THE UNEXPECTED, BUT THE SMALL THINGS MATTER

It was two weeks after their high school graduation. Best friends Erik and Jacques were spending their time doing landscaping at Jacques’ house. They had met nearly a year ago at a basketball game. Neither of them knew much about sports, but their friendship blossomed quickly. Jacques admired Erik because Erik knew a lot about history, especially European history, mainly because his family was directly involved in many current historical events. He was impressed with Erik’s library, which he had begun at age thirteen. Because of his vast historical knowledge, Erik often corrected his history teachers and helped his few friends on history reports. 

Outside school, both had similar interests. One was the United States Navy, specifically nuclear submarines. Erik spent most of his spare time reading and researching every kind of document published on the subject. Even better were the conversations he had with Jacques’ father, who was one of four Fleet Master Chiefs in the world and served as the eyes and ears of the admiral of the United States Navy Sixth Fleet. 

While Erik and Jacques were finishing their landscaping work, Jacques’ father came home and told Erik to go home, get his suit, and overnight bag to spend the night. He told Erik that he had already gotten permission from his parents. Over dinner, Erik studied the master chief ’s mannerisms. He was impressed by his appearance, as well as his alertness and decisiveness. Erik couldn’t contain his curiosity. He took a deep breath and peered down the table into the cold and untelling eyes of the master chief. “Master Chief, may I ask why I am staying the night and why I need my suit?” 

In his authoritarian military tone, he replied, “You and Jacques are going to meet some individuals tomorrow morning.” He took a sip of his tea and added, “And after supper, you boys are going to help clear the table and clean up the kitchen. Then go to bed because you are getting up early.” 

Jacques knew never to question his father when he had that tone; however, though Erik was aware of the tone, he probed further. “May I ask who?” The stare from the master chief compared with Medusa’s when she turned a man into stone. “No, you may not.” 

The next morning Jacques and Erik were awakened by the bedroom door abruptly opening and the order to shower, get their suits on, and be downstairs in thirty minutes. As they descended the stairs, Jacques’ dad, in his Dress Blue uniform, was waiting. Once in the car, they headed to the Orlando Naval Training Center (NTC), and once inside, Jacques’ dad parked in front of an unmarked building. Inside, they went to a desk, signed in, were given visitor IDs, and went to the second floor. Erik was told to sit in a chair and wait while Jacques went with his father. Curious, Erik took note of his surroundings: polished vinyl composition tile floor reflecting the fluorescent lights in the ceiling and matte gray walls. It was not a friendly environment. However, most government buildings were not designed by interior decorators from Architectural Design. His thoughts ran wild, wondering where he was and why he was there. 

Erik had never been in trouble with the law or hacked into any websites. He was an average student in school, and he had earned the rank of Eagle Scout, the highest rank in the Boy Scouts of America and earned by only one percent of scouts. One thing Erik was certain, whoever he was meeting knew everything about him and Erik had to decide how he was going to introduce himself. His concentration was broken by the sound of hard rubber heels on an ombudsman’s dress shoes echoing down the hallway and magnifying as he drew closer. Then the noise stopped. 

“Erik, follow me,” the ombudsman said in a neutral tone. There was no sign of Jacques. When Erik was escorted down the hallway, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jacques being led to another room. Erik took several deep breaths to calm his nerves and straightened his posture. As a Boy Scout, he knew there was no substitute for lateral thinking. For the most part, Erik could plan as he went, hope for the best, and roll with the punches. However, this time, there would be no improvisation, and he wouldn’t know where the punches would be coming from. 

They came to a solid wooden door. It was opened, and Erik stepped in. There in front of him was a tall admiral, and alongside him was the Fleet Master Chief, an intelligence officer, and other individuals. All of them were in their Dress Blue uniforms. The room was cold, but the faces staring at him were colder. The ombudsman closed the door. The admiral was holding and looking at a folder. He motioned Erik to take a seat. 

Little did Erik know, the folder contained a dossier about him, and provided every aspect of his life to the smallest detail. He realized then that his visit here was far more than an opportunity to meet an admiral. But Erik did not know that yet. The admiral showed no emotion as he skimmed several highlights that had piqued his interest. One thing that had caught his attention was that Erik was able to speak German and Russian fluently. He had learned German because his father was German, and he learned Russian in four years of high school classes. The admiral was going to put that to the test. 

Also, the case study indicated that Erik was honest and trustworthy, with integrity, and a single-mindedness that could see, plan, organize, and work tirelessly to achieve goals. For example, as his Eagle Scout project, he had selected a tree survey of a sizable section of the city of Winter Park. It was an enormous undertaking. That and other information showed Erik to be a hard worker capable of assuming roles and responsibilities in areas others might avoid. Besides, the one trait that pleased the admiral was that Erik was more concerned with the cause than with himself and his ego. 

