Seawolf End Game (2 page)

“Indeed,” Beagler agreed and then introduced the vice admiral seated next to him.

As she suspected, he was Vice Admiral Marcus Malone, the head of Naval Intelligence. He’d flown out to Sasebo with the small squad of civilians from various government agencies. Two of the civilians were introduced. One was from the Defense Intelligence Agency, and another was from the National Security Council. The others were not introduced, but they watched her as they calmly made notes on legal pads in front of them.

Admiral Malone, who was in charge, began by explaining the inquiry was simply trying to determine the circumstances surrounding the death of Dr. Dar-Hyun Choi. He then handed her the original copy of the report she’d written regarding the incident. “Is this your report, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Admiral, it is,” Kristen answered, noticing that her report was now stamped “Top Secret” on the top and bottom of each page.

Malone took it back and slipped the report into a thick classified briefing folder. “Okay, Lieutenant. Let’s get right to it,” he began as he looked down at his paperwork. “You were present the night Doctor Dar-Hyun Choi died from a heart attack while on board the
USS Seawolf.
Is that correct?”

“Yes, Admiral. I was in the sickbay when he died.” She looked sideways at Brodie, fearful she was hurting him. He gave her an ever-so-slight reassuring nod, which helped to settle her frazzled nerves.

“What were you doing in there, Lieutenant?” One of the civilians who hadn’t been introduced asked abruptly.

Kristen felt a sudden hint of annoyance. “Might I know your name, sir?”

The vice admiral answered, “This is Mister Jones, he’s with an,” he paused for a moment and said, “other government agency.”

Kristen heard the term “Other Government Agency” and took this to mean he was some kind of spook or intelligence analyst. Of course she doubted his name was Jones but let it pass and answered the question, “At first, I was translating for the corpsmen who were attending Dr. Dar-Hyun.”

“And then?” Jones asked.

“Then I translated for the captain when he asked Dr. Dar-Hyun some questions.” Kristen assumed this was all about finding someone to punish for Dar-Hyun’s death. But she changed her mind when, from the other side of the room, another man who hadn’t been introduced began speaking to her in Mandarin Chinese.

“Where did you learn Mandarin?” he asked abruptly in flawless Chinese.

“At Annapolis,” she replied, now speaking in Mandarin as well. “And who are you, sir?”

“None of your business,” he replied bluntly, still speaking in Mandarin. “What makes you qualified to act as an interpreter?”

“I never said I was qualified to be an interpreter,” Kristen replied instantly, still in Mandarin. “I said I interpreted for the captain.” She then added, “There weren’t exactly a lot of others on board who could understand the doctor.”

The man leaned back slightly and nodded approvingly toward her. He then looked down at the admiral and spoke in English, “Her Mandarin is excellent, gentlemen.”

Kristen was a bit annoyed at being tested in such a way as the questioning went from determining her fluency in Mandarin to the interrogation itself. They pummeled her with question after question about Dar-Hyun’s responses to what Brodie had asked. It seemed they wanted to know every discernible eye movement, every bit of inflection in the doctor’s voice for every question. When they were not satisfied with an answer she gave, they pressed her for ever more details. The bombardment of questions went on without end, and she soon felt the shirt under her dress coat soaked in sweat.

Finally, after what she was certain had to be three hours of nonstop questions, they got to the crux of it. They specifically wanted her to explain what Dar-Hyun’s words were just before he died. Apparently the doctor’s last words were too weak to be picked up on the microphone Horner had been holding.

Kristen thought for a moment. But for the first time in her life, her flawless memory failed her. She’d been such a mental, emotional, and physical wreck during the interrogation, the last words Dar-Hyun spoke didn’t come to her. “I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.

“Think, Lieutenant,” the man calling himself Jones interjected. “We need you to remember. What did he whisper to you?” he asked. “The last thing you said to him was a translation of a question your captain asked pertaining to why the North Koreans would threaten a nuclear war if they knew they had no capacity to fight even a limited one.”

