"Canceled?" Ricks asked incredulously.

"Canceled, yes, sir."

"Well, isn't that good news," Claggett said.

"Now what?" the Tacco asked himself. The message in his hand made no sense at all.

"Sir, we finally got the b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Run your track."

"Sir, he fired at Maine!" Maine!"

"I know, but I can't engage."

"That's crazy, sir."

"Sure as h.e.l.l is," the tactical officer agreed.

"Speed?"

"Six knots, sir-maneuvering says the shaft bearings are pretty bad, sir."

"If we try any more ..." Ricks frowned.

Claggett nodded. "... the whole thing comes apart. I think it's about time for some countermeasures."

"Do it."

"Five-inch room, launch a spread." Claggett turned back. "We're not going fast enough to make a turn very useful."

"I figure it's about even money."

"Could be worse. Why the h.e.l.l do you think they canceled SNAPCOUNT?" the XO asked, staring at the sonar scope.

"X, I guess the danger of war is over.... I haven't handled this well, have I?"

"s.h.i.t, skipper, who would have known?"

Ricks turned. "Thanks, X."

"The torpedo is now active, ping-and-listen mode, bearing one-six-zero."

"Torpedo, American Mark 48, bearing three-four-five, just went active!"

"Ahead full, maintain course," Dubinin ordered.

"Countermeasures?" the Starpom Starpom asked. asked.

The Captain shook his head. "No, no-we're at the edge of its acquisition range ... and that would just give it a reason to turn this way. The surface conditions will help. We're not supposed to have battles in heavy weather," Dubinin pointed out. "It's hard on the instruments."

"Captain, I have the satellite signal-it's an all-forces message, 'Disengage and withdraw from any hostile forces, take action only for self-defense.' "

"I'm going to be court-martialed," Valentin Borissovich Dubinin observed quietly.

"You did nothing wrong, you reacted correctly at every-"

"Thank you. I hope you will testify to that effect."

"Change in signal-change in aspect, torpedo just turned west away from us," Lieutenant Rykov said. "The first programmed turn must have been to the right."

"Thank G.o.d it wasn't to the left. I think we've survived. Now, if only our weapon can miss...."

"Sir, it's continuing to close. The torpedo is probably in acquisition-continuous pinging now."

"Less than two thousand yards," Ricks said.

"Yeah," Claggett agreed.

"Try some more countermeasures-h.e.l.l, go continuous on them." The tactical situation was getting worse. Maine Maine was not moving quickly enough to make an evasive course worthwhile. The countermeasures filled the sea with bubbles, and while they might draw the Russian torpedo into a turn-their only real hope-the sad fact of the matter was that as the fish penetrated the bubbles it would find was not moving quickly enough to make an evasive course worthwhile. The countermeasures filled the sea with bubbles, and while they might draw the Russian torpedo into a turn-their only real hope-the sad fact of the matter was that as the fish penetrated the bubbles it would find Maine Maine with its sonar again. Perhaps a continuous set of such false targets would saturate the seeker. That was their best shot right now. with its sonar again. Perhaps a continuous set of such false targets would saturate the seeker. That was their best shot right now.

"Let's keep her near the surface," Ricks added. Claggett looked at him and nodded in understanding.

"Not working, sir ... sir, I've lost the fish aft, in the baffles now."

"Surface the ship," Ricks called. "Emergency blow!"

"Surface capture?"

"And now I'm out of ideas, X."

"Come left, parallel to the seas?"

"Okay, you do it."

Claggett went into control. "Up 'scope!" He took a quick look and checked the submarine's course. "Come right to new course zero-five-five!"

USS Maine Maine surfaced for the last time into thirty-five-foot seas and nearly total darkness. Her circular hull wallowed in the rolling waves, and she was slow to turn. surfaced for the last time into thirty-five-foot seas and nearly total darkness. Her circular hull wallowed in the rolling waves, and she was slow to turn.

