"Admiral," Ryan began, "you might want to leave that bottle out.  After you hear this story, we might all need a drink."  He passed out his two remaining briefing folders and talked from memory.  His delivery took fifteen minutes.

"Gentlemen," he concluded, "I must insist that this information be kept strictly confidential.  For the moment no one outside this room may learn it."

"That is too bad," Carstairs said.  "This makes for a bloody good sea story."

"And our mission?"  White was holding the photographs.  He poured Ryan another shot of brandy, gave the bottle a brief look, then stowed it back in the desk.

"Thank you, Admiral.  For the moment our mission is to locate Red October.  After that we're not sure.  I imagine just locating her will be hard enough."

"An astute observation, Commander Ryan," Hunter said.

"The good news is that Admiral Painter has requested that CINCLANT assign you control of several U.S. Navy vessels, probably three 1052-class frigates, and a pair of FFG Perrys.  They all carry a chopper or two."

"Well, Geoffrey?" White asked.

"It's a start," Hunter agreed.

"They'll be arriving in a day or two.  Admiral Painter asked me to express his confidence in your group and its personnel."

" A whole fucking Russian missile submarine . . ."  Barclay said almost to himself.  Ryan laughed.

"Like the idea, Commander?"  At least he had one convert.

"What if the sub is heading for the U.K.?  Does it then become a British operation?"  Barclay asked pointedly.

"I suppose it would, but from the way I read the map, if Ramius was heading for England, he'd already be there.  I saw a copy of the president's letter to the prime minister.  In return for your assistance, the Royal Navy gets the same access to the data we develop as our guys get.  We're on the same side, gentlemen.  The question is, can we do it?"

"Hunter?" the admiral asked.