"We hit it?"

"I don't know, sir," the operator said. "He went shallow in a hurry, and the fish went charging up after him, circled around some -" the sonarman traced his finger on the display. "Then it exploded here, close to where the Akula disappeared into the surface noise. Can't say - no break-up noises, sir, I have to call it a miss."

"Bearing and distance to the target?" Dubinin asked.

"Roughly nine thousand meters, bearing zero-five-zero," the Starpom replied. "What is the plan now, Captain?"

"We will locate and destroy the target," said Captain First Rank Valentin Borissovich Dubinin.

"But-"

"We have been attacked. Those bastards tried to kill us!"

"That was an aerial weapon," the executive officer pointed out.

"I heard no airplane. We have been attacked. We will defend ourselves."

"Well?"

Inspector Pat O'Day was making furious notes. American Airlines, like all the major carriers, had its ticket information on computer. With a ticket number and flight numbers, he could track anyone down. "Okay," he told the woman on the other end. "Wait a minute." O'Day turned. "Dan, there were only six first-class tickets on that flight from Denver to Dallas - Fort Worth, the flight was nearly empty - but it hasn't taken off yet because of ice and snow in Dallas. We have the names for two other first-class passengers who changed to a Miami flight. Now, the Dallas connection was for Mexico City. The two who changed through Miami were also booked on a DC-10 out of Miami into Mexico City. That plane's off, one hour out of Mexico."

"Turn it around?"

"They say they can't because of fuel."

"One hour - Christ!" Murray swore.

O'Day ran a large hand over his face. As scared as everyone else in America - more so, since everyone in the command center had informed reason to be frightened - Inspector Patrick Sean O'Day was trying mightily to set everything aside and concentrate on whatever he had at hand. It was too slim and too circumstantial to be considered hard evidence as yet. He'd seen too many coincidences in his twenty years with the Bureau. He'd also seen major cases break on thinner stuff than this. You ran with what you had, and they had this.

"Dan, I-"

A messenger came in from the Records Division. She handed over two files to Murray. The deputy assistant director opened the Russell file first, rummaging for the Athens photo. Next he took out the most recent photo of Ismael Qati. He set both next to the passport photos just faxed in from Denver.

"What do you think, Pat?"

"The passport one of this guy still looks thin for Mr Qati cheekbones and eyes are right, mustache isn't. He's losing hair, too, if this is him "

"Go with the eyes?"

"The eyes are right, Dan, the nose - yeah, it's him. Who's this other mutt?"

"No names, just these frames from Athens. Fair skin, dark hair, well-groomed. Haircut's right, hairline is right." He checked the descriptive data on the license and passport. "Height, little guy, build - it fits, Pat."