"That's beside the point. Who does? So, what do we know is true?" the editor asked.

"We have to believe her that the White House isn't getting good data. That's nothing new at CIA, though it's not as bad as it used to be. The fact of the matter is that Agency performance has improved somewhat - well, there is the problem that Cabot has lopped off a lot of heads. We also have to believe what she says about Narmonov and his military."

"And Ryan?"

"I've met him at social functions, never officially. He's actually a fairly nice guy, good sense of humor. He must have a hell of a record. Two Intelligence Stars - what for, we do not know. He fought Cabot on downsizing the Operations Directorate, evidently saved a few jobs. He's moved up very fast. Al Trent likes him, despite that run-in they had a few years ago. There's gotta be a story in that, but Trent flatly refused to discuss it the only time I asked him. Supposedly they kissed and made up, and I believe that like I believe in the Easter Bunny."

"Is he the sort to play around?" the editor asked next.

"What sort is that? You expect they're issued a scarlet "A" for their shirts?"

"Very clever, Bob. So, what the hell are you asking me?"

"Do we run a story on this or not?"

The editor's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you kidding? How can we not run a story on this?"

"I just don't like being used."

"We've been through that! I don't, either. Granted that it's obvious in this case, but it's still an important story, and if we don't run it, then the Times will. How soon will you have it ready?"

"Soon," Holtzman promised. Now he knew why he'd declined a promotion to Assistant Managing Editor. He didn't need the money, his book income absolved him of the necessity of working at all. He liked being a journalist, still had his idealism, still cared about what he did. It was a further blessing, he thought, that he was absolved of the necessity of making executive decisions.

The new feed-water pump was everything the Master Shipwright had promised on the installation side, Captain Dubinin noted. They'd practically had to dismantle a whole compartment to get it in, plus torch a hole through the submarine's double hull. He could still look up and see sky through what should have been a curved steel overhead, something very unnerving indeed for a submarine officer. They had to make sure that the pump worked satisfactorily before they welded shut the 'soft patch' through which it had arrived. It could have been worse. This submarine had a steel hull. Those Soviet submarines made of titanium were the devil to weld shut.

The pump/steam-generator room was immediately aft of the reactor compartment. In fact the reactor vessel abutted the bulkhead on the forward side, and the pump assembly on the after side. The pump circulated water in and out of the reactor. The saturated steam went into the steam-generator, where it ran through an interface. There its heat caused water in the 'outside' or non-radioactive loop to flash to steam, which then turned the submarine turbine engines (in turn driving the propeller through reduction gears) The 'inner loop' steam, with most of its energy lost, then ran through a condenser that was cooled by seawater from outside the hull, and was pumped as water back into the bottom of the reactor vessel for reheating to continue the cycle. The steam-generator and condenser were actually the same large structure, and the same multi-stage pump handled all of the circulation. This one mechanical object was the acoustical Achilles heel of all nuclear-powered ships. The pump had to exchange vast quantities of water that was 'hot' both thermally and radioactively. Doing that much mechanical work had always meant making a large amount of noise until now.