The Crucible. Joaquin De Torres
my! Rick Verdasco,” Becca breathed, rolling her eyes and fanning her neck with her hand. “He’s so hot!”
“Yes, he is. But he’s our partner on the civilian side, so no sleeping with him!” Kristina smiled as she wagged her finger. Becca curled her lips into a pout and folded her arms.
“Look, there he is.” Kristina nodded to a well-dressed Latino man in his mid-‘30s, walking with several associates towards his office. Becca snapped her neck in that direction.
“Fucking hot,” she whispered lustfully. “Oh well, another one gets away due to the office fraternization rules. It’s depressing. We’ll never have sex in this place!”
“We can’t, Becca. We’re too important and too visible,” countered Kristina as she began shutting down her computers.
“I know. But look at us! We’re fucking hot, and all these guys are tripping over their tongues whenever one of us walks by! And we can’t touch ‘em.”
“Nope. We can’t.” Becca looked at her with an expression of disbelief.
“And that’s okay with you?”
“Becca, come on. This work is my pleasure. What we do is massively important. Plus, I just don’t need sex right now.”
“That’s crap and you know it.” Becca scoffed. “You don’t want a relationship because you know your father will try to shut it down.”
“Becca, please. I’m a grown girl, and I make my own decisions. And I will sleep with whomever, wherever and whenever I please.”
“I love when you talk slutty! All right, I’ll let you go this time. But I’m telling you, if we’re ever drinking at your place and Verdasco shows up at our door, I swear--within five minutes--we’re all getting naked!” They laughed again.
They gathered their files, memory sticks, and notes and headed out the door. Down the stairs and through two long corridors, they reached the doors of Conference Room Two. Before entering Kristina took a deep breath and delivered her trademark wink and smile.
“Let’s go have some fun, girl.”
“You’re so the bomb.” Becca answered. They entered the conference room to a thunderous round of applause.
Chapter 6
Ghost In The Night
Sea of Japan
West of Okushiri-To
Hokkaido, Japan
The bow of the Kim Il-Sung sliced through the white-capped waves of the sea. With minimal running lights illuminated and her navigational sensors radiating, she appeared as a large cargo ship on the surface-search radar screen at the Setana Tracking Station, Hokkaido’s coastal observation post sitting atop a cliff overlooking the ocean. The Japanese radar operator yawned and took a swig from his 2-liter bottle of Coke. He placed the bottle near a stack of magazines, CDs, smartphone, iPod, and iPad--the crucial necessities during the painfully long, uneventful hours of his midwatch. He half-heartedly glanced at the glowing arm sweeping around the screen. His eyes were heavy already.
Across the radio room his supervisor lounged at his radio-intercept position with his feet propped up on the desk, already sleeping quietly with his hands in his pockets and his headphones on. The erratic scratch of HF static pillowed his senses like a lullaby. The operator massaged his face with his hands. He checked the Electronics Intelligence (ELINT) signal parameter readout on his console in glowing blue lettering. He read it with indifference:
TIME: 0238. IDENT RADAR: CROSS LANCE
NOMENCLATURE/PARAMETER: COZ4376/A-00288
DESCRIPTION: SOVIET NAVIGATIONAL/SURFACE SWEEP, SHIPBORNE RADAR.
PRIMARY USER(S): ALL FORMER SOVIET BLOC MERCHANT/SHIPPING VESSELS, ALL NORTH KOREAN MERCHANT/SHIPPING VESSELS, ALL VIETNAMESE MER. . .
He turned his head away from the screen and yawned deeply, thrusting his arms into the air. Whatever the nationality of the ship that was out there, it wasn’t important. It was big, but it was a merchant ship and that meant no tedious report to write. Only military vessels were reported on, and even then that depended on if the operator cared enough to wake up his supervisor and generate the report. He lit up a cigarette, kicked back in his swivel chair and watched the smoke spiral toward the ceiling. No, he decided. There would be no official report of a military ship movement tonight, nor would there be a bearing, range, or tracking number assigned.
He picked up his phone and with finger swipes on the touch screen, scrolled through all the text messages he had to answer. He flipped open his laptop and brought up his favorite websites. There would definitely be no need to bother neither his snoring supervisor nor the watch duty officer enjoying DVDs in his back office. There would simply be a handwritten note in the log stating that a Russian merchant ship was traveling north at 2:38 A.M. that foggy night at fifteen knots. He lazily blew smoke rings towards one of the ceiling fans. With all the naval action happening down south, the watches dragged on excruciatingly. He would pencil the entry about the merchant ship later. There was no rush; he had all night.
“Good morning. I’m Robert Carillo, and this is a Channel 4 News late-breaking report.
“Japan has put its navy and air force on full alert after a North Korean combatant rammed one of their Self-Defense Force destroyers in the Sea of Japan late yesterday morning. The incident comes just a day after North Korea’s newest Russian-sold warship, a Kirov-class battlecruiser, steamed among three Japanese destroyers which were part of the Iron Clad blockade.
“Navy officials report that this new battlecruiser, the Kim Jong-il, is the sister of the Kim Il-Sung, and had just been released from dry dock where she was being refitted for action. Ironically, this was her maiden voyage. During her first few hours of deployment, the battlecruiser was reported as harassing several South Korean ships by using its water cannons to spray powerful streams of seawater atop the smaller vessels. She then made a run for the Japanese vessels, ramming the destroyer Genda. No one was hurt in the incident, but damage to the Genda is estimated at over two million dollars. She steamed back to Yokosuka naval yard under her own power. More on this developing story at six. I’m Robert Carillo.”
Bay Shore Lobster House
Silver Spring, Maryland
Becca sipped at her wine staring at Kristina sitting across from her.
“Got any plans tonight?” she asked, refilling their glasses from the bottle of imported Croatian wine.
“I don’t know. I’m not going back to work, I’ll tell you that. Not tonight,” Kristina said in a low but emphatic tone.
“Wanna get drunk and fool around?” This was their special code phrase meaning drinking, snuggling up together under one blanket and watching DVDs.
“I don’t know, Becca. I’m kind of preoccupied.” Her eyes drifted away.
“About what, babe? You’ve been distracted throughout our whole lunch.” Kristina’s eyes slowly drew back up to her.
“I just can’t believe it’s almost over. These 16 years have just flown by, and still, I don’t know if I’ve accomplished my goals.”
“Ah, hellooo!” Becca exclaimed rolling her eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but you basically saved an entire government industry from certain death.” Kristina remained distant. “All those employees at WEPS owe you their lives. Because of you naval research has leaped ahead 20 years. Not to mention, you’re going to make over two million dollars a year with one of those contracting companies. What’s more--”
“It’s not what I wanted, Becca,” Kristina interrupted, then swallowed a huge gulp of wine. “And it’s not the money. It never was.” Her eyes