Out Maneuvered
Chip Morton put down his chopsticks, pleasantly content. Not only with the excellent meal he’d just consumed but also, surprisingly, with the company he’d kept. He grinned softly to himself as he thought back on the last several hours.
Expecting to have lunch with a friend, he’d been
disappointed when Lee’s head poked through his open office door mid-morning
with the news that he’d been asked to handle a small project, and wouldn’t be
back until that afternoon. Chip had just
shrugged his shoulders philosophically and gone back to the paperwork that he
was trying to sort out, figuring he’d run down to the cafeteria later for a
sandwich. On second thought, he
stopped and pondered, I’d better have Gwen bring me up a tray. If Jamison sees me eating by myself he’ll be
all over me about why I’ve been postponing the physical he thinks all the
officers need semi-annually. I’ve
already put him off for over two weeks.
But geesh, its such a stupid waste of time.
He
was buried in supply orders a short time later when his boss, Admiral Harriman
Nelson, walked into his office, after tapping lightly on the open door. Chip immediately bounced to his feet. But Nelson, an enigmatic little grin on his
face, just waved him back down, and settled himself into one of the visitor’s
chairs on the other side of Chip’s desk.
“Up
to your ears, as usual, I see,” the older man said lightly.
Chip
was at something of a loss as to how to respond. He’d worked for the Nelson Institute for
Marine Research for four years now – from just before the keel was laid for
NIMR’s huge research submarine, Seaview.
And he’d known Admiral, then Captain, Nelson from his Annapolis days. But he was still a little cautious, a little
awed, in the man’s presence. And he
certainly was not on this kind of casual terms with him. Oh, he got along just fine with Nelson. That wasn’t the problem. But Nelson, whether Captain or Admiral, was
usually all business. This lighter side
was a whole new kettle of fish and Chip hesitated, not sure how to respond to
it.
“Trying
to get a little ahead of the game,” he finally answered. “Thought I’d stock up on as many of the
non-perishable items I can that we use aboard Seaview, and save having to
re-order before each cruise.”
“Excellent.” Nelson nodded his approval. “I knew coaxing you away from the Navy and
making you Executive Officer would pay immediate benefits.”
“Not
so immediate,” Chip corrected, still carefully.
“I should have thought of this two years ago.”
Nelson
chuckled. “Takes awhile to get the hang
of things. You’ve had your hands full,
learning to run a whole new type of boat, and all that entails.” He paused.
“And now, having to adjust everything to a new Skipper.”
Just
over three months ago Seaview’s original captain, John Phillips, was killed in
an attack aimed at Nelson, to stop his plans for thwarting an attack by enemy
agents intent on taking over the world.
In Phillips’ place came Commander Lee Crane, in many ways his predecessor’s
complete opposite. The transition had
been, well, interesting.
“That
hasn’t been such a big problem,” Chip now assured his boss.
“Oh,
really,” Nelson retorted with a raised eyebrow.
Chip
immediately backed down, but still went along with Nelson’s unusually
lighthearted attitude. “Well, at least
it hasn’t been, once the entire crew quit threatening to throw Lee overboard.” It caused Nelson to chuckle softly.
Commander
Crane had come aboard under less than ideal circumstances and had not, to say
the least, enamored himself to Phillip’s very loyal crew on that first
mission. Chip had a slight advantage –
he and Crane had been roommates their entire four years at the Academy, and had
remained friends. Gradually everyone
else had come to realize that the new skipper, while differing in command
style, still held Seaview and her crew in highest regard, and had only their
best interests at heart. But those first
few weeks had been tumultuous for everyone.
Nelson
smiled. “Change is always hard. But all in all, I’d have to say that this has
been good for everyone, no matter how painful the circumstances were which
precipitated it.”
“Have
to agree with that one, Sir.” Chip
nodded seriously. There was a moment of
silence between them before Nelson gave himself a small shake, and the strange
little grin Chip had noticed earlier reappeared on his face.
“What
say you and I go grab some lunch?
There’s a new little Japanese restaurant downtown that I’ve been hearing
good things about.”
“Sir?”
came out before Chip could get his surprise at the sudden invitation under
control. “Ah, I mean, I’d like that,
Sir. Thank you. I know the place you mean. Lee and I had dinner there the last time we
were in port.” He hesitated again. “A little pricey, but the food is excellent.”
Nelson
chuckled again. “You can tell me about
your new plan to keep ahead of the supply orders and we’ll call it a business
expense.” He pushed himself out of the
chair, and again Chip bounced up as well.
“Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind,” Nelson continued, “could I meet you
there? I have a meeting afterward on the
other side of town, and it would be more convenient if you could drive your own
rig. Say, 1200 hours?”
“Not
a problem, Sir. And…thank you for the
invitation,” Chip added, almost hesitantly.
Nelson just smiled and left.
