ship's sinking was related to its surveillance mission, but that the surveillance programme was downgraded afterwards. I was hoping to learn more about the circumstances and the mission.'
'There's not much to say. In fact, under the shock of the moment, I may have said too much. From reports of the survivors and some scattered physical evidence, it appears that the ship's turbine exploded. There's no firm reason to conclude that the fate of the ship was related to her mission.'
He paused and made a tent of his fingers. He cleared his throat before continuing.
'The mission itself is a confidential Navy investigation. With all respect, sir, I'm not sure you have a need to know.'
Isaacs expected and admired that response. He would have demanded it of his own subordinates. He could not accept it, however. He turned the tack back to the personal issue.
'You said you should have been on the ship. Avery wasn't the sort to pull rank unnecessarily.'
'No, sir, he wasn't. But in this case I had worked out the ideas that were the basis of the mission. I expected to go.'
'Avery had nothing to do with the planning? Strange then that he would have involved himself in that way.'
'Well, of course, we discussed the mission. Some information had been kicking around and I managed to make sense of it.'
'Avery had no role in that?'
'Not really. Some things just fell into place for me after one of our discussions.'
Szkada paused and looked thoughtful.
'He did ask me some leading questions. With the pleasure of seeing it fit together, I didn't give much thought to the actual process that brought me to the conclusion.'
He looked up towards the far wall over Isaacs's right shoulder. Isaacs remained silent, reading the workings of his face. He saw the frown lines disappear, to be replaced by arched eyebrows and a look of mild surprise. After a moment another idea hit him and he leaned forward and locked eyes with Isaacs.
'He fed me the idea, didn't he?'
He pointed an index finger at Isaacs.
'And you gave it to him!'
Isaacs admired this perspicacity, even somewhat belated. No wonder Rutherford had spoken highly of him.
'Lieutenant, I sent my best friend to his death. I want to know what killed him.'
'Mr Isaacs, I really can't help you. I presume you already know what the mission was.'
Isaacs wanted to make it easy for him.
'You're monitoring a sonar signal that moves on a trajectory which is fixed with respect to the stars.'
Even having deduced Isaacs was aware of the mission, the frank statement startled Szkada. Isaacs continued.
'We have some seismic data showing the same behaviour. In case you're curious,' he smiled, 'the idea of the fixed trajectory actually came from one of my people, a counterpart of yours in the Agency.'
'You must know all I do then,' Szkada commented. 'I don't have the authority to push for a full investigation here, so we're just in a monitoring mode. We've learned nothing new. Perhaps we could collaborate?' Szkada suggested, 'with an official request from the Agency.' Isaacs cut him off with a raised hand.
'Lieutenant, we have a similar problem. Our mission has been officially shelved, partly because my superior knows that your superiors are nominally continuing the investigation. I want to say that I am here unofficially today.
'Let me ask you,' Isaacs looked intently at the young officer, 'do you think the ship's destruction was related to its mission?'
'I think we should be doing a lot more to find out.'
'I believe I have a way to open this case up. I'll handle it in the Agency and if it doesn't work out, I don't want you involved. Your data is intrinsically more accurate than ours. I can't ask you through channels, but if you could give me the most precise values you have for recent sonar data, times, and locations, I may be able to exploit them in a way which is satisfactory to us both.'
Szkada contemplated the man across from him for some time.
'I'll show you the numbers we have. You copy what you want on your own paper in your own handwriting. And good luck.'
Isaacs nodded his acceptance of these terms and reached in his portfolio for paper and pen. Enough time, he thought, to get this data to Danielson before the crisis team reconvenes. He could sense the presence of the hunter— killer satellites orbiting, Damoclean, overhead. For the moment, at least, the thread still held the sword aloft. He knew Danielson was stealing moments from the hectic press of other duties to analyse the positions of Soviet satellites to check for any correlation with the seismic signal. He wondered whether she were having any luck with that. He needed to see Martinelli to arrange surveillance of Nagasaki , only two short days away, but that would probably have to wait until tomorrow.
Vincent Martinelli came around his desk to greet Isaacs, his doughy face lit with a smile.
'Bob, how are you? Sit down.' He motioned Isaacs into a chair and sat in an adjacent one.
'What did you think of the President's decision to hang tight? Guts ball, huh?'
'So far, so good. I guess that makes it a wise move. We discussed the possibility that the Russians would take out the nuke and go for broke with the laser, but the more we talked, the more it seemed like their actual goal was to establish their right to orbit a laser, free of our interference, and that they would hold to the status quo. The President bought the idea that they didn't want an overt escalation any more than we did. But you're right, it took some nerve to just let the nuke sit in the range of those hunter-killers and wait it out.'
'What's it been?' Martinelli glanced at his watch. 'Sixty— odd hours since they were launched. As long as nobody nudges the trigger on one of those hunter-killers, we have a truce.'
'Looks like it.'
'So other than that, how are things in the think tank? Seems like we haven't had time to chat since that damn Russian carrier caught fire.'
'Things are fine, Voice. But I was hoping you could improve them by taking a couple of pictures for me.'
'Sure, any time. That doesn't require a personal visit.'
'I would like coverage of an area in Nagasaki near the bay, tomorrow.'
'Tomorrow! Jesus, man, you know it takes a week at top speed to get a request through the priorities committee.'
'I know that, Vince. That's why I'm here. All I need is one hour of your flex-tune, but I need it tomorrow. There's no tune to go through channels.'
'It would help to clear it through McMasters, at least, even on an informal basis.'
Isaacs was silent for a moment.
'I hoped that wouldn't be necessary.'
Martinelli contemplated his visitor. He had known Isaacs to work around McMasters before, but not in a matter like this when consultation with him was explicitly mandated.
'This is important to you?'
'Vince, I think I'm on to something that may help explain the Novorossiisk event and get us out of this whole mess it has led to. I can't prove it yet. I need more evidence, including your photos.'
'You want to tell me what it is?'
'You'll be sticking your neck out as it is if you do this. I think we should leave it at that.'
'And you need to steer clear of McMasters?'
'He's got me between a rock and a hard place. The less— said about that the better for now, too.'
Martinelli let out a sigh. 'Let's see whether what you're asking is even feasible. You have the coordinates?'
Isaacs withdrew a small sheet of notepaper from his pocket and banded it to Martinelli.
'I'll check with the scheduling office. Hang on a bit.'
