Undetected (9 page)

She looked up at him. “It's not that I'm brilliant, Mark. It's that technology lets me do more than was possible a decade ago. I've got very good acoustical hardware and massive computing power at my disposal. A trick, really—using the ocean noise, doing a ping that's just above a whisper. I removed the man-made ping. That's the idea. That's all it is.”

“‘Gina, the genius,'” he said softly, seeing something quite different. “How many have worked on sonar for decades yet never bothered to see what you just explained? It's a gift, Gina. I appreciate that you see it all as simple. The idea may be simple, but the fact you brought it to light is not.”

She offered a small smile. “It may not work. I don't know if the computations can be run fast enough when the sub is also running normal sonar operations. I don't know if the algorithms searching for the echo template will be overwhelmed in a noisy sea. And it's possible I have entirely missed a crucial variable.”

“What's your biggest concern?”

“The echo that comes back from the sub running cross-sonar with you may be so loud you essentially go deaf to the other echoes. You're going to whisper a ping, and it's going to be an echo back that sounds like a gong being struck—the companion sub is close to you and the hydrophones are in sync with each other. That first echo is going to be intense.”

Bishop smiled. “I can't wait to find out, Gina, what this is like at sea. The idea makes sense. When you're ready for that sea trial, we'll find out those answers. Just tell me the type of data you'd like collected. I'll put a plan together that will give you what you need.”

She got up from the step. “I appreciate the help. I'll get you some notes—it's likely going to be a few more weeks.”

Mark moved away from the door. “When you tell Jeff, have him sit down first. Operationally, it's going to be a fascinating set of tactical decisions for us to work out.”

He pulled a card from his pocket. “Phone numbers for where to find me—office, home, and cell—and my XO, Seth
Kingman, is on there as well. If you've left a message for me and haven't heard back within the hour, Kingman will track me down for you. He knows you might call, so use the resource. Cell reception can be tricky around here, given the terrain, or if I'm down a couple of levels in a sub.”

“Thanks.” She tucked it in her pocket. “Enjoy your R and R, Mark.”

“I always do. Lock the door behind me, Gina.” He stepped outside and waited until he heard the dead bolt thrown before he walked down the steps.

He got in his car, keys in his hand, but just sat and for a brief moment closed his eyes.
“I removed the man-made ping
.”
It was like hearing Michelangelo say, “I removed the marble that wasn't David.” Her idea would work. It was so conceptually simple, even first-year sonar students would grasp the concept and its implications.

Espionage, though, was a real problem that could not be ignored. It took cross-sonar running and four sets of hydrophones listening to capture that echo template. This wouldn't be easy for other countries to emulate. Knowing what was happening and being able to reproduce it were not the same thing. The U.S. protected cross-sonar, and until that fell, this new approach to detection would be somewhat safe. But this idea was so versatile it could be done with a network of sonar lines deployed on the seafloor or it could be run from surface ships.

U.S. submarines would have to assume they'd been located from the moment they identified an enemy vessel within their threat radius. It would mean living with torpedoes hot, setting up shooting solutions against every submarine and boat within sonar range. If they couldn't
hear someone pinging them, they would have to operate as if they'd been seen.

Mark glanced back at the condo. Gina Gray was coming up with ideas with far-reaching implications. He wished Jeff was home so she had someone to talk with. She was smart enough to make the discovery and also to understand many of its implications, and those would provide their own unique burdens.

Mark headed home, ready for the sustained R and R and not being in charge for a few weeks. He'd done what could be done today and would occasionally check in on Gina while she was in Bangor, until Jeff got back.

He wondered idly what her breakup in Boulder had really been about. Dating for two years suggested something serious, and Gina didn't strike him as flighty. Something had happened. The Navy was reaping the benefit with her focus on sonar ideas. If there was one thing he did understand, it was burying strong emotions in work. It would help her to a point, but eventually she'd need to talk with someone about what happened if she was going to put it behind her and get on with her life. He hoped she would have those conversations with her brother as soon as Jeff returned.

Mark Bishop pulled on rain gear before walking out onto the Marginal Wharf, maneuvering around forklifts with pallets of supplies and guys hauling personal gear. The USS
Seawolf
, now tight against the north side of the wharf, didn't even rock as waves on Hood Canal splashed against the sides of the boat and washed over her deck.

