Fragmentation Read online

  Thursday night as he packed his car, he noticed the second set of samples from the Aratusa in his trunk and reminded himself to drop them off at work when he got in.

  Friday morning he was up excessively early and had to stall around so as not to get to Colleen’s too soon.

  When he arrived at her apartment, she was already waiting on the steps with two suitcases. He popped the trunk and placed her bags inside as she got in the car.

  “Boy, I thought this week would never end,” announced Colleen and gave him a long slow kiss.

  “I felt the same way and tonight I’m finally going to go down the shore,” he bantered.

  “You really like that expression don’t you?”

  “Well, to tell the truth it sounds strange. It’s like, I don’t know, kind of odd or funny or something like that.”

  “Well, it’s not as bad as some of the things they say in the south like, ‘fixing to leave,’ or ‘all’s ya’ll’s,’ or however you say it.”

  They both laughed aloud.

  After arriving at work about ten minutes early, Colleen reminded David not to be late picking her up.

  David spent most of Friday organizing things in the lab, doing calibrations of the equipment and other mundane things. He finalized all of the reports on the DeCosta project, set up the files and stored the remaining samples from the analysis in the storeroom. He called Colleen at 4:45 PM and she said she would be waiting at the door at 5:00 PM, on the dot.

  David picked her up and they cleared the parking lot within a minute, just as droves of workers began leaving the buildings at Farrell Labs. Within minutes, they were on Route 95 heading ‘down the shore.’

  Chapter 7

  Arlington, VA Defense Intelligence Agency:

  Friday morning, June 8.

  Commander Robin Camp was just beginning to have his morning coffee and Danish when Chief Petty Officer Robert Doyles stormed into his office.

  Returning a quick salute, Doyles dropped a manila envelope on his desk and said, “Commander, I think you’d better have a look at this.”

  “What is it Doyles?”

  “It’s the metallurgical report on the old USS Morgan we sent to the scrap yard a few months ago.”

  “The scrap yard?”

  “Yes Sir!”

  “Why is there a report? The ship was to be scuttled?”

  “It’s standard procedure Sir; it’s done to be sure the government doesn’t get cheated when it sells something for scrap.”

  “Jesus Christ Doyles I know that, but this was supposed to be taken care of! Orders were for that old tub to be scuttled off the continental shelf and now you’re telling me it’s being scrapped. What idiot in the Department of the Navy sent it out to be scrapped? Doesn’t anyone follow orders anymore? What does it say?”

  “You had better read it Sir.”

  “Are you telling me something, or just wishing that you had told me?”

  “It’s not good Sir.”

  “What are you saying?” Commander Camp asked in a thin voice.

  “The report says they found human cells and DNA helix strands in the molecular lattice of the steel samples from the Aratusa.”

  “The Aratusa! It’s supposed to be called the USS Morgan. Where in the hell did they get the name Aratusa from?”

  “I don’t know Sir; it was in the report to the De Costa scrap yard.”

  He groped around in his pocket and fished out a pack of cigarettes. Nervously lighting one, Commander Camp began to question Chief Petty Officer Doyles. “Who else knows about this and who ordered it to be scrapped?”

  “To begin with, the metallurgist and a biologist at Farrell Laboratories, the people at the DeCosta Scrap Yard and whoever received the report in the Department of the Navy, as well as the person who authorized it to be scrapped. I think that’s all Sir.”

  “Probably some eager beaver lieutenant JG thought he would save the Navy some money. Rest assured his balls are going to be in a vise when I find out who the bastard is. Now there may be a god damn paper trail in the Navy.”

  ” Maybe not Sir.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s lucky Lt. Commander Jensen saw this and called me. Otherwise, it would have been all over the place. He cut it short and believes he has retrieved all of the paperwork.”

