Read Online Ghostboat by George E. Simpson, Neal R. Burger - Free Book Online

Diminsky’s favorite phrases.
    The arguments bounced back and forth over ham and eggs, toast, and four cups of coffee each. And ended with them no closer in spirit Finally, however, Admiral Diminsky succumbed to the sheer force of Frank’s persistence. “All right... I’m returning to Washington tonight. I’ll go to the head office tomorrow morning and present the plan to Smitty.”
    Frank gazed at him balefully. He knew what Diminsky would do: corner Smitty, give him the facts—and simplify everything. But it was better than nothing. Frank knew he had loused things up with the admiral through his own unrelenting abrasiveness.  
    Shortly before noon, Frank contacted Captain Walters himself, bypassing Cook.
    Walters cackled over the phone, “God, I’d like to be there with her. To me, she’s magic.”
    Frank had to give him a lengthy description of the Candlefish before he could ask, “Listen, Walters, we need that information now. The official reports on Two eighty-four. The investigations, Board of Inquiry findings... What’s the holdup?”
    “The Submarine people. They want to go over it first. Our people, Ed. They screen everything.”
    “Well, tell them it’s going to me, Eyes Only.”
    There was a silence at the other end, and Frank knew he was pressing too hard. Walters was a good man, and if he had run up against a brick wall, it had to be a real brick wall. “Walters—just let me know immediately if I’m not going to get any of that stuff. And look, if you can, shoot it out to me before noon tomorrow. Diminsky’s going back to Washington, and I don’t want it to wait around until he looks at it, because that’s another eight weeks.”
    “Okay, Ed.”
    Frank hung up. He couldn’t let Diminsky put a clamp on the whole thing before he got enough information to justify his case. Fucking politics! Frank slammed out of his office and went back down to the dock.
    He spent the rest of the afternoon walking the boat between the forward torpedo room and the aft section. The demolition experts were disarming the entire load of Mark 14 fish. The Candlefish had fired eight torpedoes her last time out.
    Frank mulled that figure over. Not a very successful patrol, considering that the aim of any submarine venture was to expend all torpedoes before coming home—but then, her journey had been interrupted...
    Frank joined a crew of technicians picking their way through the rubble in the forward engine room. All ship lights were on now; the batteries were charged and functioning fine.
    One of the technicians picked up a length of twisted pipe and held it out for the others to see. “I don’t get what happened here. These lines just expanded from heat until they blew. How could they get so hot?”
    The men groped under machinery and in bunks for bits and pieces of wreckage. They slogged through the oily debris on deck and gathered around main engine number one, wedged up against the hatchway, trying to figure out how the thing had burst its mountings. Finally Frank pointed at it and said quietly, “We’ll want to get that back into shape.”
    One of the men looked at him in amazement and croaked: “Why?”
    “We might want to take her out for a little spin.”
     
    Frank headed for the pantry, which was located forward of officers’ country. He found three men already there, poring through the piles of packaged and canned goods. Frank inspected the unfamiliar labels on the cans. Everything dated from World War II.
    In the galley they found perishable foods, all of it fresh and new. One of the technicians held up a loaf of bread and, squeezing it, remarked: “Could’ve been baked last night.”
    Another man came up the ladder from the below-deck icebox, carrying frozen meats under his arm. “Most remarkable case of preservation I ever saw. Anybody care for a steak?”
    Frank stepped in and gruffly ordered, “Get all that stuff out of here—all the perishables.”
    He went back to officers’ country and