“What makes you different?” 

“I have my way of doing things, getting information, and figuring things out, which is different from most. I also don’t give up.” 

The admiral adjusted his glasses, flipped through pages of the dossier, and put Erik up to his first test. “Что вы знаете о Alpha атомной подводной лодки класса? What do you know about the Alpha Class Submarine?” 

To show he was different from others, Erik chose to answer in Russian. He took a deep breath, dug deep in his memory, cleared his throat, and spoke in a perfect Russian dialect and inflection. 

“It was known as Project 705, which started in 1974 at Admiralty yard, in Leningrad.” His eyes focused on all those individuals at the table as he continued. “I believe there was another location, but I am not certain where it was.” The admiral nodded his head and gestured him to continue. “The Alpha class was a fast attack sub and assigned to the Northern Fleet. Alpha class subs had a displacement of 2,300 tons on the surface and 3,200 tons submerged.” 

Though his expression remained neutral, the admiral was pleased that Erik could speak Russian fluently, as indicated in the file. 

“Do you care to repeat yourself?” the non-Russian speaking intelligence officer asked somewhat angrily. Erik repeated it calmly and objectively, but this time in English. “Anyone can find that information. An amateur could tell us this, Admiral,” the intelligence officer said absently, without interest, as he stared at the admiral. 

A trait the admiral noted about Erik, from reading observation notes, was that Erik could gather information about people by studying their body language and the tone in their voices. However, Erik was able to go even further by penetrating below the surface, getting into other people’s heads, and figuring out what made them tick. 

Erik quickly went on the defensive. “That is correct, and I know you will say an amateur will say the speed submerged is approximately 40 knots, which was published in an official Russian publication and Jane’s Fighting Ships; however, the real speed, which is classified, is approximately 60 knots. Also, both publications say the crush depth is 600 meters, but we know that it is over 1300 meters.” 

Erik was stubborn but always respected the chain of command. As a high schooler, he had no real experience with a chain of command a possible mistake when dealing with individuals who only answer to the president of the United States. He was not the most intimidating of individuals, but he was not weak—far from it. People were always trying to put him down, and that is why he was determined and perseverant in everything. Thus, when it came to situations like this, Erik always managed to prove them wrong. 

His eyes filled with rage, the intelligence officer demanded through his teeth, “Where did you get your information?” He paused and looked at others around the table as though wondering if others were going to add anything. 

“I just read books and publications, sir.” That was correct; however, he also knew where to look. 

The admiral raised his hand and leaned forward. “The Chief was right about you.” He looked to his right and then back at Erik. “You just read books and publications…hmmm,” he said with an undertone of doubt and suspicion, but he did respect Erik’s resourcefulness. 

“Furthermore,” Erik added coyly, “It helps to be in the right place at the right time.” 

“Who do you know in the navy besides the Chief?” 

“No one, sir.” 

A grin came over the admiral’s face as he rubbed his chin. “I would like you to work for me.” 

Erik gripped his knees, looked around the table, and back at the admiral. For ten seconds, give or take a few, he stared silently. Then his voice and face got eager. “What would I be doing?” 

“You will be a junior analyst.” 

“Do I have time to think about it?” 

He looked at his watch. “You have thirty seconds to make up your mind.” 

“Sir?” 

“Twenty seconds.” 

“Sir, I would like to inform you I am planning to go to college.” 

“Yes. I know more about you than you do. What is your major? Ten seconds!” 

“History.” It was clear the admiral was not going to move the conversation forward until Erik answered his question. 

“Five seconds.” 

Erik took a deep breath. “I accept.” 

The admiral nodded and stated. “I’m Admiral Bonesteiner, and I control the Sixth Fleet. Outside these walls, you don’t exist, nor will there be any record of you working for me.” Erik nodded. “You will not repeat anything you see or hear. Understood?” 

“Yes, sir.” Erik replied. He suddenly found himself working in some aspect of naval intelligence, and he wouldn’t have any protection from the U.S. Government. That was because Erik was a NOC (non-official cover), and NOCs are expendable. He also knew that outside the small group of people in this room, he had to assume that everyone was a potential enemy or threat. So, in short, he should trust no one. 

“Welcome.” The admiral’s voice was different from before. It was softer and almost friendly as if he welcomed Erik into his inner circle. Little did Erik know that his talents in research, resourcefulness, and reading-people skills would soon be put to a much greater test—a test of dark, secretive, and even deadly proportions