  “Jesus, if this gets out, there will be hell to pay. The directive to scuttle was very clear. That damn old ship should have been sunk years ago when it was taken off Lloyds’ register. They reported it sank back in 1944, but never followed through with it. Why the hell is it still around on my watch? This whole damn mess should have settled into the dustbin of history over sixty years ago. Chief Doyles, we had better begin to call it the USS Morgan. The less said about the Aratusa, the better. If this gets out it can have unimaginable repercussions and no doubt would implicate the Casey family in a cover-up.”

  “I don’t know about that Sir, but do you want me to have our Special Operations people look into taking care of the matter?”

  “Do we have the names of all the people involved?”

  “We can get them; they are very good at doing things like that. What do you want us to do with the ship?

  “Get rid of it for God’s sake. This time take it out and blow it up off the continental shelf. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes Sir and should I have them take care of the people involved?”

  “By all means and do it quickly. We already have enough trouble. And Doyles, they had better send someone over to Farrell Laboratories and DeCosta Scrap Metal to get the rest of the samples and any copies of that damned report that might be lying around as well.”

  “Aye, Aye, Sir.”

  Chapter 8

  Friday, June 8, late afternoon.

  Leaving the Philadelphia area, Colleen and David followed Route 70 east past Lakehurst Naval Air Station to Bricktown, NJ where they joined up with Route 528 east. They progressed through a number of small towns along the southern shore of the Metedeconk River as it meandered toward Silver Bay. Breton Woods, Cedar Woods and others came and went as they headed toward Mantoloking. The evening was warm and the air had that wonderful aroma of salt and sea that only a summer’s eve at the shore can produce.

  About a mile west of the Mantoloking Bridge, a sea of blinking red taillights heralded the start of the Friday night summer traffic ritual. Now their forward motion was reduced to a crawl.

  “Is it always like this when you go ‘down the shore’?” David was still intrigued by the ‘down the shore’ saying that Colleen kept using.

  “It might be a little heavier tonight because a lot of schools let out today and families are coming down this week for the summer.”

  That one mile took the better part of a half-hour to cover and eventually they inched their way over the Mantoloking Bridge and turned south along Route 35.

  “And I thought the traffic was bad in Atlanta. This is crazy.”

  “In a few hours it will all be gone until Sunday night when it starts up all over again in reverse.”

  This part of the Jersey shore consisted of a barrier island of land about eighteen miles long and only a half-mile wide at its widest point. It ran from Point Pleasant to Island Beach State Park. All of the activity was concentrated in the first ten miles from Point Pleasant to South Seaside Park. Beyond South Seaside Park was Island Beach State Park, which ran another eight or nine miles to the Barnegat Inlet, across from the old Barnegat Light House.

  The first town was Mantoloking, with its huge mansions set upon the sand dunes along the ocean and on the western side, equally imposing houses along the waters of Silver Bay. Normandy Beach, with impressive but slightly more affordable houses, followed Mantoloking. Further down the road began a series of developments known as Ocean Beach. There w
ere three units and you either lived in Unit 1, 2 or 3. These were the more blue-collar vacation houses, some of them quite small and a bit packed in on the ocean side. At the entrance to Unit 2, Colleen instructed David to turn right and follow Dory road to the end where her parents’ house was located on the right.

  The house was a small story and a half bungalow that sat on a beautiful waterfront lot with an outstanding view. Colleen explained that her parents had purchased the house in 1956 for something like $7,000 and over the years did many renovations including raising the roof to make a loft area. Outside, there was a seawall and a dock with a 19’ Wellcraft powerboat. A few yards away, a small Sunfish sailboat sat on top of the bulkhead. A nice patio went from the house to the seawall, complete with the usual patio furniture.

  “It looks like we beat Roger and Marie here; the traffic for them would be worse coming from North Jersey.”

  As David opened the trunk to get their things out he tried to imagine the traffic being worse!

  “Oh, rats, I forgot to drop these samples off at the lab on Friday. I’ve been trying to remember to do that all week and now I’ve lugged them down here.”

