To Hunt a Sub Page 16

  “I couldn’t drag him from the penthouse all weekend.”

  Kali rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re in love.”

  Cat scoffed. “Nothing like that overrated emotion. He won’t submit to me, nor I to him, which inspires mind-numbing sex.”

  “Got a picture?”

  Cat frowned. “The man hates cameras.” She grimaced and rubbed her chest. “Me with a hangover. When does that ever happen?”

  Kali cast a skeptical eye. Hangovers didn’t usually cause chest pains.

  Cat dry swallowed four Tylenol and leaned back. “We’re taking the Gulfstream to Paris next weekend, Kali. Gourmet food, high-fashion, walking distance to the Eiffel Tower, all compliments of Gunner’s company. He invited you to join us.”

  Kali’s parents’ took her to Paris one summer, a backyard picnic with French fries, grape juice, and a tape of Edith Piaf singing La Vie En Rose. She said nothing, hoping Cat would get the hint, but social cues were not part of her brilliance.

  “He asks all sorts of questions about your research, said he can find funding overseas if you’re interested.”

  Kali’s fingers continued with the fury of a jackhammer. “I have to finish my dissertation.” She wouldn’t mention her new focus on magnetic signatures until she had something solid.

  “Come on, Kali. Even Einstein had a social life. Take Wyn.”

  Kali flinched. Cat didn’t know about her change of heart. “I should like him. He’s established, rich, loves children…”

  Cat offered the ghost of a smile. “I knew you were too smart for that nugatory misogynist. What about Zeke? He’s mysterious with a dash of danger. If his feelings for you were purely lust, I’d seduce him.” Cat laughed when Kali sputtered. “You can’t tell he’s in love?”

  “He used to be a SEAL.”

  “A nonsequitur, but that explains his head on a swivel.” She eyed Kali through half-closed lids. “When was the last time you did what you wanted, without considering the consequences?”

  “Fifteen years, ten months and four days ago.”

  The jangle of Kali’s phone interrupted them. “Ms. Delamagente. I’m receiving anonymous emails about your Dr. Rowe.”

  Kali bit back her first response and asked, “How are you, Dean?”

  He exhaled into the receiver. “They accuse him of a personal agenda though his colleagues tell me he is professional and meticulous. Plus, his early man research brings Columbia acclaim in a field we were previously unremarkable.”

  Kali’s call-waiting beeped. Zeke. She ignored it as she struggled to form a neutral response. “How can I help?”

  “Every disagreement has two sides. What is Dr. Rowe’s?”

  The Dean saw everything as a verbal Mobius strip, where different opinions always arrived at his conclusion. “I’ve found him intelligent and unselfish with his time. Only Dr. Fairgrove complains, and I understand they suffer a history.”

  The Dean mumbled something like No doubt or don’t shout, but continued before Kali could ask which it was. “Another item. You missed the deadline on your dissertation for the fifth time. Are you familiar with economics, Ms. Delamagente? While we altruistically support fledgling researchers in the search for truth, there must be hope they will finish, which I question in your case. Are you aware how much electricity your research requires? More than all grad students combined. If it was likely to conclude soon, I could extend my patience, but with this FBI interference...”

  “The FBI is considering funding me,” Kali lied. “They will pay for electrical consumption. I have made significant progress. Otto now integrates research from paleoanthropology’s greatest researchers with logical guesses—”

  “You’re guessing?”

  “I should use a different word. Otto uses events and circumstances, as the brain does when it makes decisions.”

  “You’re making an artificial human brain, what no one else has accomplished?”

  “Rather than commonalities in thinking, I seek out abnormalities. In fact—”

  “Let me get this straight. You take the research of Ph.D.’s like Dr. Fairgrove, conjecture what they left out, based on your—what do you have? A Masters in Computer Science?”

  By now, Cat could hear him across the room and popped up two fingers.

  Kali gave up trying to be reasonable. “Dr. Manfried. I know Lucy. I smell the sweat dripping from her body as we wander the African savanna. I taste the sulfur in the air from the volcanoes, always on the verge of exploding her world. I share her fear when a Sabertooth attacks and the excitement when—.”

