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Chapters (50)
  1. DEBT OF HONOR
  2. Acknowledgments
  3. Prologue
  4. 1—Alumni
  5. 2—Fraternity
  6. 3—Collegium
  7. 4—Activity
  8. 5—Complexity Theory
  9. 6—Looking In, Looking Out
  10. 7—Catalyst
  11. 8—Fast-Forwarding
  12. 9—Power Plays
  13. 10—Seduction
  14. 11—Sea Change
  15. 12—Formalities
  16. 13—Winds and Tides
  17. 14—Reflections
  18. 15—A Damned, Foolish Thing
  19. 16—Payloads
  20. 17—Strike One
  21. 18—Easter Egg
  22. 19—Strike Two
  23. 20—Strike Three
  24. 21—Navy Blue
  25. 22—The Global Dimension
  26. 23—Catching Up
  27. 24—Running in Place
  28. 25—All the King's Horses
  29. 26—Catch-up
  30. 27—Piling On
  31. 28—Transmissions
  32. 29—Written Records
  33. 30—Why Not?
  34. 31—The How and the What
  35. 32—Special Report
  36. 33—Reversal Points
  37. 34—All Aboard
  38. 35—Consequences
  39. 36—Consideration
  40. 37—Going Deep
  41. 38—The River Rubicon
  42. 39—Eyes First
  43. 40—Foxes and Hounds
  44. 41—CTF-77
  45. 42—Lightning Strikes
  46. 43—Dancing to the Tune
  47. 44—…from one who knows the score…
  48. 45—Line of Battle
  49. 46—Detachment
  50. 47—Brooms

Despite Mancuso's advice, the carrier group did get the call. A frigate, USS Gary, went at once to maximum sustainable speed and sprinted north toward the area of the beacon, responding as required by the laws of man and the sea. In ninety minutes she'd be able to launch her own helicopter for a surface search and further serve as a base for other helos to continue the rescue operation if necessary. John Stennis turned slowly into the wind and managed to launch a single S-3 Viking ASW aircraft, whose onboard instruments were likely to be useful for a surface search. The Viking was overhead in less than an hour. There was nothing to be seen on radar except for a Japanese coast-guard cutter, heading in for the beacon, ahout ten miles out. Contact was established, and the white cutter verified its notice on the emergency radio and intentions to search for survivors. The Viking circled the transmitter. There was a slick of diesel oil to mark the ship's grave, and a few bits of floating debris, but repeated low passes and four sets of eyes failed to spot anything to be rescued.

The "Navy Blue" prefix on a signal denoted information that would be of interest to the entire fleet, perhaps sensitive in nature, less often highly classified; in this case it was something too big to be kept a secret. Two of Pacific Fleet's four aircraft carriers were out of business for a long time. The other two, Eisenhower and Lincoln, were in the IO, and were likely to remain there. Ships know few secrets, and even before Admiral Dubro got his copy of the dispatch, word was already filtering through his flagship. No chief swore more vilely than the battle-force commander, who already had enough to worry about. The same response greeted the signals personnel who informed the senior naval officers on Pentagon duty.

Like most intelligence officers in a foreign land in time of danger, Clark and Chavez didn't have a clue. If they had, they would probably have caught the first plane anywhere. Spies have never been popular with anyone, and the Geneva Protocols merely affirmed a rule for time of war, mandating their death as soon after apprehension as was convenient, usually by firing squad. Peacetime rules were a little more civilized, but generally with the same end result. It wasn't something CIA emphasized in its recruiting interviews.

The international rules of espionage allowed for this unhappy fact by giving as many field intelligence officers as possible diplomatic covers, along with which came immunity from harm. Those were called "legal" agents, protected by international treaty as though they really were the diplomats their passports said they were. Clark and Chavez were "illegals," and not so protected—in fact, John Clark had never once been given a "legal" cover. The importance of this became clear when they left their cheap hotel for a meeting with Isamu Kimura.