My Only One (6 page)

“Of course,” Abby murmured. She placed the heavy envelope across her lap, having the distinct feeling that Denisov would have preferred her to open it and share the contents in front of him, but she resisted. “Would it be possible for Captain Rostov to go over the information with me after breakfast?”

Beaming, Denisov nodded. “Excellent idea, Dr. Fielding. Excellent idea.”

* * *

I
N ANOTHER STAFF ROOM AFTER
the meal, Alec sat down with Abby. The coast of Kodiak Island was clearly in sight now, and by tomorrow morning, the
Udaloy
would arrive at the twelve-mile limit of U.S. coastal waters. It was Abby’s understanding that a Coast Guard helicopter would land on the
Udaloy,
pick up her and Alec, and fly them directly to Anchorage for the press conference at noon.

Although the hatch to the small room was shut and no sound could be heard, Alec didn’t trust the room not to be bugged. Taking out a pen and paper from the breast pocket of his dark blue uniform blouse, he scribbled a note and placed it in front of Abby.

Frowning, Abby nodded. She watched as Alec took the note and placed it in a pocket. She quickly shook out the contents of Tony’s envelope on the table before them.

“Oh, look!” Abby exclaimed, pleased. There was a color photo taken from the video Brad had shot of the Japanese ship bearing down on the
Argonaut.
The video had been flown to Kodiak Island by the long range Helix yesterday. The effort had been worth it. “Brad got some great shots!” she whispered excitedly, looking through the ten photos. “This is awesome. Simply awesome!”

“‘Awesome’?”

Looking up, Abby realized the word confounded Alec. “It’s a slang phrase we use in America. We seem to go through certain words in our culture every decade. In the sixties, it was
groovy
and
far out.
Today it’s
awesome.
Do you go through phrases like that in Russia?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Abby wanted to say that so far, all the men she’d met from the Soviet Union had very little to say—ever. She wondered why. Was it the brooding tenor of Communism that had forced them to all behave in such a low-key manner? Returning her attention to the articles, Abby noticed several newspaper clippings that Tony had copied for her. “Take a look at these, Alec.” She rapidly scanned several articles. “You’re a hero in every major newspaper in the U.S.! Just look at these!”

For the next half hour, Alec poured over the mound of newspaper articles. In amazement, he glanced at Abby. “This is simply incredible.”

She grinned happily. “If it will get my whales this kind of attention, I’d do it all over again.”

Cocking his head, Alec studied her. The room was stuffy. “Would you like some fresh air?”

Abby immediately caught his inference. “I’d love some. I need my daily exercise anyway.” Every day they took a stroll out on the deck of the destroyer, if the weather cooperated. Alec shrugged into his dark blue parka and settled the trooper cap of the same color on his head. Abby quickly retrieved her cranberry-colored wool jacket and white scarf.

Out on the deck of the
Udaloy,
the morning sun was shining brightly across the gray-green Bering Sea. The weather had held up surprisingly well for the entire week, but the sea was confused this morning, so Alec kept a hold on Abby’s elbow as he guided her out onto the helicopter landing pad. It was the best place to talk privately.

The wind had a decided bite to it, and Abby brought the collar up to protect her neck. She scrunched her hands deep into her pockets. From the fantail she could easily see the
Argonaut
in tow, and her three friends up on the small glass-enclosed bridge. Waving energetically to them, Abby saw them all return her greeting. It was impossible to visit them while the trawler was in tow, so she had to be content with waving to them.

“Your friends miss you,” Alec observed as they came to a halt and stood together on the center of the landing pad area.

“I miss them. John and I have done a lot of whale protecting from that old salmon trawler of his over the last three years. The SOWF funds pay for his gas, but John volunteers his time.” She looked up at Alec’s square-jawed face, those dark brown eyes upon her. It sent a ribbon of warmth through Abby. She liked the gentle light she saw in Alec’s thoughtful gaze.

“Why did you write that note to me?”

He shifted and stood close to Abby, the destroyer constantly rolling from side to side or pitching up and down. Although the waves were only three to four feet in height, the destroyer could hit waves going in a different direction or a rogue wave many times higher, and Abby might lose her balance and fall. “Because most of the rooms are bugged.”