He had seen the
Seawolf
captain come topside. Mark
moved to the end of the walkway to meet him. “Good to have you back, Jeff.” He took the duffel bag from his friend, offered a coffee to take its place.

Jeff Gray ignored the fact he was standing in the rain—he'd been on the bridge for the 16 hours of the transit and was already soaked. “A nice patrol, if rather hopping,” he said, sipping the coffee. “The shipping channel was as busy as the August rush of arriving Christmas orders. My sonar guys are still smarting at not seeing you coming.”

Mark grinned. “
Nevada
runs nice and quiet when I ask it of her.”

“So I found out—again.”

“Need to stay?”

“My XO has it handled for now. I'm taking the night watch. Want to run me over to Bremerton Hospital? I've got a crewman who needed a medevac who I need to check on.”

“Sure. What happened?”

“Gallbladder was our guess.”

At the parking lot, Mark tossed Jeff's duffel into the back of the truck. Inside the truck, doors slammed, Mark turned on the heat and handed over a towel. “Gina is here.”

Jeff took that news with a pause of the towel. “I'll love to see her, but since she hadn't planned this visit months ago, I'm guessing it isn't going to be good news.”

“She broke up with Kevin. Made another breakthrough in sonar. She's staying at your place and working nights at the new Undersea Warfare Center's acoustical research lab.”

Jeff closed his eyes and half laughed. “I hope she quits breaking up with guys. She has her best ideas when she's trying not to think about her personal life.” Jeff sighed and dropped the towel around his shoulders. “It's not funny, but
it's a pattern. Thanks for the heads-up. She was in love with the guy, or thought she was. You would think she would get a break at least occasionally with the guys she chooses. They keep turning out to be wrong for her.”

“I'm sorry for her sake to hear that. She knows you're coming in today. I was looking for her on the pier, figuring she would be here to greet you. She's got clearance.”

“She's been in Bangor on arrival days in the past. She knows I need the first six hours or so to settle the boat. She'll likely have a meal waiting for me at the condo.” Jeff finished the coffee. “So, she's made another breakthrough in sonar?”

“What if you could actively ping, and the other guy couldn't hear you?”

Jeff pulled in a long breath, then groaned. “I don't know whether to be proud of her or annoyed at her for making my job more difficult. That is one dangerous proposition.”

“I'd rather know it's possible than have it used on us before we knew it could be done,” Mark replied.

“Very true,” Jeff agreed. He glanced over. “She told you.”

“I think she wanted someone to tell, and you weren't around.”

“Appreciate you stepping in.”

“You'd do the same if a sister of mine showed up while I was at sea.” Mark took Trident Avenue to the Bangor main gate and headed south on Highway 3 toward Bremerton. “I told Rear Admiral Hardman what she's working on. It stays at four of us—Gina, you, me, and Hardman—while he figures out how to contain this. She'll need a sea trial to put together the data, and you're going to help me plan it.”

“Fine by me. Shore time just makes me fidgety. I could use something to focus on. Never let it be said my sister made
my life boring. I will be glad to see her. So what's going on with you?”

Mark wasn't one to talk much about personal matters, but there were some issues where it helped to have Jeff's reaction. “I figured I would ask Linda Masters out to dinner and a movie. Right now we're playing phone tag—she's at a teaching seminar in Colorado Springs, but it's going on the calendar when she gets back.”

“That's bigger news than Gina. I'm proud of you, Mark. You're showing a heartbeat again.”

“I don't remember dating being this intense.”

“It's not the dating. It's the fact you don't do casual, never have. I like the idea. Linda's got . . . well,
class
if you want one word. She's got a life, a good one, and would fit in nicely with you. I already know you enjoy her company—why else would you be showing up wearing an authentic cowboy hat and boots after going to auctions with her? She makes you laugh. It's a good thing. Besides, Melinda would have liked Linda.”

“You always were good at speeches.”

Jeff grinned. “Gina says I like to deconstruct her just for the fun of annoying her. I know you, Mark. You've been in a holding pattern, waiting for the day you decide to think about a lady again. It's time.”

“It's time,” Mark echoed, oddly comforted by Jeff's words. He didn't need the reassurance, but it felt good just the same. “So what are you going to do about Gina's breakup?”

