Undetected (25 page)

She didn't know Mark well enough yet to know where she'd have to compromise, or him with her. She didn't see
anything about Mark that worried her. He seemed to have a quieter personal life, more in sync with her own. She felt alive after a conversation with him. Even his prior marriage to Melinda was beginning to feel more like a positive rather than a negative. She did like him. Mark saw her, the real person, she thought, better than Daniel did. But he was older, maybe too likely to take total charge of her life, and the thought of being a commander's wife—his career was only going upward in rank. There would be expectations for the role his wife should take. She had no idea how to fulfill that place, and she'd hate to be a liability to him.

The idea of choosing between the two men ran contrary to her sensibilities. The choice would have to be independent decisions. And it was only fair that Daniel was the one who should have the first decision. She'd go to Georgia, hope it helped her resolve what she wanted.

She groaned, folded a pillow over and wrapped her arms around it. How was a woman supposed to handle this kind of situation? She'd been trying so hard to get the next relationship right, and she was at risk of having a double flameout.

She knew Mark's encroachment into Daniel's territory was out of character for him. It told her how very serious Mark was about her, or he wouldn't be conducting himself this way. He never would have spoken up while she was dating Daniel.

But what if she ended up deciding no with Daniel, didn't see Mark for a 90-day patrol, and Mark changed his mind during that time? Mark only had a couple of weeks relatively free before the
Nevada
returned. If she wanted to spend time with him, get to know anything else about him, this was the
window, and it was closing fast. But she couldn't take it. She couldn't do that to Daniel.

Her summer had turned so very complicated.
Do the right
thing.
That decision was the only thing she could settle on for how to proceed. She asked God once more to make clear what that right thing was. At least for the immediate days ahead.

With word having gotten out about the last meeting, 74 men now packed into the room for the sonar presentation. No one wished to miss this one. Even as Bishop watched it for the fourth time, he had to admire the video Gina had put together. There hadn't been any information sent out about what was coming, and he was seeing the discovery's impact through the officers' first reactions.

The large screen on the wall shifted to show the audio lab. Gina installed her cross-sonar upgrade on two existing sonar station terminals, one labeled the USS
Ohio
and the other the USS
Connecticut
, then turned on the sea trial raw audio recordings from around Glacier Bay. She started cross-sonar between the two terminals, pausing to make sure the video camera was in focus.

She typed in the command for a cross-sonar quiet search. The USS
Nebraska
appeared on the waterfall screens 60 miles away. Moments later, the group could see USS
Kentucky
on the screen more than 200 miles farther out.

Urgent, quiet conversations between sonarmen and captains began around the room.

Bishop pressed pause, rewound it, and replayed the demonstration. “To confirm the obvious, this new technique has some range.”

“It's just software?”

“Yes. The audio was recorded in May of this year. Gina's processing it differently and is getting substantially more range.”

He resumed the video, and the presentation shifted to a computer-driven animation Gina had created to model the idea. It showed ocean noise being heard in every direction, then a submarine appeared, and there was a quiet spot in the ocean as the submarine blocked the sound behind it.

There was a groan from the middle row. “The quieter the sub is, the easier it is for her to see it.”

“Yes. A submarine is big and it blocks sound—that's the heart of her idea. A noisy environment makes a quiet sub stand out like neon.”

The presentation ended with a model of how this would also work from two surface ships. Bishop shut off the video. “A document on the theory behind this idea is being passed out. I'm opening the floor to questions on the video and paper. The tactical conversations for how to deal with this we'll reserve for the afternoon session.”

Gina slipped away from the presentation halfway through the Q&A. Bishop, moderating the session, saw her go, shot a look at Daniel to see if he had noticed. Daniel was already moving. It was 40 minutes before he returned. He wrote a note, folded it, and passed it forward with Bishop's name on it. Bishop opened the paper while listening to a question from the captain of the USS
Maine
.

Not a speech freeze. The remark about visibility risk.

Bishop nodded to Daniel. As soon as he practically could, he called the morning session of the meeting to a close and
let the informal discussions ahead of the afternoon session begin.

Mark found Gina at the picnic tables, watching the small whitecaps forming on the water. He took a seat on the table beside her. “Hey, lady. Tell me what's wrong?” He could make a pretty good guess.

“They started talking about how to deal with the fact that U.S. subs could be seen at a distance, and it . . . it just . . .” She didn't try to finish the thought.

