB headquarters throughout Russia for Harriman.”

“Sir? What now?”

“Now? Now we wait again, Crane. Wait for someone to tell us where in all of Russia they have him! It…it may take time.”

“Time may be something he doesn’t have.”

“Stand guard at the location of this freighter,” Starke said, ignoring what Crane had said. “If she was loaded with biological weapons, we’re going to want to attempt to recover them so they aren’t used against us or our allies. How deep is the area she sank in?”

Crane frowned a bit; not at all certain the aim was to recover so no one else would use them but wisely kept that to himself. “She’s sitting on a broad plateau in about 500 feet of water. She should be accessible.”

“Good. The USS Coral Sea is on her way to you. Should make rendezvous in…two hours. Do you have a location for this Atai?”

“Andreyev wasn’t very helpful but I got the location from the captain of the freighter. I’m forwarding the coordinates to you now.”

“Good. We’ll send a few ships there to make certain the base isn’t operational. And if it is, it will be dealt with. Once you hand over your prisoners to the Coral Sea, head home to Santa Barbara.”

“Head…Admiral there must be something else we can do!”

“What Crane? Fly FS-1 to Russia and search for him yourself? You know there’s nothing you can do. Nothing Seaview can do. Head back to NIMR and…keep it running for Harriman because he will be back. Bank on it.”

“Aye sir,” he said morosely as he flicked the view phone off.

Wait. He had come to truly hate the word. Almost hated it as much as the actual action itself. Sighing, he ran a tired hand over his eyes. At least the admiral was alive. A few days ago he had been mourning the loss of the man he considered his best friend and now knew he was alive. It should be enough. But it wasn’t. And it wouldn’t be until Harriman Nelson was out of Russia and home.

<<<>>>

The plane’s wheels hitting the runway jostled the sleeping Nelson, startling him awake and causing a groan to slip from his lips as stabbing pain raced throughout his abused body. Hearing a laugh beside him he turned his head to see Lucas beside him again, a smile on his face.

“Welcome to your new home,” he said as he threw some clothes at him. “Dress quickly.”

“Where are we exactly?” he asked as he pulled on a loose fitting shirt and heavy jacket made of some scratchy brown material Lucas had given him.

“Janiskis,” he said succinctly.

“Janiskis,” Nelson whispered, trying hard to remember where that might be. “Janiskis…we’re headed for Riga then. Interesting.”

“How do you know we are headed to Riga?” Stepankov asked as he rose from his seat and stared at Nelson. “Ah…the spy. He told you we would take you here. Well, it does not matter. Two hours from now, you will be in Riga, at the Corner House where your interrogation will continue. Have you heard of the Corner House, Nelson?”

Nelson shrugged disinterestedly. “Some. KGB Headquarters in Riga. Called Corner House because it’s at the corner of Lenin and Engels Streets.”

“Yes. Two of Russia’s most prominent statesmen. Perhaps you have also heard of the interrogations and executions that take place there. The things that await you will chill your blood,” a voice behind Stepankov boasted.

Looking up Nelson saw General Vasnev walking haughtily down the plane’s aisle. “Welcome to my homeland, Admiral. I can’t wait to show it to you.”

“I’m in no hurry, General,” Nelson replied with forced levity, frowning as he watched Vasnev continue down the aisle, his laughter grating on his nerves.

“Lucas said we landed south of Riga. Why not just land in Riga?”

“Why do you insist on calling him Lucas? His name is Luka!” Stepankov all but shouted.

“To you. To me, I prefer the name Lucas. So why not land in Riga?”

“For the same reason we did not land in Moscow…too obvious a spot. We thought perhaps our spy would alert authorities there. They will watch the airport while we enter from the south,” Stepankov crowed. “Come. We are at the hangar. The car should be waiting for us. Luka, cuff him.”

Lucas grabbed Nelson under the arm and pulled him roughly from the seat, cuffed his hands together and whispered, “Welcome to Russia.”

Keeping his hand clasped tightly on Nelson’s arm, he propelled him roughly down the aisle and off the plane. On the tarmac by the steps sat four all black Lincolns, each with the engines running. Vasnev watched, a smirk on his face, as Nelson was escorted roughly down the stairs and to a waiting car.

“This way,” Lucas muttered as he pushed Nelson to the second car in line, opened the back driver’s side door and thrust him inside then closed the door.

Nelson cursed the blurred vision he still experienced as he tried to see what Lucas was doing, frowning as he saw him walk to the front of the car and engage the man who was apparently their driver in conversation. He shook his head in an effort to clear it of the fog that seemed to permeate his brain and did his best to focus his eyes. The drug was slowly leaving his system but the pain, although bearable, was still present and he felt a deep bone-numbing weakness wrap about him.

Glancing down, he fingered the clothes Lucas had given him and sniffed, wrinkling his nose in distaste as the scents of fish and motor oil assaulted his nostrils. He looked about him, trying to form some plan of escape but before he got too far in his thoughts, saw Lucas slap the driver on the shoulder and walk to the back of the car. Opening the back door, he motioned Nelson to move over and waited until he’d slid to the middle seat, then seated himself beside him while a tall, burly guard toting an AK-47 got in beside him on the other. Stepankov at the same time seated himself in the front.

“You know the plan?” Stepankov asked the driver who merely nodded before pulling out away from the other cars. “Say goodbye to the last friendly faces you will see for a long time as we drive to Riga, Nelson. However, if they knew who you were, they would not be so welcoming.”

Knowing he had no way to escape, Nelson laid his head back against the seat and tried to find relief from the pain that flowed through him, allowing sleep to find him. He was drawn from her comforting arms and brought abruptly back to awareness when the car hit one of many pot holes that lined the road they were on. Shoving the shreds of sleep from his brain, Nelson awoke fully and looked out the window as they passed by farmlands and small houses before crossing over a bridge across what he assumed was the Daugava River. He was in Riga. Peter had been right.

At the thought of the young man that had tried to help him, he felt himself struggle to hold on to any shred of hope but the farther they went into Russia the further away his hope fled.

He was about to close his eyes and seek respite from the pain that filled him in sleep again when suddenly the sound of squealing tires and crunching metal brought him to full wakefulness. Just as he was thrown forcefully against Lucas, he felt himself grabbed by the young man, the car door flung open, and he was yanked from the smoking, crushed car. The driver’s side door opened at the same time and the driver jumped out, jerked Nelson’s arm from Lucas’ and took off running down the pitch-dark street, bullets kicking up a spray of stones as they ran.

“Come on,” the man who dragged him mercilessly down the cobbled street cried as Nelson struggled to keep up with him.

Shadows hid the man’s face from view, but Nelson knew the voice. “Peter? How…?”

“Not now. We need to hide. Here, down this alley.”

Knowing Nelson was still experiencing the effects of the drug; Peter slid his arm around Nelson’s back and hurried him around a corner into a dank, dark, tunnel-like alley. Rapid footsteps behind them had Nelson turning to look over his shoulder. At the entrance of the alley he could barely make out the silhouettes of two of Vasnev’s guards heading their way. Feeling Peter pulling him into a side alley, he turned back and saw two more guards with rifles at the other end. Before he could dart into the passageway Peter was pulling him towards, the guards at the far end fired. Burning pain sliced into Nelson’s stomach and spun him to the ground. Peter knelt over Nelson’s still body and fired at the guards, hitting both. The guards behind continued towards them and were just bringing their weapons up to fire when another shot rang out hitting one of them and spinning him to the ground. Two more shots and the other guard joined his friend. A tall figure from the street raced to the bodies nearest him, grabbed the collars of both and dragged them down the alley then raced to the far end and did the same with the bodies there. Satisfied they were not visible from the street, he ran on, stopping by Peter.

“That was too close,” Peter said.

“I did my best. I’m not exactly trained for this,” the man said as he knelt by Nelson who was beginning to come around. “How badly is he hurt?”

“Haven’t had a chance to check. Stepankov?”

“Mad as a hornet. He will tear Riga apart looking for him. We must go now,” the voice said as Nelson slowly returned to consciousness.

Nelson heard the voice through the waves of pain that filled him and felt the cuffs about his wrists being unlocked and removed. For a brief time he’d hoped he’d gotten away but apparently he had been mistaken. “Lucas…I hoped I’d seen the last of you,” he said with a soft moan of helplessness.

“No such luck, Admiral. Let me do what I can here for this wound then we’ll get you to a safe house,” he said as he gently pulled Nelson’s shirt up, probed the wound and made a noise low in his throat at Nelson’s gasp of pain. “It’s not good but we can’t take him to a hospital. Looks like it went in his stomach and out the back. Hopefully, it missed anything vital.”

“We don’t have time to do anything for him here,” Peter said. “We have to go.”

“What…what’s going on?” Nelson asked in confusion, sure his ears weren’t hearing correctly, as he watched the interplay between Peter and Lucas.

“Things aren’t always what they seem, Admiral. We’ll talk when you’re safe. Right now we need to get you off the street. There’s an apartment not far from here. The resident there has been informed by an agent in Riga that we’ll be coming. Come on. Help me get him up, Lucas,” Peter said as he pulled Nelson to his feet, threw one arm over his shoulder and wrapped another about his waist. Lucas on the other side did the same and they continued down the long, dark alley. When they reached the end, Lucas stopped and looked out seeing two of the guards from the caravan heading towards them.

He pulled them back into the shadows and whispered, “Two guards. Stay here. I’ll deal with them,” and headed off to the street.

Nelson barely managed to make out the words he heard Lucas yelling, sensing more than understanding that he was sending them in the opposite direction from where they were going.

A short time later he was back, grabbed Nelson and began to head towards the street once more. “I sent our friends away. I hope they have fun searching the sewage plant I sent them to.”

“I…I don’t understand,” Nelson managed to whisper, doing his best to ignore the knife-like pain in his stomach and back.

“Later. Now you must hurry. There isn’t much time.”

Several minutes of walking brought them to a street lined with apartment buildings. Nelson found himself fading in and out of consciousness as the two all but carried him down the street, his head hanging limply on his chest. Two streets farther down they entered a building, climbed two flights of stairs and knocked on the apartment door at the top.

The door was opened to a mere slit and Nelson barely heard Peter utter something in Russian. The door was opened quickly, a feminine voice muttering, “Get in. Quickly.”

The men entered and waited for the woman to close and lock the door. Turning she said, “I was hoping you would find other accommodations. I do not need this right now.”

“We had no choice. You’re our last resort I’m afraid. He’s been shot. We’ll need bandages,” Lucas said.

“Put him on the couch. I will be back with what little supplies I have.”

Peter and Lucas dragged Nelson to the couch and took off the jacket laying him on his side against the soft pillows.

“I do not have much in the way of…Oh no…no, no, no,” the woman said, shaking her head, as she stared at the pale face of the man before her. “Nelson? The man I am expected to hide is Harriman Nelson?”

Lucas looked up at the incredulous tone of the woman. “You weren’t told who he was?”

“No! If I had been, I would have told you to go elsewhere. I won’t help him.”

Nelson, hearing the raised voices, roused himself and opened his eyes, looking up at the woman that stared back at him with something akin to hate in her dark eyes. Shock filled him as he gazed at her. Long, black hair cascaded over her shoulders, eyes the color of warm chocolate stared at him and he was taken back to another time, one he would rather forget. Groaning, he shook his head in disbelief. “Litchka?” he managed to whisper. ***

Lucas looked down at Nelson in surprise. “You…you two know each other?”

“Yes. He cost me three years of my life. You have the audacity to come here asking for help?” she asked glaring at Nelson.

“I…I didn’t have much choice for one and for two, I didn’t know you were here,” Nelson said weakly.

“Lies. You have come to take what little has been left to me. Help him yourself,” she snapped, throwing the first-aid supplies at Peter and stalking away.

“I’ll talk to her,” Lucas said softly. “Do what you can for him. We may need to find another place to hide.”