  David set the samples alongside the house and unloaded the car, while Colleen unlocked the house. The inside was neat and tidy and the walls were paneled in knotty pine, which had mellowed to a warm honey color over the years. The living room contained a worn, but comfortable couch and cocktail table along with a television and two recliners each with a small end table and lamp. Colleen referred to them as his and hers reading chairs, alluding to her parents’ use of them. There were three small bedrooms downstairs and a ladder-like staircase, which led upstairs to a loft bedroom with a balcony overlooking the living area. Colleen assigned David one of the three small bedrooms and put her stuff in one of the others.

  After fixing gin and tonics, they went out to the patio to wait for her brother and his family. Just past 6:30 PM, the phone rang.

  “Roger, where are you? I bet you are still on the Parkway.”

  “I’m afraid I have bad news for you sis. Mary Katherine has come down with a bad ear infection and we won’t be able to make it. I hope it doesn’t spoil your plans, but you know how these things are.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that Roger, please give Mary Katherine a hug and my love to Marie. We’ll do this again another time, bye.”

  “David, they can’t make it. Mary Katherine has a bad ear infection and they’re headed to the doctor’s office right now. I hope you’re all right with this. I mean just the two of us staying here?”

  “It’s fine with me, but what do we do about something to eat?”

  “Well, since Roger and Marie were bringing the food, I guess we’ll have to go out. I suggest if we wait until the traffic dies down we can go to a restaurant on one of the boardwalks and get some sausage sandwiches.”

  “Sausage and biscuits, now that sounds good.”

  “No, I’m not talking about the sausage and biscuit stuff you have in the South. I’m talking about Italian Sausage with peppers, onions and potatoes, all fried up in olive oil on a grill, then put into an Italian Torpedo Roll. I’m getting hungry just trying to describe this to you. When you combine all of this with the salt air and a beer, it just does not get any better. Afterwards, we can walk on the boardwalk and even go on an amusement ride or two if you like. There’s lots to do down here.”

  “I think you’ve convinced me.”

  “Okay, it’s almost seven now and by seven-thirty the traffic will be a lot better. I think we should try Seaside. It’s about four miles south of here.”

  She refilled his drink and suggested they get into some more appropriate clothing, like shorts or something. Yesterday, David purchased a new pair of Topsider boat shoes and some white shorts to go along with a dark blue golf shirt he had. He quickly changed and was standing in the kitchen when Colleen came in, took one look at him and began to laugh.

  “Don’t we look like the Bobbsey Twins? We both have on blue and white.

  “I’ll change if you like,” offered David.

  “No. I think it’s nice; we match.”

  “Who are the Bobbsey Twins?”

  “They were characters in a series of children’s books my mother used to read to us.”

  At a little past seven–thirty, they pulled out of her parents’ driveway and headed toward Seaside. Looking around as he drove, David was intrigued with the maze of small yellow gravel streets that made up Ocean Beach, Unit 2. Some of the houses were no more than five feet from these small roads, especially the cottages that were not actually on the water. Eventually they found their way to Route 35 and headed south.

  The traffic had calmed down somewhat and David thought it was more like Peachtree Boulevard on a Saturday night in Atlanta. Again, small towns that were often less than a mile long lined the road. They passed through Ocean Beach Unit 1, Lavallette and Ortley Beach and came to Seaside, all in a total of about 4 miles.

  Parking at the Seaside boardwalk looked like it was going to be a problem. They were cruising slowly, searching for a spot, when someone pulled out on a side street near the beginning of the boardwalk.

  Colleen hollered, “Go and grab it fast, we are lucky to get this spot.”

  David quickly pulled in and parked. Hand in hand, they walked toward the boardwalk.

