As they waited, Sandecker turned to Austin. “I've been meaning to ask you, Kurt. How did it feel to commandeer a national monument?”

“Quite the rush, Admiral. Unfortunately, with only two cannon in the bow, I couldn't yell, 'Give 'em a broadside!' ”

“From what I've heard, you and the Constitution's crew acquitted yourselves with undeniable valor. Old lronsides lived up to her glorious name.”

Gunn said with a twinkle in his eye, “The scuttlebutt among the top navy brass has it that Old lronsides is being commissioned as part of the Seventh Fleet. After she's patched up, of course.”

“I understand that the navy plans to retire an aircraft carrier in her favor,” Austin said, with a poker face. “The Pentagon sees great cost-cutting opportunities in the use of sail and belaying pins.”

“Cost cutting would be a new one for the Pentagon,” Sandecker mused. “What happened to the men who attacked you?”

“The Coast Guard and police scoured the harbor. They found three boats scuttled in the marshes on a harbor island, the hulls shot full of holes.”

“I understand there were some injuries.”

“The tugboat crewmen were wounded, but they had the presence of mind to play dead.”

“What of the Russian, the man you call Ivan?”

“He was only grazed by the bullet and is doing fine.”

“What did Razov have to say about these pirates?”

“Nothing. He cut his party short, kicked his guests off the yacht and sailed out of the harbor before anyone could ask him questions.”

“This Razov is a shifty character,” Sandecker said with a j knitted brow. “We've got our work cut out for us. We've been keeping an eye on him since he left Boston?”

Gunn nodded. “Satellite surveillance had him heading at a leisurely pace along the Maine coast.”

“Just a gentleman yachtsman out for a cruise,” Sandecker said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I've asked the satellite department to run the latest results over here for this meeting,” Gunn said.

The door opened, and a Secret Service man stepped inside. “The boss is on his way,” he said.

A bustle of activity could be heard in the hall and President Wallace came through the door, wearing his trademark smile, his outstretched hand cocked for action. The towering figure of Vice President Sid Sparkman was a step behind. After a round of handshakes, the president settled behind his desk, and as usual the vice president drew up a chair close at his right elbow, emphasizing his place in the executive hierarchy.

“Glad you asked for this meeting,” the president said. “Gives me the chance to thank you personally for saving the folks from the NR-1.”

Sandecker acknowledged the thank-you and added, “Kurt and the others in the NUMA Special Assignments Team deserve the real credit.”

The president's eyes narrowed. “I heard about that business in Boston, Kurt. What sort of a lunatic would shoot up Old lronsides?”