Jeff shook his head. “Don't know. She'll talk about what happened eventually. She'll clam up for a good while first, though. Without even knowing what Kevin said or did, I'd like to give him a piece of my mind for dating her two years
before breaking it off. If he had done it at a year, at least the damage wouldn't go so deep.

“She gets hurt easily, Mark,” Jeff continued, his tone serious. “It's something I never really understood until she hit about 18. I realized then how much being so far ahead of her peers in school left her hurting from the unthinking comments people make. Being an adult no doubt has made it easier now, but it's still there, when people realize how smart she is. I'll lay good money Kevin finally decided he didn't want a wife smarter than himself. She'll win more grants, more fellowships, more awards, and he'd always be in the shadow of her spotlight. Or more likely—” Jeff stopped abruptly and winced—“I'll bet Gina being Gina and loving the guy asked questions about his work, thought about the problem he was working to solve, and made a suggestion that turned out to be right. In love with him, she wouldn't have been able to help herself; she would have wanted to help him out. She probably solved in a few weeks what he'd been working on for months or years.”

“He's an idiot if that's what happened and he let it bother him.”

“It will be that, or a variation of that. She asked me when she was 14 who was going to want a smart wife. I should have ignored her age and realized she was right to be worried.”

Mark glanced over at Jeff. “Fourteen?”

“She likes to think ahead.”

Mark laughed. “I don't envy you the problem you've got, but you did get an interesting sister. My sisters were more conventional. They just dated way too much for my comfort before they settled down with the guys they married.”

“At least Gina is smart enough to come find me. Even with
the age gap, we've always been pretty close,” Jeff said. He folded up the towel and tossed it in the back. “Rain's going to make the fishing good along Hood Canal. Want to head out Thursday morning for a couple of hours?”

“Sure. I've already been testing out the coves. Triton gave up some nice bass.”

T
he commander's backyard barbecue looked like a success. Mark Bishop picked his way upward through the people sitting on the deck steps, crossed it, and nodded his thanks to a crewman sliding the patio door open for him.

Gina Gray was standing at the kitchen sink washing celery stalks and humming softly to herself along with the music pounding outside. A plastic cup beside her looked like it held fruit punch and sherbet. She was busy, being helpful, and yet she also seemed content. He slid the armload of shucked ears of corn onto the counter beside her. “Glad you came, Gina.”

She glanced over, eyed the corn on the cob. “You throw an interesting barbecue.”

He grinned. “Thank you. The crowd eats everything that comes out of this kitchen before the day is done. The rule on sink duty is 15 minutes, then you plop that sticker on someone you want to give it to for the next 15 minutes.”

“So I was told. Jeff's already said Penn is next. What do I do with the corn?”

“Wash them, send them back outside. Someone will wrap them in foil and toss them on a free spot on one of the grills.”

“I can handle that.”

He pulled another bottle of barbecue sauce from the cupboard. Chicken was ready to grill, and he retrieved six packages of brats and four of hot dogs from the refrigerator, then paused beside her. “Can I get you anything?”

“I'm good.”

“Glad to have Jeff home?”

Her face lit up with her smile. “Very much so.”

He lingered for a brief moment, captured by the smile. “You love him a lot.”

“Yeah. He's all that's left of family now that our parents have passed away.”

“I didn't know that.”

“Technically there are a couple of distant cousins, but Jeff doesn't like them much.”

Mark remembered a past conversation. “Kelly and Kyle?”

“Jeff's been talking.”

“He does that when we hit R and R together and we're out fishing somewhere. He talks about you, his crew on the
Seawolf
, what you're working on, who he's dating.”

“And what do you talk about?”

“Whatever topic he's brought up.”

She grinned. “Okay.”

“I go to fish. The conversation is like an interesting radio station with long silent pauses for the commercials.”

She laughed softly. “You like my brother.”

“One of the best friends I've got in Bangor. Somewhere in the back of the refrigerator you'll find a blue Tupperware with a piece of cake in it. I hid it for you when Jeff mentioned you might stop by today.”

“All right . . .”

“I missed your birthday.”

Her face turned a touch pink. “Thank you.”

