Crush Depth - Страница 3

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The radiator stopped hissing. Jeffrey reached over Ilse for the battery-powered alarm clock on his bedstand. His elbow rubbed her left nipple. “Sorry,” he said, but she thought it an odd thing to apologize for, just after making love.

“Zero one hundred,” he said. “Right on schedule.”

Wartime energy conservation, Ilse thought. The heat was turned off in all base housing every night at one until five in the morning, along with hot water and power.

“Typical U.S. Navy,” she said out loud. “If anything, always prompt.” Ilse wasn’t sure herself whether she meant to be sarcastic. It just came out. Jeffrey didn’t respond. He rolled on his side and she rolled on her side so he could press himself against her in a hug….

“You should go back to your room now.”

Ilse stirred. She realized she’d fallen asleep like this and a few minutes must have passed.

“No,” she told Jeffrey. “I want to stay.” The bed was designed for one person, but they were both so used to sleeping on narrow racks in a submarine, the mattress seemed spacious in contrast.

“We have classes in the morning.”

Also typical Jeffrey, always thinking ahead, making his plans and his schedules. Must do this, mustn’t do that… The naval officer in him never really shut down, or turned off or whatever, to simply let him be a person. Even six weeks after they’d both been permanently detached from USS Challenger — and were rested now from the rigors of their Germany raid, when Jeffrey was acting captain — he still ran himself with military precision out of sheer habit. He was taking the Prospective Commanding Officers course, and she was going through the Basic Submarine Officers course — though she was technically a civilian, a consultant to the U.S. Navy.

“I’ll set the alarm for four-thirty,” Ilse said. “Plenty of time to get back to my room before the hallways start to liven up.”

“Someone might see you. It’s indiscreet.”

“It’s indiscreet me being here at one in the morning. I have makeup and stuff in my bag. I’ll use your bathroom, and I’ll have my briefcase, right? Anyone who sees me can think I worked the midnight shift.”

“Clever girl.”

“I’m not a girl. I’m nearly thirty.” The thought sometimes frightened her.

“I meant—”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Ilse knew Jeffrey was no sexist, and she really did care about him. It was just that, well… Jeffrey was a great lion in battle, but taken out of purely military functions- like here right now — he wasn’t exactly always at his best, socially speaking. He was almost forty, but had spent his entire adult life in navy circles.

Ilse began to doze off again, with her head on Jeffrey’s forearm. She felt him squeeze her buttocks gently with his other hand. “Enough is enough,” she told him. “It’s very late.”

She sensed Jeffrey pausing, a pregnant pause in the dark. “Who’s better?” he finally said.

“What?”

“Who’s better? Him or me?”

“What?” Ilse bristled.

“Ter Horst. What’s he like? Hung like a horse?” Jeffrey sounded amused at his own little joke, but the amusement was forced.

“Don’t be silly.” And please don’t spoil the evening for us both.

“No, I’m serious.”

“Really, Jeffrey, there’s no comparison.” He was definitely a Jeffrey, not a Jeff; Ilse felt no impulse to give him a special nickname. “I knew Jan for more than two years, and you and I have been dating, what? Less than two months…. It was before the war and everything. It’s a completely different situation.”

Jeffrey waited for her to go on. When she didn’t, he said, “How long did you know him before, you know, you two started having sex?”

This really annoyed Ilse. He’d said “having sex,” not “making love.” Ilse had loved Jan once, so blind had she been.

“It’s after one in the morning.” She knew she sounded cross. She didn’t want to hurt Jeffrey’s feelings. He was sweet and sincere and giving and other things Ilse liked. But he was a bit reserved in bed compared to Jan. Ilse knew Jeffrey had been engaged once, years ago, and it ended badly. He was estranged from his parents too, though she hadn’t yet learned why.

“Jeffrey, do you want me to stay or not?”

His body posture stiffened. He drew a deep breath to say something. Ilse knew they were about to have a fight. The phone on the little desk rang.

“Crap,” Jeffrey said.

“Maybe you should answer it.” It had rung at midnight, but Jeffrey ignored it then. They were occupied, and he said that at that hour it was surely a wrong number. Now it was ringing again.

Jeffrey got out of bed and felt for the phone in the dark. The room was already cold. A draft got under the blanket, and Ilse shivered and pulled the covers close. Outside the window the storm blustered, but not as strong as before.