“She doesn’t like you very much, does she?” Peter asked as he examined the wound in Nelson’s stomach, then turned him slightly to look at the exit wound, making a tsking sound in his throat.

“No, she doesn’t. Can’t say I much like her either,” he gasped, trying his best to not to cry out as Peter did what he could to stop the bleeding in his wounds.

“Care to tell me why?”

“Long story. Maybe some other time.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

“I have some of my own questions I need answers for.”

“Later,” Peter answered with a grin. “It’s a good story. I think you’ll like it.”

The sound of footsteps on the creaky floor caused Nelson to look up, watching as Litchka walked back in the room, her eyes bright with hate. Glancing down at the wounds in his stomach and back, her face softened for a second before she sighed heavily and moved to Peter’s side.

“Get up. You’re doing that wrong. He’ll bleed to death before you get it stopped that way,” she muttered as she sat by Nelson’s side and began to press bandages firmly against the wounds, causing a moan to escape his lips before he could stop it. Her brief smile didn’t go unnoticed.

“I didn’t know it was your place we were coming to. I thought you were still in Gorov.”

“If you kept tabs on my whereabouts you would have known I hadn’t lived there since our last meeting.”

“What…what happened after…after…”

“After you and your friends abandoned me on the pier, leaving me for the soldiers to grab?”

“Yes, yes after we…left,” he grated out as he did his best to keep from crying out at the pain.

“What happened, Admiral Nelson, was I was taken to a KGB interrogation facility. I spent two months there explaining why I was on the docks with you, an American admiral who had infiltrated the Black Sea Intergalactic Space Probe Center.”

“Why…how did they know I was…”

“You are well known in Russia, Nelson. The soldiers recognized you,” she spat out angrily. “Did you think they wouldn’t? Your cover story about you only trying to keep the probe from being destroyed was accepted. On the surface. But the real story…the real plot was uncovered when some of the others involved…a few scientists and another double agent…spilled everything they knew while being “questioned”. I never saw or heard from any of them again. I proclaimed my innocence saying I was only helping you escape.”

“Were you believed?”

“Not enough to keep me from paying a stiff price for my actions.”

“What happened?” Peter asked a he watched her tend Nelson’s wounds with a less than light touch.

“Those involved in the plot that weren’t Russian were simply deported…or killed. Those of us that were Russian spent our time explaining why we did what we did to a variety of Soviet government officials.”

“Did you have a good reason for being involved in the plan to start a world war between your country and mine?” Nelson asked sharply.

“I…I thought I did. Now, I know better.”

“Why now?”

Litchka was silent for a few minutes as she worked at getting the wounds to stop bleeding. “Three years in a Soviet reeducation camp will change anyone’s views, values, or beliefs,” she finally whispered.

“Three…three years?” Nelson asked.

“Yes. I did not stutter. Three years of my life. I was proclaimed to have been “turned from my evil ways” by a general I’d known as a student in Moscow many years ago. He believed I’d changed and had me released. I’ve spent the last year trying to get back to doing what I do best…painting. A few hours ago I received a message there was the possibility an American might need help getting out of Russia. They said this person was an important man and would be tortured by the KGB for the secrets locked in his mind. I tried to say no, to say it was too dangerous. But I’m told if I do not…if I do not help, the KGB will be told I had failed to change my ways and was still working for the United States as a spy. I am told they would provide ample evidence.”

“I…I didn’t know that. I…I’m sorry.”

“It does not matter. You must go. I cannot help you,” she muttered as she helped Nelson sit up and began to wind bandages tightly around the wounds. “I won’t go back there.”

“Look,” Lucas said as he walked to the sofa and seated himself on a chair near them. “We don’t have a choice. We need to stay here or some place safe until we can get word out that he’s here and someone comes up with a plan to get him out of Russia.”

“You should have had a plan in place.”

“There was no time. He was being taken to the Corner House for interrogation,” Lucas confided softly.

Nelson’s eyes narrowed as he felt Litchka flinch. “That’s where they took you? Isn’t it?”

Litchka busied herself putting the bandages and other supplies away before she finally nodded. “For two months I was there. For two months I endured their questions…their…treatment.”

Her voice barely a whisper, her eyes darted to Nelson’s and she felt her hatred falter for a second when she saw the compassion, anger and sorrow in his blue eyes, eyes she tried hard not to notice, or remember. “I…I would not want anyone to be taken there. Even you,” she finished.

Lucas put his head in his hands and rubbed his face in agitation and weariness. “We need a plan. Peter, get in touch with your contact and tell them we’re in Riga. Tell them whatever you need to but make sure they understand we need to get out of here. In the meantime, I’ll head back to Josip and see what’s going on.”

“That’s too dangerous, Lucas,” Nelson said.

“I don’t think so. Josip thinks I am still his protégé, his figurehead. I will do what I can.”

“When you come back, you have some explaining to do.”

Lucas smiled slightly at Nelson. “It’s not a good story I’m afraid,” he muttered as sorrow flitted over his face. “But we will talk when I get back. Rest in the meantime.”

Nelson watched as Alexi Brynov’s son opened the door, looked carefully up and down the hall and left, the door closing softly behind him.

“Is there a radio or a phone I can use?” Peter asked Litchka who peered at him in contemplation for a moment.

“There,” she said gesturing to the phone on a table on the far side of the room. “I check it daily for bugs. It is clean as is my apartment. Do not be long on it though.”

“Spasibo. Don’t kill him while I make the call, all right?’ he joked as he watched the sparks fly between the two others in the room

“I will do my best,” she replied in a hard tone as she watched him walk to the phone.

Turning her eyes from Peter to Nelson, she realized his eyes were still on her and she flushed, looking away from his probing gaze. Rising, she began to pace about the small apartment.

“How is it that after all you’ve been through you still work for the United States?” he asked after several minutes of her pacing.

Reaching for a cigarette, she lit it and shrugged. “Your country was most forgiving for my part in…our last encounter. They were persuasive. Most of what I do simply involves passing on information I happen to hear. Nothing more.”

“Encounter?” Nelson uttered incredulously. “Our last encounter was an attempt to make me into a human bomb and to start a war that no one would have won.”

“Is that all you remember of our…encounter?” she asked, her lips twitching in amusement.

Nelson laid his head back against the couch back and frowned as he remembered the night they had spent in each others arms. At the time, it had seemed a good idea. In retrospect, he couldn’t help but feel he had been used. “I remember, Litchka. I remember that night meant nothing to you.”

“Is that what you think?” she asked softly.

“It’s what I know,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and gave in to the sleep that called to his abused body.

Litchka stared at Nelson for a moment, her eyes softening as she watched him sleep. “You do not know.”

“Don’t know what?” Peter asked as he put the phone down.

“It does not matter. Were you successful?”

“Yes. I reached my contact. Told him we got here but he was shot. Plans are still being made to get him out. It may take some time.”

“Do they understand time is of the essence? He cannot stay…”

“I know. I get it,” Peter answered harshly as he walked to Nelson’s side and sat down, careful not to jar him. Pulling the shirt up a bit he nodded in satisfaction. “Not bleeding. He may just get out of here alive.”

“If I don’t kill him first,” Litchka muttered as she walked away.

“What?” Peter asked.

“I said I will get you something to eat and drink since I cannot get you to leave,” she offered as she disappeared into her small kitchen where the sound of doors opening and closing loudly and a harsh muttering in violent Russian greeted their ears, waking Nelson with a start.

“She really hates you,” Peter said with a smile, nodding towards the mutterings.

“Feelings I assure you are mutual. You said you had a story for me,” Nelson said turning the conversation away from his tempestuous relationship with Litchka.

“Ah yes. Well, the night after your first…interrogation by Vasnev with the aid of Andreyev’s nasty little drug, I saw them dragging you back to the barracks. I knew you weren’t going to live through too many more sessions if Vasnev kept up and I knew I had to get you out or at least let people know you were there and alive. I went to the radio room and made contact with an agent here in Riga. I told him you were alive and were being held on Marau and gave him the best guess I could on coordinates. He assured me he would contact US agencies, contact agents throughout Russia and form rescue plans with those agents for the most likely places that you would be sent to. I also contacted a few other agents, one in Odessa, one in Moscow, one in Sochi. I had just finished my call when the door opened and there was Lucas. I thought I was dead.”

“What happened then?”

“He made a few references to me being a turncoat, traitor…whatever then asked if I had gotten word out about you. I denied it but…well long story short, I found out we were on the same side.”

“You’re sure?”

“I wasn’t at first. But…after several minutes of accusations and denials, he decided we were on the same side and contacted his handler at the CIA.”

“The…the CIA? He works for the CIA?” he asked with a look of shock on his face.

“Apparently. He told this guy what was happening and what I’d already told my contacts in Russia….the weapons, coordinates of Marau, that you were alive and being questioned by Vasnev. Apparently this weapons base along with Stepankov and his plan to return to TPR wasn’t as big of a secret as the Russians and Josip thought. Seems the intelligence community knew or suspected the base existed just not where or what they were developing. Anyway, we were ordered to set someone up to look like a traitor. Make it look like the word was out on the weapons base’s location so they would bug out…move everything and you.”

“Why?”

“They already had plans set in motion to get you out of Russia. The thought was it would be easier to get you out of a known place rather than this unknown island whose coordinates weren’t known by anyone other then Vasnev.”

“Wait…they knew I was alive before you contacted them?” Nelson asked in confusion.

“Apparently.”

“How? My people saw me…well, dying. They knew I was out of air.”

“The agent I talked to said Triton wasn’t completely destroyed…that there was evidence the place was bombed. Lucas confirmed that when we had our little chat. He didn’t give particulars though. I guess when your people got there, they found the pod you were in hadn’t been destroyed, they didn’t find your body and knew you had to be alive.”

“So, my people…my crew know that I’m alive,” he whispered with a little smile on his face as he sank back against the cushions, a feeling of relief filling him.

“I’d have to say yes,” he said, smiling at the look that passed over Nelson’s face.

“Who was the person killed if it wasn’t you?”

“We got one of the guards to come in the radio room… and…and Lucas killed him. Made it look like he had been the traitor. Stepankov and Vasnev believed it.”

“You said they already knew, or suspected, the island and the weapons existed. How would they have known?”

“Perhaps someone…another agent inside Russia perhaps…alerted them,” Litchka answered.

Both men turned to see Litchka with a tray loaded with food in her hands and a slight smirk on her face.

“You?” Nelson said. “You told them?”

“I tried to tell the Americans about Marau. I warned them for almost a year something was going on in the South Pacific, but I was rebuffed every time I brought it up,” she said as she placed the tray on the table and sat in a chair as far from Nelson as she could get.

“Why?” Peter asked.

“You will have to ask them when you see them. They courted me. When I returned from my exile, they contacted me!” she said angrily. “I refused their requests to continue being their spy. I’d learned my lesson. But, I remembered what my own people had done to me…what I endured for three long years…and I saw a chance for revenge on my pitiful country and I took it. Yet, they do not believe what I say. Americans!”

Nelson shook his head in confusion as he processed all he had heard in the last few minutes. Turning from Litchka who stared at him in contempt, he asked, “What happened after Lucas made contact and you were given orders?”

“He had me go to my cabin and pack, told me to be ready but to stay away from you. When we were about to get in the car for the ride to Riga, Lucas said he’d heard from his contact before we left the island and a safe house was ready for us. Then he told me what the plan was to get you away from the caravan. And now we’re here.”

“It would have been nice to know you weren’t dead,” Nelson said with a small smile.

“Sorry,” he shrugged. “I had no time and it was better if I stayed out of Josip’s sight.”

“How did you get involved with Stepankov anyway?”

“Piece of sheer luck actually. I was…between assignments when I was ordered to join Josip and his little band of merry nutcases. When Josip proposed his plan to take you from Triton, whoever he talked to, and I don’t know who that was before you ask, approved his little plan but wanted someone who spoke English fluently to be on this team of his. Since I was available and in Moscow at the time, I was chosen,” he shrugged.

