With its small complement of five hundred service members, the Naval Computer and Telecommunications Area Master Station was situated three miles inland of Pearl Harbor, roughly at the island’s center. Its stated mission was to provide command, control, communications, computers and intelligence to all naval, joint, agency and coalition forces afloat and ashore in the Pacific and Indian Oceans’ areas of operation.

NCTAMS PAC had many outlying departments across the island. These relied on six fiber-optic landing stations along the coast from which tens of thousands of miles of underwater cable, shared by civilian telecoms and the Navy, rose up from the depths.

Outside Honolulu Harbor’s main channel now, a pair of tugs made fast their towlines to the Lucky Gift and escorted the giant ship toward its berth in the island’s foreign trade zone. There it slotted in across the inlet from the Sand Island breakwater, dropping anchor alongside the long, concrete quay wall at Pier 2.

In his billet under the stern deck, Jochi took the equipment he expected to need from his locker, laid it across his mattress, then carefully assembled and organized it for his advance scouting expedition. He could hardly wait to be free of the ship. After weeks of idle confinement and periodic seasickness he felt bored, blunt and sluggish.

But that was about to change. The target had to be carefully reconnoitered, and there was no sense wasting time. Grigor would arrive within forty-eight hours. From that point on, things would rapidly accelerate.

Jochi took his safety vest and helmet off a hook and set them on the bed with his gear. He and a small group of his men would leave the ship as members of the cargo gang and avoid drawing attention to themselves.

They had slipped in under the Americans’ noses. Now they had to prepare for their mission.

12

Various Locales
April 19, 2024

New York

Carmody awoke on the couch with a start. Someone was shaking him. He raised his head and looked up into the dark.

Kali.

She stood there leaning over him, a hand on his arm.

“Something wrong?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m in the system.”

“Seven Winds?”

“Yes.”

“How deep?”

“As deep as we need to go,” she said. “I think I’ve found what you wanted.”

He sat up and massaged the back of his neck.

“What time is it?”

“Four in the morning.”

“Early bird,” he said. “So what’s wrong?”

“It was too easy,” she said.

“I love you, mittha.”

“Love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, phula.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

“And don’t forget...”

“Call you from home after the bus drops us off!”

Musil stood on the sidewalk outside his Acura, sending a bright, white smile to the girls as they bubbled with laughter. He saw sparks of their mother’s playful humor in their eyes.

“You know your dad too well,” he said.

“You think?” Raysa said and glanced at her older sister.