Cauldron

snow.

They had already been at it for hours.

Scofield made room for him by the fireplace and kept talking. “What I’m saying, Mr. President, is that unless we take some pretty dramatic steps pretty damned quick, the whole Gdansk operation is dead in the water. Finished.”

“Insurance problems?”

“Sure.” The Energy Secretary ran a hand through his unruly red hair. “Lloyd’s and the other maritime insurers have jacked Baltic tanker rates up three or four hundred percent in just the last two days. That’s pushing costs way beyond what the Poles can afford and way beyond what we’d budgeted.”

He frowned. “Plus, I’ve been getting calls from every shipping firm and oil company we’ve been able to rope into this thing. They want out. Now, not later. Nobody bargained for what happened to North Star.”

“Shit.” The President rubbed his jaw, thinking hard. “What’s the supply situation like over there?”

“Still not good.” Scofield looked grim. “Even operating nonstop, we were barely able to move in enough oil and gas. My people tell me all three countries are down to a ten-day margin. Maybe less if the weather stays bad.”

Christ. Huntington’s mouth went dry. The Poles, Czechs, and Slovaks had almost unimaginably rigid conservation programs in place. No one with a private automobile could get any gasoline to keep it running. All cities were under strict, energy-saving curfews. And dozens of factories were operating only sporadically, idling tens of thousands of trained workers. Citizens in the three nations already faced lives that were increasingly dark, dreary, gloomy, and cold. He doubted their governments could survive for very long if matters got much worse.

He knew Scofield, Thurman, and the others shared the same somber conviction. He could see it on their faces.

The President stared into the fire, obviously making the same depressing calculations. For just an instant, sagging shoulders and a haggard, careworn look showed his true age. But when he looked up again, his aides saw only the same firm, youthful expression he was careful to show the public. “All right, gentlemen. We tried to help our friends out of a jam, and now we’ve been suckerpunched. The question is, what should we do about it?”

“Giving up isn’t an option?” Scofield asked quietly.

“No.”

The Energy Secretary nodded, satisfied. “Then we roll with the punch, Mr. President. We roll with it and shake it off.” He straightened up. “First we have to keep the oil and gas flowing. To do that, we’re going to have to insure the tankers ourselves. Provide total coverage against any losses.”

“And where do we find the money?” Harris Thurman didn’t conceal his skepticism. “Good God, man, they’re saying the bill for the North Star explosion will run close to a billion dollars by the time all the lawyers are through. What if there’s another disaster on the same scale? We couldn’t begin to scrape that much extra funding together — not without going to the Congress.”

“Exactly.” Scofield smiled tightly. “That’s why we have to make sure there aren’t any more so-called disasters.”

He glanced at the shorter man standing by his side. “And that’s where the navy comes in. Right, John?”

The Secretary of Defense stepped forward into the flickering firelight. “Precisely.” He turned to the President. “I’ve talked to the chief of naval operations, sir. We could have an escort force on station in a week. Sooner if the British will join us. Put enough ships and surveillance aircraft around any tanker and you can be pretty sure she’ll arrive safely.”

“A carrier battle group?”

“Not necessarily, Mr. President. A carrier operating in the North Sea could prove useful, but most of the real work would have to be done by smaller stuff — frigates and destroyers. The Baltic is too confined for anything bigger.” Lucier adjusted his glasses, pushing them tighter across his nose. “I think we’d also be wise to deploy a few Patriot and Hawk missile batteries around the harbor perimeter.”

The Defense Secretary’s lips tightened in a quick, thin smile. “Just in case some troubled maniac decides to take a bomb-loaded Cessna for a spin over Poland.”

“Sensible.” The President stood quietly for a moment with his hands in his pockets. Then he nodded. “Okay, John. Work up your plan and have it ready for me to look over. By tomorrow morning, if possible.”

“Sir, you’re not seriously considering this?” Harris Thurman sounded more and more agitated. “Sending U.S. forces in harm’s way for somebody else’s oil is practically guaranteed to set Congress off like a Roman candle. Pendleton and the rest of them will crucify you for risking American lives overseas.”

The President swung around to face his Secretary of State. “They can try, Harris. But I’m the commander in chief. I’m the one the people elected to watch over this country’s vital interests. Not Pendleton or the Senate majority leader. Hell, if the people don’t like the job I’m doing, they can always throw me out on my ear in the next election. Clear?”

“Of course, Mr. President.” Thurman backed off and tried another tack. “But I still think we might be jumping the gun a bit. All this protection against terrorists or commandos could be completely unnecessary. How do we know what happened to North Star wasn’t just a freak accident?”

“Because there’s almost no chance that it was.” Scofield stepped into the argument again. “I’ve had DOE and gas industry experts going over every detail they can get their hands on. The weather that night. The ship’s position. Crew experience. Maintenance records. The whole kit and caboodle. And not one of them can concoct a scenario that would result in that kind of explosion. Not without more warning.”

The President turned to Huntington. “You were just there, Ross. Are the Poles still convinced this was a deliberate case of sabotage?”

“They are.” Huntington nodded. “They’re still digging hard for evidence, any evidence, to confirm their suspicions. Their police and military intelligence people are questioning anyone who might have seen anything suspicious out near the anchorage.” He frowned. “But so far nothing’s turned up.”

“I’m not surprised.” Walter Quinn spoke up suddenly. “I don’t think there’s anything for them to find.”

“Oh?”

“Waiting until the tanker was anchored right off the Polish coast seems too risky. Anyone caught snooping around that mooring area would have been damned hard-pressed to explain what they were doing there.” The CIA director shook his head. “Professionals don’t like working without a safety net. They’d pick somewhere busier, with more ships of all types coming and going. Somewhere they could slip into without being noticed and still get out of fast if anything went wrong.”

Quinn wiped his forehead again and this time pushed his chair back a foot or so from the fire. “That’s why we’re fairly sure whoever sabotaged the North Star did it long before she ever reached Gdansk. Maybe while she was still loading in Stavanger. Maybe sometime during her transit through the Skagerrak or the Kattegat.”

He shrugged. “Trouble is, there are just too many bases to cover. I’ve got officers spread through the region and so do both the British and the Norwegians, but it’s like hunting for a needle that’s not only hidden but invisible as well.”

The President, Thurman, and the others nodded their understanding. Without any physical evidence to narrow down the type of explosive device or even its location aboard the ship, Quinn’s agents faced a Herculean challenge. They didn’t know whether to look for a turncoat dockworker, bearded Green lunatics aboard a sailboat, or a highly trained commando team sent in by minisub.

Suddenly Huntington’s mind came alive as he remembered what he’d seen and been told at the Polish port. He lifted a hand, interrupting the CIA chief. “Hold on, Walt. It’s likely this mine or bomb or whatever it was, was set to go off at a particular time, right?”

Quinn nodded. “Probably. Command detonation would be chancy — especially through the water or a metal hull. Radio waves don’t travel too well through either medium. Given that, using a timed device of some sort would be the best method.”

“And that’s exactly why we know the explosives were planted sometime after the North Star arrived off Gdansk.” Huntington looked around the parlor. “The tanker didn’t offload on schedule. We all know that now. But who could have known that before she got there?”