“Did you have any idea what Stepankov planned?”

“No. I had no idea what the plan was at first. My orders were simply to follow Josip, do what he ordered and report to my superior in Moscow. If I had known what he planned…well, I could have gotten word out…saved all those people. But, Josip trusts no one and kept his plans pretty close to his vest. I’m not even sure Lucas knows everything about Josip’s plans,” he said sadly.”

Silence filled the room for a bit as the three thought over what they had learned.

“You should eat,” Litchka finally said, breaking the silence of the room. “It is not much.”

“Thank you,” Peter said as he reached out for some of the food she had prepared and handed it to Nelson who ate it slowly. He tried hard not to smile as the two did their best to not look at each other. “Join us?”

“I…I have other things to do,” she said gruffly, turning away and disappearing into the rear of the small apartment.

“She’s going to be a lot of fun to deal with if we don’t get help soon.”

Nelson snorted then groaned as his battered body protested. “Let’s hope help arrives soon then, hmm?”

<<<>>>

Lucas ran the streets of Riga as if chased, finally coming upon a group of Stepankov’s guards. “Where is Stepankov?” he gasped out.

“Down two streets. He and General Vasnev are searching for you,” one of them said.

Nodding, Lucas ran the rest of the way down the cobbled streets, stopping when he saw Josip standing under a dim streetlight, talking animatedly to the guards that surrounded him.

Taking a deep breath, he called out, “Josip! Josip! Have you found him?”

“Luka! Where the hell have you been? I saw you take off after Peter and Nelson but you did not come back.”

“I followed them for awhile but I lost them. I thought I found them again but it was only a man carrying his drunken father home,” he gasped out. “I hoped you would have better news. He can’t get away. I’m not done with him yet.”

“He won’t get away. You will have your vengeance,” Josip assured, staring at Lucas in speculation for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. “Where did you lose them?”

“About a half mile from here. They went around a corner and disappeared,” he grated out, describing where he had been and telling Josip the opposite direction from where he had left Nelson.

“Disappeared,” Josip whispered. “We will tear that area apart until we find them. Janis, Igor, Vlad…take two men each and search the area. Go as far south as the river. Search every apartment. Find Nelson. If you find Peter…kill him.”

“I cannot believe Peter was a traitor to us,” Lucas said as he watched the guards race off.

“He was American. I warned Vasnev. I warned anyone that would listen but they were assured he was loyal to us.”

“No matter now. It’s done,” Lucas said. “What are we going to do now?”

“I am going to alert the local authorities we have two American spies in their city and to be on the lookout for them. When they find them, they will take them to the Corner House.”

“Hopefully someone will find them. Soon. Where is General Vasnev?”

“He took some men and headed for the Skarnu area. We are to meet at the local police station in a few minutes then he will get in touch with his KGB contacts. Come with me to the local police station,” Josip urged, pulling Lucas with him.

“I think I can be of better use looking for Nelson,” he replied, pulling his arm from Josip’s firm grip. “I don’t want to take the chance he slips away from us.”

“He won’t. We will close the city down.”

“Still, I want to be doing something, not talking to the police.”

“Very well, Luka. We will meet by St. Peter’s church in an hour. Do you know the place?”

“Yes, I think so. If not, I will find someone that does.”

“Be careful. You are a huge part in our plans.”

Lucas laughed. “I have no plans to die, Josip. I do have plans to avenge my father though,” he said as he started to walk away.

“Wait, Luka. Anton, go with Luka,” he said to the last remaining guard by Josip’s side.

“I do not need a guard, Josip!”

“I think you do. If you die, our plans will be in shambles. Protect him with your life,” he said to the young guard who nodded and followed a disgruntled Lucas down the street.

Lucas led Anton down a bevy of gloomy, poorly lit streets, surreptitiously looking up and down every darkened one.

“Anton, we will make better time if we separate. Check those buildings down at the far end of the street. I’ll check these.”

“I am to follow you. Guard you.”

“Yes, I know what Josip said but I am giving you an order,” he said staring the young guard in the eye.

“I follow Stepankov’s orders.”

Frustrated, Lucas nodded and turned away, his jaw clenching tight at what he knew he had to do. “Very well. Wait…what is that? Down at the end of this alley?” he asked as he took off into the inky passageway followed by Anton. A minute later, Lucas emerged alone, and headed away from the alley at a run, his mind shying away from what he’d just done.

A short run brought him to the street Litchka’s apartment was on. Noticing no other of Josip’s guards, he hustled quickly up the stairs, knocking softly.

“Who is it?”

“Lucas. Let me in.”

Opening the door, Litchka allowed Lucas to enter, then closed the door quickly. “Come in. There is food,” she said gesturing to where Peter and Nelson sat. “I have other things to do.”

Lucas watched her stalk from the room with a small smile as he crossed the room to where the other two sat.

“So, Peter’s told me his story. Now how about you tell me how Alexi Brynov’s son helped me escape,” Nelson said after Lucas had grabbed some food.

“It’s a long story I’m afraid. And not a pretty one.”

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere any time soon. You seemed to have a quite a grudge against me when you beat the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry for that. It’s what Josip expected me to do. I had to make it look real so he didn’t suspect the truth.”

“You made it look, and feel, real,” Nelson groaned, holding his ribs. “But why? Why help me?”

Lucas sighed then sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes not meeting Nelson’s. “My father was a ruthless, cold-hearted bastard. When I was younger, I looked up to him as my hero. When I got older…when I got older I saw him for what he truly was. I watched as money became his all-consuming passion and he accumulated it in ways I don’t want to think of. He killed without so much as a flinch, ruled with no thought of the lives he ruined. Ruthless is one word for him. Murderer is another. I hated him for what he had become…for what he turned my country into. He gave me a new identity, papers, a history and sent me to America to learn what I could from those he considered his enemies. And learn I did. I saw how different The People’s Republic could have been if only Alexi Brynov had never been.”

“How did you come to be connected to Stepankov?”

“After my father died, I felt free for the first time. I decided to stay in America, be an American. But a few years after my father died, Josip found me and told me his grand plan to regain control of The People’s Republic. I was horrified at what he wanted me to do…what he wanted me to become. With Russia’s aid, we would return victoriously to TPR. I would sit in my father’s place and rule. In theory. But, Josip only wanted me as a figurehead…a rallying point to the people…a nothing. True power would be Josip’s…not mine. I saw the path TPR was on and I saw the path Josip would take it. I couldn’t do it. By that time, I was pretty well established…I had graduated from the University of California San Diego with my degree in marine biology and my Master’s from USC,” he said glancing at Nelson and smiling. “I was working at Scripps by then. I knew a friend of mine had a father that worked for the FBI. I got him to set me up to meet him and I spilled everything I knew…everything Josip planned…and asked for his help.”

“That was a pretty big gamble,” Nelson said, his eyes narrowed in thought as he watched Lucas. “Especially considering you were in the country illegally.”

“I had no choice. I couldn’t become what they wanted. Even though my country was being torn apart by the void left when my father died, I couldn’t help it be destroyed further. And that is exactly what will happen if Josip and his plan succeeds. Russia will take over, absorb TPR into the USSR and make it a mere state under its iron thumb. Why they haven’t already just crossed the border and taken over I don’t know.”

“International censure most likely although I know there is speculation they are waiting for something but I don’t know what,” Nelson answered, deep in thought. “What happened after your conversation?”

“I had to verify who I was then a meet was set up with someone from the CIA. They wanted me to accept Josip’s offer, which I did. In part. I stayed at Scripps and waited for Josip’s big plan to materialize. We met a few times in secret. When he heard about Dr. Sorenson’s project…Triton…he saw an opportunity for me to be planted there. Someone else was working for Josip at Scripps, and ultimately Triton, but I never found out who until it was too late.”

“Who was it?”

“Stephan Banks,” he said shortly.

“I remember him. Always made my skin crawl for some reason,” Nelson muttered.

“That’s him,” Lucas assured.

“Why did they want you on Triton?”

“Triton as you know now was built near the shipping lanes for the weapons base. I was planted to keep an eye on whether or not the unusual traffic…the subs, the surface ships, the planes…were being picked up. I…I thought that’s all it was,” he whispered. “I didn’t know until it was too late what they planned. Why the traffic that was being picked up was of interest.”

“You didn’t know there was a secret base nearby?”

“No. Not at first. It was maybe a month into your stay there that I was told during one of my radio calls to one of Josip’s agents that there was a Russian base nearby and why I was there. I assume since we worked together so closely, Josip wanted me to keep a close eye on you to see if you got suspicious. When I found out about this base, I got in touch with my contact in the CIA and told him. I was ordered to find out the base’s location if I could.”

“When did you find out what was going to happen to Triton?” Nelson asked.

“Not until the night Triton was destroyed,” he said softly, glancing up quickly into Nelson’s eyes to gauge whether the man believed him. “I was about to head to bed when I met Stephan in one of the corridors. He said he had orders for me from Josip. I didn’t even know until then Josip had someone else there. I thought I was the only one.”

“What were the orders?”

“He told me that the Russians were getting nervous about Triton’s proximity to this base of theirs. I, and I guess Stephan, had informed them the increased traffic had been picked up by Dr. Sorenson, you and some others.”

“Traffic that was out of the ordinary and would only increase as the base continued to grow,” Nelson said uneasily.

“Yes. I tried to make them believe you weren’t suspicious but, I guess they didn’t believe me. When Stephan cornered me in the corridor, he said a plan was in place to set off a few bombs to damage the sea lab. Not badly, just enough that we’d have to abandon it. He assured me no one would get hurt then he ordered me to go to the pod you were working in and make sure you stayed there. I was to pretend to head to bed at midnight exactly. I asked him why but he just said to do it. I…I didn’t know what else to do so, I did what he said. I waited and before you’d finished talking to your captain, I left.”

“I remember you seemed uneasy,” Nelson recalled.

“Uneasy? That’s putting it mildly. I guess maybe I had a feeling there was more to the plan. But I never thought they would destroy the lab and kill…kill all those people,” he said in a horror-filled voice.

“I believe you, Lucas. What happened then?”

“When I left, he was waiting for me in the passageway between the two pods and he…he told me the real plan, that Triton was going to be destroyed, not just damaged, and we had to get off the station. We were to leave, wait for the bombs to go off then swim back. He said two of the pods would be left…yours and the one beside it that we were in. When you were out of oxygen and unconscious, we would go in, suit you up and get you to the submarine. Then the final pods would explode once we were on the sub so it would look like just an accident. No one would look for your body. No one would know you were still alive.”

“Why wait? Why not take him right away after Triton exploded? Or before?” Peter asked.

Lucas snorted. “Josip wanted the admiral here to experience what it was like to know you were going to die by suffocation. He told me when the sharks had grabbed him and taken him under after he fell off the raft you were on with…with my father, Josip and the others, he knew he was going to drown and struggled against it. He wanted him to experience the same thing.”

“He did say something about that,” Nelson quipped.

“I…I didn’t know what to do. I tried to head back, pretend I had forgotten something in the pod then tell you but Stephan had a gun on me and forced me to get into the scuba gear he’d hidden in the pod. I wasn’t certain I could take him and my job, I hate to say it, wasn’t to save you…and the others…but to keep Josip believing I was his to command and find out what I could about this base and where it was. As well as keeping an eye on Josip and the Russian/TPR plans.”

“I understand, Lucas. Did you know what kind of base the Russian’s had?”

No. Not at first. I don’t think the CIA knew for sure. I didn’t find out what kind of base it was until we got close to the island when we were on the freighter. That’s when Josip told me. I…I was horrified.”

“Understandable. What happened after you left me in the pod?”

Lucas grew silent as he remembered. “We…we left and hid away from the blast area. Triton…Triton exploded. Stephan grabbed me and we started swimming back to the last two pods. Once we got to the pod, we were to wait until you had passed out, get you in scuba gear and take you to the sub. You started to come around so I guess we didn’t wait long enough. Stephan had some kind of gas that he used to knock you out.”

