to evade and play dumb when she felt it necessary. In one way, Abby wanted the next four days to pass quickly. But on a personal level, she wanted them to stretch out and slow down. She suddenly wanted the time to know one Alec Rostov better.
* * *
ON THE FIFTH MORNING ABOARD the Udaloy, Abby spent breakfast with the officers, as usual. Denisov was in a good mood, smiling often and laughing easily. In the past week Abby found ways to manipulate the conversations with the curious captain. She talked about several books she’d brought aboard the Argonaut to read at night when their whale-watch duties were done.
Denisov found Destiny by Sally Beauman interesting, although he wasn’t much of a reader of women’s fiction. The entire table became animated and engrossed when she discussed Texasville by Larry McMurty, because it was about the Old West, and she discovered the Soviets’ keen curiosity with anything having to do with that time in her nation’s history. Abby decided not to discuss State Scarlet by David Aaron with them because it was a political hot potato sprinkled liberally with intrigue and national-defense information.
Another morning, Abby talked about the Broadway plays in New York City, and a lively discussion ensued as to whether the Bolshoi could compare. Having just seen Blythe Spirit by No;auel Coward, Abby shared the plot of the play with them. She discovered the Soviets had a deep and loyal tie to the arts, and breakfast soon became a place to share such information. When she told them she’d seen the ballet Sleeping Beauty at New York’s Metropolitan Opera House, they excitedly told her about the Bolshoi.
Perhaps the most political she got was in telling them about The Jaguar Smiles by Salman Rushdie, a book that was written about the Sandinista government in Nicaragua. When it got too political, Abby gracefully evaded the topic and deftly turned the conversation to Vincent Van Gogh’s painting Sunflowers, which sold recently for 39.9 million dollars. The officers at the table simply couldn’t comprehend such money being spent on one painting, despite their love of the arts.
Denisov smiled. “While you slept this morning, Tony Cummings landed on our helo pad and took the film and official report of your rescue, and then left,” Denisov told her. “He said to tell you hello and to give you this.” He produced a thick manila envelope. “It is your information for the forthcoming press conference in Anchorage. I would hope that you would share its contents with Captain Rostov in order to help him prepare for the reporters’ questions.”
“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.”
* * *
IN 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.
This room may be bugged. Watch what you say. If there are sensitive things that need to be said, I suggest a walk on deck where there are no prying ears, just prying eyes.
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
