The Dragon in the Sea Read Online Free Page A

José Pedro Garcia y Aguinaldo. Mother died at birth of daughter when Garcia age three. Religion: Catholic. Wears rosary around neck. Takes blessing of priest before each mission. Wife: Beatrice, age thirty-one.”
    â€œDo you have her picture?” asked Dr. Oberhausen.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œA pity. I am told she is quite beautiful. Continue, please.”
    Ramsey said, “Educated at New Oxford. That accounts for his British accent.”
    â€œI grieved when the British Isles were destroyed,” said Dr. Oberhausen. “Such a lovely culture, really. So basically solid. Immovable. But that is weakness, also. Continue, if you please.”
    â€œPlays bagpipes,” said Ramsey. He looked at the doctor. “Now there’s something: a Latin American playing the bagpipes!”

    â€œI see nothing wrong with that, Johnny. For certain moods, nothing is more soothing.”
    Ramsey raised his gaze to the ceiling. “Soothing!” He looked back at the BuPsych chief. “Why am I reading this?”
    â€œI wanted to get the full flavor of Garcia in mind before imparting the latest morsel from Security.”
    â€œWhich is?”
    â€œThat Garcia may be one of these sleepers who are giving Security so many sleepless nights.”
    Ramsey snorted. “Garcia! That’s insane! As well as suspect me!”
    â€œThey are still investigating you,” said Dr. Oberhausen. “As to Garcia—perhaps; perhaps not. Counter-Intelligence has turned up the description of a sleeper supposed to be in the subtugs. The description fits Garcia. Security almost called off the mission. I convinced them to go ahead by suggesting that you be primed to watch Garcia.”
    Ramsey returned to the color photograph in his file folder, observed the sardonic smile. “I say we’re chasing shadows. And that may be what the EPs really want. If it’s carried to its illogical extreme, certain Security-thinking is first cousin to paranoia—dementia praecox type.”
    Dr. Oberhausen lifted himself from the rattan chair. It gave off a reedy creaking. “Do not say that to the Security gentlemen when they come to brief you on Garcia,” he said. “Oh, and one other thing: the commodore is sharpening knives with which to carve you if there is some error on this mission.”
    â€œI have you to thank for that,” said Ramsey.
    â€œI take care of my own,” said Dr. Oberhausen. “Fear not on that score.” He waved toward the viewerscope. “Continue with your studies. I have other work.”

    Ramsey waited for the door to close, threw the file folder back onto the coffee table, took twenty deep breaths to calm his nerves. Presently, he leaned to the right, captured the folders on the other two crew members, scanned them.
    Commander Harvey Acton Sparrow . Age forty-one. Picture of a tall, thin man with balding sandy hair, a face of sharp planes, stooped shoulders.
    He looks like a small-town college professor, thought Ramsey. How much of that is conditioned on his early desire to teach mathematics? Does he resent the fact that his hard-crust Navy family forced him to follow in the old man’s footsteps?
    Father: Rear Admiral Acton Orwell Sparrow, lost with subcruiser Plunger in Battle of Irish Sea, 16 October 2018. Mother: Genene Cobe Sparrow. Invalid (heart), lives at Watters Point Government Rest Home. Wife: Rita. Age thirty-six. Blonde? Childless.
    Does Sparrow know that his wife is unfaithful? Ramsey asked himself. Most of their friends are aware of it.
    Qualifications: navigator—superior; gunnery officer—superior; medical officer (advanced first aid and pressure syndrome)—excellent; general submarine competence—superior.
    Ramsey turned to the other folder.
    Lieutenant Commander Leslie (none) Bonnett. Age thirty-eight. Picture of a heavy-bodied man (just under six feet) with brown wavy hair (artificial wave?), aquiline nose, overhanging