“That explains why my lungs burned,” Nelson nodded.

“So why didn’t the last two pods explode after you got the admiral out?” Peter asked.

Lucas allowed a brief smile to cross his face. “When we started to head back, I pretended to have trouble with my mask. I motioned Stephan on…that I was all right and would catch up to him but I went to the underside of the pods and found the bombs. I can’t say I know a lot about bombs, but they looked like a simple design to me. I made a slightly educated guess as to what wire to pull. I pulled it and the countdown stopped,” he shrugged. “I guess I chose correctly.”

“Slightly educated guess?” Nelson asked with a quirked eye.

“Let’s just say the CIA gave me a crash course on a variety of fields…self-defense, marksmanship…other “special activities” before I went off to join Josip. I had received a very cursory briefing on bombs.”

“Lucky for me you were.”

“Lucky?” he whispered. “All those people are dead. I…I’ll live with those deaths on my conscience forever,” he finished, choking back a sob.

“Those deaths are not on your conscience, Lucas,” Nelson whispered as he heard the desolation in Lucas’ voice. “Josip is the one that will pay. Him and all involved in this.”

Lucas nodded slowly but Nelson saw in his eyes that he didn’t truly believe what he’d said.

“What happened to this Stephan?” Peter asked.

“After we rendezvoused with the freighter and the admiral was taken off the sub and onto the freighter, he stayed behind on the sub.”

“Did they know the last two pods hadn’t exploded?” Peter asked.

“Not at first. I found out after they had taken you to your cell on the freighter.”

“Yes, the knock on the door…I remember Josip looked concerned about something. You said I was put onto a submarine…what happened to it?” Nelson asked quietly.

“After the rendezvous with the freighter they headed back to where Triton had been.”

“Why?”

“Josip said something about cleaning up the area.”

“Clean what up?” Peter asked.

“Evidence,” Nelson said softly. “To make it look as though Triton had experienced a catastrophic failure and not been bombed. What happened to the sub?”

“She got to the site and found two pods were left standing and contacted the freighter. The captain decided to head back to the freighter instead of staying in the area.”

“Why would he do that?” Peter asked.

“From what I heard from some of the guards, the captain panicked and headed back towards Marau.”

“Why?” Nelson asked.

“From what I know of the man he wasn’t the best submarine driver and a bit of a coward. I suspect he knew your submarine was on the way to the area and wanted nothing to do with running into it,” he said with a little smirk to Nelson. “Anyway, he radioed the freighter and told them the pods were still standing. After Josip was alerted that the pods hadn’t been destroyed and the submarine had hightailed it from the area, he contacted Vasnev who relieved the captain of his duties and put the executive officer in charge, then sent them back to destroy Seaview…with disastrous results for the K-38,” he said with a smile. “From what I heard, your captain took out the K-38 without so much as a scratch on your sub. That made Josip quite angry.”

“Thank God,” Nelson whispered, thankful his sub and his crew were unhurt.

“I…I have to get back to Josip,” he said looking to his watch and rising slowly. “I’m to meet him at St. Peter’s in ten minutes.”

“Be careful, Lucas.”

“I will. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Hopefully, we’ll have a plan in place by then,” Peter added.

Nodding, Lucas left, heading to his rendezvous with Josip. A short run took him away from the apartment building that hid Nelson and Peter. Stopping for a moment on a street corner, he spotted Josip and a few of his men huddled under the amber glow of a streetlight and proceeded to head towards them.

Looking up, Josip saw Lucas coming towards him and he broke away from the group and came towards him. “Where is Anton?” he asked angrily looking behind him.

“Isn’t he back yet?” he asked in puzzlement. “We split up. I told him to meet us here.”

“He did not come back. He was told to stay with you.”

Lucas shrugged. “I did not see the point of staying together. We could cover twice the…”

“You do not make the rules or give orders! You follow them!”

Lucas fought to keep from hitting the man before him and merely nodded his assent. “I…I’m sorry, Josip. I only wanted to find Nelson. It’s been too long. He could be anywhere by now.”

Stepankov struggled to regain control and nodded. “Yes…yes I know.”

“Any word at all?”

“The local police are useless. They have patrols out but seem to lack incentive. I was in contact with a KGB colonel called Bulygin…Fredric Bulygin. He’d been informed yesterday he would be hosting Admiral Nelson at The Corner House and was quite excited at the prospect. He has his men out searching.”

“And Vasnev?”

“Still with Bulygin and their KGB cohorts,” Stepankov said dismissively. “I want Nelson and I want him now. He must not get away from us!”

“He won’t, Josip. What are your orders now?”

“Vasnev has ordered us to wait for him here. He will be here shortly.”

“I don’t want to just stand around, Josip!”

“I know Luka. You are your father’s son. Alexi…Alexi never relished waiting either.”

He flinched slightly at being compared to his father and managed to say in an even tone, “Who does?” Frustrated and beginning to worry that he would not be able to get away again if Vasnev came back, he began to pace in circles, his hands thrust deeply into his pockets.

Finally, he could take no more and stopped in front of Josip. “I can’t stand this waiting. I’m going to look for him down by the river. There are many places…”

“That is not a good idea. We must wait.”

“Wait for what? A Russian to tell us what to do? I do not like that idea at all. It will not be that way when I am installed as Premier of The People’s Republic!”

“You are not Premier yet. Without Russian help you may never be Premier,” Josip said darkly.

“Bah!” Lucas cried throwing his hands in the air. “I am going. I will meet you at The Corner House in an hour. Hopefully, one of us has Nelson with him.”

Josip watched Lucas stalk off, his brows furrowed in thought. “You two,” he said motioning to two guards behind him. “Follow him. I want to know where he goes. Do not let him see you.”

Nodding, the two took off, furtively following Lucas up and down streets, hiding when they saw him turn to look over his shoulder until they saw him stop by a large apartment building and enter. Moving quickly, the pair followed him inside and silently climbed the stairs, stopping when they heard a knock on a door and moved close enough to see the tall figure of Luka Brynov enter an apartment. When the door had closed softly behind him, the two separated, one hiding in the shadows where he could see the doorway and the other scampering back to Stepankov.

<<<>>>

“Please tell me there is a plan?” Lucas said as soon as he stepped inside Litchka’s apartment.

“We just heard now,” Peter said rising from his seat by the phone. “We need to head to the port of Riga. We’re to look for KL Shipping on the way.”

“And then?” Lucas asked.

“We meet our contact there, at the main office. A David Lipov. He will get us onboard a container ship headed for Helsinki. Once in Finland, we’ll be met by US agents.”

“If all goes as planned,” Nelson muttered.

“All will go as planned,” Peter replied looking to Nelson and doing his best to gauge his ability to walk on his own.

“I’ll be fine,” Nelson said as he watched Peter. “You two worry about yourselves.”

“We’ll need to acquire a vehicle. It’s a long way to the dock and we must be there while it is still dark,” Peter said, looking in anxiety at his watch. “The ship leaves port at 0630.”

“You should go then,” Litchka said harshly.

“Yes, we…” Lucas stopped what he was about to say when he heard a noise outside the apartment and held his hand up, motioning for silence. Moving towards the door, he pressed his ear against it, listening for a moment before carefully opening the door slightly and looking out. Closing it, he leaned his head against it then turned back to the others.

“They’ve found us. One of Josip’s guards is outside. I…they must have followed me. I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I thought I had been careful.”

“We need to leave now. Is there a back way out?” Peter asked Litchka.

“There is a fire escape at the far end of the hall. It leads down to the street.”

“That means we still have to get past our friend out there,” Lucas whispered, glancing quickly to Nelson, knowing he would not be able to run. “Is there no other way out?”

“There is only one way out of this apartment and it is that door unless you want to jump two stories straight down. And I do not think he is up for it,” she replied, gesturing to Nelson who was struggling to rise from the couch.

“We should get moving,” Nelson said, trying not to groan at the agony that flared through him as he rose from the couch before Peter or Lucas could help.

“From the street below, we can steal a car to take us to the port,” Litchka said as she began moving about the apartment quickly.

“Wait…what do you mean we can steal a car?” Peter asked before she could disappear into her bedroom.

“I must go with you now. They know my apartment. They will come for me when you are gone. I will not endure three more years in a camp…or worse.”

Frustrated, Nelson frowned. “We don’t have time…”

“We can tie you up,” Peter said. “Make it look like we broke in and forced you…”

“No. I will not take the chance they do not believe that lie. I have been prepared for this day. I knew one day it would come,” she explained as she headed into her small bedroom and emerged a scant few minutes later with a small suitcase, a small backpack and a black Russian Makarov pistol. Checking her pistol’s load quickly, she announced, “I am ready. Unless you disagree?”

Her eyes bore into Nelson’s, daring him to deny her. With a shrug, he said, “I guess this time you win. It’s out the door and down the fire escape. Lucas? Your gun?”

“I can…”

“No. I suspect you both have had enough of killing. My turn,” he said as he took Lucas’ gun and walked to the door, doing his best to ignore the stabbing pain that accompanied the motion. Carefully, he inched the door open and spied the guard who looked both young and scared. Clenching his jaw tight, he aimed for a spot over the young man’s heart, then pulled his aim a bit higher and to the right and squeezed off a shot, watching as surprise flitted over the young man’s face as the bullet hit him high in the chest near the shoulder and he fell down the stairs. “Come on.”

Peter, Lucas and Litchka followed Nelson out the door and down the hallway to the window at the far end. Opening it quickly, Peter looked up and down the street below and gestured for the others to climb down while he covered them with his own pistol. Once Litchka had started her climb down, he followed, landing on the alley below.

“No one up on your floor even looked out their doors at the gunshot,” Peter said in amazement.

Litchka shrugged. “They do not wish to know what is not their concern. Now come, we must procure a car.”

The group headed off through the alley, stopping at the end where Peter motioned them to remain hidden while he hotwired a car.

At the sound of the motor turning, Lucas grabbed Nelson under the arm and helped him to the car, putting him inside quickly while Litchka moved to the front seat beside Peter. Lucas was just about to get in beside Nelson when the night air exploded in a spray of bullets, one of them hitting him and spinning him to the ground.

Angered, Nelson pulled himself from the car and fired back with Peter’s gun, scattering the guards that were approaching from behind. Grabbing Lucas under the shoulders, he and Peter managed to pick him up and toss him inside the back of the car. Both Nelson and Peter jumped inside and before Nelson’s door had closed were tearing off down the street, around a corner and headed, hopefully, for the port and safety.

“Let me see how bad it is, Lucas,” Nelson muttered as he pulled Lucas’ shirt up.

“It’s nothing,” he ground out as he looked at the long red streak that marred his left side, blood welling up.

“Here,” Peter called from the front, handing Nelson a handkerchief. “Use that on it.”

“You’re lucky. It’s just a crease,” Nelson said after a minute. “Gonna be sore for a time but the bleeding’s slowing already.”

“Thanks,” Lucas ground out, flinching as Nelson dabbed at the cut.

“How far to the port?” Nelson asked as he did what he could for Lucas.

“We are to go to the main offices on Duntes and pick up an agent who will get us aboard the freighter,” Peter answered. “Litchka? How far is that?”

“To this office…it should only be fifteen…twenty minutes from here. To the port? I do not know. There are many on the river and a few that are back off side channels. I do not know which one we will go to.”

“How do we get there?”

Litchka thought for a moment then gave Peter concise directions to the office.

“Hopefully, Josip and Vasnev have no idea where we are going,” Peter whispered.

“There is always the possibility someone contacted by your people is not as trustworthy as you would like to believe and told what they know,” Litchka muttered. “They could already be waiting for us.”

