"What was I supposed to think?" Tait demanded.  "What do you think?"

"I think he just screwed up.  They want that kid alive—no, first they want him talking—more than you do."

"How do you know that?"

"Petchkin calls their embassy every hour.  We have the phones tapped, of course.  How do you think?"

"What if it's a trick?"

"If he's that good an actor he belongs in the movies.  You keep that kid alive, Doctor, and leave the rest to us.  Good idea to have the marine close, though.  That'll rattle 'em a bit.  Never pass up a chance to rattle 'em.  So, when will he be conscious?"

"No telling.  He's still feverish, and very weak.  Why do they want him to talk?" Tait asked.

"To find out what sub he was on.  Petchkin's KGB contact blurted that out on the phone—sloppy!  Very sloppy!  They must be real excited about this."

"Do we know what sub it was?"

"Sure," the intelligence officer said mischievously.

"Then what's going on, for Lord's sake!"

"Can't say, Doc."  The commander smiled as if he knew, though he was as much in the dark as anyone.

Norfolk Naval Shipyard

The USS Scamp sat at the dock while a large overhead crane settled the Avalon in its support rack.  The captain watched impatiently from atop the sail.  He and his boat had been called in from hunting a pair of Victors, and he did not like it one bit.  The attack boat skipper had only run a DSRV exercise a few weeks before, and right now he had better things to do than play mother whale to this damned useless toy.  Besides, having the minisub perched on his after escape trunk would knock ten knots off his top speed.  And there'd be four more men to bunk and feed.  The Scamp was not all that large.

At least they'd get good food out of this.  The Scamp had been out five weeks when the recall order arrived.  Their supply of fresh vegetables was exhausted, and they availed themselves of the opportunity to have fresh food trucked down to the dock.  A man tires quickly of three-bean salad.  Tonight they'd have real lettuce, tomatoes, fresh corn instead of canned.  But that didn't make up for the fact that there were Russians out there to worry about.

"All secure?" the captain called down to the curved after deck.

"Yes, Captain.  We're ready when you are," Lieutenant Ames answered.

"Engine room," the captain called down on intercom.  "I want you ready to answer bells in ten minutes."

"Ready now, Skipper."

A harbor tug was standing by to help maneuver them from the dock.  Ames had their orders, something else that the captain didn't like.  Surely they would not be doing any more hunting, not with that damned Avalon strapped on.

The Red October

"Look here, Svyadov," Melekhin pointed, "I will show you how a saboteur thinks."