“My sisters prefer chocolate icing over white cake and insist on a corner piece. Since I didn't know your preferences, I went with theirs.”

“I'll enjoy it.”

Petty Officer Peter York entered the kitchen. “There you are, Gina. Hey, Commander.” He slid the second plate he held onto an open spot on the counter, lightly touched a hand to the small of her back. “The hamburger is cooked to overdone, as requested, and I got you the last of the coleslaw.”

“Thanks, Peter.” Gina held Mark's gaze for a last brief moment, then looked at Peter. “Let me finish up the corn on the cob and then I'll turn over the sink duty to Penn. I'd like to see the clam pit after we eat.”

“I'm game.”

Mark nodded to York and headed out with the items for the grills, pleased to see Peter had chosen to spend part of his day with Gina. He'd make sure she had a good afternoon.

Two-thirds of gold crew would make this barbecue, bringing their families along, before the day was over. As announced, the gathering began at nine in the morning and ran until nine at night, with food the one constant.

He had a house on an inlet so his backyard ran down to a river shoreline, though it wasn't deep enough for a boat to dock. But it offered a good view. His neighbor to the east was part of gold crew, and the neighbor to the west was a friend who helped throw this party. The spillover populated their backyards too, and the crowd of guests were able to spread out enough to make it a relaxed and fun social event.

More than half of his crew was married, with most of
them starting families. Mark scooped up a toddler who had gotten away from his mom, got two sticky hands and a pat on the face to go with a smile as he returned the boy to his mother. Children's shrieks of laughter at the water games, ball toss, Twister, and hopscotch competed with the live music by the guys forming an impromptu band on the side driveway. Someone had hauled over a drum set and a few electric guitars, and keyboards had appeared midmorning with power cords now snaking out from his garage.

It was a party, but also a kind of commander's triage. Mark kept the food flowing, offering a smile and quick word with his guests, while his attention never stopped roving and observing. A lot was happening today at a deeper level than a backyard barbecue.

Gold crew guys needed to be on good terms with one another. Annoyances could build if somebody was getting on your nerves during a 90-day patrol. This was a chance for the guys to recalibrate, share a laugh, work a grill together. They needed to ease off that stress with each other.

Gold crew wives needed a day to relax with the other wives, no longer having to wonder if their husbands were safe, or when they were coming home, and talk about homecoming stories. There were friendships here among the women that were strong, that were being forced to grow stronger the more times gold crew headed out. Eight couples were pregnant. Five of the women were likely to give birth during the next patrol. The husband wouldn't be there for her, but other gold crew wives would. That support made Navy life for families possible.

Mark would make a point to talk with every wife and girlfriend at this gathering. Though their husbands and boy
friends had volunteered, the women hadn't but were making similar sacrifices. The least he could do was let them know that sacrifice hadn't gone unnoticed. And occasionally during those brief one-on-one conversations, a wife gave him a comment that would change his approach in how he mentored a particular crewman.

All wasn't well in this extended work family. Five couples were close to divorce, seventeen were having financial problems serious enough for him to know about it, six were dealing with teenagers having a particularly rough few years. The patrols and the separations were especially hard on the kids.

The older enlisted guys helped keep tabs on what was happening. Most families did adapt to military life and the regular separations, and they created a routine that worked for them. Others made the wise decision not to reenlist and moved on to civilian life.

Mark knew he had been very blessed in his marriage to Melinda. She had never felt a conflict between his love for her and the fact he'd had to leave her. The boat would ship out on a predetermined date, and he would be gone for three months, regardless of the circumstances going on in their personal lives. He'd had to go on patrol when she was desperately sick with the flu, another time five days after she had found out she'd been laid off from her job, and even worse, two days after her father had a heart attack and it wasn't known if he would pull through.

Mark had done everything he could to arrange help for her while he was gone, but he hadn't been there at times when she had every right to expect it. She'd never once asked him to leave the Navy. She'd let him stay with the job he loved even though it cost her. She had loved him, been proud of
him. That was the one constant he had in his memories of life with her. He'd had a wife who loved him deeply, and it had turned out to be a very good marriage.

