Chương 5
His uniform blouse lay folded beside him.
He wore a brown T-shirt darkened with sweat beneath the arms.
When he saw the admiral, he closed his eyes.
“Damn it, Luis.”
Ortega stepped forward.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Having a cigarette.”
“You missed muster.”
“I know.”
“You left your phone.”
“I know that too.”
Hernandez said, “Senior Chief Rusk, keep your hands visible.”
Rusk looked at her.
Then at Boone.
Then at Keane.
Finally he looked at me.
The cigarette stopped halfway to his mouth.
He knew me.
Not personally.
That was obvious.
But he knew the face.
Or the name.
Maybe both.
His expression changed so quickly that everyone saw it.
Ortega said, “Evan.”
Rusk lowered the cigarette.
“So he came.”
Nobody moved.
Keane’s voice hardened.
“You know Mr. Mercer?”
“No, sir.”
“You just recognized him.”
“I recognized what bringing him means.”
“What does it mean?”
Rusk laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“It means Aaron got his way.”
The air seemed to tighten.
Ortega took another step.
“Did Aaron talk to you?”
“All the time.”
“About the maintenance logs?”
Rusk looked at him.
“You told them that?”
“I told them what he asked me.”
“You should’ve told them six days ago.”
“You should’ve shown up for duty this morning.”
Rusk looked away.
That landed somewhere deeper than Ortega intended.
Hernandez said, “Senior Chief, are you willing to come with us?”
Rusk crushed the cigarette beneath his boot.
“I’m not under arrest.”
“No.”
“Then yes.”
He reached for his uniform blouse.
Boone moved reflexively.
Rusk stopped.
“Easy.”
Boone’s hand stayed near his belt.
Rusk picked up the blouse slowly.
Something metallic fell from one pocket.
It hit the concrete with a light clink.
Everyone looked down.
A small brass piece lay near his boot.
My breath caught before I could stop it.
It was another old insignia.
Not identical to mine.
Not identical to Bell’s.
But from the same family.
Same era.
Same shape.
Rusk looked at me.
I looked at him.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
He did not answer.
I stepped closer.
Keane touched my elbow.
I shook him off.
Rusk’s eyes moved to my lapel.
His face had gone gray beneath the tan.
“You kept yours,” he said.
The yard vanished for half a second.
Not literally.
Memory simply shoved the present aside.
A steel deck under rain.
Danny Keane kneeling beside an oxygen manifold.
A young diver named Robert Rusk screaming that the gauges were wrong.
A brass unit pin pressed into my palm before a helicopter lifted somebody away.
Robert Rusk.
I looked at the man sitting on the crate.
“Who was your father?”
He swallowed.
Ortega stared between us.
Rusk said, “You know.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
His eyes hardened.
“Chief Robert Rusk.”
Keane looked at me.
“My father served with his?”
“Yes.”
Rusk bent and picked up the brass pin.
He held it in his palm.
“My dad spent forty years telling everybody he nearly killed six men because he made a mistake.”
Nobody spoke.
“He died believing it.”
I said, “He didn’t make the mistake.”
Rusk laughed again.
This time it sounded close to anger.
“No, apparently none of you did.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Nothing useful.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said Mercer knew.”
Keane looked at me.
Rusk continued.
“He said Keane knew too, but Keane would never talk because he had a family.”
Thomas Keane’s face tightened.
“My father?”
“Your father.”
Ortega said, “Evan, what does this have to do with Bell?”
Rusk turned on him.
“You still think Aaron was paranoid?”
“I didn’t say paranoid.”
“You said difficult.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“No, I’m telling you the subject was standing in front of you for months and you called him difficult.”
Ortega flinched.
Rusk stood.
He was taller than I expected.
Hernandez immediately told him to stay where he was.
He obeyed.
His anger remained aimed at Ortega.
“Aaron found my father’s old papers.”
“How?”
“I brought them in.”
“Why?”
Rusk rubbed both hands over his face.
“Because I’m an idiot.”
Keane said, “Start making sense.”
Rusk looked at the admiral.
“Last year we were clearing storage in my mother’s house.”
He glanced at me.
“My dad kept everything.”
“I remember.”
“You remember him?”
“I remember a kid who thought every machine could be fixed if you swore at it long enough.”
Rusk’s mouth moved.
Almost a smile.
It disappeared.
“I found his Valiant notebook.”
My chest tightened.
That notebook had been missing for fifty-two years.
Rusk noticed.
“So that means something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Where is it?”
“Gone.”
Keane said, “Gone how?”
“Aaron took it.”
Ortega stepped closer.
“You gave Bell classified historical material?”
“I didn’t know what it was.”
“Why give it to him?”
“He liked old dive history.”
“That’s your answer?”
“He was helping me digitize my father’s stuff.”
Rusk’s voice sharpened.
“My mother is eighty-two and moving into assisted living, Luis.”
“I had a garage full of boxes.”
“I wasn’t running an espionage operation.”
Ortega backed off a fraction.
Rusk looked down at the brass insignia in his hand.
“Aaron read the notebook.”
“What did he find?” Keane asked.
Rusk shook his head.
“He wouldn’t tell me everything.”
“Why?”
“Because after he started asking questions, strange things happened.”
Vale was not with us, but I could hear his earlier language in my head.
Manual service access.
Inconsistent sensor data.
I said, “What strange things?”
Rusk looked at me.
“A maintenance log changed.”
“Which one?”
“Old equipment inspection records in the archive.”
“Digital?”
“Scanned originals.”
“Changed how?”
“Pages were replaced.”
“Can you prove that?”
“No.”
“Then what else?”
“Aaron said somebody accessed his locker.”
“Proof?”
“No.”
“He ever report it?”
“He said he would.”
Ortega whispered, “He didn’t.”
Rusk stared at him.
“I know.”
The anger between them deflated.
What remained was worse.
Guilt.
Hernandez shifted her stance.
“Senior Chief, why did you leave your phone behind today?”
May you like
Rusk looked toward the fence.
“Because someone called me last night.”
