"Okay, we give it a day, for them to call this off and for us to confirm this report.  Judge, I want something to back up this fairy tale in twenty-four hours.  If they haven't turned back by midnight tomorrow, I'll call Ambassador Arbatov into my office Friday morning."  He turned to the chiefs.  "Gentlemen, I want to see contingency plans for dealing with this situation by tomorrow afternoon.  We will meet here tomorrow at two.  One more thing: no leaks!  This information does not go beyond this room without my personal approval.  If this story breaks to the press, I'll have heads on my desk.  Yes, General?"

"Mr. President, in order to develop those plans," Hilton said after sitting back down, "we have to work through our field commanders and some of our own operations people.  Certainly we'll need Admiral Blackburn."  Blackburn was CINCLANT, commander in chief of the Atlantic.

"Let me think that one over.  I'll be back to you in an hour.  How many people at the CIA know about this?"

"Four, sir.  Ritter, Greer, Ryan, and myself, sir.  That's all."

"Keep it that way."  The president had been bedeviled by security leaks for months.  "Yes, Mr. President."

"Meeting is adjourned."

The president stood.  Moore walked around the table to keep him from leaving at once.  Dr. Pelt stayed also as the rest filed out of the room.  Ryan stood outside the door.

"That was all right." General Maxwell grabbed his hand.  He waited until everyone else was a few yards down the hall before going on.  "I think you're crazy, son, but you sure put a burr under Dan Foster's saddle.  No, even better:  I think he got a hard-on."  The little general chuckled.  "And if we get the sub, maybe we can change the president's mind and arrange for the crew to disappear.  The judge did that once, you know."  It was a thought that chilled Ryan as he watched Maxwell swagger down the hall.

"Jack, you want to come back in here a minute?" Moore's voice called.

"You're an historian, right?" the president asked, reviewing his notes.  Ryan hadn't even noticed him holding a pen.

"Yes, Mr. President.  That's what my graduate degree's in."  Ryan shook his hand.

"You have a fine sense of the dramatic, Jack.  You would have made a decent trial lawyer."  The president had made his reputation as a hard-driving state's attorney.  He had survived an unsuccessful Mafia assassination attempt early in his career which hadn't hurt his political ambitions one bit.  "Damned nice briefing."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Ryan beamed.

"The judge tells me you know the commander of that British task force."

It was like a sandbag hitting his head.  "Yes, sir.  Admiral White.  I've hunted with him, and our wives are good friends.  They're close to the Royal Family."

"Good.  Somebody has to fly out to brief our fleet commander, then go on to talk to the Brits, if we get their carrier, as I expect we will.  The judge says we ought to let Admiral Davenport go out with you.  So, you fly out to Kennedy tonight, then on to Invincible."