“I'm not unaware of the incendiary situation in Russia, but I hope we aren't blowing this out of proportion. The whole incident took less than a few hours. The television crew was remiss in venturing within national waters, but there was no harm done.”

The secretary made a show of opening a folder emblazoned with the State Department emblem. “Not according to this report from your agency. In addition to the Turkish fisherman, at least one Russian national was killed and others may have been injured in this so-called incident.”

“Has the Russian government delivered a protest through the 'proper channels' you mentioned?”

The national security advisor, a man named Rogers, leaned forward. “There has been no word from the Russians or the Turks to date.”

“Then I suggest this is a tempest in a teapot,” Sandecker said. “If the Russians complain about a breach in their national sovereignty, I will be glad to layout the facts, apologize personally to the Russian ambassador, whom I know quite well through NUMA's joint ventures with his country, and assure him it won't happen again.”

Secretary Tingley addressed Sandecker, but he was looking at the president when he spoke, his words dripping with acid. “I hope you won't take this personally, Admiral, but we're not going to have a bunch of ocean groupies dictating the foreign policy of the United States.”

The tart comment was meant to be funny, but no one laughed, least of all Sandecker, who didn't take kindly to having NUMA described as “a bunch of ocean groupies.”

Sandecker flashed a barracuda smile, but an icy coldness crept into his authoritative blue eyes as he prepared to rip Tingley to shreds.

The vice president saw what was coming and rapped his knuckles on the table. “It seems you gentlemen have stated your case with the usual conviction. We don't want to take up any more of the president's valuable time. I'm sure the admiral considers the secretary's points well taken and that Secretary Tingley accepts NUMA's explanation and assurances.”

Tingley opened his mouth to reply, but Sandecker deftly took advantage of the exit door Sparkman had opened. “I'm glad the secretary and I were able to settle our differences amicably,” he interjected.

The president, who was known to dislike confrontation, had been listening with a pained expression on his face. He smiled and said, “Thank you, gentlemen. Now that that's settled, I've got a more important matter I'd like to bring up.”

“The disappearance of the NR-1 submarine?” Sandecker said.

The president stared at Sandecker in disbelief, then burst into laughter. “I've always heard you've got eyes in the back of your head, Admiral. How'd you hear about that? I was told the matter was top secret.” He glanced around reprovingly at his staff. “Real graveyard stuff.”