  “You should transfer to the English department where they encourage storytelling. Your final deadline is Friday. Deliver your dissertation or lose Columbia’s backing.”

  “—she survives,” she pled into an empty line. “And I’m off campus till Thursday…” Kali settled the phone into its cradle and breathed. “How can I finish on that schedule?”

  “Talk to Wyn.”

  Kali glared at Cat. “I don’t want help from a man I’m beginning to despise.”

  “Screw help, Kal. This is about power. Ours will come, but use Wyn’s now.”

  Rowe arrived, pencil spinning through his nimble fingers, as Cat left for a meeting and Kali completed a short conversation with Wyn’s voicemail.

  “Sorry, Zeke When you called—”

  “You were chatting with the Dean.”

  “You were eavesdropping?” She wanted to snap his flipping pencil in two. “Never mind. What do you want?”

  “Walk with me.” When they were outside, he said, “Dr. Sun said Otto can shadow a submarine.”

  Kali tensed. “He told you?” Why would he do that? But if Eitan trusted Rowe, she should, too. “In theory, yes, but the practical application is more complicated. Otto would need access to a satellite with magnetosphere data for the entire planet. Those are all owned by the government and require top level clearance.

  “Done.”

  Kali blinked. “OK. Next, the delta for change in magnetosphere fluxes is minuscule. Otto can find them, but the scripting required will be equivalent to coding Google Chrome. I’m talking hundreds—thousands—of hours of work.”

  She studied him. She saw a mouth set in a tight line, eyes filled with intelligence, a slight nod that said he understood, and the iron will of a man who knew where he was going and nothing would stop him getting there. That trait no doubt served him well in his prior life.

  “Let’s say I got past that. Where would I get a magnetic signature to test the program? The Navy isn’t likely to provide it to a researcher.”

  “I’ve almost figured that out.”

  Rowe struggled to keep his expression neutral, but the importance of what she just admitted couldn’t be overstated. He spent the last two hours on a conference call with James’ task force, trying to figure out how to warn the Tridents when they were intended to be unreachable. By design, only the sub’s Captain knew where they were at any given moment.

  While the members chewed on this, James shared an ELINT alert warning of veiled references to ‘sale of US military resources’. When Rowe asked the Task Force members whether the sub’s magnetic signature could be used as a homing device, he was met first with silence and then frantic claims that magnetic signatures were more secure than D.B. Cooper’s whereabouts.

  “They’re on a SIPNet,” an officious-sounding agent lectured. “That’s the network that stores America’s most confidential information. No one can upload to or download from it—or even sit there without top clearance.”

  “Truth is, I don’t have time, Zeke. The Dean just read me the riot act. I have five days before he cuts me off.” Kali’s voice became soft, but firm. “You clearly think it’s a big deal, Zeke. I’m sorry I can’t help.”

  Her phone rang. He turned to wave goodbye and stopped. Her face was pale, eyes wide, mouth open as she stuttered into her phone.

  Chapter 35

  “It sounded like Wyn... He said Sean is in
danger…” Tears rolled down Kali’s cheeks, the level-headed scientist overwhelmed by the terrified mother.

  Rowe stabbed *69 into Kali’s phone. “Number’s blocked. Call Sean.” He thrust it into her hands and speed dialed James on his cell.

  “Trace the last incoming to Delamagente’s number, Bobby, and check Fairgrove around the same time.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Someone threatened her son.” He hung up and punched in another number.

  “Operator.”

  “I’m looking for a student in your summer camp. He’s probably in a practice room.”

  “Please hold.”

  “Sean didn’t answer, Zeke. I left a message.” Kali’s voice cracked and then she pushed ten buttons, the last for her speaker phone. Rowe heard a seductive, heavily accented, Zdraz Vwitye.

  “Mrs. Vitolska? This is Kalian Delamagente, Sean’s m-mom.” She took a deep breath to steady herself.