“Lieutenant Commander Fuller.” Jeffrey spoke firmly into the phone. He paused to listen. He listened for some time.

“Understood.” There was a shorter pause. “No, I’ll tell her…. Yes, I have her extension. I’ll do it. Very well.” He hung up.

“What was that all about?”

Jeffrey stayed standing, naked in the dark — as a SEAL in younger days, he was desensitized to cold that would make other people’s teeth chatter. Jeffrey cleared his throat. “They want us on the first train in the morning to Washington.”

Ilse almost groaned. “How come?”

“A debriefing at the Pentagon. More brass desire to hear of our recent adventures.”

“Again?”

“It’s an overnight trip this time. We’ll need to pack.”

“Why train? That’ll be slow.”

“No flights available on such short notice. Travel restrictions, Ilse, aviation-fuel shortages… There’s a war on.”

“Don’t we deserve a priority?”

“Last-minute changes like that raise eyebrows, draw attention, compromise security. This time we blend with the crowd on mass transit.”

“What time’s the train?”

“Six-fifteen.”

“How do you want to get over there? Shuttle van, or the water taxi?” The local railroad station was on the other side of the river.

“Water taxi. The aide said they’ll hold spaces. A messenger’ll meet us with our travel documents.”

“It’ll be freezing out on the Thames,” Ilse said.

“Yup, but at least we won’t miss the train. Have you seen the traffic on I-95?… I don’t trust the bridge. They’re still repairing the damage.” From a German high-explosive cruise missile raid, before Christmas.

“Won’t there be ice on the river, in this weather?”

“The tug can get through fine. The snow’s supposed to clear by morning. Colder, but clearing and sunny. A good day for travel.”

“Reset the alarm for four, will you? I need time to pack.” Ilse heard Jeffrey handling the alarm clock.

“Come back to bed,” Ilse said. “Gawd, less than three hours’ sleep. Barring more interruptions, that is.”

“Business as usual,” Jeffrey said. “You can nap on the train.” It was a five-hour trip, with the Acela electrified service. They’d be in the Pentagon by noon.

Jeffrey got under the blanket and held Ilse close, and this time didn’t ask her awkward questions. Soon, by his deep, steady breathing, she could tell he was asleep.

Ilse thought of the last time she’d made love to Jan, wildly and with carnal abandon, when she still thought she could trust him, before her whole world came unglued. She stared into the dark for a very long time, hating all wars and all warriors.

Next day, on the way to Washington, D.C.

Jeffrey glanced at Ilse snoozing next to him in the window seat. Then he gazed out as the New York City skyline loomed gradually larger. Their train was running late. It was already well past noon, and they were only now approaching Manhattan. Jeffrey was starving — the snack bar car had run out of everything hours ago, in large part because of food shortages nationwide.

After Jeffrey’s train entered the railroad tunnel under New York’s East River, the lights went out and the engineer braked to a halt. The powerless electric locomotive had to be pulled the rest of the way into Penn Station by a noisy, smelly diesel switching engine. Jeffrey found it strange that in the station, though the trains sitting on every track were dark and empty, the platforms were well lit.

Jeffrey looked up as a conductor came through the car. He told everybody to get off the train. Jeffrey nudged Ilse gently. She stirred.

Like all the other passengers, Jeffrey and Ilse grabbed their coats and luggage and gas-mask satchels, and took the stairs to the waiting room. It was wall-to-wall people, passing rumors and complaining, a continuous babbling din. Every train on the schedule board read DELAYED INDEFINITELY.

The stationmaster came on the loudspeakers. He said the railroad’s power and signals and switching systems in the entire northeast had suffered a massive Axis information-warfare attack. It would take hours to restore service. Computer programs had failed in a cascade, and it was complicated to find and then stamp out the viruses and test everything — and safety had to come first. He said that a USO club was in Times Square, not far. All passengers should report back to the station by 9 P.M.

Jeffrey heard a collective groan from the crowds in the station. No rail disruption this extensive, especially one triggered by the enemy, had happened in the U.S. homeland since the outbreak of the war. It was headline news, and unwelcome news. Jeffrey expected ground travel everywhere — from the nation’s capital, through Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, and all the way toward Boston — would be a mess well into tomorrow.