“Let’s hope that’s not true. It would be nice to catch a break,” Nelson muttered, struggling to fight off the lethargy he felt course through him. To be in this situation, running for his life, was one thing, but to know he could very well cause the deaths of everyone in that car filled him with a terrible, heart-wrenching fear. His wound throbbed in beat with his heart and he put a shaking hand to it, then frowned as his hand encountered a sticky wetness. He pulled his shirt up a bit, but the pitch-blackness that filled the car hid the wound from his sight.

“You all right?”

He turned as he heard Lucas’ concerned voice.

“Yeah…I…I’m fine,” he said, frowning when he heard Litchka snort. “Something you want to say?”

“Me? No. But you keep moving around as you have been and you will be bleeding again, if you aren’t already.”

“There’s nothing to do for it,” he answered testily. “We can’t be caught here.”

They drove for twenty minutes heading farther and farther from the heart of town and soon saw a building on the right. “There. Head in there,” Litchka called.

Peter turned the car into the darkened parking lot, turned off the car’s lights and waited.

“Any secret word you are to remember?” Litchka asked sarcastically. “Any secret knock?”

“I was told to park in this exact parking spot and wait. We would be met here and taken to the ship.”

More than a few minutes passed as the group waited before suddenly, a knock on the driver’s side door had them all jumping.

“You are Peter?” the tall, mustached man asked.

“Yes. David?”

“Yes. I am to take you to the Aila and get you onboard. You must be onboard in a little over an hour. We must hurry. Do you have weapons?”

“Only three handguns and no ammunition.”

David said something that just by the tone, Nelson was sure was a curse. “Wait here. I will be back.”

“Why do I get the feeling he isn’t overjoyed to be helping us?” Lucas asked.

“Because those left behind must pay a heavy price if caught. If you are lucky, you only die,” she said, turning to look Nelson in the eye with what looked like a smile on her face. “If we are caught…we and our families will suffer for it. I will not be caught alive by them. I will not go back.”

The door on the other side of Nelson opened and David jumped in, two AK-47s, one brand spanking new AK-74 and two small handguns in his arms along with rounds of ammunition. “Now you are armed. We must go. The freighter is headed for Helsinki. You will be met by authorities there once in port. She is loaded now and waiting for the tide. Her full crew will not be onboard for awhile yet. Those onboard now have been paid to look the other way if they see you. You should be safe from view of anyone else if we can get there while it is still dark.”

“You trust this crew to ‘look the other way’ while we board?” Nelson asked.

“Yes. I do. Those loyal to Mother Russia have been granted a few extra hours ashore,” he said, his lip curling in derision at the term Mother Russia. “Those onboard have no love for Russia.”

“Good enough,” Nelson whispered as he and Lucas took the guns and busied themselves loading them while Peter started the car and began to head away from the building.

“Who will meet us at the dock?” Peter asked.

“A man by the name of Heinrik Vasily. He will take you to an empty container on the ship where you will stay out of sight until you reach Helsinki. You will be onboard and hidden before the rest of the crew arrives. I apologize in advance for the accommodations, Admiral Nelson” he said, a smile in his voice. “But we were given little notice that you would be coming.”

“I’ve been in worse spots,” he assured David. “As long as…”

What he was about to say was interrupted when suddenly the way in front was blocked by a black Lincoln, men already crawling out the side doors.

“Reverse! Get us out of here!” Nelson cried.

“I’m trying!” Peter cried. “I can’t get it in reverse!”

Finally, just as the soldiers were aiming their rifles, the car shot backwards. Peter swung the car around and headed back down the long, dark road they had come in on only to discover another car headed towards them.

“Damn! We’re trapped!” Peter cried.

“We need to make a stand,” Nelson said harshly as he took the AK-74 and handed an AK-47 to Peter. “You and David take the car behind us. They’re farther away. Lucas, you and I will deal with our friends right here. Litchka, use that gun you brought and help Peter.”

Nelson burst from one side of the car and Lucas from the other, using the open doors as cover. Both began firing on the black Lincoln before those inside could get out. Two guards fell out the back seat of the car and the three in front began putting down a blistering fire.

Behind him, Nelson heard Peter, David and Litchka firing and prayed their aim was true.

The firefight went on and on, bullets tearing into the car Nelson and the others hid behind. After a time Nelson noticed the firing from their attackers lessening and he yelled to Peter, “How are you doing?”

“I think we’re good! There’s no more firing coming from them,” he called as he and David moved to join their guns with those of Nelson and Lucas, firing on the car in front of them, smiling as two more bodies joined the others on the round.

Silence filled the night air and Peter hesitantly stood up, his gaze on the far car. When there was no return fire, he said, “We should move out now. We’re running out of time.”

“Oh shit,” Lucas whispered. “There’s another car coming! We have to get moving!”

“You go. I will stay,” David said, reloading his rifle quickly. “Remember the name I gave you?”

“Yes,” Nelson said. “But I can’t let you…”

“You will go. Now!” he cried as he shoved Nelson away and towards the car. “I will hold them off for as long as I can. Get to the ship but be cautious. Look for Heinrik. Use the code word svoboda. He will know what happened.” When the group hesitated, taking their cues from Nelson who looked from David to the car rapidly approaching, he said, “Admiral, I have no one. The Russians took my family from me one by one. I want to join them and take a few of them with me. Now go!”

Lucas grabbed Nelson under the arm and pulled him up, throwing him as gently as he could in the back seat. “Go, Peter!”

Peter revved the engine and spun the car about, swerving around the idle black Lincoln and continued down the road they had been headed down before the attack.

“Everyone all right?” Lucas asked from the back seat as he helped Nelson back up onto the seat. “Peter? Litchka?

“Yes, I am fine,” Litchka said wearily.

“Me too,” Peter agreed. “How are you doing, Admiral?”

“I…I’m fine,” he muttered doing his best to keep the pain out of his voice.

“Your wound?”

Nelson was silent for a time as he fingered the wet hole in his side and decided there was no reason to lie. “It’s bleeding. Has been for awhile.”

“Here,” Litchka said taking a handkerchief from the small backpack she carried and handed it to Lucas. “Press that against it.”

Lucas took the cloth and pressed it as gently as he could against the wound, smiling a bit as Nelson’s eyes stayed locked with Litchka’s for a long moment.

“Thank you,” he murmured to her.

“It is only a handkerchief,” she said, turning away.

Sighing deeply, he laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, contemplating David’s sacrifice, and wondering once again at the depths a man’s choices could take him.

“We should consider that our destination is known,” Peter said. “Did anyone see Vasnev or Stepankov?”

“I saw Vasnev go down. He was in the first car and one of the last to be hit,” Lucas said quietly. “I did not see Josip in either car.”

“I saw Josip,” Nelson answered quietly. “He was in the car in front of us. I saw him hit and go down.”

“You’re sure?”

“Very,” he said, grimacing as Lucas pressed harder on the wound, hoping he could continue to stay conscious. “He didn’t get back up.”

“We’ll have to head to the freighter and board. Assume Josip and Vasnev are dead,” Peter said. “We have no other option right now.”

The group drove as quickly as possible down the pitch-black unfamiliar road until they came to an area lit brilliantly with lights, a soft mist wafted over the area casting it in eerie shadows. Docked at a long pier on a channel off the Daugava River sat a container ship, Aila emblazoned on her stern.

“There! That must be the freighter,” Peter said as he parked as far away from the ship as he could and in a darkened corner.

“Any sign of activity?” Nelson asked doing his best to sit up.

“No. She looks fully loaded though. Containers standing four…five high. You stay here. I’ll look for this Heinrik,” Peter said as he got out of the car and walked slowly towards the gang plank.

“Ya mogu vam pomoch?” asked a voice from the shadows near the ship.

“Yes, yes maybe you can help me,” Peter said with a smile. “I am looking for someone.”

“Who?”

“Good. You speak English. I’m looking for Heinrik.”

“Why?”

“David sent me.”

Peter watched as the small man before him flinched slightly then looked about furtively.

“And? Where is this David?”

He decided it was no use to lie. “Dead probably. He covered our escape.”

Heinrik closed his eyes briefly before moving towards Peter. “What else did he say before he died?”

“Svoboda.”

“Da,” he assented after a brief hesitation. “Where are the ones I am to help?”

“In that car over there.”

“Get them. And hurry. The rest of the crew will be coming soon. They must not see you.”

Peter ran back to the car and opened the back door. “He’s legit I think. Come on,” he said as Lucas got out, then reached in to help Nelson from the back, frowning at the weakness he felt in the man. “We can carry…”

“No. I can make it. You’ll need your hands free if this doesn’t go right,” he muttered.

“Hurry,” Peter said as Lucas wrapped an arm about Nelson to help him anyway, then turned back to Litchka who had her suitcase and back pack in hand and was already hurrying after Nelson.

“Come,” Heinrik called as he looked about apprehensively. “There is little time.”

Once the group reached the gang plank, Heinrik walked quickly up to the top deck, waiting anxiously as Nelson and the others followed.

A few crewmen could be seen on the far side of the ship but, after a cursory interested look, turned away and went back to their duties.

“This way,” he said leading them down a narrow aisle; containers stacked high overhead until he came to one particular one about four rows back and in the center of the ship.

“In here is where you will stay until you reach Helsinki. Once in port, your people will come for you,” he assured Nelson. “They have been notified of the sailing time.”

“Thank you,” Nelson managed to croak out.

“You are hurt? I will find medical supplies and bring food for your journey. Water is already inside,” he said as he hurried down the aisle and disappeared from view.

“Guess we should get you situated inside,” Peter said.

“Not just yet I think,” a familiar voice deep in the shadows said.

Turning, the group saw Josip Stepankov, blood from a wound high on his chest coloring his shirt and a Mauser pistol aimed at them.

“Put your weapons down,” he said watching closely as they complied. Gesturing to Peter he said, “You, over there by the woman,” then turned back to Lucas and Nelson who was having a hard time staying upright.

“You thought you had won, didn’t you, Nelson?”

“How…how did you…?” Nelson asked, the hope he’d felt that they were safe fleeing.

“How did I find you? Is that what you wish to know? I was shot, by you I think, but not killed. I waited until you and your friends here left and followed you once the shooting had died down from the one you left behind. You and your friends were not very careful.”

Turning his gaze to Lucas, a look of rage washed over his face. “Your father would be ashamed of the man you have become,” he growled, backhanding Lucas brutally, smiling as he watched his head flung backwards and blood trickle down his face.

“I take that as a compliment,” Lucas muttered.

“I do not understand,” Josip whispered staring in bewilderment at Lucas. “He was your father. You loved him and he you!”

“My father loved no one but himself, Josip. You know it’s true. You remember surely how he treated you. There was no gratitude in him for anything. Everything was his right…his right to rule, his right to steal, his right to kill.”

“No. He loved me. I was his brother. I…”

“He had no use for you,” Nelson interrupted. “When you went over the side of the raft, he didn’t care, never looked to see if you were alive, never gave you another thought. The only one he cared about was himself.”

“You lie! You both lie! Alexi was my brother! He…”

“…hated you,” Lucas finished. “When I was a child, I…I would hear him talk to my mother when she still lived. He would mock you…curse you. He had no use for you as Nelson said. He used you as he used everyone. You were only a means to an end. He pretended fealty, you freed him from the firing squad. He proclaimed you would rule beside him, he had your undying loyalty. But they were just words.”

“NO!!!” Josip cried.

“It’s true.”

Off to the side, Nelson watched out of the corner of his eye as Peter moved slowly behind Josip.

“Alexi…he would not lie to me,” he snarled as he advanced towards Lucas, anger clouding his eyes and his mind. With a quick flick of his wrist he hit Lucas across the cheek with the butt of his gun, turning quickly to Nelson before he could move.

“I wanted to watch you break. I wanted to see the man I hold responsible for Alexi Brynov’s death to die slowly or become a traitor to his country. You thought you had denied me that. Didn’t you? Now, I will at least see you die,” he spat as he trained the gun on Nelson who stared his coming death in the eye. But before the gun could go off he felt a body crash into him and felt himself falling. The loud report of the gun, a muffled cry and another gunshot filled the air before a deafening silence took over.

