"Absolutely."
Sharpe leaned forward, his posture that of a hound straining to leap after prey. "Can you tell who did it?"
Rose shook his head, his face unhappy. "No.
That's
impossible. There were about thirty people logged on during that time period, but since it's real easy to use someone else's password and access, that doesn't really narrow it down."
"Then we can't rule out anybody on the ship," Sharpe noted with clear disgust.
"Maybe not. What time was that fire?"
Paul answered, the time burned into his brain. "The alarm sounded at 1922."
"Okay, then, you can rule out one suspect." Rose pointed to his display once more. "The line that contains the hack program designer's name also gets a time stamp put on it. According to that, this data base got hacked at 2235 that night."
Sharpe shook his head. "So?"
Paul answered. "That means the data base was hacked over three hours after Chief Asher died, right, Warrant?"
"Right. Whatever else that chief did, he sure didn't mess up this data. Somebody else did that. For certain."
Paul didn't want to think about it, didn't want to consider what he'd have to do.
The investigation is completed, the case closed. Nobody got their heads handed to them. Granted, I didn't come out too well for reasons I don't understand, but given that a sailor died and the ship took extensive damage to Forward Engineering, the lack of specific wrongdoing by anyone was a welcome finding to everyone. But now it looks like that finding was wrong. Somebody did do something, something that worried them enough to cause them to hack that data base to wipe out anything that might point to them. Did they cause Chief Asher's death? Or did they just make a mistake that contributed to it? And if I bring this up, will
anyone
thank me
?
He remembered something, then, words once spoken to him by Commander Herdez after another shipboard accident had claimed the life of Petty Officer Davidas in Carl Meadows' division. That had been an unavoidable accident, with no one at fault, but Herdez had bluntly told Paul that had Carl been at fault, it would have been their duty to hold Carl accountable because the sailor's sacrifice demanded no less.
And she was right. Still is right, for that matter. Chief Asher's dead. It looks like somebody played enough of a role in that to want to destroy the evidence. Well, Chief, I couldn't help you escape that fire, but I can sure as hell make sure anyone involved in causing it and your death gets brought to account
.
Paul suddenly became aware both Warrant Rose and Ivan Sharpe were watching him intently. "I'm sorry. Did someone ask me something?"
The Warrant shook his head. "No. I think we're just wondering what you're going to do, Lieutenant."
"It's not like I have a choice, Warrant. Make a copy of that evidence, please, and I'd appreciate a formal report from you on what you found."
"Sure. Can I ask what you're going to do with it?"
"Take it to the captain. He needs to know this."
Rose nodded, smiling grimly. "That he does. I'll write it up here for you. Just give me a few minutes."
"No problem. Hand it to the Sheriff when you're done. I need to check some references in my stateroom."
Paul started out of Combat, pausing as Sharpe held a hand before him. "Thanks again, Mr. Sinclair."
"For what, Sheriff? Like I said, I don't have a choice."
"Yes, you do, sir. And in my book you made the right one."
Less than an hour later, Warrant Officer Rose's report in one hand, Paul waited in the line outside of the captain's stateroom. A line almost always existed there, as officers waited to get messages approved or to deliver personal reports the captain had requested, as enlisted brought by other routine reports which still required the captain's okay, and as those seeking approval or orders waited for their turn to plead or explain their case. Paul tried not to let any nervousness show, his experience on the bridge helping a great deal in that effort. One of the first things he'd learned was the need to project calm and certainty. As long as you sounded like you knew exactly what you were doing, everybody else tended to believe you did as well.
The last supplicant before Paul left through the hatch. "The captain says to go right in, sir."
"Thanks." Paul stepped through the hatch. "Sir, request permission for a private conference."
Captain Hayes examined Paul closely, then nodded. "Very well. Close the hatch. Take a seat."
Paul did both, sitting as erect as possible, as if he were still at attention even when seated.
Hayes looked at Paul, his eyes sharp. "What private issue brings you here, Mr. Sinclair?"
"Sir, I . . . I . . ."
"Spit it out, mister."
