America

Stalnaker looked at each man, then pulled a chair around and dropped into it. He glanced at the door to ensure it was closed before he spoke. 'The Russians got wind of it,' he said.

Flap glanced at Jake, then pulled a chair away from the table and sat in it. Jake dropped into one against the wall.

'How do you know that?'

'DeGarmo told me. Apparently he told the intelligence committee too. They canceled the operation.'

'Any idea how the CIA learned that fact?'

'Of course not. DeGarmo would never share that kind of information. We have no need to know.'

'What,' Jake Grafton asked, 'if he was lying?'

Stalnaker ducked his head, swung it ponderously from side to side as he considered his answer. He looked up, eyed Jake. 'There are some rocks sailors can't look under, and that's one of them.'

General Le Beau asked, 'How valuable is supercavitation technology?'

'Until we see where it is, Flap, what's involved, I can't answer that. I can tell you this, the Russians have successfully launched at least one of those Shkyal torpedoes. That's classified top secret, by the way. The thing ran straight as a bullet for about twenty miles, did two hundred and eighty knots, as near as we can determine. We had two subs close enough to record this on sonar.'

'Thing make a lot of noise?'

'No, it didn't. That is the intriguing part. Some noise, yes. If they shot it at you, that's the last thing you'd hear before you died.'

'So you are still interested?'

'Very.'

'DeGarmo said supercavitation might lead to two-hundred-knot submarines, which would obsolesce conventional navies.'

'I don't know where it would lead — far too early to tell. That's what's so tantalizing about it. But sure as God made Viagra, two-hundred-knot submarines would make scrap iron of every existing antisubmarine weapon and ship.'

At this point, Flap glanced at Jake Grafton and raised his eyebrows in invitation.

'Admiral, if I might,' Jake said, 'let's talk about the technology aboard America. Who would want it?'

'Everyone,' Stalnaker shot back. 'Everyone will want it unless they got all the juice from the people who built the systems. In America that is the usual course of events. Espionage, industrial espionage… whatever you want to call it, someone buys the technology from someone in government or private industry while it's still in the blueprint stage. Or some twisted little bastard gives it away to save the human race from the evil military-industrial complex. The Russians, or Chinese, or Japanese, or Koreans — whoever — are usually a few years behind us turning the new tech into hardware, which is due more to manufacturing capacity and budget restraints than anything else. Anyone who thinks that competent, determined foreign intelligence services can't discover the secrets of Revelation is living in a fool's paradise. The circle of people with access is too darn big. All big secrets leak — in America that's a universal law.'

'What about Russian technology? I have heard that since the collapse of communism, all the really great innovations that their research institutes were working on are for sale. For the right price.'

'If Shkval is for sale, I haven't heard about it,' Stalnaker replied. 'Ask DeGarmo.'

'He would know, wouldn't he?' Flap said, glancing again at Jake.

'The problem is buying blueprint tech.' Stalnaker scratched his head. 'It's so damned tricky. You have to know a lot in order to evaluate what the seller is offering.'

'Revelation. Does it work?'

'Oh, yes.'

Flap asked, 'If Russia didn't have it, would they steal a sub to get it?'

Stalnaker weighed the question. 'Maybe. But as I said, stuff leaks. I would be amazed if the guts of Revelation are still an exclusively American secret.'

Jake asked, 'If not Russia, then who?'

'Make a list. A long list. Every country with a high-tech defense industry could make money with the guts of Revelation, which is nothing more than software that runs on high-speed computers. But you should be talking all this over with Navarre.' Vice-Admiral Val Navarre was the navy's head submariner. 'He knows America inside out.'

Le Beau and Grafton thanked Stalnaker and left.

In the hallway the two flag officers were met by Captain Killbuck. He handed Jake a sheet of paper. 'Here is the America weapons loadout you asked for, Admiral.'

Jake glanced over the list. 'Flashlights? Ten of them?'

'Yes, sir. First operational cruise.'

'Thank you, Captain.'

Back in Le Beau's office, Jake showed the list to Flap. 'Flashlight is the new warhead on the vertically launched cruise missile, the Tomahawk.'

'I've read about it,' Flap responded after scanning the list. 'Maybe they wanted Flashlight more than Revelation.'

Jake's lips compressed into a firm, straight line. He thought for a moment before he spoke again. 'The Russians assigned a so-called technical expert to the SuperAegis liaison team last month, a couple weeks after the satellite was lost. Guy's name is Ilin. CIA says he's a spook with SVR. He's been playing me for a sucker.' Jake told Flap about Ilin's solo talking and the transmitter in his belt. 'The FBI is assembling a serious surveillance team to watch this guy, but…' Jake shrugged. 'I don't know what he could be telling the Russians except what he is seeing and hearing.'

'Okay,' Flap Le Beau said.

'We've also got a Brit, a Frenchman, and a German on the liaison team. All are intelligence professionals and freely admit it. I don't know why we do this to ourselves, but we're stuck with these people. The question is, who stole that submarine? If any of those countries are behind the theft, then it stands to reason that their rep knows or has orders to report anything he hears about submarines, etc. In any event, I want to give them something to report. I want permis-

sion to take them to the war room this evening for the Joint Chiefs brief.'

Flap eyed Jake. 'You want to let them see what we are doing to find the sub?'

'Yes, sir.'

'The Russian too?'

'Especially him.'

'He'll ride the subway across town to the Russian embassy and tell them all about it.'

'I expect all four to make beelines to their respective embassies. If one doesn't, well, that would be interesting. It would be doubly interesting if we could read some of the intel codes these folks use to communicate with the folks back home.'

'Beats the hell outta me,' Flap said slowly, eyeing Jake.

'My suggestion, sir, is that you talk to the appropriate people at NSA and the White House, see if you can get permission. And we'll see what happens.'

'The White House doesn't want America to slip through our fingers.'

'We aren't close to finding that sub,' Jake shot back. 'We couldn't be. America is state of the art. We might stumble across her by accident, but we're not going to hear her on the SOSUS or find her with P-3s. The Atlantic is a damned big ocean. We lost a satellite in that pond two months ago and still haven't found it, and everyone was looking right at it when it disappeared.'

'How did that happen?' Flap asked. 'NASA and the FBI haven't told us anything.'

'They haven't told the liaison office anything either,' Jake said slowly. He ran his fingers through his hair. 'It may have been one of those things, the software hiccupped or the rocket burped, whatever, and at the same time the tracking stations' power supply failed temporarily. Far more likely, someone arranged for all that to happen. They haven't found that someone, nor have they found the satellite. And they aren't talking.'