Kristen vaguely recalled the question and only remembered he died right after she asked him. She closed her eyes, struggling to remember. But as soon as her eyes closed, the painful memories and images were waiting. Dar-Hyun’s accusing eyes still stared at her from the grave. She saw Alvarez’s lifeless body floating in the icy surf. She heard Chief Grogan’s last words about his radio, and then his own lifeless eyes haunting her. She once again felt the gut wrenching fear she’d felt while trying to get away from the rocky shore. The taste of salt water in her mouth, the smell of gun powder…. She’d promised him he’d be okay, and then she’d helped kill him. She thought hard, trying to remember, but the painful images, and the powerful emotions accompanying them, were the only things she could recall.

“I don’t remember.”

“Lieutenant, that is unacceptable,” Malone told her bluntly. “In case you haven’t noticed, this is a matter of extreme importance. We have to know what he told you.”

Kristen looked at the table, straining to remember, frustrated with herself for not being able to recall the conversation. She could clearly see license plate numbers of cars she’d walked by in downtown Groton, Connecticut years earlier. She could recall instantly the exact turn of phrase a second year midshipman had used during her first year at the Academy when he’d tried to ask her out. She remembered everything from the most mundane to the most significant details of her entire life. But as she thought about Choi’s final moments, her mind was drawing a blank. “I can’t remember,” she answered in frustration.

The man calling himself Jones loosened his tie and appeared to be growing annoyed with her. “Dammit, Lieutenant. Think!” Jones demanded harshly.

Kristen looked at him in shock.

But, before she could say a word, Brodie snapped angrily, “Hey!” She’d almost forgotten he was in the room. He’d been sitting quietly throughout her interview until that point. He was now leaning forward in his chair with a threatening finger pointing toward Jones. “That’s enough,” he told the man bluntly, a cold edge in his voice. The veins in his neck bulged and she could clearly see the anger in his face. His eyes were almost glowing at Jones.

“Captain Brodie,” Vice Admiral Malone interrupted. “We haven’t time to simply wait for the lieutenant to remember what happened six months from now.”

Kristen willed Brodie to be quiet. He was in enough trouble already, and she didn’t want to be the cause of any more for him.

“She does remember,” Brodie told them flatly and then looked at Kristen. As he looked at her, his eyes soften slightly. “She remembers everything.” There was a slight pause as they looked at one another. “Don’t you, Kris?” he asked using the name for only the third time. She’d never liked it before when people shortened her name, but it sounded right coming from him.

“I’m trying.”

The assembled group of men stared at Brodie as he, unimpressed by the mass of naval and civilian officials sent to grill him and his officers, stood calmly and turned to the swinging door leading to the galley.

“Where are you going, Captain?” Admiral Malone demanded.

“I’m going to help her remember, Admiral,” Brodie replied simply and stepped through the swinging door and disappeared. Beagler cringed a bit, and Kristen could almost feel Malone losing his patience. Beagler knew Brodie, so Kristen assumed he was familiar with the captain’s eccentricities. But Malone just assumed Brodie was being uncooperative.

With Brodie gone, all of the eyes were again on her. She looked back at them, feeling as if she were back before Congress during the hearings regarding women serving on submarines. The only thing missing was the television cameras. They were all watching her. But instead of looking her in the eye, they were staring at her right hand. She looked down and saw it trembling on the table. She withdrew it and placed it in her lap, determined not to show these men how much she was struggling to maintain the thin veil of calm.

The door to the galley opened, and Brodie reappeared carrying the serving tray Gibbs always delivered her tea on.

“Sean?” Beagler warned.

But Brodie wasn’t deterred as he set the tea service down on the table beside Kristen. “Please, Admiral,” he explained briefly, “the lieutenant and I just need a few brief moments.” He then pulled the chair beside her out and sat down. Kristen watched nervously as Brodie took a creamer of milk and poured a small amount in a teacup. “Just a splash, right?”

“Yes, sir.” She hadn’t realized he’d ever paid attention when she’d prepared her tea. It was such an unimportant thing for him to have noticed. But the realization that he
had
noticed was comforting. He lifted the simple pot and poured the tea into the cup, careful not to spill any. The men across the table fidgeted with annoyance.

“Captain Brodie…” Malone started to protest, but the civilian beside him hushed Malone with a steadying hand on the admiral’s forearm.

