The periscope broke through the surface. The video picture flashed to show the inside of the huge covered dock. Donlan whistled. “Damn, this place is big! Must hold thirty boats or more when it’s full.”

Gonzales kept his eyes locked on the display as he answered, “About that. It was designed to hold ten Typhoons. Those things are big mamas.”

Donlan panned the video camera around. He cocked his head sideways as he watched the display. “Hector, it’s empty. Nobody home.”

Charles Gruver eased down Maiden Lane in Lower Manhattan, as close to the Exchange as the afternoon traffic would allow. He glanced over at Goldman. She seemed to have recovered somewhat from her ordeal. The color was back in her face, the flash of determination once again in her eyes. This was one strong woman. Gruver admired her in so many new ways. He recognized something else, too. She was becoming someone he cared about, more than as a college friend or business acquaintance. He couldn’t help wondering why, after knowing Catherine Goldman all these years, he had hardly noticed her before her plaintive summons on the telephone this morning.

“World to Gruver,” Goldman said, her lips forming the beginnings of a smile. “Come in, Gruver.”

He shook his head and said, “Huh?”

“Charlie, you were a million miles away.”

“Oh, just thinking about the mess I’m about to walk into the middle of,” he said with a dismissing wave of his hand. “Look, I’m going to pull over here somewhere and hop out. I can make it to the Exchange quicker on foot.” He paused and looked her in the eye. He continued, speaking slowly and firmly. “Listen to me. You take the car and drive to my place. You remember how to get there?” She nodded. “Key’s on the ring there. Don’t stop for anything. When you get there, lock the door and don’t let anyone in until I get back.”

She nodded as he swung the wheel over and pulled up to the curb. The cabby behind him honked, shouted obscenities in some Middle Eastern dialect, and shook his fist.

Gruver ignored him. He swung the door open and jumped out onto the sidewalk. Goldman scooted across the seat and beneath the wheel.

He turned, leaned back into the car, and took Goldman’s hand in his. “Catherine, please do as I say and be very careful.”

She smiled up at him, but he had already turned and was charging down the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians as he galloped toward Wall Street.

Master Chief Tommy Zillich watched Toledo’s sonar screen. Last time they had turned, he thought he saw something. Just a fleeting glimpse. Probably nothing but his imagination. The two Akulas in front of them were keeping him more than busy. Still, something had caught his eye.