"Sir, I have reason to believe the investigation into the fire onboard the USS
Michaelson
missed important information."
Hayes leaned back, his face now questioning. "Is this some sort of personal appraisal? I think you got a bit of a raw deal in that investigation, Paul, but nobody wanted to go to the mat to change those findings about a junior officer. I did try."
"Thank you, sir. And no, sir. There's evidence involved." Paul let his distress show for a moment. "Serious evidence."
Captain Hayes leaned forward. "Talk to me. What've you got? Any hard evidence, or just speculation about it?"
Paul spoke cautiously, aware of the stakes in what he was saying and how he said it. "I had a computer expert check the engineering maintenance logs. He said they'd been hacked. Not damaged in the accident, but deliberately hacked."
Hayes' eyes narrowed. "The investigation reported they couldn't find any evidence of what'd caused the data loss in those logs. Who's this expert of yours?"
"Chief Warrant Officer Rose, sir."
"Bob Rose? From Fleet Staff?"
"Yes, sir."
Hayes rubbed his forehead with the fingertips of his right hand. "I know Rose. He's good. Very good. He says the logs were hacked?"
"Yes, sir. He's willing to swear to it." Paul held out the report Rose had prepared. "He gave me this."
Hayes read swiftly, his eyes darting back and forth. "Not just gun-decking to falsify data. Deliberate destruction of data. Damn. What else have you got?"
"The only other thing at this point is Petty Officer Sharpe, sir. He says Asher was mad that morning, and said something about 'just do it.' Sharpe thinks Chief Asher had been told to do something Asher didn't like."
"I don't remember seeing anything like that in the investigation report."
"Sharpe says he turned in a sworn statement, sir. But it's not listed in the attachments to the investigation, and there's no copy of it there."
"You think Captain Shen concealed it?"
"No, sir. That's not my impression of Captain Shen. I think Captain Shen never saw that statement. He didn't call Sharpe in for an interview , and he surely would've done that if he was aware Sharpe knew something."
"Sharpe's a cocky son-of-a-bitch, but he's also a good sailor." Hayes stood up, pacing back and forth within the small confines of his cabin. "A very good cop, too. He's got good instincts." The captain stopped pacing and focused on Paul. "And you're not Admiral Spruance, but you're also not a fool. What's the bottom line here, Mr. Sinclair? You're talking about the investigation being deliberately impeded, aren't you? To ensure it wouldn't reach the correct conclusions."
"Yes, sir. I think there's a chance that may have happened."
Hayes stared at the bulkhead above Paul's head. "The investigation results have already been officially approved. That means a lot of heavy-weights have signed off on them and attested to their accuracy."
"Yes, sir."
"And you and I are both aware of the personal issues involved regarding Lieutenant Silver. I was informally made aware that Vice Admiral Silver was following events."
"That's . . . that's illegal, sir."
"It is if there's any record of it, Mr. Sinclair. In any event, that investigation gave Lieutenant Silver a clean bill of health."
"Yes, sir."
"But he was also Chief Asher's division officer. The Main Propulsion Assistant. That was Silver's equipment in Forward Engineering. But you don't have any evidence implicating Silver?"
Paul shook his head to emphasize his reply. "No, sir. At this point, it implicates no particular individual. I have no idea who might be involved, either in misleading the investigation or possibly in the original accident."
Hayes nodded, his face pensive. "There's an awful lot of people who would be very unhappy to have the results of that investigation questioned. Even I might suffer if a reinvestigation finds me at fault."
"Yes, sir."
Hayes locked his gaze back on Paul. "But I'm captain of this ship. One of my sailors died. And, if your suspicions are right, at least one of my crew lied or falsified evidence. I have to be able to trust my crew, Mr. Sinclair." He sat down slowly, then gave Paul a sidelong look. "You and Petty Officer Sharpe keep looking. Quietly. Have you ever gone hunting, Mr. Sinclair?"
"Uh, no, sir. Not really."
"The first rule is not to make a lot of noise or fuss. Because if you do, whatever you're hunting is going to hide. So you don't make a lot of noise, Mr. Sinclair. Keep it quiet. Check out these things that don't add up. If it turns out to be nothing, or nothing you can substantiate, I want you to tell me that as soon as you're comfortable with that conclusion. If you find something more, I want to know that, too."