“Ignore them, Lieutenant,” Brodie directed her as he poured his own cup of tea and then handed her cup to her on a saucer. “It’s just the two of us having a little talk, all right?”

Kristen took a sip of the tea, more out of politeness than because she thought it might jog her memory. “Yes, sir,” she answered automatically having no idea what he hoped to gain by this, but at the same time relishing the fact he was trying to help her.

Brodie took a sip and then set his cup down on his saucer. He leaned back with the same relaxed grace she’d seen before in his cabin when the pressures of command had waned. “What do you want to talk about, Lieutenant?”

Kristen might have laughed at the question if the room hadn’t been filled with the men staring at the two of them. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, she hardly knew where to begin. They’d only spoken briefly in the last few days since Korea. Once when he told her to prepare her report, and a second time when he’d made it clear he expected her and the other witnesses to speak nothing less than the complete truth. Thus, the chance to speak with him was something she’d been hoping for, but hardly in front of a group of strangers. Kristen forced her personal thoughts aside, knowing what he was referring to. She desperately wanted to remember, if for nothing else than because he wanted her to. “I can’t remember, I’m sorry.”

Brodie nodded in understanding. “That’s all right, Lieutenant. I can’t remember what we had for breakfast this morning,” he said soothingly. “But, maybe we can start with what you do remember.”

Kristen glanced at the men across the table. They were no longer squirming but watching intently. She hated the feeling of being under the microscope but had endured it before when necessary. However now, with Brodie next to her, she felt the usual discomfort somewhat lessened. He would protect her; she knew it instinctively now.

“Kris,” he said softly. She turned her eyes back to him, loving the way those four letters sounded as they came off his lips. “Don’t worry about them,” he reminded her gently. “It’s just you and me.”

Kristen nodded, her hand trembling in her lap. “Okay,” she replied with a voice sounding suddenly small.

“We were in sickbay,” he prompted after several moments of silence.

Kristen lowered her eyes and noticed his right hand resting on the table and the fingers rubbing the table top absent mindedly. He was perfectly calm. He was always so calm…

Not quite always.

She recalled seeing him angry a few times before. She then remembered their all too brief moment together in his cabin…

“Doc Reed and Hoover were there,” she recalled softly. “We had Dr. Dar-Hyun on oxygen…”

“And you could hear the hissing of the oxygen flowing through the mask,” Brodie offered softly.

“Yes,” she paused thoughtfully, her nervousness fading. “The heart monitor was beeping erratically,” she added and looked up at him. “You had two EAMs in your pocket.”

“That’s right.” His voice was gentle and soothing. “Your hair and clothing were still soaked from the SDV.”

“I remember water dripping on the table and not wanting to get it on his face as I leaned over him,” she said as the images washed over her again, but this time without the emotional baggage that normally accompanied them.

“You were cold,” he said easily. She could feel him leading her right back to the exact moment in time. It was as if he himself could recall every detail as he guided her to the memory waiting somewhere in her subconscious.

“I was cold…” She admitted, not having remembered the sensation. “How did you know?”

“You were trembling with the chills,” he explained. “The water was in the fifties and all you had was a wetsuit to protect you. Your lips were almost blue.”

“He was scared,” she whispered. “I think he knew he was dying.”

“You were scared, too,” he reminded her. “But not for yourself,” he added. “You were scared for him because you knew he was frightened he would die alone.”

Kristen looked at him incredulously, remembering thinking exactly those thoughts. She cocked her head slightly, her eyes questioning. “How did you know that?”

“Because you took his hand so he would feel a human touch,” Brodie responded, his eyes warm and gentle. “You wanted him to know he wasn’t alone.”

Kristen stared into his eyes and for a moment thought she would never be able to look away. The usual harshness in his eyes was gone and replaced by something far more comforting. Kristen felt warmth filling her up, only like a warmth she’d never quite known. But, at the same time she was looking into his eyes, she was afraid to let him do the same. Her usual carefully controlled exterior had been badly shaken over the last few weeks, and she hadn’t had time to rebuild it. As a result, she felt vulnerable, as if her emotions were on display for all to see. The others were watching, and she couldn’t allow her true feelings to show.