His strength almost gone, Nelson had just enough left to lift his head to see Heinrik, a small pistol in his hand and Josip Stepankov at his feet, eyes open and staring blindly at the sky above.

Peter rushed to Nelson’s side and helped him sit up, then turned to Lucas who was beginning to come around.

Looking into the shadows beside him, Nelson saw a figure, flowing, ebony hair blending into the pre-dawn sky, lying unmoving beside him and he reached a hand out. “Litchka?” he called, crawling to her side. He smoothed the hair back from her face, then drew her to him, cradling her in his arms. A sticky wetness covered his hand and he pulled it from her to stare at it in amazement. Blood? She was hurt? How?

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up into Nelson’s confused eyes. “I…I don’t seem to be able to think clearly around you,” she whispered. “That was not my best plan.”

“You…you pushed me away? You saved me?”

“As I said…not as good a plan as I thought.”

Nelson felt Lucas kneel beside him. “We need to get inside. Tide is rising. The crew is coming.”

“She needs help,” he whispered, shock filling him at what she’d done. “Heinrik…take her. Get her help. Please get…”

A light from somewhere nearby illuminated the area suddenly and Nelson struggled not to groan aloud as he saw the ragged hole in her chest, felt her weakening breaths, her body trembling and knew she was dying. Even if help was close…she was dead.

“It is too late,” she whispered. “You…must go but…please…take me with you.”

Agonized seconds passed as Nelson struggled against the reality he faced. “Help me,” he muttered finally as he tried to tug her inside the container. Lucas grabbed her arms and gently helped Nelson pull her inside, her blood leaving a crimson trail behind.

“Don’t leave me. Please,” she begged Nelson as she wrapped a feeble hand around his arm and squeezed. “I don’t want to die alone.”

“I won’t leave you. Stay still,” he whispered to her as he stroked her hair.

He heard the heavy clang of the container’s door close and what seemed to be only a few short minutes later, heard the ship’s engines fire and felt the vibration that told them they were leaving port. A feeble light flickered on in the cold, desolate container, enough that he could see the stark fear on her face and his heart clenched. “Why?” he murmured.

“I…I do not know.”

“I thought you hated me.”

A brief laugh that turned into a moan caused Nelson to pull her closer. “So did I. I blamed you. All those days, weeks, months, years in that camp, I blamed you, cursed you, hated you.”

“Then why? Why would you…”

“Because I…I finally saw that I was the only one to blame. My choices…my fault. I remembered your eyes on the pier that day. I saw you stop when I called and I remembered seeing regret in your eyes that warred with concern for your friends. And as I said, I did not think my plan through all the way. I should have moved faster.”

Nelson lowered his head, unable to look at the woman who had saved his life, the woman who’d used him to further her plans.

“That…that night…what happened between us…it was not part of the plan,” she whispered. “It was not part of my plan.”

“It wasn’t part of mine either,” he agreed, shifting his body a bit to hold her closer. “I should have known better.”

“But…I lied. That night…it meant something to me. It was spontaneous…not planned. Believe me when I say I did not use you. I almost turned from the plan after…I almost told you. I came downstairs and…watched you sleep before making sure the cesium was in your bloodstream. I almost told you then.”

“Why didn’t you? Why?”

“I was afraid.”

“Of?”

“I was afraid if things went wrong, I would be left behind to face the consequences, if not in Russia, then in your country. You would be gone and I would be alone.” She laughed slightly, her body shaking, her voice a mere whisper on Nelson’s cheek as he leaned closer to hear. “Funny…but that was what happened anyway. What is it they say about karma?”

“I…I don’t know,” he whispered, his heart aching for the woman dying in his arms.

She reached a hand up and cupped his cheek, a slight smile on her face as her eyes locked with his. “You will not let me go?”

“No, I won’t.”

“Do not let them take me back to Russia. I do not want to be buried there. I…I would rather be thrown overboard than…than go back.”

“I…I won’t let them take you back. I promise.”

“Spasibo. Ne zabyvay menya,” she managed to whisper. Her hand dropped to the floor and Nelson felt her take one final breath.

“Ya ne zabudu tebya. I…I won’t forget you,” he choked out.

He looked up to see Peter and Lucas kneeling beside him, concern on their faces. “She’s gone,” he managed to say before passing out.

<<<>>>

A voice off to his side…a familiar, comforting voice…echoed in Nelson’s ears and he turned slowly, blinking in the soft, muted light that met his barely opened eyes. “What?” he managed to whisper through dry lips as consciousness slowly returned.

“I said you look pretty good for a dead man.”

“I agree,” said another.

“Dead…Lee? Chip? Where…where am I?” he asked looking about in confusion. The musty, slightly repugnant odor of the container had been replaced by the clean scent of antiseptic, flowers and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“You’re in a hospital in Helsinki. You were brought here yesterday from the ship. Do you…do you remember?” he heard Lee ask, concern in his voice.

“I…I remember the ship and…” The frown on his face changed quickly to one of sorrow before settling down into a mask. “I remember,” he finished, turning his head from his friends’ probing gazes.

“Chip and I got here last night. Luckily we weren’t too far away,” Lee said lightly, keeping the fact he’d plotted a course home that had taken them on a more northwesterly direction than northeasterly, and thereby closer to the Russian coast…and the admiral.

“That’s…that’s good. I…wait…Lucas and Peter…where are they?” he asked as he tried his best to sit up and realized what a bad idea it was when pain knifed through him causing a groan to escape his clenched lips.

“Easy, Admiral…easy,” Lee said putting a gentle hand on his chest and pushing him back down, leaning over him protectively. “You don’t want to re-open that wound. You lost enough blood.”

“Lee’s right, sir. We came too close to losing you,” Chip added as he placed a comforting hand on his superior officer’s shoulder.

“Where are they? Are they all right?”

“We weren’t told much, just that you had three people with you when you arrived in Helsinki. I’ve been told two men are being debriefed somewhere nearby. I assume your Lucas and Peter. We haven’t seen them though. I don’t know anything about the third person.”

Nelson closed his eyes, hoping to hide his sorrow at the fate of the third person and asked, “Then they’re all right?”

“We’re fine, Admiral,” a voice from the door said.

Nelson turned his eyes to the voice and smiled as he saw Lucas, a bandage covering his left cheek and Peter standing in the doorway with big smiles on their faces.

“Come in both of you. I want you two to meet Lee Crane, captain of the Seaview and Chip Morton, my executive officer. Lee, Chip, these two are the ones that got me home. Well, two of many,” he finished; a sad tone to his voice that Lee didn’t miss.

“It’s a pleasure,” Peter said as the two stepped into the room.

“I’d like to introduce you to…”

“I think we’ve already met Lucas, Admiral. On the…on Triton during…well when we last talked to you,” Lee said, a pang going through him as he remembered that last conversation. “We thought he was dead along with the rest.”

“Nevertheless, this is Peter Ivanov and…” he glanced up at Lucas, his eyebrow raised in question and saw the brief nod of assent. “And this is Luka Alexi Steinkov…Brynov.”

At the last name, the smile dropped from Lee’s face and he turned disbelieving eyes to Nelson then back to Lucas. “Brynov?” he asked in a hard tone, his body tensing as he stepped a bit closer to Nelson as if to protect him.

“Alexi Brynov’s son, Lee,” Nelson said with a twitch to his lips.

“It’s a long story I’m afraid,” Lucas shrugged. “Suffice it to say…I am not my father’s son.”

“No, he isn’t, so stand down, Lee. I can see the hackles on the back of your neck standing up. Lucas, how’s the side?” he asked in concern.

“Just a scratch, sir. Hardly hurts at all.

“And your cheek?”

“Doctors say I’ll probably escape without a scar,” Lucas said with a broad smile.

“That’s…that’s good. We were …we were all pretty lucky. Do you know anything about the bioweapons?” he asked, Peter. “What…what happened to them?”

“From what we were told, Seaview sank the freighter that was carrying them to another island,” he answered with a smile and a nod to Lee.

“All the weapons are on the bottom of the sea. For now,” Lee answered.

“For now?”

“Salvage boats are on the scene.”

“Ours?”

“Yes. Australian and New Zealand also. The sinking was too close to their territorial waters. They wanted to make sure the weapons are dealt with appropriately.”

“Well, let’s hope they’re destroyed. What about those on the freighter?”

“We rescued most of them. Andreyev was among the survivors,” Lee answered, his jaw clenched tight in anger having been told his part in the “questioning” of the man that lay in the bed before him.

“Andreyev,” Nelson muttered, exhaustion tingeing his voice as he remembered the man who had been responsible for putting him through such incredible pain. “That’s too bad.”

Turning back at the fatigue he heard in Nelson’s voice, he stepped closer. “Maybe we should let you sleep. You’ve been through a lot.”

“I hate to say it but I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open,” he admitted. “I suspect you four have some talking to do.”

“We’ll fill them in, sir,” Lucas said stepping closer to Nelson. “You just rest.”

“I…I will I think. Thank you Lucas…Peter. I…I wouldn’t be here if you two hadn’t…”

“It was…well, pleasure isn’t the right word,” Peter laughed.

“Honor,” Lucas finished. “It was our honor. Rest.”

Nelson nodded slightly then watched as the four walked from his room, warily looking at each other as they left. With a snort, Nelson closed his eyes and drifted into a deep sleep.

<<<>>>

“So, do you want to explain to me how Alexi Brynov’s son was involved in saving Admiral Nelson?” Lee asked before the door to Nelson’s room had barely slid closed.

“I’d like to hear that explanation also,” a gruff voice from down the hall boomed before Lucas could say a word.

“Oh no. Starke,” Lee whispered.

“Should we run?” Peter asked. “He looks…pretty intimidating.”

“He is that but he’d just chase us down or have someone else chase us,” Lee said forlornly. “Admiral Starke. What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, Crane…checking up on Harriman. Had a bunch of meetings I had to attend before I could get transport out of Washington. I just got in. How is he?’ he asked, his voice softening a bit.

“He’s going to be all right. Doctors say he’ll be out of here in a few days, maybe a week and we can head home.”

“That’s good news,” he said, the relief on his face telling. “Who are you two?”

“These are the two that got the admiral out, sir.”

“We weren’t the only ones,” Lucas said quietly.

“They were just about to fill us in on what happened,” Lee said, his tone a bit harsher than he had intended.

“I’d like to hear that, also. All I’ve heard is just bits and pieces about these blasted weapons and what Harriman went through and the fact someone named Brynov was instrumental in helping him get out of Russia, but not how.”

“We’ll tell you what we can sir,” Peter said.

“Good. First, I’d like to see Harriman.”

“He just fell asleep, Admiral,” Lee said.

“Humph, well, I’ll just sneak a peak. Wait here. All of you,” he ordered brusquely.

“Yes, sir,” the four muttered unhappily.

“Do you know that guy?” Peter asked, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Afraid so. He and Admiral Nelson are old friends. Went through Annapolis together,” Lee answered.

“Huh, they don’t seem anything alike,” Lucas said with an interested look.

“They aren’t. They aren’t,” Lee said watching the door to Nelson’s room closely.

Admiral Jiggs Starke stepped inside his old friend’s room and stopped, staring at the figure lying on the bed then stepped closer stopping by his bedside. Bruises still marked his face from Lucas’ beating and he was taken aback at the look of sadness on his pale face. What had he gone through that even sleep couldn’t wipe away the memory?

“That was a close one, you old sea dog,” he whispered. “You rest up, old friend. We have some talking to do when you’re up to it.”

With a gentle pat on the leg, Starke turned and headed out the door.

“Now gentlemen, I want to know what happened. All of it. From the time Harriman was taken off that sea lab he was so excited about to your little jaunt from Russia to Finland.”

With curt nods and a touch of concern on their faces, Lucas and Peter, informed at their debriefing what they were free to reveal of the events, headed off with Starke, Crane and Morton.