“Oh….”

With a grimace, Alec said, “We have KGB agents aboard and no one knows who they are. We must watch what we say at all times, I think, when it comes to discussing the forthcoming press conference.”

She grinned. “Good thing I didn’t say anything about those greasy sausages or potatoes I got three mornings in a row, then.”

Alec’s laugh was full and resonant. “I’m glad you didn’t. Captain Denisov wanted everything perfect for you. He had finally realized you’re a vegetarian and you won’t eat the meat, no matter how prized it is to us. The Captain has taken it in good stride, though. I’m glad our cooks found some rice for you, otherwise you might have starved to death on cabbage soup and black bread.” His smile deepened as he absorbed Abby’s flushed features into his heart. She was so alive, so incredibly spontaneous compared to the women of the Soviet Union. “In all truth, most of us are forced into being vegetarians because there is so little meat available in our country.”

“You make vegetarianism sound like a bread-and-water prison sentence,” Abby said with a laugh, “and it isn’t. Actually, I’ve enjoyed your black bread, just as I’ve enjoyed being with the crew and having our spirited talks at the breakfast table. But you’ve been evading me all week,” she teased him. “I know so little about you personally, Alec. From what Tony’s letter said, we’ll be spending a week together in Anchorage. Couldn’t you tell me a little bit more about yourself?”

Caught up in her enthusiasm, he nodded. “I didn’t mean not to talk about myself, but I think Soviets remain like a closed book because of their fear of the KGB network of spies. I’ll try, over the next day, to give you more personal vignettes about myself.” He frowned. “I’m looking forward to the experience, but I hope my English is good enough so that I don’t embarrass us with your press.”

“Your English is flawless. In fact, far better than mine.” She turned and faced him, the salt air invigorating, the wind whipping around them. “So, tell me about yourself. Everything!”

The destroyer pitched, and Alec automatically reached out, his fingers wrapping around her arm. Abby moved closer to him, and he felt a powerful need to protect her, even though he knew she was fully capable of taking care of herself. Although, Alec reminded himself, Abby had a decided reckless streak when it came to protecting her whales.

“I was born and raised in Moscow thirty years ago. My parents are both medical doctors who work in a hospital in the same city. My mother, Darya Rostov, is a pediatrician. My father, Konstantin Rostov, is a brilliant cardiac surgeon. When I entered the university, I majored in mathematics with a minor in communications. I also took four years of English because of my minor, and it has proven a good thing. It has given me assignments where an English-speaking officer has been needed.” He looked down at her rapt features. “I knew I had to spend time in the military, so I selected the navy. After three years, I had fallen in love with the ocean, so I’ve chosen to remain as a navigation officer. I just recently left the Baltic Sea Command and was transferred here to the Bering area.”

“Any brothers or sisters?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t have any, either.”

“We’re alike in several ways. You are a marine biologist who loves the sea, and we are the only children in a marriage.”

“I think that’s why I’m so bullheaded about what I do,” Abby said with a slight smile. “My father is a cetacean scientist who works at Scripps Oceanographic Institute near San Diego. My mother has a degree in biology, but she’s very active in women’s-rights issues. She’s a lobbyist, and her main concerns are for single, divorced mothers raising a family, adequate day-care for their children and equal-rights issues.”

“Lobbyist?”

“That’s a person whose job it is to persuade our senators and congressman to vote in favor of the issues for which the lobbyist advocates,” Abby explained.

“Are you a lobbyist, then, for whale issues?”

“No, although environmental organizations use my knowledge and my name when they go before Congress to push for enforcement of the Pelly and Magnuson Amendments. Sometimes I’m called to testify before a House or Senate hearing regarding endangered whale species such as the humpback and minke whales.” Her eyebrows lowered. “And I’ve got my detractors on the Hill. Dr. Monica Turner, an assistant from the State Department, hates me on sight. She’s probably rolling her eyes over all the press attention your rescue of me has gotten. Actually, it’s probably jealousy more than anything. Dr. Turner has the ear of President Reagan, and she’s antiwhale. She and I have locked horns before. Her negative whale stance is well-known, and Reaganomics doesn’t exactly favor protecting anything environmental, believe me,” Abby said grimly. “So, it’s always an uphill battle with Congress to persuade them how real the danger is, not only to certain whale species but to dolphins.”

