“I don’t care.” She pouted. “We don’t receive an invitation to a White House party every night of the week. I’d at least like to create a good impression by arriving on time.”

Seagram sighed and went through the ticklish ritual of tying a bow tie and then attaching his cuff links clumsily with one hand Dressing for formal parties was a chore he detested. Why couldn’t Washington’s social functions be conducted with comfort in mind? It might be an exciting event to Dana, but to him it was a pain in the rectum.

He finished buffing his shoes and combing his hair and went into the living room. Dana was sitting on the couch, going over reports, her briefcase open on the coffee table. She was so engrossed she didn’t look up when he entered the room.

“I’m ready.”

“Be with you in a moment,” she murmured. “Could you please get my stole?”

“It’s the middle of summer. What in hell do you want to sweat in a fur for?”

She removed her horned-rimmed reading glasses and said, “I think one of us should show a little class, don’t you?”

He went into the hall, picked up the telephone, and dialed. Mel Donner answered in the middle of the first ring.

“Donner.”

“Any word yet?” Seagram asked.

“The First Attempt-“

“Is that the NUMA ship that was supposed to pick up Koplin?”

“Yeah. She bypassed Oslo five days ago.”

“My God! Why? Koplin was to jump ship and take a commercial flight stateside from there.”

“No way of knowing. The ship is on radio silence, per your instructions.”

“It doesn’t look good.”

“It wasn’t in the script, that’s for sure.”

“I’ll be at the President’s party till around eleven. If you hear anything, call me.”

“You can count on it. Have fun.”

Seagram was just hanging up when Dana came out of the living room. She read the thoughtful expression on his face. “Bad news?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “A shame we can’t live like normal people so you could confide your problems to me.”

He squeezed her hand. “If only I could.”

“Government secrets. What a colossal bore.” She smiled slyly. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to be a gentleman?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot.” He pulled her stole from the closet and slipped it over her shoulders. “A bad habit of mine, ignoring my wife.”

Her lips spread in a playful grin. “For that, you will be shot at dawn.”

Christ, he thought miserably, a firing squad might not be too farfetched at that, if Koplin screwed up at Novaya Zemlya.

<<6>>

The Seagrams settled behind the crowd gathered at the entrance to the East Room and waited their turn in the receiving line. Dana had been in the White House before, but she was still impressed by it.

The President was standing smartly and devilishly handsome. He was in his early fifties and was definitely a very sexy man. The latter was supported by the fact that standing next to him, greeting every guest with the fervor of discovering a rich relative, was Ashley Fleming, Washington’s most elegant and sophisticated divorcee.