<<<>>>

Twilight was beginning to color the hospital room Nelson found himself struggling to wake up in, in muted blues and purples. A soft rustling by his side told him he wasn’t alone and he turned, unsurprised to find Lee, his eyes boring into his as if trying to see something he felt was hidden to him.

“Lee? What…what time is it?”

“Just after 1800 hours.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Oh, Chip and I, and your new friends, left here about six, seven hours ago. Had a nice chat about what…about what you went through,” he answered, his voice faltering as he remembered all his friend had endured, knowing there was more of the story that had been left unsaid. “Admiral Starke was here to see you. He joined in.”

“Jiggs is here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What…what’s wrong, Lee?” Nelson asked as he focused his eyes on the man beside him who radiated agitation.

Lee lowered his head and shook it. “It’s nothing. I…I’m just glad you’re all right. When I thought you were dead I…it…was a close thing.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was,” he murmured, turning his eyes away from Lee.

“I…I have to say I can’t believe the son of Alexi Brynov would become an agent for the United States.”

“Surprised the hell out of me, too,” he muttered as he watched the sky outside his room color with the rays of sunset.

“He said he was responsible for the bruises you’re still sporting and the two cracked ribs,” Lee commented with more than a touch of anger in his voice that caused Nelson to turn to his young friend.

“Only some of them. There were others that helped put these bruises here. I wasn’t a very well-liked guest while on the freighter or the island. He was playing a part, Lee. He and Peter and…and a few others…did what they did to save my life. A few at the cost of their own,” he finished softly as he turned his gaze back to the window, remembering in sorrow the sacrifices of Litchka and David.

“I know. I know,” he said frustration in his voice.

“How…how much did they tell you?” Nelson asked quietly, hearing Lee’s soft steps on the hospital floor, knowing the man was pacing.

“I guess all of it? Or as much as they were allowed. They told us about what happened on Triton, the island, the weapons they were developing and the drug they gave you. They told us about the flight to Riga and those that helped you get home.”

“And died because of it…of me,” he whispered as those two faces came to him again.

“They told us about the people that arranged your escape. And what it cost them. And they told us about Litchka,” he finished quietly, almost hesitantly.

Nelson closed his eyes as he heard the name almost whispered in a hesitant voice. “Do…do you know where she…where her body is?”

“She was taken from the container ship and brought here after you were taken off and to the hospital. Starke said a few from the State Department arrived a few hours ago and they’re making arrangements for burial.”

Nelson’s head whipped back and he stared hard at Lee. “Don’t let them send her back, Lee,” he demanded, his hard blue eyes boring into Lee’s. “I promised her she wouldn’t go back to Russia.”

“It’s all right. They’re making arrangements to bury her here, in Helsinki,” he said softly as he came to stand by Nelson’s side, staring down at him in concern. “Lucas and Peter told them what you’d promised.”

“When? When is her funeral?”

“I think the day after tomorrow.”

“I want to be there,” he demanded.

“I…I don’t think they’ll let you out of here, sir. That wound…”

“I’ve had that wound for a few days now and I’m still alive. I want to be there. I will be there if I have to find my own way. Is that understood?” he asked in his best four-star admiral’s voice.

Lee stared hard at Nelson who stared back just as hard then nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

Nelson laid his head back against the soft pillows feeling exhaustion creeping up on him and did his best to pretend he was fine. “Thank you. It’s…something I need to do.”

“All right. But for now, you rest. I’ll go make the arrangements although I know Admiral Starke will have something to say about it.”

“Tell Jiggs to stuff it. It’s my decision.”

“That’ll be fun,” he mumbled as he placed a hand on Nelson’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thanks, Lee,” he said, smiling slightly to allay his friend’s concern and watched him walk away, the smile slipping from his face.

Lee had just reached the door when it opened, Peter and Lucas standing on the other side.

“Oh sorry. We didn’t know the admiral had a visitor,” Peter said.

“It’s all right. I was just leaving. I have to go tell a certain four-star admiral to stuff it,” he said with a grin as he looked back at Nelson who chuckled.

“Come in Peter…Lucas,” Nelson said as Lee left, the door closing softly behind him.

“Well, you’re looking better than you have in a long while,” Peter said as he walked to stand by Nelson’s side, Lucas following slowly.

“I’m feeling better. What have you two been up to?”

“Oh, you know. Debriefings and more debriefings,” Peter said with a shrug. “Trying to decide what to do now that my cover is…gone.”

“Any plans?”

“Not sure. I may have a few ideas. If I can’t be an undercover agent, maybe I can serve some other way.”

“Lucas, what about you? Have there been any recriminations?”

“Not really. The State Department wasn’t happy about my…real name and my being in the US illegally but they seem to be willing to overlook it. Having friends in high places helps.”

“Friends in…who?”

“Admiral Starke for one. He’s not as bad a guy as I thought when we first met. He said he would make sure everything was all right. Said he owed me for…well, for helping you.”

Nelson smiled as he thought of his long-time friend, knowing the man would do anything for him. “What name do you plan to go by from now on?”

Lucas frowned and answered quietly, “I think I’ll stay with Lucas Stein. I…I don’t think using Brynov would be a good idea for many reasons. Mostly, I just don’t feel like a Brynov anymore.”

“I can understand that. And in my opinion, you aren’t. What plans do you have for your future?”

“I don’t know really. I guess maybe see if I can go back to Scripps? Maybe continue Dr. Sorenson’s work. See Triton II built,” he said with a smile and a shrug. “It was a success, I think. Before…well before Josip had it destroyed. If it can be rebuilt, I want to help.”

“That’s a good plan, Lucas. George would be proud that you want to help continue his work,” Nelson said, a pang going through him as he thought of his friend, caught up and killed in the schemes of madmen. “I’ll do what I can to help with financing it. I know a few people and a few organizations I may be able to wring some money out of.”

“That would be great. I just…I just wish I had found out sooner what they planned,” Lucas murmured. “If I could have saved them…all of them…I…”

“What happened wasn’t your fault. You have to see that, accept it and let it go.”

“I’m trying. It’s just not easy,” he said with a shrug.

“Believe me, I understand. And if you find it hard to be back at Scripps or you want something else, come see me. All right? That goes for both of you. Peter, there will always be a job for you.”

“Thanks Admiral but as I said, I think I can use my…talents better somewhere else. As a matter of fact, after the funeral, I’ll be flying back to Washington. See where I go from here.”

At the mention of the funeral, the slight smile dropped from Nelson’s face. “Yes…the funeral,” he whispered as he did his best not to remember what had happened.

“Well, we were told no more than a few minutes so we should go and let you get some rest. You’re looking pretty wiped out,” Peter said in concern.

“I…I am a bit tired,” Nelson agreed as he held out his hand to the two that had been instrumental in his escape, smiling as they shook it firmly. “Thank you for coming and for…for saving my life. I wouldn’t be here now if you two…”

“As we said, it was our honor, sir,” Lucas said quietly. “Get some rest. We’ll be around for a bit yet.”

“Good. That’s good,” Nelson whispered, his eyes suddenly too heavy to stay open and he gave in to sleep.

<<<>>>

Two days later, Harriman Nelson sat alone in his small hospital room in Helsinki, Finland, waiting anxiously for Lee, Chip, Jiggs…someone to come get him for the funeral he knew he should be present at, but one he was reluctant to attend. He’d played over and over in his mind the last few moments of her life, the words she’d said, her soft touch, the act itself that had, in one split second, taken her life from her and questioned again and again why she had done it.

He was about to go find out why no one had come when the door opened and Lee and Chip walked in carrying an armful of clothes.

“I was just about to go look for you,” he said a bit more harshly than he had intended.

“We had to scrounge up some clothes for you since the ones you were wearing were pretty much unwearable once the medical team got done with them,” Lee said, handing Nelson a pair of black slacks, crisp, white shirt, black suit jacket, socks and shoes, all of which he did his best to put on by himself, finally consenting to letting Lee put the socks and shoes on for him.

“Thanks, Lee. I guess we should get moving,” he said as he began to rise from the chair.

“Just a minute, Harriman,” a voice from the door called. “You may go to this funeral but you will go in this.”

Turning his eyes to the door, Nelson saw Admiral Jiggs Starke, resplendent in his admiral’s uniform, standing behind a wheelchair.

Nelson was about to argue but knew he wasn’t going to win. And in reality he was unsure whether he was going to have the strength to do what he felt he needed to.

“All right, Jiggs. All right.”

Lee and Chip gaped at Nelson first in shock then concern knowing the admiral rarely ever allowed others to willingly see his weakness.

Both sprang to his side and helped him into the chair while Jiggs held it, placing a soft hand on his best friend’s shoulder and squeezing. “Ready?”

A simple nod was all he managed as Jiggs guided him out the room, down the hall and to a large, black car waiting by the curb.

“Nice ride,” Nelson quipped as he was helped from the chair and into the front seat of the vehicle.

“That’s what all this brass gets you,” Starke joked as he gestured to his admiral’s stars.

“No driver, Jiggs?” Harry joked as Starke slid into the driver’s seat while Lee and Chip settled themselves in the back.

“I’m quite capable of driving myself, and others, places,” he grumped.

“Just as well,” Harry said. “Makes it easier to talk.”

“About?” Starke asked uneasily.

“Have there been any repercussions concerning the fact Russia was developing biological weapons or the fact Russia was plotting to install Brynov’s son as Premier of The People’s Republic, then take over?”

Starke sighed audibly and turned his gaze out the window. “President Brezhnev has no knowledge of a base, secret or otherwise, producing biological weapons. According to him, Vasnev, and Stepankov, must have been a part of some splinter group plotting overthrow of the USSR.”

“Plotting overthrow…what a load of rubbish! And Andreyev? Was he part of a splinter group?” Harry asked angrily.

“Word from higher ups in Russia say Andreyev disappeared a year ago while on vacation.”

“A vacation to the South Pacific perhaps,” Harry said sarcastically. “That’s all very convenient, isn’t it?”

“The main things to take from this are the plot was discovered and both it and Josip Stepankov are dead. The bioweapons are currently on the bottom of the ocean and no threat to anyone. And you, my friend, are safe.”

Harry turned his gaze out the window and muttered crankily, “A little retribution would have been nice.”

“I agree but you know how things work in this world. Some day, maybe we’ll have that retribution. For now, calm yourself, sit back and rest while we drive.”

“Yes, Jiggs,” Nelson sighed as he closed his eyes and tried to push from his mind the past few days.

A short drive took them to a verdant landscaped area bordered by a low stone wall. At a narrow opening in the wall, Jiggs turned, entering the cemetery and drove slowly past rows and rows of markers, some with flowers covering them and some achingly empty.

Finally, they rounded a bend in the narrow road to see a small cluster of people on a plot of ground, a priest in full regalia at the head of the group waiting. The eyes of those waiting turned to watch the car approach. Nelson noticed two men dressed in black suits break away and walk towards where they had stopped.

Nelson smiled as he watched Lucas and Peter stride forward and opened the car door, getting out before anyone could stop him or help.

“Peter…Lucas…I’m glad you’re both here.”

“She saved us also, sir,” Peter whispered, his voice heavy with regret.

“Harriman, let’s get you in the chair,” Jiggs announced as quietly as he seemed able.

A quick smile and wink to the two that stood before him and he turned back to his friends behind him. “I agreed to go to the funeral in that contraption. I’m at the funeral now and I have no intention of being wheeled to the grave. Come on. Let’s go,” he said before Jiggs, Lee or Chip could complain.

Sighing, the three followed Nelson, hoping they hadn’t made a big mistake in getting him released, no matter for how long, from the hospital.

Nelson walked slowly to the casket, concentrating with everything he had at not falling flat on his face as he felt his legs begin to feel like rubber. Stopping briefly by the casket that sat before him, he smiled as he saw it was covered in a brilliant display of purple, white and yellow flowers and seated himself heavily in one of the chairs, distressed at the way the slight walk had sapped what little strength he’d had.