"And if anyone questions what I'm doing, sir?"
"Refer them to me. That's not a blank check. Act with discretion and forethought. If I hear you're running around like a loose cannon, I'll come down on you like a ton of bricks and you'll wish you'd never started this.
Comprende?
"
"Yes, sir."
"But if you're on the track of something important, I'll back you." Hayes smiled without humor. "Here's your chance to prove the quality of your professional judgment, Mr. Sinclair."
And if I'm wrong, the chance to drop-kick my career out of the nearest airlock
. "Yes, sir."
"If you're right, if you find that evidence, then we'll make noise, Mr. Sinclair. We'll flush our prey and nail him or her to the bulkhead." Hayes' face flushed slightly, his mouth a thin, tight line. "Accidents happen. They're an ugly fact of life. But if someone caused this one, and if someone covered up their involvement, I want that someone off my ship and preferably out of the Navy."
Paul simply nodded back, unsure of the proper reply.
Hayes used one hand to indicate the hatch. "If that's all, Mr. Sinclair, we both have plenty of other things to do." He paused, causing Paul to hesitate in mid-reach for the hatch handle. "Quite frankly, I don't know whether I want you to be right or wrong about this."
"Sir, quite frankly, I don't know which I'd prefer, either."
Paul hadn't been in Forward Engineering since the night of the fire. It had changed a great deal since then. Once the investigators had gone over it carefully in search of evidence, the repair work had begun. Equipment damaged by the explosion, the fire, or the water used to put out the fire, had all been evaluated for repair or replacement. Wiring, cabling, control panels, ventilation, all the systems that made up the nerves and lungs of that compartment, were pulled or blocked off for replacement. The bulkheads, the deck and every other surface had been scrubbed clean of debris and tested for damage. During most hours of the day, the compartment resounded with a bedlam of work designed to get the USS
Michaelson
operational again as soon as possible. Right now, late at night, Forward Engineering was temporarily quiet and empty, except for Paul and his companion.
Paul glanced around. Even though the compartment had been cleaned and most of the damaged equipment removed, he still found himself uneasy. Something clattered off to one side where shipyard workers had been replacing damaged equipment, causing Paul to jerk around nervously. He reached the spot where he'd found Chief Asher's remains and stopped, staring downward.
"What's this about?" Colleen Kilgary asked. "Why'd you want me to meet you down here?"
Paul tore his eyes away from the spot and looked at her. "You were the main propulsion assistant on the ship until Scott Silver took over the job. I was wondering if you could help me with something."
Lieutenant Kilgary shrugged. "I couldn't help the investigation much, not that they asked me."
"Chief Asher's body was here, meaning he probably was working on something not too far away. The investigators reported the explosion occurred in the power transfer junction."
Kilgary pointed to an empty area nearby. "Yeah. That'd be here."
"Could Chief Asher have been working on that?"
"Alone? That wouldn't be like Chief Asher."
"Why not?"
"Because of the interlocks. The only way to work on stuff like the power transfer junction is to use two people, one to monitor the safeties and the other to do the job."
"So it's impossible with one person?"
"It's not impossible. You just have to shut-off the interlocks, which shuts down the safety monitors, which shuts down the fire - " Kilgary scowled. "The fire suppression systems."
"Asher could've done that?"
"No! He wasn't like that. But, yes, in theory somebody could've shut off all that stuff in order to work on something like the power transfer junction single-handed." She walked over to the spot the piece of equipment had occupied. "But it didn't need work, Paul. It wasn't on the casualty reporting system."
"You checked?"
"Of course I checked." Kilgary folded her arms, staring around with a stubborn expression. "I leave and within a month the leading chief dies and a major fire occurs. Of course I checked."
"I'm really sorry, Colleen."
"Why should you be sorry? You didn't do it, despite what that damned investigation says."
Paul nodded gratefully. "What would've happened if somebody did shut down all those interlocks? Wouldn't you get an alarm?"