Cradle (24 page)

Todd looked confused. ‘You think it’s more likely,’ Commander Winters continued, his
voice now rising, ‘that the Russians knew the code for the command test set and transmitted
three hundred messages in less than two seconds, exactly at the right time and from
somewhere off the Florida coast, than it is that somewhere in the 4.2 software system
there is an error that is improperly incrementing the command receipt counter? My
God, Lieutenant, use your head. Are you seeing bogeymen at night? This is 1994. There
is virtually no tension on the international scene. You believe that the Russians
are so colossally stupid that they would risk
détente
to command a Navy cruise missile off course while it is still under test? Even if
they could somehow command the missile to a specific location and then recover it
and understand it thoroughly by reverse engineering, why would they take such a horrendous
chance for such a comparatively small return?’

Todd and Ramirez said nothing during the commander’s harangue. Ramirez was starting
to look uncomfortably embarrassed toward the end. Todd’s boyish self-confidence had
faded as well, and he began to wring his hands and pop his knuckles absentmindedly.
After a long pause Winters continued, firmly but without some of the exasperation
of his initial speech.

‘We assigned some specific work items yesterday, Lieutenant. They were supposed to
be addressed by today. Look again at the 4.2 software, particularly to see if there
were any errors in the interface with the command test set that showed up during module
or integration testing. Maybe there was a bug in the command receipt counter subroutine
that did not get corrected in the new release. And for the meeting this afternoon,
I want you to show me a list of possible failure modes that would explain the telemetry
data,
other than
commands being sent from a foreign power. And then show what you are planning to
do to analyse each failure mode and reduce the length of the list.’

Ramirez stood up to leave. ‘Under the circumstances, Commander, I feel that my presence
here is a little, uh, improper. I have briefed a couple of my men already and have
kicked off some investigative work to see if there is now or has been recently any
Russian military or civilian activity in the area. I had put a top priority on the
effort. In view of this conversation, I feel I should suspend—’

‘Not necessarily,’ Commander Winters interrupted him. ‘It might be very difficult
for you to explain at this juncture.’ He looked at both of the squirming young lieutenants.
‘And it is not my wish to be vindictive and put you both on report, although I think
you both acted hastily and outside regulations. No, Lieutenant, continue with the
intelligence gathering, it may eventually be of some importance. Just don’t make a
big deal out of it. I’ll accept the responsibility.’

Ramirez walked toward the door. He was clearly grateful. ‘Thank you, Commander,’ he
said sincerely. ‘For a minute there I thought maybe I had crapped in my mess kit.
I’ve learned a very valuable lesson.’

Winters saluted the intelligence officer and motioned Todd, who was apparently also
preparing to leave, back to his seat. The commander walked over in front of the Renoir
painting and appeared to be studying it. He spoke quietly, without turning to face
the junior lieutenant. ‘Did you say anything to that reporter Miss Dawson about a
missile, or did she mention a missile to you while you were talking to her?’

‘No, sir, there was nothing like that,’ Todd asserted. ‘She was even vague when I
asked her what she had heard.’

‘She either has some inside information or is very very lucky,’ the commander said
abstractedly, almost to himself. He walked over closer to the painting and imagined
that he could hear the piano being played by the younger of the two sisters. Today
he heard a Mozart sonata. But it was not the right time to listen.
This young man needs a good lesson out of all this
, Winters thought as he turned around.

‘Do you smoke, Lieutenant?’ he asked, offering Todd a cigarette and placing one in
his own mouth. The younger man shook his head. ‘I do,’ said Winters, lighting his
Pall Mall, ‘even though there are a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t. But I almost
never smoke around people who don’t. It’s a question of consideration.’

Winters walked over to look out the window and blew the smoke slowly out of his mouth.
Todd looked puzzled. ‘And right now,’ Winters continued, ‘I’m smoking, strangely enough,
also out of consideration. For you. You see, Lieutenant Todd,’ he said, wheeling around
dramatically, ‘I’m calmer after I smoke. That means I can deal better with my anger.’