Lee, Chip, Jiggs, Peter and Lucas all followed suit and they listened attentively and respectfully as the priest conducted the funeral in a mixture of Finnish, Russian and English before walking to them and offering his condolences before striding back to a small chapel that sat up on a hill nearby.

For a few moments, Nelson sat staring at the coffin and pondering again the strange relationship he’d had with the woman that lay inside. From their first meeting in the Trianon Gallery in Washington to that one lone night they’d spent together to the last moments of her life in the dank, musty container on the grubby freighter. To say it had been a complicated relationship was to put it mildly.

A gentle hand settled on his shoulder and he turned to see Lee, concern and compassion on his face beside him. “We should get you back,” he said simply, knowing his friend wouldn’t want or expect anything else.

“Yes. Yes, I’m ready. Jiggs,” he called to his friend who was hovering beside him on the grass. “I…I’d like to make sure the grave has flowers put on it from time to time.”

“Already taken care of, Harriman. The priest has assured me he will see to it.”

Nelson nodded slowly a smile lighting his pale features as he stood and moved slowly by his long-time friend. “Thank you.”

“For you, I’d do anything,” he murmured in a voice meant for Nelson’s ears only. “Here, let me help you.”

He was about to shake off the gentle hand that wrapped about his back, the other cupping his elbow in support, but knew he wasn’t the only one that had gone through a bad time. His friends had thought him dead and had mourned him. When he felt Lee’s hand grasp his other elbow, he decided to allow a bit of mothering, and merely whispered, “Thanks, Jiggs…Lee.” and allowed them to help him back to the waiting car, grateful for the steadying hands as he felt his strength going.

<<<>>>

Lee Crane drove down the long driveway that led to the admiral’s cliff side home, happy to know the man he thought of as a brother was finally home where he belonged. A week in the Finnish hospital had left them all struggling to keep it together.

But, Nelson’s bruises had faded, his wounds well on the way to healing and, after a thorough exam by Will Jamieson on his return to Santa Barbara, was allowed to finally return to his home with the stipulation he stay there and make no visits to his office for the foreseeable future.

Pulling up outside the side door to Nelson’s home, he reached across the seat to grab two takeout containers of food he’d brought. Knowing Nelson in all likelihood hadn’t given any thought to cooking anything for himself, or even reheating the food he knew his secretary Angie had brought earlier, he’d made a stop at one of the admiral’s favorite restaurants.

Knocking on the side door, he pushed the door open and called, “Admiral? I’ve brought dinner. I stopped at The Boathouse on the way over here. After all that Finnish food, I thought a nice thick steak was in order.”

“Admiral?” Receiving no answer to his call, he frowned, then put the food in the refrigerator and searched the house, concerned when he found no sign of Nelson.

His hands on his hips, he did his best to calm down, visions of the admiral being taken again flitting about in his mind. Walking to the sliding door that led to the deck, he slid it open and stepped out, hoping to find the man lounging outside in the fresh air but found the deck empty and his anxiety ratcheted up a few notches. He was just about to go back inside when a quick glance to the beach below showed a ring of smoke rising lazily into the early evening air.

Frowning, he followed the path that led from Nelson’s house down to the beach, stopping just short of the man he’d been searching for who was seated on the cool sand, leaning back against a large rock and staring out to sea, a large pile of cigarette butts by his side.

Clearing his throat, he waited until Nelson looked up at him in question. “Lee? What are you doing here?”

“I brought us dinner. I thought you might not feel like cooking anything,” he said seating himself by Nelson’s side, trying not to notice the displeasure that flickered over his face.

“I was going to reheat something Angie brought over earlier,” he said, frowning, knowing his secretary, still miffed at Lee for not letting her in on what had been happening to her boss, wanted to help him in any way she could on his return.

“Hmmm, full of vegetables and whole grains?” he asked causing a smile to crease his friend’s face.

“Probably,” he agreed before turning his eyes back to the sea.

“Are you all right?” Lee asked quietly after a few silence-filled moments had passed.

“Just fine, Lee,” he answered, not turning his gaze from the gentle roll of the waves on his beach.

“You don’t look fine.”

Nelson turned his gaze from the ocean to the man by his side, irritation marring his face. “Don’t you have some place to be?”

“Nope,” he said quietly, his gaze turning pointedly to the pile of butts by Nelson’s side. “If Jamie saw how much you’ve been smoking, he wouldn’t be happy.”

“Well, I don’t plan on telling him. Do you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

A quick shake of his head was all the answer Nelson got but satisfied, he turned back to his perusal, defiantly lighting another cigarette and blowing the smoke up into the air.

“Admiral, I know…I know you went through a lot between what happened on Triton to what they…what they did to you on the island to the escape. I just…well, I just wish there was something I could do to help you with…with whatever is going on with you.”

“Thanks, Lee but I don’t think you can. It’s just…something I have to deal with on my own,” he said in a soft, barely heard voice.

“If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Not even Litchka?” he asked softly after a few seconds had passed.

Nelson closed his eyes and turned his head away from Crane’s probing gaze. Even in the waning light, he was sure Lee could see the sorrow on his face and he struggled to keep the pain, the questioning inside but gave up as he knew the man beside him was hurting, aching to help him and he sighed.

“Do you know what happened with her?” he asked, knowing it wasn’t a subject they had really discussed.

“With Litchka? Peter and Lucas told us.”

Nelson turned his gaze to Lee who stared at the ground, absently pouring sand from one hand to the other. “She…she put herself in front of me and took a bullet that was meant for me, Lee. I left her behind to face…to face what she did four years ago, to go through what she did for the past four years, and she put herself in front of a bullet for me. Why? After all she’d been through because of the decision I made to leave her behind…why?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have the answer to that. Maybe…maybe she felt in some way she was making up for what she’d done before. Maybe it was more than that.”

“If you’re saying she was in love with me, you’re wrong. That much I’m certain of,” he said firmly, knowing there had been a pull of attraction between them, but nothing more.

“Maybe she was looking for…salvation. Forgiveness. Maybe, one last chance to make up for what she’d done. Whatever her reasons, I for one am thankful she did what she did. One of many who are thankful, actually. And a lot of them will show you that tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Nelson asked, his brows furrowed in question.

“Don’t you know what day it is tomorrow?”

“Quite frankly, no. I lost track of time. It’s…some time in August…late August I guess,” he said with a shrug.

“It’s August 30^th. Tomorrow’s your birthday and there are a lot of people that want to celebrate the fact you’re still alive.”

“Birthday? Not a party,” Nelson said, his voice and face tinged with horror. “Tell me there’s not a party.”

“Of course there’s a party. What better way to tell you…to show you how much you mean to us?”

“I…I think I know that already,” he whispered as he turned his gaze back to the sea, watching as the waves rolled onshore, one after the other in a never-ending dance.

“If you’re looking for answers out there, you won’t find them,” Lee said softly, laying a hand on Nelson’s shoulder and squeezing. “The only one with the answers is…is back in Helsinki. But, if the situation was reversed and it had been Litchka that was in danger, would you have done the same thing she did?”

Nelson sat unmoving as he pondered what Lee had said then finally nodded his head slowly.

“Why?”

“Because it would be the right thing to do,” he answered, turning his head to Lee, seeing the slight approving smile on his face. Nelson let out a heavy sigh and turned his gaze back to the sea. “And because I was wrong four years ago. I was wrong in leaving her. I should have…found a way to help her.”

“But there wasn’t another way and you know it. Three breathers…three people. And before you say you could have shared, you know we had just enough oxygen to get to the Flying Sub.”

“I could have searched for her after we got back. I should have let go of my…my hurt pride and searched for her or done something.”

“What good would it have done to try to find her? You couldn’t have brought her here. A double agent that had been a part of a sinister plot to start a war? No way would she have been given asylum here after what she did. If you had inquired about her, no matter how quietly, Russia would have made sure she disappeared or convinced us she had died. They wouldn’t have willingly given her up. In some way, your not looking for her may have saved her.”

“For a few years at least,” he mumbled.

For a long time, Nelson sat silently contemplating what Lee had said. There had been nothing else he could have, or would have, done four years ago. To have done anything else would have meant the deaths of two people very important to him. And Russia would never have acknowledged she was alive. Or allowed her to leave Russia no matter what the United States government insisted on. With the exception of that one night spent together, a night that for some unfathomable reason he didn’t want to let slip from his memory, the whole ordeal, four years ago and two weeks ago, was better off forgotten. Yet he found it hard to do and had no idea why.

When the silence had gone on for a bit, Lee leaned forward and said, “You know, sometimes that last goodbye…the one you know will be the final one…is the hardest of all. I thought we’d had a last goodbye. When you severed the connection to Seaview, I felt like a piece of me had died. You were…are…a part of my past, my present. But I thought the future was gone to us. There wouldn’t be any more…anything. It was done. Finished. The last chapter, the last final words…the last goodbye. I’ve never really experienced that before. Not knowing it was the last one at least. Maybe that’s what’s so hard about Litchka for you. Death is final. No more chances, opportunities, no answers. And I know how you hate when there are no answers.”

Looking up, Nelson saw the tiny smile on his friend’s lips and shook his head, his own lips echoing the grin on Lee’s briefly before turning his gaze back to his ocean.

Sighing, knowing his melancholy was a fruitless endeavor, knowing Lee was right and there were no answers to be found, that the only one with the answers lay in a flower-strewn grave in Helsinki, he pulled his gaze from the darkened sea and to the man by his side who watched him closely, concern on his face. “Steak, huh?”

“Yep,” Lee answered with a relieved smile.

“Baked potatoes?”

“Of course. Covered in butter and sour cream. And before you ask, not a vegetable in sight.”

“Well, we can’t waste such an offering then, can we?”

“No, sir,” he answered with a smile as he rose quickly, brushed his pants off and reached down to help Nelson to his feet.

“I guess sitting out here wasn’t such a good idea,” he moaned as his still healing injuries protested.

“No. It wasn’t,” Lee answered firmly, laughing at the surprise on Nelson’s face at his hard tone. “Come on. I can hear that steak calling me now.”

Putting an arm around Nelson’s shoulder, he helped his friend make his way up the long path to his home above.

“A party? You really planned a birthday party?” Nelson asked in dismay.

“Not just me. Well, it was mostly Angie and the rest of the secretaries but Chip and I thought it…well, we thought it was a good idea. Just in case you don’t know how we all feel about you,” he said softly as he remembered what he had thought was the last conversation…the last goodbye…he would ever have with the man who walked slowly by his side, praying he knew what was in his heart.

“If there’s one good thing that came out of this whole mess, it’s that I do know without a doubt how you all feel,” he whispered in a low tone as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, realizing his trek to the beach hadn’t been a good idea, and glad for the man whose strong arm about his back gave him the support he needed.

“And you know how Chip and your crew feel. And we know how you feel.”

“But still…a party?”

“Take it up with Angie.”

After a few more steps he sighed and said, “I’d rather just have the party than face the disappointment on her face if I said I didn’t want it.”

“Good plan,” Lee said laughing; knowing the man by his side wouldn’t do anything to hurt the feelings of his secretary. “Good plan.”

The End

* City Beneath the Sea

** The Exile

*** Time Bomb

Thanks to my betas who read over this story for me and pointed out my errors. I appreciate all your help immensely.

Some of the websites I used for researching underwater cities, floating farms and underwater kites are found below. Thanks for reading!

http://www.topsecretwriters.com/2014/12/japanese-underwater-city-will-coolest-place-live/

http://inhabitat.com/sub-biosphere-2-a-self-sustaining-underwater-city/

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-3097498/Are-floating-farms-answer-solving-world-hunger-Fish-crops-harvested-ocean-rigs-feed-Earth-s-rising-population.html

http://news.discovery.com/tech/alternative-power-sources/underwater-kites-to-harness-liquid-breezes-for-power-131112.htm#mkcpgn=fbdsc8