  “Ms. Delamagente! How nice of you to call! What a pleasure is Sean. And his music—so beautiful. Of all students, Sean is very very best. Ochin Khorosho!”

  “Thank you—”

  “Come to visit! We will love to entertain you, repay for the joy of Sean’s beautiful music.”

  Kali interrupted, “Thank you. Someone called me and said Sean was in trouble.”

  “Danger? Nyet. Hudson is beautiful. I treat him as I would my own son. He is very safe. He is always with group, and we never leave students home alone, even though this is very low crime. Local police confirm this for you.”

  “Ask if she’s seen him today, and when.” Rowe whispered. Kali repeated the question.

  “Konyeshnya. Of course. We ate breakfast. Good healthy food, though Sean does not eat like other children. You must tell me what he like.”

  “Yes, I will. After breakfast?”

  “Da. First, he leant me an arm with dishes. Such a good boy! Then he practice. He love practice. He will play same measure, same phrase over and over with different speed, different cadence. Very creative boy. He just left for lesson. I drove him to bus.”

  Rowe exhaled. What were the chances someone kidnapped Sean from public transportation?

  “I am sure he is safe. What nasty hoax. I love this America, but some of people, such odd sense of humor. Skazheetye Pozhalsta. Why would someone want worry you? Sean speaks highly of you. How you would anger anyone? People do this in Russia, not here. What could they want from this boy? His genius is in his head and fingers.”

  Kali caught Rowe’s eye and he shook his head. “Thank you, Mrs. Vitolska. I appreciate what you do for him.”

  “Ne Mnozhka. A burden of one's own choice is not felt.”

  “Would you ask him to call as soon as you see him?”

  “Da, da. He should be home soon. I baking cookies for students, relax before more practice. The very moment he walk through door. I stick to him like leech. Da Zvidanya.”

  Kali hung up reassured, but Rowe’s gut rolled. He needed to visit this summer camp. “Is she always blocked, Kali?”

  “I never called her before,” she answered as she opened an app on her phone, stared at a blinking light, and then tapped through a sequence of steps.

  “What’s that?”

  “As student hosts for the summer camp, the Vitolska’s are linked to a GPS locator. The call went to DC, but Ms. Vitolska said she was home, in Hudson, New York.” She puckered her brow as her face lost more color. “The blue icon is Sean’s phone.”

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Sean Delamagente.”

  “He’s in a lesson. Do you want me to interrupt?” Deep, mellow scales reverberated in the background, then stopped when someone called Sean’s name. Kali’s eyes were on Rowe.

  “No, I’ll call later.” He hung up and smiled. “This is a bad joke.”

  She threw her arms around him and spoke through tears, halting to blow her nose and rub her face.

  “My grandparents took charge of Sean after my parents died. To me, he was a toy. All I did was kiss him goodbye over breakfast and peek in on him at night as he slept. When they passed also, this five-year-old became my responsibility and I was scared to death. If I had contact with Fletcher—his father—I would have asked him to take the boy.”

  She hung her head, face flushed with shame.

  “I remember the day after the funeral. Sean’s innocent eyes, a frightened but hopeful half-smile struggling to surface, arms stiff at his sides, chubby fists clenched as he fought tears. I wanted to ask him what he ate and did he need help getting ready for school or going to sleep at night. I had no idea what he did all day, the games he played, what he thought about. I always assumed it was nothing important. He’d just seen his grandma buried. Should I hug him? Feed him ice cream? In the end, I told him to go play and I returned to work.”

  Her eyes glistened with tears. She focused over Zeke’s shoulder, breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

  “Over the next year, I let him do what he wanted as long as he didn’t bother me. He was precociously smart, read any book he found around the apartment including my grad textbooks. He spent most evenings on the internet, pudgy fingers pounding through all manner of websites. I forbade adult sites—a check of his computer history said he obeyed. I was proud of him when I spared time to think about it, congratulating myself on my great parenting. My son would grow up to be independent and self-reliant. Soon, we had a perfect routine that rarely required we talk or even interact in any way. I thought he’d tell me if he needed help.