Now,
thinking back on that conversation as he watched Nelson polish off the last of
his maki-zushi, sushi made with spicy tuna and cucumber, Chip had to smile to
himself. Of all the changes that had
occurred since Lee Crane had joined NIMR, one of the biggest ones was obviously
with the Admiral.
For
as long as Chip had known Nelson, he’d always been a very no-nonsense kind of
officer, the kind you automatically respected because he exuded
confidence. Intelligent to the point of
genius, he never flung it in your face, just allowed it to waft from him as he
taught classes or led men into service.
Chip had found him instantly comforting to follow in either
circumstance, but never someone you took casually.
He’d
figured out at Annapolis that Lee had a slightly different relationship with
the then Captain. It quickly became
apparent that Nelson very early on saw ‘something’ in the underage plebe. Not that Nelson ever favored Crane in any
way. Just the opposite – he seemed to
constantly challenge the young man, drawing out the quiet, somewhat shy Lee,
encouraging him to expand his horizons and stimulate creative thinking.
Chip
groaned silently, listening to Nelson compliment the owner on the excellent
meal they’d just consumed. At least Chip
assumed that’s what the conversation was about – they were speaking
Japanese. Not that Lee needed all
that much stimulation to think creatively.
Something else that had quickly become apparent to Chip his first
year at Annapolis was, though quiet and studious, his roomie possessed an
extremely quirky sense of humor, along with the ability to think totally
outside the box. Lee had gotten them
into all manner of predicaments - as well as back out of them, Chip had to
admit – during their tenure at the Academy.
But he also had an innate ability to make people feel comfortable around
him, and to bring out the best in everyone.
It wasn’t so much something that he ‘used’ with others as much as it was
an inner talent. Chip had watched with
some amusement as Seaview’s crew, still mourning the loss of Captain Phillips
and still smarting from the brusque manner Lee had adopted that first mission
to keep everyone from dwelling on their loss and focused on their jobs,
nevertheless start to respond to Lee’s normally easy command style. In some cases, almost unwillingly. And not that Lee ever relaxed performance
standards. There was never any doubt
that he expected only the best from his crew.
Not demanded, and Chip felt that to have been the key. As Lee expected no less than the best from
himself, others around him just seemed to naturally follow suit. There came a noticeable calmness to Seaview
and her crew, and Chip was just now realizing that it had extended itself to
Admiral Nelson as well, seeming to have mellowed his usual all-business
attitude. Chip let loose a quiet sigh of
contentment. Lee, you done good – as
usual, he thought to himself, and toasted his friend with the last of his
green tea. Although, he
acknowledged, I know perfectly well, given the amount of time it took you to
get reservations for this place, the only reason I’m here today is that you
scooted out on whatever errand you had. Chip
frowned. And if I find out you did
this on purpose, to get me a little more up close and personal with the
Admiral… He finally noticed Nelson
had finished his conversation and had cocked an eyebrow at Chip. “Sir?” he asked, getting whatever expression
had apparently crossed his face back into the neutral one he usually kept
there.
“Just
wondered what that groan was about a bit ago.
Eat too much?” Nelson’s voice was
full of humor.
Chip
nearly groaned again. “Was that out
loud?” He gave Nelson a sheepish look,
turning even more sheepish when Nelson nodded.
“Sorry, Sir. No, just letting my
mind wander a bit.” Nelson just
continued to look at him expectantly, and Chip was forced to expand his answer
slightly. “Thinking back to a few things
that happened at Annapolis.” There,
that’s as far as I’m going with the explanation, no matter how long he waits.
Nelson didn’t answer for a second. “Hopefully that wasn’t any indication of displeasure that Lee’s now commanding Seaview,” he asked seriously.
“Oh,
no, Sir.” Chip worked quickly to dispel that thought. “Not the problem at all, I assure you. Just, having him around on a permanent
basis…well…tends to bring back memories at odd times.”
Nelson
nodded, then smiled. “Didn’t mean to
exclude you, Chip,” and he nodded toward the restaurant owner. “Was just enjoying the chance to use my
limited language skills.”
“Didn’t
sound all that limited, Sir. Didn’t
realize you spoke Japanese.”
Nelson
waved off the compliment. “You tend to
pick up this and that, attending as many conferences as I have over the
years. Speaking of which…” He glanced at his watch. “I’d better be getting on to my meeting. Ocean Industries Corp is beginning some
preliminary studies aimed at developing some new hydrograph equipment. I’m meeting with their director to see if
NIMR can be of any assistance. I’ve
puttered with a few ideas myself over the years, but never put any real time
into it. If we put our heads together,
we could all come out ahead.”
“Sounds
good, Sir. And I’d better be getting
back to my desk. Those supply orders
aren’t going to take care of themselves.”
He sighed heavily, and Nelson laughed.
“Thank you again for the invitation.”
“I’ve
enjoyed it immensely. You take off. I just want to have a brief word with the
chef after I pay the bill. I’ll see you
later back at NIMR.”