He walked directly over in front of the lieutenant. ‘Because I’m
goddamn mad
about this, young man. Make no mistake about that. There’s a part of me that wants
to make an example of you, maybe even court martial you for not following regulations.
You’re too cocky, too sure of your own conclusions. You’re dangerous. If you had slipped
and made some of the comments you made in here to that woman reporter, then you’d
be finished. But’—Winters walked around behind his desk and stubbed out his cigarette—‘it
has always been my belief that people should not be crucified for a single mistake.’

The commander sat down and leaned back in his chair. ‘Just between us guys, Lieutenant,
you’re on probation with me. I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about an international
incident. This is a simple case of a malfunctioning test missile. Do your job thoroughly
and carefully. Don’t worry, you’ll be noticed if the work is done properly. The system
is not blind to your ambition or your talent. But if you run off half-cocked one more
time on this problem, I will personally see to it that your personnel file is ruined.’

Todd could tell that he was being dismissed. He was still angry, now mostly at himself,
but he knew better than to let any of it show. He considered Commander Winters to
be a marginally competent old fart, and hated being lectured by him.
As of now, however, I have no choice but to accept it
, he said to himself as he left the commander’s office.

Nick’s message light was blinking when he walked into his townhouse after the meeting
with Amanda and the encounter with Greta. He put the bag with the trident back in
the closet and turned on the answering machine. Julianne appeared on the small three-inch
monitor. Nick smiled to himself. She always left all of his messages, no matter how
small, in video.

‘Sorry to tell you this, Nick, but your Tampa charter for tomorrow and Sunday just
called up to cancel. They said they heard a weather forecast calling for thunderstorms.
Anyway, all is not completely lost ‘cause you get to keep their deposit.’ She paused
a couple of seconds. ‘By the way, Linda and Corinne and I are going to Sloppy Joe’s
tonight to hear Angie Leatherwood. Why don’t you stop by and say hello? I might even
buy you a drink.’

Shit
, said Nick to himself.
I needed the money, and Troy did too
. He automatically entered Troy’s name on the small keyboard near the phone and waited
for Troy to pick up the receiver and turn on the video switch.

‘Why hello, Professor. What are you doing on such a beautiful day in the tropics?’
Troy was in a good humour, as usual. Nick could not understand how anyone could be
in such a perpetually good mood.

‘I have bad news and bad news, my friend,’ Nick replied. ‘First, Amanda Winchester
says our trident is modern and almost certainly not a part of any ancient treasure.
For my part, I’m not completely convinced. But it doesn’t look promising. Second,
and probably more important for the short term, our charter has cancelled. We have
no work for the weekend.’

‘Ouch,’ Troy said, a frown sweeping over his face. ‘That
do
present some problems.’ For a moment it seemed that Troy couldn’t figure out what
to say. Then the normal Troy was back, smiling cheerfully. ‘Hey, Professor, I have
an idea. Since we now both have nothing to do this afternoon, why don’t you come over
here to the Jefferson sanatorium for some beer? I want to show you something anyway.’
His eyes were twinkling.

Under almost any circumstances Nick would have declined Troy’s offer and spent the
afternoon reading
Madame Bovary
. But the morning had already been heavy with emotion and Nick was acutely aware that
he needed some levity. He smiled to himself. Troy was a very funny man. An afternoon
of booze and mirth sounded appealing. Besides, Troy had been working for him for four
months and they had not yet taken any time to socialize. Even though they had spent
many hours working together on the boat, Nick had never once visited Troy’s apartment.
‘All right,’ Nick heard himself respond, ‘you’re on. I’ll bring some food and you
get the beer. I’ll see you in twenty to thirty minutes.’

When Nick stopped his car in front of the small frame duplex in one of Key West’s
oldest sections, Troy was just arriving himself. He had apparently walked to a nearby
store, for he was carrying a large brown paper bag containing three six-packs of beer.
‘This ought to hold us for the afternoon,’ he said, winking as he greeted Nick and
led him up the walkway to his front door. A paper note was taped to the door. It said
PROF
—
BE BACK IN A JIFF
—
TROY
. Troy took it down and reached up to a small ledge above the door to find a key.

