Chapter 3: (v.3) Chapter 3

June, 2043

San Diego, California

Staff housing

Twenty-seven-year-old Eileen Kemper sat at the study desk in her tiny apartment. She frowned as she tried to make sense of a submittal she’d received from a student. She never enjoyed evaluation students she mentored as it always seemed self-promotional. If she passed everyone, her self-esteem rose.

It was a problem she’d dealt with since her appointment as a graduate tutor.

“This sucks,” she said, sliding the pile of papers aside, she went to to the refrigerator for a beer. “For once, I’d like a clear, concise statement of purpose from just one paper.”

She was sure that many of the works before her were cribbed or paraphrased from other articles. One student had attempted flattery by restating an older paper submitted by herself.

After moving to her lounging chair and shifting her feet to the coffee table, she reflected on her rise through the academic ranks.

To attain presentable grades had been a struggle. She’d faced constant distractions as dates, field trips, vacations, and one rather torrid love affair interfered. The last ended badly. It hadn’t been his fault. She was too driven, and it had forced him away.

Over the years of hard work, heavy schedule of classes, and nose to the academic grindstone, she at least kept in touch with Martin Hendrick. He mentored her and had provided the much-needed friendship of someone already involved in Oceanography, albeit not as deeply as Eileen.

Just this fall, during one of their phone conversations, Martin had said, “Charles has done his best to convince me to run for President now that he’s about to step down. What do you think?”

“I’m flattered you’d ask me, Martin. I can’t imagine a more fitting move for you than to be elected president.”

“Whoa there, kiddo. This is just an initial musing. I’d have a long way to go.”

“True. But think of the potential support from the scientific and environmental groups. Those alone would be worth a great deal of votes. Your own office promoted its causes many times in Congress. It would be a fitting payback. And I’d be happy to work on your behalf out here.”

“That’s surely something to think about. A lot of kinks must be ironed out before I announce—if I do.”

One month later, Martin Hendrick proclaimed his candidacy for President of the United States. That same day, Eileen began her own campaign for support among the students and faculty of the university and the surrounding area. It exhausted her, but when they counted the last ballots and Martin won the 2044 election, she felt immense joy.

On January 20, 2045, Eileen and her coworkers watched Martin Hendrick’s inauguration as the President of the United States on television.

Although invited, she’d watched it on television, surrounded by co-supporters. A fitting start for the new administration.

That evening, she and Martin spent a pleasurable fifteen minutes on the phone reminiscing about their friendship. His last comment, “I promised to help the scientific community as best I could, and I will. If there’s something you need, and I can provide it, contact me.”

“I’ll remember that, Martin . . . ah, Mister President.”

Laughing, they ended their call.

Eileen took a swig from her beer, wrinkled her nose, set it back down on the coaster, and released a long satisfying sigh at the memory.

More recently, she recalled her efforts to help get Martin re-elected for a second term. Despite high expectations, his opponent’s vote count didn’t match the polls. Although a close race, he once again secured the highest office of the land.

On January 20, 2049, President Hendrick recited the oath on a blustery, snowbound day, ready to begin his second term.

Eileen was elated when he paused his busy schedule to phone her, this time from the Oval Office. After exchanging pleasantries, he extended an invitation for her to visit with the First Family in their residence. She quickly accepted. His social secretary came on the line and settled travel arrangements, booking her into the Blair House, a plush hotel for guests of the White House.

Two weeks later, Eileen flew into Washington, D.C. on an uncommonly mild day in February. She had her phone out, running a greeter application. It pinged and an arrow pointed to a man in a charcoal gray suit whose face matched the one displayed. After angling his way, dragging her wheeled suitcase, she waved her hand as she spotted the coiled ivory cord running up his neck to his ear. Undoubtedly Secret Service.

“Hi, I’m Eileen Kemper. Are you from the White House?” She’d said it louder than normal, causing several heads to turn, making her smile inwardly.

With a slight grin, he played along at the same volume. “Yes, ma’am. May I see some ID?”

Eileen produced her driver’s license, which the man compared to a paper in his left hand. Nodding, he handed the identification back, lifted his arm, and spoke into his sleeve. “Leaving.” He parted the crowd with an outstretched palm so she could pass through the congested area.

Outside, at the curb with the back door open, a large black Chevrolet SUV stood. A police officer engaged in conversation with the driver as she and the stolid man approached. He assisted her inside, then took the handle of her luggage and towed it to the rear of the vehicle. The hatch popped open, and he laid the bag to rest before closing it. Seconds later, he sat beside her on the bench seat.

“To the cottage,” the agent told the driver.

Eileen wrinkled her brow in confusion. “I thought we were going to the Blair House.”

“No. Not just yet.”

“Oh.”

As Eileen sank into the soft seat, she began to unwind. It had been a bumpy flight as the aircraft dodged storm cells over the Rockies and again as they neared West Virginia. The smooth and restful car ride eased her tension.

She gave him a playful sideways glance. “Are you allowed to tell me your name?”

“Ben.”

Conversation faded at that point when she realized she’d get nothing more out of him. He embodied the traditions of the “silent” service.

As they approached the White House, the driver slowed while the guard pushed a button and the round steel bollards retracted into the pavement, allowing the vehicle to pass over them. She assumed they had probably expected her arrival.