Chip
glanced at his own watch as he got up to leave, startled that the dining room
was almost empty. Didn’t realize we
talked that long, he chuckled to himself, discovering it was just after
1400. Obviously mellowing a bit
myself. He snorted. Have to watch that. His SUV and the Admiral’s sedan were
nearly the only rigs left in the parking lot.
Comfortably contented, and chiding himself not to let Seaview’s crew get
any ideas about their XO suddenly mellowing his no-nonsense persona he was
totally unaware that he wasn’t alone in the parking lot until, as he paused to
put his key in the door lock, something like a heavy towel was thrown over his
head. He was pushed to the ground on his
stomach, his arms behind his back, totally immobilized, before he even had a
chance to grasp that anything was happening.
Just getting his mouth open to yell what the hell was going on, he heard
a soft click, like the safety lock being released on a revolver, and an even
softer whisper.
“Not
a sound.”
This
is ridiculous, Chip fumed silently. Its
broad daylight, a busy restaurant parking lot…
Well, he acknowledged as his wrists were quickly bound behind his
back with what felt like one of those quick snugging, no-release, plastic
fasteners that were all the rage these days.
Even the police force was using them as cheap, quick, handcuffs. Since its after regular lunch hours the
lot was almost empty. Maybe the Admiral
will come out and see what’s happening. But
his hopes for that were quickly dashed.
What felt and sounded like a strip of duct tape secured the towel over
his head by being wrapped around his neck, and he was physically picked up and
laid in the back of his own SUV. The
tape wasn’t tight enough to cause discomfort, but there was no way he was going
to be able to dislodge it by himself.
Again there was a whispered warning.
“Don’t
try anything funny, and you might get out of this in one piece.”
None
of this made any sense, and Chip tried reasoning with his captors. “Think you’ve got the wrong man,” he said, as
under control as he could keep himself.
“I’m…” He was stopped by
something poking him sharply in the back.
“We
know exactly who you are.” The SUV doors
were closed, someone jumped into the driver’s seat, and they were out of the
parking lot before Admiral Nelson would have had time to pay the bill, let
alone have his chat with the chef.
Chip
couldn’t tell if there was anyone else in the SUV other than the driver. He didn’t think so. He hadn’t heard another door open and
close. But he couldn’t be totally
sure. He’d been so efficiently put to
the ground and incapacitated that it screamed of at least two people. And there was the term ‘we’ that the
whisperer had used. Chip became aware
that he was almost hyperventilating, and worked to get his breathing – and his
emotions – under control. Think,
Morton. No one’s going to know that
there’s even a problem until Nelson finds out after his meeting that I never
came back from lunch. Pay
attention. You’re on your own.
Years of naval training had taught Chip to pay attention to details, and he logged the turns as they occurred and approximated the distance between each one. He had a feeling that he’d missed at least one before he’d gotten himself under control. But he still figured that he must be down in Santa Barbara’s warehouse district as the SUV momentarily slowed almost to a stop, then continued on a little slower, apparently twisting around several buildings before coming to a complete stop.
Chip’s mind was back to running overtime. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what anyone would want with him. The Admiral, yes. Tucked away in the OOM’s head was enough classified data to bring the world to a screeching halt – always assuming that anyone could force it out of the tenacious Admiral. But the oak leaves on his collar didn’t look anything like stars, and these guys seemed sure that they’d gotten the right guy.
Maybe he’d get some answers soon. The driver’s door had barely closed when the rear doors were opened and Chip felt one arm being grabbed. Surprisingly, he was rather gently removed from the back of the SUV and urged to walk along side of his captor. They stopped for a moment, and Chip heard a door open. He was led through and it chinked shut behind him. It sounded like he was in a hallway of some sort, from what he could hear through the dark, heavy towel. They didn’t walk far before going through another door, then another, before he was finally pulled to a stop. There was a soft chuckle from a different direction than his captor, and a chill went down Chip’s spine and settled nervously in the pit of his stomach. A stiff ‘something’ poked him again in the back.
But
suddenly the plastic restraints fell away from his wrists with a click of being
cut, and whatever was holding the towel in place was removed, although the
towel itself wasn’t. Hesitantly, Chip
reached up to pull it off.
“WHAT
THE HELL,” burst out of his mouth as he found himself face to face with NIMR’s
Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Will Jamison, a huge smile on his face, and he found
himself standing in one of Med Bay’s exam rooms.
“One
Lieutenant Commander,” came in Lee’s voice from behind Chip, and he spun around
to find his friend wadding up the duct tape and plastic binder, “delivered as
requested. Only slightly mussed and
ruffled.” Lee was also grinning broadly,
looking not at Chip but at Doc.
Before
Chip could do more than sputter, Doc continued.
“Thank you, Commander. This will
be the first time that I’ve been able to complete the Exec’s physical less than
five weeks late, what with all the excuses he always manages to come up with.”
“Happy
to oblige,” Lee answered, eyes sparkling with merriment. “Just part of taking care of my crew.”