Ghostboat Read Online Free Page A

working hours, but not before dawn on a Saturday.
    “You better have a good reason,” growled Frank.
    “I do. We have a little submarine situation. Follow me.” He led the way to the escalators, and they glided up to the third floor in silence.
    Frank waited patiently. This was a little game they played: Cook in possession of vital national secrets and Frank obliged to pry them out of him like sardines from a can. Cook was young and sharp and assigned to the Naval Investigative Service because he had zeal, brains, and big ears. He was twenty-eight years old, quick, efficient, dedicated, and sometimes a downright pain in the ass.
    Finally Frank broke the silence. “What submarine situation?”
    “A sub surfaced in the Pacific a couple of hours ago about six hundred miles northwest of Pearl Harbor.”
    “So what?”
    “She broached right in front of a Japanese freighter. Scared the hell out of her captain. He got on the line to his people, and they got on the line to ours, and then everybody got on the line to us.”
    “Who called you?”
    “Somebody in the State Department.”  
    “Anybody I know?”
    “Somebody from Henry the K.”
    Frank grunted, then spread his hands. “What’s so earthshaking about a submarine?”
    They stepped off on the third floor and went on down the angular halls. “No identification,” mumbled Cook.  
    “What are you talking about? Is she ours?”
    “Yes. Seems to be one of our fleet types. But there are no markings.”
    “None at all?”
    Cook shook his head. “That’s what the telex said.” They arrived at Room 3012, and Cook unlocked the door marked NAVAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE.
    “Let me see the telex,” demanded Frank.
    Cook swung open the door and paused to pull a rumpled cable from his shirt pocket. Frank spread it open and turned on a wall switch. A large office sprang to life. Fluorescent tubes lit up reception desks, partitioned cubicles, and the telex.
     
    COMSUBPAC
    P050221Z OCT 24
    FROM COMSUBPAC TO COMNIS WASH DC
     
    CDR JAPANESE CLASS 5 FRTR SHIMUI MARU POSIT 34-56N 149-12W COURSE 0B4 SPEED 4 DEST SAN FRAN REPORTS UNIDENT SUB SURFACED 0124 HRS BEARING 000 POSIT ANGLE 90 STOP SUB HAILED NO RESPONSE STOP NO RADIO CONTACT STOP SUB UNCONFIRMED USN FLEET STOP ADVISED STATE DEPT AT REQ JAPANESE ADMIRALTY STOP SITUAHON VERY HOT ADVISE ACTION STOP
     
    “This doesn’t say anything about markings.”
    “No,” said Cook, leading the way back toward their cubicles, “that must have been in the phone call.”
    “From Henry the K?”
    “You betcha. And the one from DOD, and the one from SubPac, even.”
    “By George, you have been busy.” If the Submarine Force was already involved— and the Department of Defense—who was going to listen to the NIS?
    Cook opened one of the glass-partitioned cubicles and let Frank pass through first. “I’ve got a pot of coffee going, Ed. Maybe you’d like some.”
    “Yeah.”
    Cook went to an adjoining cubicle. Frank sat behind his desk and stared at the telex. An unidentified United States fleet boat pops up and scares the hell out of some Japs? Why no markings? Why no response to the radio?
    “Cook!”
    “Yessir?”
    “What the hell is SubPac doing about that boat?”
    Cook walked back in with two cups of coffee and sat down opposite Frank. “Defense Intelligence Command has scrambled a recon from Pearl. There’s a carrier in the area, about a hundred miles away, and they’re sending up a chopper to take pictures. Should be coming over the wire shortly. I called in our photo division and they’re standing by downstairs. That’s where I was when you came in.”
    “Have any units tried to make contact with this sub?”
    “Every U.S. ship within two hundred miles.” Cook sipped his coffee and made a face.  
    Frank frowned and glanced over at the framed picture of Joanne. She smiled back at him. “What about the Japanese freighter—the Shimui Maru? Is she still in the area?”
    “They wanted to get the hell out