He dropped an arm around her shoulders, hugged her, pretty sure she'd accept the gesture as intended, knowing she needed it. “You have done extraordinarily good things with what you've developed in your work life—the seafloor maps, cross-sonar—all good outcomes. And now cross-sonar with a ping, finding a sub by silence, both have good and dangerous qualities. Don't beat yourself up over it, Gina. That's going to be true of most discoveries along this line.”

“I wanted submarines to be safer. I've now made them, in the long term, less safe when other nations realize this can be done. And I've ended up with security around me for the rest of my life.” Her voice caught and she shook her head. “It's becoming a very bad work year.”

“These techniques may be known only by the U.S. for decades. And regardless, knowing is a good thing, not bad. We'll figure this out. There are some tactically smart guys in that room. I'm one of them, if you don't mind my saying so. We'll use this capability to make the fleet safer. Trust me on that.”

She didn't say anything. He gently turned her chin so he could see her face. “Okay?”

She gave a jerky nod as she blinked back tears.

The threatened tears were killing him. “You did wonderfully on the video, Gina—the paper on the theory, the software algorithms. It's a clean hand-off, very professionally done. I'm proud of you. I know you don't feel this right now, but you did a really good job. This discovery is a very big, very
good
thing.”

She looked away. “Do you need me at the afternoon session?”

“No. Daniel and I can handle it. I'm sorry Jeff's out at sea right now. You could use him by your side today.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment.

“I'm going to Georgia with Daniel to meet his family this weekend.”

“I heard.”

“No comment?” She glanced over at him.

“It's the right thing to do.”

She shook her head. “I can't figure you out at times, Mark.”

He rested his hand over hers. “If I'm going to have a chance with you, the door will stay open, and there will be reasons you or Daniel—or both—choose that course. Go to Georgia. Give Daniel a solid chance. I'd rather win your heart knowing you're sure about it than leave opportunity for questions that could haunt you sometime in the future. I'll deal with what comes. Whatever it is.”

“When I get back, I'll need to make some decisions on what work comes next.”

“Then put aside thinking about any of the future issues until after you get back.” He reluctantly glanced at his watch. “There's time for Daniel to run you home before the afternoon session. Let him. Everything you need to do to hand this all
off to the Undersea Warfare Group is done. It works. All the software is there, all the data from the trial. It's not like they can't turn it on, use it, and understand it. You don't have to be here to explain more than you have.”

“Okay.” She slid off her perch on the table. “I'll go start packing for Georgia. You're a nice man, Mark. An awfully nice man.”

“Gina?”

She turned.

“I think you know there's nothing casual about my interest. But if the right answer is no—to Daniel, and later even to me—let yourself trust your own judgment. You've not been the one to drop out of a relationship. You've hung on, afraid it might be the last guy who would ever be interested. Don't do that this time. Trust your own instincts, your own judgment. If neither one of us is the right answer, be wise and brave enough to say that.”

She nodded slowly. “I think God gave you a wisdom gene.”

“It's called being old,” Mark replied dryly.

She laughed and turned, headed down the path. He didn't immediately follow. She had to be willing to leave the door open for him, and he needed that to be her decision, free and clear. It was the most risky move he'd ever taken, making sure any hold he had on her was as light as he could make it. But it was the right thing to do . . . for her sake and for his own.

S
he liked visiting Georgia with Daniel. Gina had worried her speech would freeze, worried Daniel's family would ask questions about their relationship she wasn't prepared to handle, worried the security that traveled with them would be too intrusive—all of that along with bracing for the possibility that Daniel would propose. It had been a lot of baggage to carry with her. But the final day in Georgia, Gina woke up without the pressure of any of it.

She was staying at his youngest sister's home in a guest room that was comfortable and spacious, much nicer than a hotel. Daniel wasn't going to propose today. He might very well have on his sister's porch last night, but he wouldn't ask hours before they boarded a flight back to Washington State. She was glad he hadn't, even as she was more certain than ever that if he did, she should seriously consider saying yes.

She loved his family. From his mom, Janine, to his uncle Solomon, to cousins so numerous she couldn't remember all their names. Daniel had brought her here with a clear purpose in mind. He had wanted to see how she interacted with his family, if his family liked her, and she was passing
his unspoken test. She knew she was getting high marks. Even his mother had turned from gracious hostess to teasing mom with her. She'd seen Daniel relax as the days had passed.

