America

'Indeed. A great many politically connected French contractors made a lot of money selling concrete to the government. Presumably the people in Congress and the White House also remember their history.'

'For Christ's sake, Art—'

'The SuperAegis decision has been made at the highest level, Jake. It's far too late for us to bitch. Let's see if we can make it work. Who knows, the politicians might actually be right, for a change.'

SuperAegis certainly was a knotty, challenging problem, Jake reflected this morning. And for that reason fun to work on.

He leaned his head back on his seat and closed his eyes. The drone of the engines made him sleepy.

After another round of looking, touching, seeking to understand, Vladimir Kolnikov returned to the control room, the heart of the ship. Rothberg had the sonar picture on the right main screen, which was huge. Kolnikov got close, studied the visual presentation of what was out there. This, he reminded himself, was not a television picture but a computer presentation. More magic!

He told Rothberg he wanted a ship large enough to take all of the Americans, and Rothberg played with the range controls on the sonar. Fifteen minutes later Kolnikov saw it, a fuzzy, indistinct irregularity almost hidden in the shimmering, inverted plane that was the surface.

Turchak listened without comment as Kolnikov told him what he wanted, then he disconnected the autopilot with a sigh of relief. That infernal machine would take some getting used to. Turchak turned America toward the small freighter, which was still eight or nine miles away, and began rising slowly from the depths.

Kolnikov sat on the captain's raised leather-covered stool in the center of the compartment. That Heydrich… what facts could the American sailors tell that the FBI would not learn within days? The identities of the men who stole the sub? How many of them there were? These things were impossible to keep secret, so having the sailors confirm them to investigators cost nothing. Sparing the sailors' lives also sent a message to the Americans that the thieves were reasonable, rational men.

Kolnikov grinned at the thought.

'We've just returned from the White House,' General Flap Le Beau, commandant of the Marine Corps, told Jake Grafton, who had just been shown into the comrrfandant's office by an aide. Flap shook Jake's hand, pointed toward a chair. Admiral Stuffy Stalnaker, the chief of naval operations, merely nodded at Jake when he came in, didn't say anything or offer to shake. Stuffy looked unusually dour this morning. For that matter, Flap didn't look happy either.

'Someone hijacked America this morning as she got under way for her first operational cruise,' Flap said as he dropped into the padded swivel chair behind his desk.

Flap summarized what he had learned at the White House briefing. He related how the hijackers had used the tug, sank it alongside as they boarded, forced half of America's crew into the water, and sailed away. He also told Jake about Harvey Warfield and John Paul Jones.

Jake Grafton glanced at Stuffy, who looked as if he had sucked on a lemon.

'The FBI is investigating, of course. We'll know more soon. Apparently sixteen or seventeen men stole the boat. The FBI director thinks the men who did it were a CIA team trained to operate a sub with a minimum manning level.'

'Say what?'

'Yep. The CIA trained some Russians and Germans whom they wanted to insert into Russia to steal a submarine. The CIA guys think the big thoughts. Whatever, the project didn't work out, apparently. Maybe the risk was too high, maybe the president had second thoughts. In any event, the CIA director said the project was canceled last month, and these guys were just loafing around waiting for the agency to come up with a better idea or pay their way home. Then this.'

Jake found his tongue. 'Why?'

'That's the sixty-four-dollar question. The thinking at the White House is that the hijacking has something to do with SuperAegis. Maybe they're going to torpedo the launch platform or something.'

'A CIA team?' Jake exclaimed, still trying to digest the news. 'These guys didn't just rip off a boat because they had nothing better to do on a Saturday morning. Who is behind this?'

Flap Le Beau squared his shoulders. He was a muscular, fit black man, several inches over six feet, whose thinning hair was turning frosty. He and Jake had flown together when they both were junior officers, years ago during a carrier cruise to the western Pacific as a member of a marine A-6 squadron. Born in a ghetto, Flap Le Beau had found a home in the corps, which was the perfect place for a natural leader who knew how and when to fight and loved to do it. He was an expert with rifle and mortar and the best man alive with a knife.

'We are going to find out,' Flap said now. 'The president handed me the job of investigating the hijacking. He thought the navy shouldn't investigate itself, so he asked me to do it.' He glanced at Stuffy Stalnaker, who was lost in his own thoughts.

He's probably trying to figure out how many people are going to get court-martialed when the dust settles, Jake thought. Hell, he's probably wondering if he is going to be one of them.

'Admiral Stalnaker mentioned your name,' Flap continued, 'since you were working liaison with the foreign military reps on the SuperAegis project. When I heard your name I decided I wanted your help. You know the navy, you know bullshit when you hear it.'

Flap picked up a television remote and clicked it on. He channel-surfed a moment and, sure enough, found the video shot from the helicopter by the Boston television station. The officers in the room watched in silence. They said nothing as Kolnikov squirted a burst of submachine-gun fire at the chopper, and remained silent as the last of the footage showed America under way in Long Island Sound.

As the talking heads speculated, Flap said, 'A disaster of the first order of magnitude.' He used the remote to kill the television audio.

'This ranks right up there with California falling off into the Pacific,' Stalnaker said.

'Why?' Flap asked. 'Why did they steal it?'

'More to the point,' Stuffy Stalnaker said heavily, 'what in the name of God are they going to do with it?'

'Why did the White House staff think the hijackers are off to do the Goddard launch platform?' Jake asked.

'Because Russians headed the CIA hijack team,' Stalnaker replied. 'The Russian government never wanted SuperAegis. They went along because they had no choice. Maybe…' He threw a pencil across the room. 'Hell, I don't know. Nobody does. Those bastards killed six Americans and stole our goddamn submarine and sailed off over the fucking horizon, bold as brass. One of the news types says the tugboat crew is missing, presumed dead. We've got a goddamn Russian Blackbeard on our hands, sailing off in a U.S. Navy warship to do God knows what. Double- crossed the spooks and stole the newest, sneakiest sub on Planet Earth right out from under our noses.'

Jake was not thinking about embarrassment just now. He was thinking about a sub in the North Atlantic, that great gray ocean, deep and wide.

'Twelve cruise missiles, six live torpedoes and two practice rounds, and a SEAL minisub on the back of the boat.' Stalnaker sighed. 'Obviously we're doing all we can to find our lost pigboat. Our SOSUS nets are going to get a hell of a workout.' SOSUS was an acronym for sound surveillance system, a network of underwater acoustic sensors on the seafloor in the open ocean and strategic straits and waterways, sensors designed to listen for submarines. 'We're putting every antisubmarine asset we have east of the Mississippi and west of Suez into the North Atlantic. We're sending a battle group to guard the Goddard platform for the next few weeks. Maybe we'll get lucky — somebody will find this guy.' 'How probable is that, sir?' Jake asked.

'Truthfully, the chances are damned slim,' CNO shot back. 'I've followed the development of the America-dass for years. Losing her is an absolute disaster. She's more stealthy than we've told the press. And more capable.'

'How come,' Jake asked, 'the Jones didn't sink America this morning when they saw what was going down?'

'The skipper wanted to. The White House said no. Apparently the thinking was that Americans might kill Americans, which would go over like a three-hundred-pound canary with Congress and the electorate. Can't go killing our own, they said, not without solid-gold verification of what's going down.'

'The crypto gear, the codebooks, Revelation, the software, the weapons…' Jake ran through the list so softly that Flap Le Beau had to strain to hear. 'Oh, boy.'