“Of course, Mr. President. I'd be happy to. It relates to our earlier topic, Admiral. Shortly after the NR-1 disappeared, we were contacted by sources within the Russian government who said they might be able to retrieve the sub and its crew. They believe its disappearance ties in with the turmoil in their country. Beyond that, I can't say for now. I can only ask your forbearance and patience.”

“I fail to follow that line of logic,” Sandecker said, boring in. “Are you saying we should rely upon a government that could fall at any moment to protect our people? It seems to me that the Russian top brass are going to be concentrating more on saving their butts than looking for an American research submarine.”

The vice president nodded in agreement. “Nonetheless, we have agreed to hold off. Even with their problems, the Russians are in the best position to handle something that's happened in their backyard.”

CIA Director LeGrand had been silent up to now. “I'm afraid he's got a point, James.”

Sandecker smiled. LeGrand must have been brought in as the “good cop” to playoff “bad cop” Tingley. The admiral could play games, too. He furrowed his brow as if he were making a tough decision. “It appears my good friend Erwin i concurs with your caution. Very well, then, I won't press the point further.”

There was heavy silence in the Cabinet Room, as if no one could believe Sandecker would give in after only a skirmish.

“Thank you, James,” President Wallace said. “We had a chance to chat before you arrived. We know there's a big temptation, especially with your personal interest in this, to bring NUMA in.”

“You're asking me to keep NUMA at arm's length from the sub's disappearance, then.”

“For now, Admiral.”

“I can assure you that NUMA will not search for the NR-1. However, please let me know if and when we can be of help.”

“Of course we will, Admiral.” The president thanked everyone for coming and rose from his chair. Sandecker wished him good fishing and left the room, allowing the others to hash over the meeting, as he knew they would. An aide was waiting to escort him to a side door. As he drove through the gate a few moments later, the guard grinned. “Hot enough for you today, sir?”

“It must be my imagination, Norman,” Sandecker said, with a grin. “The temperature always seems to be a few degrees warmer in this part of Washington.” He gave a jaunty wave and drove out into the traffic.