“Well,” Alec said in a hopeful tone, “you will get your chance to see the American public on your side of this issue when we get to Anchorage.”

“For being a Soviet, you very astutely see the problems and possible answers,” Abby told him, impressed with his intelligent assessment.

With a chuckle, Alec said, “I don’t think it has anything to do with the country in which one is born, but rather, a sensitivity and awareness that politics is a part of the fabric of everyone’s life—whether we like it or not.”

Suddenly, Abby was thrilled as never before at the prospect of having Alec at her side during the week in Anchorage. “You do know I live in Anchorage part-time, don’t you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“When the whales come up from Baja, Mexico, every spring, I live in Alaska and try to protect them while they feed in the Bering and Chuckhi seas. From November through January, I live in my other apartment near Washington, D.C., where I work with SOWF lobbyists and do a lot of political work on behalf of the whales and dolphins. Then, in late January through April, I’m down in the Baja, Mexico area doing research on humpbacks at their breeding and calving ground off the Rivillagigedo Islands, or on the gray whales off the lagoons of Baja. Next January, I’ll be working with several distinguished marine biologists from other worldwide scientific organizations in the San Ignacio Lagoon off Baja, filming gray whales giving birth. We’ll all be staying on the science ship
Seafarer.
”

“You’re a very busy person,” he said, “but I like your commitment. You don’t just give words to what you care about, you actually go out there and do something about it.”

Abby grinned. “The story of my life, Alec. I’m always up to my red hair in trouble of some sort because of my whales.”

He laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me. I must see your apartment in Anchorage, though, because I want to compare it to our way of life in the Soviet Union.”

“Not only will you see it,” she promised him seriously, “I intend to make you some home-cooked meals. Real American food. Well, actually, vegetarian or meat fare, but I promise, it will be good.”

Alec watched the hazy-blue land mass that was drawing closer and closer. It was Kodiak Island, the mountainous terrain covered with a rich cloak of verdant forest. His heart picked up in beat, not because of the beauty of what he saw, but because Abby, who was childlike in her enthusiasm, touched him as no other woman ever had. He smiled down at her.

“Home-cooked food is something I’ve had too little of,” he told her fervently.

“Well,” she added with a groan, “I’ll have to take you to McDonald’s, too. I want you to get a real slice of American life.”

“McDonald’s?”

“Yes, a very American fast-food chain of restaurants. You’ll love it since you’re an avid meat eater.”

“I’m sure I will, but I still want to know more about your whale-saving activities.”

With a laugh, Abby turned and faced him. “Don’t worry! I’ll probably bore you to death with information on them.” In the morning sunlight she was able to see the ruddiness in Alec’s cheeks, the wind whipping around them. The dark blue trooper cap he wore had a red-and-gold hammer-and-sickle insignia on the front. The rugged quality of his face had been shaped by the fierce and relentless ocean over a period of years. When the corners of his well-shaped mouth pulled upward, her heart pounded briefly in her breast, as if to underscore how handsome he was in her eyes.

“I have a friend in Moscow,” Alec told her, “someone high up in the Kremlin. The Soviet Union has already agreed to the ban on killing whales, and I feel my friend can be of help to us. How, I’m not sure, but if you’ll get me the information on your whales, I’ll make sure it’s passed on to him.”

“Who knows,” Abby said wistfully, “The Soviet Union might get more active as a result of this incident.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Alec said, “No one can any longer guess what the Kremlin will do. With General Secretary Gorbachev, the old way of life as we know it is rapidly changing.”

“I hope he’s a whale lover,” Abby said fiercely under her breath. “We can use another powerful nation on our side.”

With a laugh, Alec led her back toward the hatchway. It was freezing cold on deck and he realized that Abby was getting chilled by the way she was rubbing her hands together to keep them warm. “Come, let’s share some hot coffee, warm up, then get back to work on our Anchorage adventure.”