Nick had never wondered what Troy’s apartment would be like. But he certainly would
not have imagined the living room that he found when he followed Troy inside. The
room was laid out neatly and furnished in what could only be called early grandmother
style. The motley array of old sofas and easy chairs purchased at neighbourhood garage
sales, no two of them the same colour, were arranged in a rectangle with a long wooden
coffee table in the middle. An assortment of electronics and video magazines were
neatly stacked upon the table. Dominating the room was a state-of-the-art sound system
whose four tall speakers were carefully placed in the corners so that all the sound
was focused toward the centre of the room. As soon as the two men were inside, Troy
went over to the compact disc player on the top of the stereo equipment rack and turned
it on. A wonderfully rich female voice backed by a piano and a guitar filled the room.

‘This is Angie’s new album,’ Troy said, handing Nick an open beer. He had been to
the kitchen and the refrigerator while Nick was looking around the room. ‘Her agent
thinks this one will go gold.
Love Letters
just barely missed, but she made more than a quarter of a million off it anyway.
Not counting the money from the concert tour.’

‘I remember your telling me that you knew her,’ Nick said, taking a long drink from
his beer. He had walked across the room to a box next to the stereo rack where sixty
or seventy discs were neatly arranged. On the front of an open disc case on the top
of the box was a beautiful young black woman, softly backlit. She was wearing a long
dark cocktail dress.
Memories of Enchanting Nights
was the title of the album. ‘Is there more to the story of Miss Leatherwood?’ Nick
said, looking up at Troy. ‘This is one magnificent lady, if you ask me.’

Troy came over beside him. He programmed the disc player to cut eight on the album.
‘Thought you’d never ask,’ he grinned expansively. ‘This song probably says it the
best.’ Nick sat down in one of the strange easy chairs and listened to a soft ballad
with an easy beat in the background. The title of the song was ‘Let Me Take Care of
You, Baby’. It told the story of a gifted lover who made the songstress laugh at home
or in bed. They were compatible, they were friends. But he couldn’t talk commitment
because he hadn’t made it yet. So in the last stanza the woman singing the song appeals
to him to swallow his pride and let her make it easy for him.

Nick looked at Troy and rolled his eyes while he shook his head. ‘Jefferson,’ he said,
‘you’re too much. I never know when you’re telling the truth and when you’re slinging
bullshit with both arms.’

Troy laughed and stood up from the couch. ‘But, Professor,’ he protested, ‘that’s
what makes it more interesting.’ He came over and took Nick’s empty beer can. ‘It’s
hard for you to believe, isn’t it?’ he said, still smiling as he looked directly at
Nick, ‘that maybe your funny black first mate has a few dimensions you haven’t seen.’

Troy turned and walked toward the kitchen. Nick could hear him opening beer cans and
putting the crisps in a bowl. ‘So,’ Nick called, ‘I’m waiting. What’s the scoop?’

‘Angie and I have known each other for five years,’ Troy said from the kitchen. ‘When
we were first dating she was only nineteen and completely naive about life. One night
we were over here, right after I first moved in, and we were listening to a Whitney
Houston album. Angie started singing.’

Troy came back in the living room. He put the bowl of assorted crisps on the little
wooden coffee table and sat down in a chair next to Nick. ‘The rest, as they say in
Hollywood, is history.’ He waved his arms. ‘I introduced her to the owner of a local
night club. Within a year she had a recording contract and I had a problem. She was
my woman. But I couldn’t afford to keep up with her.’ Troy was uncharacteristically
quiet for a few seconds. ‘It’s really shit when your pride stands in the way of your
feelings for the only woman you’ve ever loved.’

Nick was surprised to discover that Troy’s intimate revelation had touched him. Nick
leaned forward in his chair and dropped his hand lightly on Troy’s shoulder in a gesture
of understanding. Troy changed the subject quickly. ‘And what about you, Professor?
How many broken hearts are hanging in your closet? I’ve seen the way Julianne and
Corinne and even Greta look at you. Why haven’t you ever married?’

Nick laughed and guzzled his beer. ‘Christ, this must be my lucky day. Do you know,
Jefferson, that you’re the second person today to ask me about my love life? And the
first one was a seventy-year-old woman.’