His smile was lit with genuine warmth for the first time. “Then we’re done here. Now if you’ll excuse me, Ms. Duffy, I really do have a full schedule.”

The reporter thanked him and walked with him to the cabin door, where Lieutenant Thieu was waiting to escort her back to the Media Center. Like many civilians, she was quietly entranced by the military’s Old World manners. At the Media Center Kolhammer bid her good-bye and carried on up to the flag bridge, where the Clinton’s executive officer, Commander Mike Judge, was waiting for him.

“How’d it go, sir?” asked the softly spoken Texan, after the formalities of the admiral’s arrival were completed.

“I shall never ignore a suggestion from Lieutenant Thieu again,” he said, grinning ruefully. “Thank God that’s over with. Now, is Captain Chandler joining us?”

“Sir, the captain regrets that he’ll be delayed somewhat, though he hopes to be along shortly. The number three catapult is acting up again. Chandler has gone down to the flight deck to personally kick its butt and curse up a storm.”

Kolhammer smiled at the image. The Clinton’s CO had a notoriously combustible temper. It was distinctly possible he was doing just what Judge had suggested. But Kolhammer wasn’t about to second-guess the carrier’s captain. He was already too deeply mired in the political swamp to which Duffy had alluded during their interview. Indeed, a good part of each day was eaten up balancing the competing interests and agendas of the disparate forces under his command.

The Australians and the French, for instance, maintained an icy reserve with each other at best. This was due to the decision of France’s new National Front government to renew and expand their nuclear test program in the Pacific. The relationship between the two governments had deteriorated so far that ambassadors had been recalled and billions of dollars’ worth of trade sanctions were being declared. As professional as both navies were under normal circumstances, such a climate wasn’t conducive to joint operations.

Meanwhile the Malaysian government had flip-flopped on three separate occasions, first committing to the Multinational Force, then withdrawing, then recommitting, and so on. Kolhammer had twice personally flown to Kuala Lumpur to seek assurance from the country’s defense minister that Malaysia would meet its treaty obligations, only to land back on the Clinton to the news that they would do nothing of the sort.

And of course, there were the Indonesians. If his feuding allies and the feckless Malays were a pain in the ass, the Indonesians were a situation screaming out for radical butt surgery. He had them out of sight and out of mind for the moment, running submarine drills to the north. But he was going to have to bring them back into the fold sometime soon. The State Department weenies were insistent.