The countermeasures were a mistake. Though the Russian torpedo was pinging, it was mainly a wake-follower. Its seeker head tracked bubbles, and the string of countermeasures made for a perfect trail, which suddenly stopped. When Maine Maine surfaced, the submarine left the bubble stream. Again the factors involved were technical. The surface turbulence confused the wake-following software and the torpedo began its programmed circular search pattern, just under the surface. On its third circuit it found an unusually hard echo amid the confusing shapes over its head. The torpedo turned to close, now activating its magnetic-influence fusing system. The Russian weapon was less sophisticated than the American Mark 50. It could not go higher than twenty meters of depth and so was not drawn up to the surface. The active magnetic field it generated was cast out like an invisible spiderweb, and when that net was disturbed by the presence of a metallic ma.s.s- surfaced, the submarine left the bubble stream. Again the factors involved were technical. The surface turbulence confused the wake-following software and the torpedo began its programmed circular search pattern, just under the surface. On its third circuit it found an unusually hard echo amid the confusing shapes over its head. The torpedo turned to close, now activating its magnetic-influence fusing system. The Russian weapon was less sophisticated than the American Mark 50. It could not go higher than twenty meters of depth and so was not drawn up to the surface. The active magnetic field it generated was cast out like an invisible spiderweb, and when that net was disturbed by the presence of a metallic ma.s.s- The thousand-kilo warhead exploded fifty feet from Maine's Maine's already crippled stern. The twenty-thousand-ton warship shook as though rammed. already crippled stern. The twenty-thousand-ton warship shook as though rammed.

An alarm sounded instantly: "Flooding flooding flooding in the engine room!" "Flooding flooding flooding in the engine room!"

Ricks lifted the phone. "How bad?"

"Get everybody off, sir!"

"Abandon ship! Break out the survival gear! Send out message: damaged and sinking, give our position!"

"Captain Rosselli! Flash traffic coming in."

Ryan looked up. He'd had his drink, followed by something colder and carbonated. Whatever the message was, the naval officer could handle it.

"You Mr. Ryan?" a man in a suit asked. Two more were behind him.

"Dr. Ryan, yeah."

"Secret Service, sir, the President ordered us to come here and arrest you."

Jack laughed at that. "What for?"

The agent looked instantly uncomfortable. "He didn't say, sir."

"I'm not a cop, but my dad was. I don't think you can arrest me without a charge. The law, you know? The Const.i.tution. 'Preserve, protect, and defend.' "

The agent was in an instant quandary. He had orders from someone he had to obey, but he was too professional to violate the law. "Sir, the President said ..."

"Well, tell you what. I'll just sit right here, and you can talk to the President on that phone and find out. I'm not going anywhere." Jack lit another cigarette and lifted another phone.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Hey, babe."

"Jack! What's going on?"

"It's okay. It got a little tense, but we have it under control now, Cath, I'm afraid I'm going to be stuck here for a while, but it's okay, Cathy, honest."

"Sure?"

"You worry about that new baby, not about anything else. That's an order."

"I'm late, Jack. Just a day, but-"

"Good." Ryan leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and smiled blissfully. "You want it to be a girl, eh?"

"Yes."

"Then I guess I do, too. Honey, I'm still busy here, but, honest, you can relax. Have to run. 'Bye." He replaced the phone. "Glad I remembered to do that."

"Sir, the President wants to talk to you." The senior agent handed the phone toward Ryan.

What makes you think I want to talk to him? Jack nearly asked. But that would have been unprofessional. He took the phone. "Ryan here, sir." Jack nearly asked. But that would have been unprofessional. He took the phone. "Ryan here, sir."

"Tell me what you know," Fowler said curtly.

"Mr. President, if you give me about fifteen minutes, I can do a better job. Dan Murray at FBI knows everything I do, and I have to make contact with two officers. Is that okay, sir?"

"Very well."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Ryan handed the phone back and placed a call to the CIA Operations Center. "This is Ryan. Did Clark make the pickup?"

"Sir, this is an unsecure line."

"I don't care-answer the question."

"Yes, sir, they're flying back now. We don't have a comm link to the aircraft. It's Air Force, sir."

"Who's the best guy to evaluate the explosion?"

"Wait." The Senior Duty Officer pa.s.sed that along to the Science and Technology man. "He says Dr. Lowell at Lawrence-Livermore."

"Get him moving. The nearest air base is probably Travis. Get him something fast." Ryan hung that line up and turned to the senior Hot Line officer.

"There's a VC-20 just took off from Mexico City inbound for Andrews. I have two officers and two-two other people aboard. I need to establish a comm link to the aircraft. Get someone to set that up, please."

"Can't do it here, sir, but you can in the conference room on the other side."

Ryan stood. "Come with me?" he said to the Secret Service agents.

It could hardly have been more bitter, Qati thought, but a moment later he realized that this wasn't true. He had faced death for a year now, and death by any cause was still death. Had he escaped-but he had not escaped.

"Okay, let's talk."

"I do not understand," Qati said in Arabic.