“None at all, Mr. President. The impact of the ramjet missile would have sent what was left of the keel straight to the bottom.”
“It’s on the bottom.”
“Affirmative. If it still exists at all, the bomb is two and a half miles down, sir, and rendered inert by the massive damage to its internal mechanism.”
A spontaneous outburst of applause and loud cheering filled the room.
“Good. That’s very good news. If you could stay with me, Alex, I’m going to inform the Chinese of this latest development.”
“Yes, sir. I’m not going anywhere.”
“How about Seawolf?” the president said, turning to General Moore.
“Mr. President, Seawolf reports no acoustic signature of any explosion. No shock waves, no tremors. They have a confirmed sonar location of the keel on the bottom. Based on sonar imaging, deformed pieces of the keel are scattered on the ocean floor. Crumpled and buckled. Nothing remotely large enough to indicate a viable nuclear device. No trace of radioactive leakage, sir.”
“Your assessment?”
“The nuclear threat to New York City no longer exists.”
The president took a deep breath and took the receiver the Marine guard handed to him.
“This is the president,” he said.
“Yes,” said the premier, “I’ve been waiting. My patience is wearing thin.”
“Mr. Su, the Chinese device in New York City has been neutralized. I have a demarche. A new list of American demands. Are your aides prepared?”
A moment of stunned silence followed.
“Neutralized? What do you mean?”
“You’re no longer in a position to threaten me. You got that?”
“Wait, I want to confirm—”
There was some loud background shouting, muffled and heated conversation, and then Su said, “Go ahead. We will listen to what you have to say.”
“Good. I’m now going to give you a list of American demands. Once they are met, and this has been wholly verified by the United States, I will consider taking Operation Wild Card off the table. Do you understand me?”
“What are these demands?”
“You are shouting, Mr. Su.”
“I apologize. Your demands, Mr. President?”
“That’s better. First. I want you to now order Chinese naval and air forces in the Strait of Taiwan to stand down. I want your shore batteries to stand down. Now, Mr. Su. Are we clear? My patience is wearing thin.”
The president could hear a hurried conversation in Chinese. Then the premier was back.
“Yes. They are standing down. Please continue.”
“I need to know that it’s being done. Now.”
“It’s being done, Mr. President. Orders are going out to the commanders in the field now.”
“Good. Second. This is a long one, so pay very close attention. I want you to guarantee immediate withdrawal of all Chinese military and political personnel from Oman. I want a stop to Chinese migratory forces infiltrating the Sudan. In addition, you will inform President Bonaparte’s French government that you no longer support their presence in Oman. Make it crystal clear to him that the United States and China are wholly unified on this issue. We are both firm in our insistence that all French naval and ground troops withdraw immediately from the Gulf. And that the sultan’s family, now en route from Masara Island to Muscat by sea, is guaranteed safe passage home.”
“Yes. Just one moment. We have that.”
“Good. Lastly, I want China to cease the perpetual harassment of Taiwan. It is not China’s property. If you have any desire to see China continue our mutually beneficial economic detente, you will see the wisdom in this demand.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“One further demand, Mr. Su, on a personal level. Four people from our side have been deeply involved in this matter. If any harm should come to them as a result of our actions here today, all bets are off. Their names are Brock, Congreve, Jones, and Hawke. Do you have that? Yes, that’s right, Hawke, with an e.”
The president listened for a few minutes, murmuring assent or dissent, and then said good-bye. He handed the phone back to the young Marine standing at attention nearby. He looked up at all the faces, brave men and women who had stood with him, helped him weather this storm.
“He’s giving the order to stand down immediately,” the president said.
“Thank God,” someone said.
“Verify all that, would you, Charlie? Hard confirmation. That they’re standing down?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” General Moore said, a smile breaking across his face.
There was no applause now, just a flood a relief sweeping across the tired faces. John Gooch put his hand on the president’s shoulder.
“Mr. President, what was the response to the Oman demand?”
“He said he was ordering Bonaparte to withdraw his troops immediately. He said, very diplomatically, that Bonaparte is coming unglued. He’s holed up inside the Elysee Palace, surrounded by his Imperial Guard and heavily armed loyalists.”
Gooch said, “We’ve got to do something about that situation. Interpol has a warrant charging the president of France with first-degree homicide. Rock-solid case. There is an eyewitness confession. Tough part will be bringing the bastard in.”
“You like the idea of an American infantry division marching up the Champs Elysees, John?”
“Damn right I do,” General Moore said, smiling.
“Not even slightly, sir,” Gooch said, pushing his clear frame glasses up on the bridge of his nose.
“Is Hawke still on the air? Alex, you there?”
“Still here, sir.”
“Is your Oman team still intact?”
“It could be in twelve hours, Mr. President.”
“Good. I’ve got one more urgent matter that needs mopping up.”
“Paris, sir?”
“Paris.”
The stern was the last remnant of the great vessel remaining on the surface. There was a slight increase in ambient light and in that faint rosy glow of dawn, Alex Hawke saw her name, picked out in glints of gold on the massive stern.
Leviathan. The sea monster.
A large wave came awash of the monster’s deck and a small gathering of survivors who’d ignored the “abandon ship” and were clinging to the rails were now carried off and under the tumultuous seas. Hawke watched for them to reappear but they did not.
The net had now been hoisted to just below the helo. The deep wound in the small of his back burned like hell but there wasn’t much he could do about it. So he just took it, waiting patiently as Tynan was lifted out of the net and up into the chopper. The boy was still breathing, but he’d left a lot of blood in the basket. Hawke could do no more for him.
For now, he was content to hang there in the sky and watch the end.
Hawke watched the huge liner’s death throes with both horror and a grim sense of satisfaction. Rows of lights still winked from the portion of the black hull that remained visible above the water. He gauged the stern’s downward progress by the illuminated portholes that were snuffed out as she slid under. You could almost imagine them hissing and popping as they went out, although most probably remained alight for some time.
