Debt of Honor

Either you help us or you don't. If you do, then we can do our job more easily, cheaply, and with less bloodshed. If you don't, then some additional people are probably going to get hurt.'

'I doubt that Madison and the rest ever intended the American press to help an enemy in time of war,' the lady from Justice said.

'We would never do that,' the man from NEC protested. 'But to take action in the other direction—'

'Ladies and gentlemen, I do not have time for a discourse on constitutional law. This is quite literally a matter of life and death. Your government is asking for your help. If you do not give that help, you will sooner or later have to explain to the American people why you did not.' Jack wondered if anyone had ever threatened them in this way. Turnabout, he supposed, was fair play, though he didn't expect they would see things quite the same way. It was time for the olive branch. 'I will take the heat on this. If you help us out, no one will ever hear it from me.'

'Don't give me that. It'll get out,' CNN protested.

'Then you will have to explain to the American people that you acted as patriotic citizens.'

'I didn't mean it that way, Dr. Ryan!'

'I did,' Jack said with a smile. 'Think about it. How will it hurt you? Besides, how will it get out? Who else is going to report it?'

The journalists were cynical enough—it was almost a professional requirement—to see the humor, but it was Ryan's earlier statement that had scored. They were in a profound professional quandary, and the natural result was to evade it by thinking in other terms. In this case, business. Failure to act in support of their country, however much they might proclaim principle and professional ethics—well, the people who watched their TV were not as impressed with those high-flying standards as they ought to be. And besides, Ryan wasn't asking all that much. Just one thing, and if they were clever about it, maybe nobody really would notice. The news executives would have preferred to leave the room and discuss the request in privacy, but no one offered that opportunity, and none of them had the nerve to ask. So they looked at one another, and all five nodded. You'll pay for this one someday, their eyes told Ryan. It was something he was willing to deal with, he thought.

'Thank you.' When they made their way out. Ryan walked toward the Oval Office.

'We got it,' he told the President.

'I'm sorry I couldn't back you up on that.'

'It's an election year,' Jack acknowledged. The Iowa caucuses were two weeks away, then New Hampshire, and though Durling had no opposition in his party, he would on the whole have preferred to be elsewhere. He could also not afford offending the media. But that's why he had a National Security Advisor. Appointed officials were always expendable.

'When this is all over…'

'Back to golfing? I need the practice.'

That was another thing he liked about him, Durling told himself. Ryan didn't mind telling a joke once in a while, though the circles under his eyes duplicated his own. It was one more reason to thank Bob Fowler for his contrarian advice, and perhaps a reason to lament Ryan's choice of political affiliation.

'He wants to help,' Kimura said.

'The best way for him to do that,' Clark replied, 'is to act normally. He's an honorable man. Your country needs a voice of moderation.' It wasn't exactly the instructions he'd expected, and he found himself hoping that Washington knew what the hell it was doing. The orders were coming through Ryan's office, which was some consolation but not all that much. At least his agent-in-place was relieved.

'Thank you. I do not wish to put his life at risk.'

'He's too valuable for that. Perhaps America and Japan can reach a diplomatic solution.' Clark didn't believe it, but saying such things always made diplomats happy. 'In that case, Goto's government will fall, and perhaps Koga-san will regain his former place.'

'But from what I hear, Goto will not back down.'

'It is also what I hear, but things can change. In any case, that is our request for Koga. Further contact between us is dangerous,' 'Klerk' went on. 'Thank you for your assistance. If we need you again, we will contact you through normal channels.'

In gratitude, Kimura paid the bill before leaving.

'That's all, eh?' Ding asked.

'Somebody thinks it's enough, and we have other things to do.'

Back in the saddle again, Chavez thought to himself. But at least they had orders, incomprehensible though they might be. It was ten in the morning, local time, and they split up after hitting the street, and spent the next several hours buying cellular phones, three each of a new digital model, before meeting again. The units were compact and fit into a shirt pocket. Even the packing boxes were small, and neither officer had the least problem concealing them.

Chet Nomuri had already done the same, giving his address as an apartment in Hanamatsu, a preselected cover complete with credit cards and driver's license. Whatever was going on, he had less than thirty days in- country to accomplish it. His next job was to return to the bathhouse one last time before disappearing from the lace of the earth.

'One question,' Ryan said quietly. The look in his eyes made Trent and Fellows uneasy.

'Are you going to make us wait for it?' Sam asked.

'You know the limitations we face in the Pacific.'

Trent stirred in his seat. 'If you mean that we don't have the horses to—'

'It depends on which horses we use,' Jack said. Both insiders considered that for a moment.

'Gloves off?' Al Trent asked.

Ryan nodded. 'All the way off. Will you hassle us about it?'

'Depends on what you mean by that. Tell us,' Fellows ordered. Ryan did.

'You're really willing to stick it out that far?' Trent asked.

'We don't have a choice. I suppose it would be nice to fight it out with cavalry charges on the field of honor and all that stuff, but we don't have the horses, remember? The President needs to know if Congress will back him up. Only you people will know the black part. If you support us, then the rest of the people on the Hill will fall in line.'

'If it doesn't work?' Fellows wondered.

'Then there's a hanging party for all hands. Including you,' Ryan added.

'We'll keep the committee in line,' Trent promised. 'You're playing a high-risk game, my friend.'

'True enough,' Jack agreed, thinking of the lives at risk. He knew that Al Trent was talking about the political side, too, but Ryan had commanded himself to set those thoughts aside. He couldn't say so, of course. Trent would have considered it a weakness. It was remarkable how many things they could disagree on. But the important thing was that Trent's word was good.

'Keep us informed?'

'In accordance with the law,' the National Security Advisor replied with a smile. The law required that Congress be notified after 'black' operations were carried out.

'What about the Executive Order?' An Order dating back to the Ford administration prohibited the country's intelligence agencies from conducting assassinations.

'We have a Finding,' Ryan replied. 'It doesn't apply in time of hostilities.' A Finding was essentially a Presidential decree that the law meant what the President thought it meant. In short, everything that Ryan had proposed was now, technically speaking, legal, so long as Congress agreed. It was a hell of a way to run a railroad, but democracies were like that.

'Then the i's are dotted,' Trent observed.

Fellows concurred with a nod: 'And the f's are crossed.' Both congressmen watched their host lift a phone and punch a speed-dial button.

'This is Ryan. Get things moving.'

The first move was electronic. Over the outraged protests of CINCPAC, three TV crews set up their cameras on the edge of the side-by-side dry docks now containing Enterprise and John Stennis.

'We're not allowed to show you the damage to the ships' sterns, but informed sources tell us that it's even