Tingley opened his mouth to reply, but Sandecker deftly took advantage of the exit door Sparkman had opened. "I'm glad the secretary and I were able to settle our differences amicably," he interjected.

The president, who was known to dislike confrontation, had been listening with a pained expression on his face. He smiled and said, "Thank you, gentlemen. Now that that's settled, I've got a more important matter I'd like to bring up."

"The disappearance of the NR-1 submarine?" Sandecker said.

The president stared at Sandecker in disbelief, then burst into laughter. "I've always heard you've got eyes in the back of your head, Admiral. How'd you hear about that? I was told the matter was top secret." He glanced around reprovingly at his staff. "Real graveyard stuff."

"Nothing mysterious about it, Mr. President. Many of our people are in daily close contact with the navy, which owns the NR-1, and some of the men on board have worked with NUMA. Captain Logan's father is a friend and former colleague of mine. Family members who were concerned for the safety of their loved ones contacted me to ask what was being done. They assumed I was aware of the sub's project."

"We owe you an apology," the president said. "We were trying to keep this matter contained until we made some progress."

"Of course," Sandecker said. "Did the submersible sink?"

"We've conducted a thorough search. The sub didn't sink."

"I don't understand. What happened to it?"

The president glanced at the CIA director. “The people over at Langley think the NR-1 was hijacked."

"Has anyone contacted you to verify that theory? A request for ransom, perhaps."

"No. No one."

“Then why hasn't news of the sub's disappearance been made public? It might help in tracking down its whereabouts. I'm sure I don't have to remind anyone in this room that there was a crew on that sub. To say nothing of the millions spent to develop her."

The vice president took over. "We don't think it's in the best interests of the crew to go public now," Sparkman declared.

"It seems to me that broadcasting a worldwide alert would be in their best interests."

"Under ordinary circumstances, yes. But this is pretty complicated, Admiral," the president said. "We think it will jeopardize their welfare."

"Perhaps," Sandecker said, without conviction. He pinioned Wallace with an unwavering gaze. "I assume you have a plan."

The president shifted uneasily in his chair. "Sid, you got an answer for the admiral?"

"We're trying to be optimistic, but it is possible that all the crew are dead," Sparkman said.

"You have evidence to support that conclusion?"

"None, but it's a strong possibility."

"I can't accept 'possibility' as a reason for sitting on our hands."

The secretary of state had been simmering like a pot on a hot stove. At the presumed insult, he boiled over.

"We are not 'sitting on our hands,' Admiral. The Russian government has requested that we stay out of this for the time being. They have the contacts to chase this down. We'd stir things up, especially with nationalism riding so high. Isn't that right, Mr. President?"

"Don't tell me you think the Russians took the sub?" Sandecker said, ignoring the secretary and directing his question at the president.

Wallace again turned to his vice president. "Sid, you've been on top of this since day one. Can you explain to the admiral?"

"Of course, Mr. President. I'd be happy to. It relates to our earlier topic, Admiral. Shortly after the NR-1 disappeared, we were contacted by sources within the Russian government who said they might be able to retrieve the sub and its crew. They believe its disappearance ties in with the turmoil in their country. Beyond that, I can't say for now. I can only ask your forbearance and patience."

"I fail to follow that line of logic," Sandecker said, boring in. "Are you saying we should rely upon a government that could fall at any moment to protect our people? It seems to me that the Russian top brass are going to be concentrating more on saving their butts than looking for an American research submarine."

The vice president nodded in agreement. "Nonetheless, we have agreed to hold off. Even with their problems, the Russians are in the best position to handle something that's happened in their backyard."

CIA Director LeGrand had been silent up to now. "I'm afraid he's got a point, James."

Sandecker smiled. LeGrand must have been brought in as the "good cop" to playoff "bad cop" Tingley. The admiral could play games, too. He furrowed his brow as if he were making a tough decision. "It appears my good friend Erwin i concurs with your caution. Very well, then, I won't press the point further."

There was heavy silence in the Cabinet Room, as if no one could believe Sandecker would give in after only a skirmish.

"Thank you, James," President Wallace said. "We had a chance to chat before you arrived. We know there's a big temptation, especially with your personal interest in this, to bring NUMA in."

"You're asking me to keep NUMA at arm's length from the sub's disappearance, then."

"For now, Admiral."

"I can assure you that NUMA will not search for the NR-1. However, please let me know if and when we can be of help."

"Of course we will, Admiral." The president thanked everyone for coming and rose from his chair. Sandecker wished him good fishing and left the room, allowing the others to hash over the meeting, as he knew they would. An aide was waiting to escort him to a side door. As he drove through the gate a few moments later, the guard grinned. "Hot enough for you today, sir?"

"It must be my imagination, Norman," Sandecker said, with a grin. "The temperature always seems to be a few degrees warmer in this part of Washington." He gave a jaunty wave and drove out into the traffic.

ON THE WAY back to NUMA headquarters, Sandecker punched out a number on his cell phone. "Rudi, please meet me in my office in ten minutes." Sandecker drove into the garage under the thirty-story tubular building that served as the nerve center for NUMA's worldwide operations and took the elevator to his top-floor office. He was behind the immense desk made from the hatch cover of a Confederate blockade runner when Rudi Gunn arrived carrying a briefcase.

Sandecker waved his second-in-command to a chair. Gunn, a short thin man with narrow shoulders, thinning hair and thick horn-rimmed glasses, listened intently while Sandecker described his White House meeting.

"Then we're pulling out of the search?" Gunn said.

Sandecker's eyes blazed. "Hell, no! The fact that they put a shot across my bow doesn't mean I'm going to heave to and run up the white flag. What have you learned?"

"I went right to work on the premise we had discussed. That the only thing with the ability to hijack the NR-1 from under the nose of its support ship would be a bigger sub. Any number of countries have submarines large enough to carry off the NR-1," Gunn said. "I asked Yaeger to run some profiles." Hiram Yaeger was NUMA's computer whiz and head of its vast data network. "We concentrated on the USSR because of their preference for building monster boats. My first thought was something like the Typhoon."

Sandecker sat back in his chair and cradled his chin in one hand. "With a length of more than five hundred feet, a Typhoon could easily piggyback our missing minisub."