Undetected (32 page)

“Couldn't sleep?” he asked.

“Sometimes it bothers me waking up to a guy in the room,” she admitted softly, “even when it's my husband. You have questions about me. It's nice of you not to have asked them.”

“My brother adores you, and you love him back. I figure the details matter, but not that much.”

“I'm Ruth Bazoni.”

He managed to stop the shock from showing on his face, but she smiled slightly, and he registered he had let the brownie drop.

“I'm sleeping with your brother, literally, or trying to, but I'm not very good at making it through the entire night yet. He's a patient man. We've managed to get to a very nice good-night kiss. Another five years, maybe we'll have progressed to second base.”

“I'm sorry, Charlotte.”

“So am I. It's three o'clock, so tonight was actually a good night. I keep a private bedroom suite upstairs with double locks inside the door as a security blanket, but I consider it a step backward when I need to retreat there. When the memories of the past mean I can't stay with Bryce, I tend to head to the studio to get some work done.” She gave him a smile. “My career has been thriving lately. Anything you need before I go there tonight?”

“I'm good.”

She got up from the table. “You're worried about your Gina.”

“Yes.”

“Patience is a good answer most of the time.”

“For her own good, I'm going to have to rush her. She needs a buffer, some protection. That can't be done well without the leverage of being her husband.”

Charlotte nodded. “Being a bit of a white knight runs in your family, I've discovered. I'll leave you to your work, Mark.” She walked through the kitchen to the studio at the back of the house. Soft music soon drifted into the kitchen.

Ruth Bazoni.
Twenty years ago, she'd been at the center of the most famous kidnapping case in Chicago history. Three ransoms, four years, before cops found her two abductors, shot them, and rescued her. And she'd married his brother Bryce. Mark considered that fact and slowly nodded. Bryce was the right man for her. None of the Bishop brothers ever did simple or easy. He smiled. If Gina found the courage to say yes, she'd find she fit in well with his family.

Gina offered to fix waffles for breakfast, and Mark wisely said yes to give her something to do, also mildly interested that she could cook. He sat at the center counter and watched her work. She stacked two waffles on a plate for him along with butter and syrup. She ate hers with melted butter and powdered sugar, cleaned up the kitchen, and finally stopped and leaned against the far counter. “Okay. I've eaten. Had my second cup of coffee. Give me the bad news.”

He smiled, appreciating her matter-of-fact attitude, though he was sure it was not easy for her to maintain. “It's not all bad news, Gina.” He picked up his coffee, needing the caffeine after a night with barely three hours of sleep. “As I see it, you have three good options, and a few other decent
ones.” He nodded to the stool beside him. “You might want to sit down for this.”

She took the seat beside him as he cut into the last bites of his waffle. “Bottom line, the Navy needs the photo, Gina. You can't burn it,” he said simply. “That wasn't my initial reaction, but that's where the possible outcomes have led me. For the foreseeable future, during the years the U.S. is the only one with this capability, it comes close to guaranteeing there will be peace on the high seas. We will know where everyone is—at least after sizable sun flares.

“In the longer term, the implications are that submarine warfare becomes similar to chess. Every piece on the board is seen, and how you move your pieces determines the victor. It would no longer be a battle fought in the dark. Seeing exactly where the other's boats are at—and the U.S. dominates with the number of assets we can deploy—it's poker where you can see the other guy's cards. That's a better game to play, a safer one, than information we're working with now. How long till somebody else figures this capability out is unknown, but I don't think it happens anytime soon. We're probably talking years if not decades before anyone else has the capability. The Navy needs the photo.”

She listened without offering a comment. He slid back his plate and gave her a reassuring smile. “How that might happen is where you have options.” He thought about the order to present those options.

“First option is, you do a video, write a paper, package your software algorithms—as you've done for your other discoveries—and hand it off without ever coming to Bangor. Stay in Chicago and continue with your JPL work. Step back from this. Let me deliver it for you. I'll make sure no questions or
comments come your way, that is, if you want to take a hard break from all this.”

He waited a moment, but she only nodded.

“Second option, you guide someone else into discovering the same thing you did, have someone else produce a photo.
How
we guide that person to figure it out—that might be more fantasy than reality, but we can work through it. This has advantages for you, chief among them being your peace of mind, as someone else will be credited with the discovery.”

She nodded again, but didn't comment.

“Third option, return to Bangor with me,” he continued, “show the Navy the photo, accept what you found, don't run from it, and let me help you. There's more for you to do. Getting the photo created in the shortest amount of time, working out the minimum solar flare strength and number of satellite data sources necessary to create the photo. And you're able to do that faster than someone else who would have to come up to speed on the details. Operationally it's also safer—limiting this capability and the details of how it's done to just you for now. I prefer this third option, as I think you need to stay involved—up to the point that everything's refined and ready to be passed on—but I'll understand if you prefer one of the other options.”

“You really think a photo of every sub deployed around the globe makes U.S. submarines safer?” she asked.