Daniel would be waiting for her when she appeared for breakfast. She dressed with care and straightened up the guest room, repacked her luggage, then walked through the house to the kitchen. Daniel was turning pancakes. He grinned as she appeared. “Nice shirt.”

She spun in a circle, modeling the shirt with the photo of his high school band on it, from a boxed collection found in the attic. She'd discovered all kinds of interesting stuff when his sisters began talking about Daniel and his youth. His sisters were the good kinds of friends to make—interesting, quick to laugh, and genuine. Gina picked up an orange from the bowl and absently peeled it while she watched Daniel fix breakfast.

Daniel slid a plate over with the first of the pancakes on it. “Go ahead and eat while they're hot. What would you like to do for our last morning?”

She sat down, segmented the orange, and offered him a slice. “How about another game of checkers with your dad? And I need a couple of recipes from your mom to take back with me.”

“Easy enough. I'd also like us to fit in a walk—we'll ditch family for a few minutes. The flight is at 2:30, so we'll leave my parents' place about noon.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gina agreed, cutting into the stack of pancakes.

“Your brother called this morning.”

“Oh? What's going on?”

“I'm to tell you, when you're sitting down, that Bishop
got injured during a flood drill and broke two fingers in his left hand.”

She carefully put down her fork.

“A nub—new-to-the-boat sailor—misjudged a pipe repair, and Bishop stopped him from taking a blow to the head that would have put the kid down with a severe concussion. They were installing a casing pipe. Think inch-thick steel, four feet long—something not easy to stop once it's in motion.”

“Command of the
Nevada
is Mark's dream job,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Will this injury cause problems with his ability to take
Nevada
gold to sea the first of September?”

Daniel shook his head. “Beyond the fact he'll have to live with Tylenol in its strongest form, it shouldn't. Medical will clear him before then.”

“What am I supposed to do when I see him? Say ‘ouch' and never mention it again? What's the correct way to handle a submariner getting hurt?”

“With Bishop,” Daniel laughed, “bake the guy some cupcakes and tell him ‘good job.' He's not going to mind a couple of broken fingers compared to having to tell some 20-year-old's parents their son is in intensive care with a fractured skull.”

“Okay. How many bones have you broken, Daniel?”

“Hmm, five.” He rubbed his ribs as he turned the pancakes. “Can't say the last was one I'd like to repeat, but the rest were kid injuries from learning how bikes can flip, skateboards can crash, and stairs are not for jumping down from one landing to the next.”

She smiled. “I'm relieved that's all, given the stories I heard from your sisters.”

“I considered it my duty as the only son to prove girls fragile and guys tough. They used to squeal at the worms and spiders I introduced them to, and let's not mention the snakes. Mom made me behave, but if I didn't push back a bit, my sisters would have had me dressed up in preppy clothes with the sleeves of a sweater dangling over my shoulders.”

Gina laughed and pushed the pancake syrup toward him as he sat down with his own plate. “It's the stories that make the best memories.”

“You've heard a few of them. It would take decades to tell all of them, the way my sisters embellish history.”

“I like your family, Daniel.”

“I'm glad. They liked you too. I never heard Solomon say so many words in one conversation before.”

“I'd love it if you could snap a family photo for me before we leave, something I could have on my phone.” She already had numerous photos of their Georgia stay on her phone, but none was a group photo.

“I can do that,” Daniel agreed.

Bishop half listened to the instructions his XO was giving the sailors clustered around the table to his left while he scanned the TRIPER report.
Nevada
gold would have eight new sailors joining this patrol. Preparing men for what gold crew expected during a deployment began long before the boat pushed away from the pier.

Blue crew would bring the
Nevada
back into port next week. Gina was due back in town tonight. Bishop forced himself to ignore that second thought and focus on what he was reading. The TRIPER list of equipment scheduled to be
pulled out and replaced with refurbished parts ran for pages. This 25-day refit—maintenance and resupply—was going to be unusually aggressive. He hoped
Nevada
blue reported in with no missile problems to sort out. It wouldn't take much to push the work schedule into missing their September 1st patrol date. It never looked good—for the crew or captain or onshore maintenance—when a boat had to shift a scheduled departure date back.

Water dripped from the ice pack balanced on his left hand, and he hissed his annoyance as the ice numbed his little finger. Having his two middle fingers taped together with a splint was bad enough. Having his little finger also ache added further insult to his discomfort.

Someone knocked on the door as he was tearing off a paper towel from a roll he'd stuck in a desk drawer.