  “He didn’t.

  “I found out from the school principal. Ms. Delamagente—I’m sorry, we’ve never met. I’m Mr. Klecher. … No, not new, I’ve been here three years… Well, we do organize meet-and-greets once a month, but Sean says you work a lot… Yes, I realize that and am sorry to bother you, but your son missed classes today, and yesterday, and twice last week. … Well, I’m sure you did send him, but he didn’t get here.

  “First, I was annoyed at the principal for questioning me, and then I was angry at Sean for disobeying our unspoken agreement. While I waited for him to get home that evening, I tried to remember the last time we talked about anything important, such as what he liked at school, who his friends were, his opinions on a book he read. I still cringed from memories of my parents nagging so much I’d wriggle in behind a dresser until they left. I refused to be that person, but more than that, to be honest, I wanted my own life. In the hour I paced, I couldn’t come up with a single topic we’d said more than five words about.

  “When he got home, he walked in without a greeting, face a mask, clothes rumpled, not even reacting to the oddity of Mom at the front door rather than pigeon-holed with her computer.

  ‘How was your day, Sean?’

  “He paused as though surprised by my voice, fixed me with the deadest eyes I’d ever seen on someone his age. Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face. ‘Boring.’

  “Now I was frightened. When had my little boy changed? ‘Do you want a snack?’

  He said nothing, ignored me as he went to his room, shoulders slumped, feet shuffling in unlaced shoes.

  “Something broke inside of me.

  “I sat at the little wood table grandma had set up for his homework and asked if I could see his science. After a third calm request, he dug it out of a dirty backpack, crumpled and smudged and incomplete.

  ‘It’s easy. I can do it in no time.’ There was a quiver in his voice, the first sign of emotion since he entered the house.

  “I asked him to demonstrate.

  ‘Well, let me think about it.’

  “I laughed and picked a leaf from his hair. ‘I said that a lot in college.”

  “He tilted his head, tapped the table and said, ‘You went to college?’

  “From then on, we did his homework together every evening. I was amazed how this seven-year-old connected information, paused to think, and stuck with a thread to its logical end. I started attending his music event
s and volunteered for field trips. We struggled at first with stilted discussions mostly about his classes, and then his day, and finally, I asked what was on his mind and shut my mouth. Gradually, I fell in love with this wonderful boy. Soon, he was my first sunny thought and last calming breath to every chaotic day.”

  Rowe made what he hoped were soothing sounds, but comforting anyone was well outside his skillset. He felt loyalty toward his SEAL brothers and vengeance for wrong-doing, but looking at the world through someone else’s eyes felt like a wooden door warped shut, one he never thought worth opening.

  Today, here, he wanted to do it.

  When Kali calmed to an occasional sniffle, he asked, “You said Wyn’s name when you answered the call. Did it sound like him?”

  Her voice came out small and distant. “I thought so, but when I asked, he hung up.”

  He let that go. “Did Sean mention trouble with the Vitolska’s? Or anyone?”

  She shook her head. “He says Mr. Vitolska is great. Same with the camp students. He helps them with bowing and phrasing... Oh, Zeke, why is this happening? And why did he tell me Otto needed to track a submarine?”

  Rowe froze just as his phone burped, saving him from answering. A text from Sun. Come see me.

  He gently took her hand. “Everything’s going to be OK.” He needed to tell her about the tie-ins to Zematis, about the message pounded into Devore’s chest, and his suspicions about Keregosian, but it would wait. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

  Kali massaged her temples and didn’t even look up.

  Just as he arrived at Sun’s lab, his phone chirped again. “What’s going on, Zeke?”

  Rowe checked that the encryption was turned on before recounting the last fifteen minutes to James.

  “Does Keregosian know Sean is Kali’s son?”

  “He seems to know everything. I’ve always thought it was because he and Kali talk about everything, but this—Kali didn’t even know it was possible until we walked through it together—”