Hochberg loomed over the crate a moment, scanning each of the spines and date ranges. His wide hand scooped up a few volumes and handed them off to Kessler who began to quickly tear through them, scanning and reading page after page as though searching for a specific date. Hochberg remained standing and hefted up one of the logs from the 1980’s and began lazily thumbing through it. Wells was still breathing heavily from dashing through the passageways with the heavy crate, still dumbfounded by how easily Hochberg seemed to move the cumbersome box. Miller shifted in his chair and exchanged quick glances with the SEAL leader in the room. For a moment, Ke thought she saw the SEAL offer a shrug, but it was almost imperceptible. Akin leaned back in his chair, still scouring Kessler’s face and details. The fellow looked like a text book German from a bad Indiana Jones rip off, or perhaps that was just what Akin was comparing the relic to.
Kessler’s face was slightly gaunt, prominent cheekbones and a thoughtful wrinkle across the brow. His thin upper lip met with a thick lower lip and his jawline came to a graceful edge. A long nose featured prominently and looked all the longer with his swept back hair showing a fairly pointed widows peak for a hairline. As his eyes darted back and forth on the page, Akin could only barely make out a slight pink discoloration to the old sailors eyes. Ke leaned forward and plucked up a remaining volume, opening it to a random date and reading, unsure what everyone was looking for.
Perry looked to his dive partner Wells and gestured to the empty side across from him. Wells wandered over to it and took his seat, scanning around the room and finally settling his gaze on Hochberg. The fellow was broad and stout and his strength could be seen in his shape. His shoulders were wide; his hands were rough and fingers thick. His voice sounded like an old climbing guide Wells had met in Colorado years back, the voice of a man who grew in high altitudes near Alps and knew how to shout over a blinding and screaming blizzard but could sound as harmless as a grandfather when he wanted. Miller broke the memory when he spoke.
“The Coast Guard diver will assist with the Strike Team operations, I understand she had received tactical medical training and worked deep sea salvage from the dossier.”
Ke looked up from the page, confused from the gibberish Burton had been scribbling on and on about and acknowledged Miller, “Yes sir, aye sir.”
Kessler spoke without looking up from the pages, “I understand some local lads came across Brunhilde and reported it to you lot?”
Perry, thinking it hilarious that a man who barely looked 30 just referred to a Vietnam vet as a ‘lad’ replied before thinking, “Yea, some old divers stumbled across it while looking for old bottles before the storm came in.”
It was Hochberg’s turn to speak without looking up from the log book, “Lad, I’m an old diver. ‘Zose local boys don’t know how lucky ‘zey were, how lucky ‘ze world is to have ‘zem float past ol’ 5918.”
Ke peered up for a moment, eyeing over Hochberg and thinking hard about what could happen if she spoke up, then Akin talked instead and she was grateful for her commander.
“They’re both in a hospital back in Bangor from finding that vessel, chief. I’m fairly sure neither of them feel particularly lucky.” Akin’s gaze was nearly a glare towards Hochberg.
If the old chief cared about Akin’s words, he didn’t show it. The two relics continued to flip through pages in silence. Miller spoke up to the SEAL leader, and Akin, “Gentleman, please see that the crews are ready to begin transitioning to the Pennsylvania shortly.” The SEAL nodded and slipped out of the room, careful to navigate around the table with his equipment and rifle. Akin gave a curt nod and looked to Perry, Wells, and then Ke.
“I’ll see you back portside, Salvage Team.” And Akin walked out of the room.
Kessler spoke with his nose still inches from the logbook, “Miller, see if you can raise the skipper of the Pennsylvania, we need to make sure they’ve got the receiving equipment for the boarding party vessels.”
For the briefest of moments Miller appeared confused, and Perry could swear that Miller even looked offended for a moment. The pause in response illicited Kessler to look up from the page, glaring up at Miller with those slightly reddened eyes. Miller rose, “Aye, Captain.” And left the room.
Wells shifted unhappily in his seat. The room felt claustrophobic for a moment. Ke could feel the tension between the relics and Salvage Team like a tug of war. Who would speak first, she wondered. Perry leaned back in his chair, fingers interlocked behind his head as he took in a long breath. If Perry was ever anxious or uncomfortable, Wells had never seen it.
Kessler looked up to Hochberg and sighed through his nose. “Found it.”
Hochberg looked down to Kessler, tossing the logbook back into the crate as though a log in a firebox, “ Ah gut, I was getting nervous we’d be reading that lunatic’s nonsense for hours.”
“Found what?” Ke ventured into the realm of the unknown.
Kesslers piercing expression turned to Ke and then to the other sailors. It was an elderly expression, the tired eyes of a man who had been in a constant state of war for far too long. Wells saw the worn, thousand yard stare of every combat veteran who had ever made it home and had a hard to fitting back into the normal world. Perry saw the look of a man who had seen too many friends leave and never return. Ke could only see the fatigue of a mission never completed.
“This will be very dangerous. It will most likely end terribly.” He said after a long while.
Hochberg spoke next, “Don’t let ‘ze old man fool you. What he’s trying to say is ‘zat we’re going to sabotage ‘ze Strike Team.”