“I thought you'd be halfway to Seattle by now,” Bishop commented as Jeff took a seat across from him.

“I got their flight time wrong—they came in earlier. Should I give you the good news or bad?”

“Depends on your read of my mood.”

“There wasn't a ring on Gina's left hand when she got off the plane.”

Bishop felt an intense layer of relief. “The bad news?”

“I'd say my sister is falling in love. She looks very comfortable with Daniel and is starting to tease him. It's noticeable, the shift. Sorry, man.”

“Yeah.” Bishop pushed aside the report and tugged out more paper towels.

“You want to come get fussed over by Tiffany? We're meeting to share a pizza.”

“No. Go away, friend.”

Jeff tapped his fist on the desk. “Still no ring. Remember that.”

It wasn't much comfort. Bishop carefully flexed his little finger. It just meant he'd get another few weeks of misery, followed by a patrol and news when he got home that Gina was engaged. Or married.

The front doorbell rang. Mark muted the ball game and leveraged himself out of his favorite leather chair. When he opened the door, he wasn't that surprised at his visitor. He stood for a moment absorbing the fact that part of a week with a lot of sun had brought a few freckles out on her nose and turned her skin a rich tan. He pushed open the screen door. “Hello, Gina.”

“Sorry about your hand.”

It was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. “So am I.”

She was carrying a cardboard box. “I'm supposed to give you these, but rather than hand them to you, I think I'll just put them in your kitchen.” She headed through the house.

Bishop decided he might as well follow. “What did you bring me?”

“Cupcakes.”

She lifted the lid, and he saw each cupcake iced with a letter.
Good
Job, Mark.

“Who ate cupcake 12 from my dozen?” he asked, curious.

“Trust you to notice. I sampled the one that didn't get a letter. They're good.”

He took an
o
as it had the most icing. “You can have another one,” he generously offered. He pulled out a chair and took a seat at the kitchen table, carefully peeling back the
paper from the cupcake. “Did you stop by to tell me you're getting married?”

“You're in an interesting mood.”

“I am.”

She walked past him and ruffled his hair. The move so surprised him, he nearly dropped the cupcake.

She pulled milk out of his refrigerator, got a glass from a cupboard, raised it with a question in her eyes. When he shook his head, she poured milk for herself. “Daniel has a good family. I enjoyed getting to meet them.” She settled into a seat across from him. “I hate to fly. Every time I go up I'm convinced the laws of aerodynamics don't make sense and we're going to fall out of the sky and go splat.”

He smiled at her word choice, eyed her cautiously, and began eating his cupcake.

“What were you thinking when you grabbed that pipe?” she asked.

“I was reaching for the guy who was about to get hit by the pipe. The casing was supposed to hit the hull rather than the hull
and
me.” He looked at his injured left hand. “Broke the bones above the first joint. It's going to be a long eight weeks wearing the brace, but they'll heal.”

“I'm glad.”

She reached for a cupcake, choosing the
k
. “Daniel offered to give me some time to think about things. He wants to propose if I would like him to do so. One of those agreements where he won't ask unless I want to say yes, so I don't have to turn him down.”

Bishop nodded. “What are you thinking?”

“That I need to go work on something else. The solar flares. Satellite drift. I need to get away from Bangor for a while.”

“Thomas Keller at the Jet Propulsion Lab is waiting on your call. You want me to escort you to Pasadena, get you settled in with a new research group?”

“I can work remotely with JPL while I get up to speed on the sun research being done. I don't have the energy left for new people and feeling out the dynamics of another research group right now.”

“Chicago?”

“I think so. It's home. It's where I can cocoon for a while.”

“Then let me get you there.”

“That's why I came by. You said you were flying to Chicago on the seventh to see your brother Bryce and meet his wife, Charlotte. I'd like to travel with you, if you don't mind my white knuckles.”

“I don't mind.”

She studied his bandaged hand. “You aren't going to fuss at me when I carry my own luggage, are you?”

“I might let you carry part of mine,” Bishop replied, considering his hand.

A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen. “Change your mind about some milk?” Gina offered.

“Sure.”

She poured him a glass and refilled hers.

“You had a good time in Georgia?”

She pulled out her phone, opened the photos folder, and handed it to him. Mark slowly tabbed through. He stopped, shot her a surprised look. “He had you up on water skis?”

“For a full 20 seconds I was upright.”

“What did you think?”