I sure as hell want to talk to him, Donnegan thought.

He punched the lighted button on the phone and heard the scratchy hissing of an encrypted satellite phone line. He smiled, picturing Jon Ward on the other end, seated in the command center on the cruiser. Donnegan would always see Ward as the gangly Navy brat of a kid who practically grew up on his own back porch. Or as the brave-faced but grieving teenager after Donnegan became a substitute father when Jon Ward Sr. was tragically lost. Ward’s old man had been Donnegan’s best friend since college. The families had grown up together over the years and it was natural for the younger Ward to turn to Donnegan when things were tough.

Donnegan sighed as he listened to the hollow sound of the phone line. That was all a long time ago. Jon Ward was now a captain, commanding a submarine squadron, but right now he was out there somewhere in the Norwegian Sea watching over one of the most crucial operations in modern time.

“What do you have, Jon?” The admiral spoke into the phone’s mouthpiece. “How did it go?”

Donnegan heard a dry chuckle on the other end. “Good morning to you, too, Admiral. Nice of you to inquire about my health.” Donnegan’s inability to make small talk was a standing joke between them. “The medevac went well, given the weather. The crewman is in the hospital at Keklivek. The doctors there say it’s a damn good thing they got him there when they did. Another hour or so and they’d have lost him.”

“Good. Glad that turned out. How are Glass and the Toledo coming?”

“The diversion cost them ten hours. There’s not much chance of making up that time. He can’t rush around the North Cape at flank and expect to stay undetected for very long, and I imagine everybody…friend or foe…is just a tad skittish right now. I still haven’t heard anything from Beaman, but we’ll let him know about the delay when he calls in next time.”

“Okay. Things are starting to heat up on the political and diplomatic fronts, Jon. I’ve never seen anything like this. Russia is in one hell of an uproar and they’re getting plenty of guests joining their little party. Tambor told me that Smitrov is trying to keep a lid on things, based on some of the snippets we’ve been feeding him, but he’s in real danger of losing control. We’ve given him precious little to help our case, either, until we confirm what’s going on up there. We could tell him we think there’s going to be a coup, but he’s not going to believe us unless we can point to something solid.”