The vehicle pulled into the portico, where a Marine in dress uniform stepped forward and opened her door, allowing her to step to the pavement. “Thank you,” she said to the expressionless face.

Once inside and divested of bulky outerwear, the agent escorted her past a uniformed guard standing next to an overly large doorframe then through a bewildering maze of hallways and stairs. Another man in a dark suit stood by a set of double doors. He stopped them, turned, and tapped lightly on the right side.

Martin Hendrick, President of the United States, personally opened the door and flung it wide. “Welcome to our humble abode, Eileen. It’s been a long time. Nice to see you in person again.”

With a grin she couldn’t erase if she’d tried, she greeted her friend and mentor with a tentative hug. “So very long, sir.”

He hugged back. “Martin, please. You’re among friends here.”

He turned to his wife. “You remember Betty, don’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Eileen shook the woman’s hand. “Nice to see you again.”

Martin gestured with a sweep of his open hand. “Have a seat and tell us all about your newest research. I hear good things about your work.”

They chatted like the old friends they were for the better part of an hour, interrupted only once by a tap on the door and a hushed conference. Dinner was ready.

“We’re having pot roast tonight,” Betty said. “Nothing fancy. Martin insisted.”

“I’m sure it will be great.”

After their excellent meal, Martin led Eileen into his study and settled her into an armchair before he himself sat.

The room exuded an aura of homeyness with a touch of power. To her left, Martin’s “I love me” wall, as they were called, featured pictures of him with various lawmakers and constituents. Earlier photos of him as a naval officer hung there as well.

“To get to the point of my asking you to make this trip, I have a trial balloon I’d like to send up to see if you salute—to mix metaphors. It involves a project you yourself worked on in high school. Deepsea.”

Eileen leaned forward, eyes fastened on her friend’s face.

“I’ve put your name forward to head a project which might, as a side benefit, allow you more insight into your father’s loss. It will mean a lot of hard work but nothing I feel would tax you too heavily. It also means a bit of sea duty.”

“Can’t wait to hear the rest . . . Martin.” She giggled. “I’m still getting used to calling you by your first name, now that you’re president.”

“I can appreciate that, believe me.” He paused a moment. “Several months ago, there were some anomalous readings from a few of our undersea devices. Elevated temperatures, for one thing. More than the norm for that area. Currents changed direction, but not by much. I’m even getting reports from my intelligence agencies about what they classify as mechanical noises.”

Eileen tilted her head. “Mechanical?”

“Yes. I’ve heard the tapes. One of them sounded like a truckload of scrap iron dropped on a concrete floor. That, more than anything, piqued my interest.”

“Do you know what depth?”

“That’s being worked on. All we can tell is they are coming from below crush depth of our platforms.”

“You mean subs?”

He nodded. “Along with a lot of little things, there is certainly something worth investigating. Would you like to investigate this mystery? If you’re able to get away from the university, that is. I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“Sounds more like a job for the navy than me, a civilian.”

“My advisors say, if we show too much official interest in the area, others might want to as well. A civilian, as you suggest, might not raise any red flags. You game?”

“Frankly, I was getting a little discouraged with my current duties out there. I knew intellectually they’re important to the students I mentor, but I sensed there was something much larger out there. And now, apparently, here it is. What would my responsibilities be?”

“Eileen, I want you to head the entire shebang. You’ll run the Research Department, which puts you in charge of the civilian staff of the MV Wanderer. Newly commissioned, she’s got all the latest electronics suitable for underwater exploration. Your task would be to investigate what’s happening at the bottom of the sea. Incidentally, I fully support any effort you might give toward finding out what happened to your dad.”

Stunned by her friend’s appeal, Eileen said nothing in response. Rapid thoughts flew through her head, touching on such things as who in the university could take over her duties while she assumed the open-ended possibilities just offered to her.

At last she found her voice. “A breathtaking offer. I really don’t know what to say.”

“Please accept and make an old friend happy. I know I’m pressuring you, but you’re free to decline my offer.”

With a wide smile spreading across her face, Eileen leaped to her feet, walked over to her mentor, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I accept!” Blushing, she backed away and retook her seat. “Oops. Sorry about that.”

He waved her apology aside. “Wonderful!” He turned and pulled a thick binder from a recess on his desk and handed it to her. “Here are the briefing notes for the project. Look them over and see if there are any glitches that need straightening out. The ship sails from San Diego this April nineteenth, so time is of the essence. I’d have ordered the mission earlier, but some electronics haven’t been delivered as yet. One of your tasks is to ensure the contractors finish before the sailing date. If not, they’ll need technicians to go with you.”

“I can handle that.”

“Another thing. There will be a military presence on this voyage. Congress insisted on it as we don’t know exactly what’s causing this.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You mean some other country might be up to something?” She became serious. “This is kind of out of my league.”

He held up a hand. “Not really. But it never hurts to have a few Marines around to back you up.” He chuckled. “To quote Fats Waller: ‘One never knows, do one?’”

“Yeah. I suppose.”

They both laughed, stood, and rejoined the first lady.

The rest of her visit with the President went exceedingly well. They discussed her task further, providing more information and highlighting any potential obstacles she may face. By the time she left that evening, Eileen knew she was ready for her life’s next big undertaking: investigate the mystery of the disturbance under the sea, and in addition, discover what had happened to her father.