  This whole thing was entirely new to David. The boardwalk was made out of what looked like at least two hundred million 2 x 4’s, all nailed down over a framework, which was about eight, or ten feet above the beach and several hundred feet back from the ocean. It was perhaps a half-mile long and more than 100’ feet wide. A railing with benches ran along the beach side, while on the other side of the boardwalk were places selling food, ice cream, cotton candy and something called salt-water taffy. Interspersed with the food places were arcades that offered skeet ball, wheels of chance, a fun house and bumper car rides. Between the boardwalk and Route 35, there was a Ferris wheel and several more places with go-karts and rides for children. There were bright lights everywhere; the whole place seemed like one giant carnival to David.

  Aside from the noise of the rides and the people, there was a constant crashing of the waves on the shore and the kind of rushing noise as they receded back into the surf only to crash upon the shore again. Colleen was watching him take all this in and observed, “What do you think, isn’t this a bit too much?”

  “It’s a marvelous place, like being at a circus but with the beach. Where do we find the sausage sandwiches you told me about? My stomach is beginning to growl.”

  “It’s a place called Rotundo’s, just about half way to the other end.”

  “Ya’ll just don’t know how hungry I am.”

  “I know, I’ve purposely starved you so you will like the sausage sandwich and I can convert you into a Yankee,” laughed Colleen.

  They held hands and walked along the boardwalk, eventually coming to Rotundo’s Italian Place.

  Colleen ordered for them.

  “We would like two sausage sandwiches with the works and two draft beers please.” Turning to David she said, “Grab a handful of napkins.”

  They carried their overflowing sandwiches to the railing and ate standing up watching the ocean waves breaking on the shore.

  “Even if I wasn’t really hungry, I would still think these are excellent. I wonder why we don’t have them in Atlanta.”

  “The salt air makes you hungry,” added Colleen. I just love coming here to eat. Now for the bad part, they are probably not too good for you, when you consider all the fat and cholesterol.”

  “Okay, so we wouldn’t do it every day, just every other,” bantered David.

  After finishing their sandwiches, they walked along the boardwalk holding hands and stopped to ride the bumper cars. Later they rode through the fun house and nearing the exit, David
stole a kiss from Colleen.

  “What is this ‘salt water taffy’ stuff that I keep seeing?”

  “Oh, it’s a specialty of the Jersey shore. Come on, we’ll get some at Peterson’s; it’s near where we parked. They bought a box of salt-water taffy and headed back to the car. Like a minor miracle, the traffic had almost completely disappeared and a few minutes later, they were back in Ocean Beach at the house.

  Chapter 9

  Ocean Beach, NJ: Friday evening, June 8.

  Colleen brought out a small bottle of Peach Schnapps and two glasses. They sat in the glider on the patio; sipping their drinks and watching the sun lazily slide below the horizon.

  David was not sure how it all began, but rather quickly, they were kissing and petting and Colleen was leading him by the hand into the house and her bedroom. Surprised at first, he let her take the initiative; their passions rose and a fever overtook them as they made love for the first time. The second time was even better, more caring and tender, beyond anything David had known before.

  They slept in each other’s arms until the morning sun streamed through the window and reflected off the mirror onto the bed. Colleen was the first to rise and went to the bathroom to shower. When she came out, she was wearing only a towel. David pulled her back into bed, kissing and caressing her as they made love again. This time they showered together, luxuriating in the pleasure of their passion.

  After dressing, Colleen announced, “We have no food in the house so I think we should go to the OB Dinner for breakfast.”

  “You’re the boss. Where is it?”

  “It’s back in Point Pleasant, but not far.”

  The OB Dinner was a large popular place especially during the summer months. After a short wait, the host guided them to a booth where they both consumed a large breakfast. With hunger satisfied, Colleen showed David around Bay Head, Mantoloking and Point Pleasant, pointing out Jenkinson’s Pier, a large establishment on the Point Pleasant boardwalk. She explained the Point Pleasant Boardwalk had a less carnival atmosphere and catered more to a mature crowd, but still very nice. When they returned, Colleen suggested they go for a morning boat ride.