“Now we get to the pier,” Hayes said.

We ran out of the utility room, turning toward the heavy fire doors that led to the secure tunnel beneath the submarine slips.

The tunnel was older, built during the Cold War, with curved concrete walls and exposed pipes overhead.

Water dripped from the ceiling, forming small puddles on the floor.

Our footsteps echoed loudly in the confined space.

“The *Vanguard* is at Slip 3,” Hayes said, his voice echoing.

We reached the end of the tunnel.

A metal ladder led up to the surface hatch.

Hayes climbed first, his boots clattering against the steel rungs.

He threw the hatch cover open.

The cold night air of the Thames River rushed down into the warm tunnel.

It was raining, a fine, freezing mist that stung my face as I climbed out behind him.

The harbor was dark.

The lights of the Groton shipyard across the water were blurred by the rain.

Directly ahead of us, the massive black hull of the USS *Vanguard* lay low in the water.

Yellow sodium lights from the pier glinted off her wet deck.