“I do.” He reached over for one of the oranges in the fruit bowl and peeled it with his knife, then looked at her. “There's warning time, Gina. When a solar flare happens, the U.S. will still have a couple of days to position its submarine fleet where it wants them to be before the lights turn on. Cross-sonar clears out safe zones for the boomers to move into.
Fast-attacks move into precautionary positions. When the photo shows where our submarines are, where any enemy ships are, there will be no weak spots. We'll be ready. And as others move, we can move to counter them. Tactically a photo makes the U.S. fleet safer. And with the capability to know for certain where others are, we could begin to deploy and operate the fleet very differently than we do now.”

She thought about it for a long moment. “And if I told you I still wanted to destroy the photo?”

“I'd have to think hard about what to do, Gina. I think I'd have to tell Rear Admiral Hardman what I saw and point the Navy in the right direction for the research. I'd do what I could to minimize how much attention came back to you, but I do think my pledge to the country, to the Navy, might make it necessary to inform Hardman that this concept is possible.” He held out one of the orange slices to her. “We're going to disagree occasionally, Gina, on what is best to do with a discovery. That's one of the reasons these kinds of decisions are never simple. There are two perspectives, and both might be valid. I'd like to think you'll come to trust me on these difficult calls.

“But whatever your decision regarding this photo, it doesn't change the bigger picture. I want you to marry me. I'd like you to marry me before we show this photo to the Navy. I'd have more influence as your husband to control what may unfold, to push back for you.”

She didn't say anything, her eyes directed toward the window. He let the silence linger, finished the orange, and waited.

Gina finally looked over at him. “It's not going to be possible to steer someone else into making this discovery. It's a nice ‘what if,' but there are too many pieces to sort through
and put together. I'll have to be the one to show the Navy the photo. But even if I agree to do that, there's no reason to view that decision and getting married as linked.”

“Gina, I want to be your husband. And getting married now could be a good buffer for you. You could say ‘See my husband about that' when the questions start coming. I can tell the Navy to go through me on any concerns, that I have the authority to speak for you. You'll find life is a lot easier—maybe even happier—if you marry me before this goes any further.”

He waited a moment and smiled. “I'm going to make one last pitch, okay? My best one. Then I'll let this topic drop, I promise.” He waited for her to glance up. “I know the package may not be ideal. I'm older, I've been married before. But the ‘content,' those characteristics you're looking for, are what you want. We share a deep faith in God, a strong work ethic, a sense of ambition, alongside a personal life that is quiet and, for the most part, peaceful. We have a willingness to be open with each other—a verbal intimacy, if you will—a desire to listen and share what we're thinking and feeling.

“I love your smile. I love the way you light up when someone compliments you and offers approval for what you've done. I love the fact you're smart, that you haven't pulled back from what God created you to be. I enjoy your company, Gina. That might sound simplistic, but it sums up a lot of good qualities. You don't nitpick, you don't complain, you try to adapt to situations. You and I would have a good life together.”

She bit her lip, and he reached over, gently brushed a thumb across her mouth. “I'm a good risk, Gina. Take a leap and make the decision that your future is with me. Trust me, trust the fact I love you. I'm not asking you to have everything
sorted out and not have any doubts. I don't need that from you. What I need, what I think
you
need, is a yes.”

He watched her face as he pulled a small box out of his pocket, opened it, and removed a ring. He took her hand, gently placed the ring in her palm, closed her fingers around it. “Please say yes, Gina. I had it made for you. I think you'll like it.”

She opened her hand to look at the ring. He'd commissioned it before he left for patrol. It was a beautiful ring, he thought. Gold, with rose diamonds set around an oval-cut white diamond, the ring had been made at his brother's jewelry store with input on the design from Charlotte.

“How long do I have to think about this?” Gina whispered.

“Ask anything you like, but when your questions run out, make the decision,” he counseled gently. “I'm thinking the end of the week. Tell me then what you want to do about the photo, and what you want to do about the proposal. More time than that isn't likely to make this any easier, for you or for me.”

She finally nodded, staring at the ring nestled in her palm. “Okay.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “Please say yes, Gina.” He considered it a good sign that she didn't give him back the ring. She slid it onto her right hand ring finger for safekeeping.

“I can see why you enjoy working here,” Mark said, following Gina down the steps of the university library. The campus was a peaceful place to visit, even with December classes now heading to finals and students in a hurry filling the walkways. The snow overnight had coated the grounds
and it clung to trees, making the scene into a clean vista. He shifted the two books he carried for her and reached for her gloved hand.

“I've spent a good portion of the last 15 years wandering this place, talking to people, listening, learning,” she replied.

Gina was relaxed for the first time in the last three days, Mark thought. He thought she had made a decision, but he didn't push to hear what it was. She'd suggested a walk this morning, and he'd been glad to oblige. She'd tell him her decision about the photo and about his marriage proposal when she was ready. He could give her another few days—not much more than that, but for today he could wait.