Mark picked up sodas from the ice chest and went to join the guys pitching horseshoes. The one thing this group would never be was dull or fully settled. It would always be in flux, and part of his job was to be aware of what was happening, channel matters to a good outcome when he could influence what occurred, be prepared for the fallout when family matters went south. The Navy had a divorce rate that alarmed him. Some cash out of his own pocket for a day of food and conversation, a chance for him to assess what was going on had always seemed like a wise use of his time and funds. Besides, it was the one day he got to be off duty with his crew. The barbecue was for his own benefit too.

The barbecue was finally winding down. Mark Bishop felt the fatigue of a long, satisfying day. Jeff turned a folding table on its side, pushed back the lock bar, and kicked the legs to fold up into the table base. Mark added more plastic chairs to the stack he would return to the rental shop. Jeff might not be gold crew, but Mark had roped him into coming over for the day just the same.

“Did I hear Linda Masters is engaged?” Jeff asked as he carried the table over to lean against the chairs.

“She is,” Mark replied. His plan to ask her out to dinner had turned into a call congratulating her. He hadn't been that surprised when she told him her fiancé was a fellow teacher she'd known for many years. Three months away could change a lot of things onshore. It wasn't the first time
he'd bumped into an unexpected turn of events after he got back from patrol, and it wouldn't be the last.

“You can't let this be some kind of sign, a reason to stop and rethink restarting your social life.”

Mark sent Jeff a glance. He'd talked more than he intended about his future plans while they were fishing. “I'm not taking it that way. Jessica stopped by this afternoon. I hadn't realized she was back in town. I was thinking I'd give her a call.”

Jeff looked around the driveway to see who was nearby. “You like Gina. Ask her to dinner.”

The comment caught Mark off guard, especially coming from her brother. The image of Gina in his kitchen a few hours ago flitted across his mind. She'd looked good. The thought was quickly followed by reality. Mark shook his head. “I'm too old for her, Jeff. She's too young for me. She was in kindergarten when I was learning to drive.”

“She might be young in years, but she's got a mind that is ancient, it's got so much knowledge crammed into it.”

“She's 12 years younger than me.”

“Eleven and a half to be precise. That isn't 20 years younger, you know. Give her the benefit of the doubt and at least see what you think after a date.”

The idea didn't sit well. She was on the rebound from one breakup, and she didn't need someone treating her as a trial run. “No. Jessica is the right next call for me,” Mark said, comfortable with the decision.

Jeff frowned briefly, then sighed and turned another table on its side to fold up the legs. “Gina's asked me to introduce her to Navy guys I like.”

Mark swung his head around. “She what?”

“She finally started talking, and as usual she had her layers
packed. The breakup with Kevin shook her up pretty bad. She's willing to admit that. She's also trying to move on. She wants my help.”

“What are you going to do?”

“A kid sister asks you to do something, it's not much of a decision. I'm going to do what she asked.”

“She spent most of the afternoon with Peter York.”

“He's okay. He was at her side 10 minutes after we arrived, doing his own introductions. Kind of nicely rolled over her, I think, and wrapped her up as his for the day.”

“Smart man,” Mark commented. “If not York, then who are you thinking about?”

“A sonar guy from the
Nebraska
, Daniel Field.”

Mark considered that and nodded. “Field is a good man. A Southern gentleman.”

“You'd be better.”

“Not in the cards, Jeff. She's too young, she's your sister, not to mention Rear Admiral Hardman considers her my work assignment until this sonar idea she's sorting out is clarified.” He needed to change the subject. “Have you decided where you're heading on leave?”

“Gina wants to pack up her Boulder apartment and ship her stuff back to Chicago. I'm going to handle that for her. She's ambivalent about returning to Colorado anytime soon, and I talked her into staying here. I'll spend a few days skiing in the area while I'm there. Probably take George Tinn along with me to help haul the boxes down two flights of stairs. I'll be back here in about 10 days. You'll watch out for Gina while I'm gone?”

“Sure, that I can do.” Mark picked up the last chair. “So she's moving back to Chicago?”

“I don't think she knows where she's heading next. She's got preliminary interviews at several universities and a few NASA research locations lined up. Something big in science she can sink her teeth into—having nothing to do with the oceans this time—would be my guess.”

Mark carried the first of the folded tables to the pickup truck. Jeff hauled over another one.

“Jessica, huh?” Jeff asked.

“Have a problem with that?”