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  She came from inside and stood beside him. He could smell her pleasant, clean odor and see her from out of the corner of his eye, but he did not turn to look at her. “It’s very beautiful here” she said after a time.

  “Yes, it is”

  “But it’s odd, somehow. There’s a strange flavor to it. Maybe it’s just the Greeks, but it feels very, very old. Almost as if we were living in a graveyard. Do you know what I mean” McGarvey had felt almost the same thing. “I think so”

  “When I was a little girl, thirteen or fourteen, I think, I went back to the Midwest to visit some of my cousins. There was a county fair we all went to one night. Ferris wheel, bumper cars, Tilt-a-whirl, cotton candy, foot-long hot dogs, all that. And there was a palm reader, an old woman in a tent at the end of the midway. My cousins teased me about it, but I had my palm read. It was something that just hit me at the time”

  McGarvey finally turned to look at her. She was dressed only in a short silk nightgown with thin straps. From the dim light inside he could see that her complexion was slightly flushed. Her chest rose and fell too fast, as if she were trying to catch her breath.

  “What did she tell you” he asked, his voice nearly catching at the back of his throat. She turned to him and smiled a little uncertainly. “I don’t remember 0 of it” she said. He said nothing. “She told me that I would fall in love, but that my life would be difficult”

  “Why”

  “Because he would be a dangerous man. But she told me it would be all right, that he would be there to protect me”

  “Why” McGarvey asked softly. She shook her head. “I don’t know” He took her in his arms then, and as she came to him she sighed deeply as if she had finally been able to take a deep breath, as if finally she were out of danger. He had tried to tell her, but she hadn’t been ready to listen then, and he was of no mind now to repeat his warning. They kissed deeply, and afterward he picked her up and carried her inside to the big bed upstairs.

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  “Where is he at this moment” the president asked. “On a small Greek island about fifty miles off the mainland” the DCI Roland Murphy said. They were alone in the president’s study. “It’s isolated out there, which gives us pretty good control over the situation. “Has he given you his answer”

  “Yes, Mr. President, he has. John Trotter went out to talk with him. He said he’d do it”

  “Even under the strict conditions you imposed on him” the president asked. “Once he enters Germany we totally divorce ourselves from him”

  “Yes, Sir” After a beat the president shook his head. “I don’t like this, General. In fact I like it even less than your last operation” ‘ “I didn’t think you would. But you said yourself that Gorbachev no longer has any real control over Baranov. And it’s not inconceivable that an accident could happen and Baranov would rise to power”

  “We lived through the specter of another KGB chief becoming party chairman”

  “Baranov is an entirely different animal, Mr. President. We’ve been suffering from his handiwork for too long now. The president leaned forward. “If we make him a target, you’ll be a natural for retaliation”

  “Yes, sir, I’ve taken that into consideration”

  “Could it be pulled off”

  “If it was anyone else other than McGarvey, I’d say he’d have a less than fifty-fifty shot at it. But with him … he has a habit of doing the impossible”

  “We’ve treated him shabbily”

  “He is an assassin, Mr. President”

  “Yes” the president said, nodding thoughtfully. “But have you stopped to ask what that makes us” Murphy let the remark pass. “I need your go-ahead, Mr. President”

  “They’d crucify me “Yes, sir. But you’ve never seen the report. This conversation is not being recorded. And McGarvey will be kept at arm’s length throughout the entire operation”

  “What about afterward? Assuming he is successful. “We keep him at arm’s length” Again the president hesitated for a beat. “You’re a tough man, General”

  “It’s a tough business, Mr. President” Murphy said. “Do I have your authorization”

  “Only to put everything in place” the president said. His eyes bored into the DCI’S. “I want you to listen very closely to me now, because I don’t want any mistakes. You can put your people into place, but the trigger will not be pulled until you get word from me. Under no circumstances will McGarvey assassinate Baranov until you have personal word from me”

  “It’ll put him in a nasty spot. He could be left hanging.”

  “As you-said, General, this is a tough business”

  THE MEDITERRANEAN

  The US. Los Angeles-class attack submarine Indianapolis ran submerged, two hundred feet beneath the surface of the dark sea on a course of 210 degrees out of Sixth Fleet Headquarters at Gaeta, Italy. She was one hundred miles offshore in a run-and-drift mode in which she would make fourteen knots for a half hour, and then shut down to drift for the next half hour. She had been in the eastern Med for the past two weeks, taking part in a naval exercise with the Nimitz and her support group, called LOOKUP. The Soviets had become active in the region recently and the exercise was designed to test their willingness to remain in the area, based on their battle group strengths coming through the Bosporus. The mission completed, Indianapolis was heading back to her patrol station, code-named ROUNDHOUSE, off the Italian coast for further orders. She had made it nearly six hours early and had gone into her run-and-drift mode to give the sonar operators some more practice. They had picked up a couple of ships on the surface, identifying both as freighters. There were no other submarines in the area, and they would have been very surprised had there been. Commander John D. Webb, J. D. to his friends, looked at his watch. It was twenty minutes until two in the morning, local time. He switched on the light over his bunk and sat up, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. At forty he was beginning to burn out on submarine duty. This was his fourth boat and she was a beauty, but his thoughts lately had begun to turn more and more to Norfolk where he and his wife Lois had a small house, and to the sub school at New London, Connecticut, where he had been offered a teaching job. Time now, he wondered as he got up and used the small head, to call it quits?

  Lois certainly wouldn’t fight him. Their marriage had survived this long against the adversities of a navy career. Time now to reap some of the benefits. Slipping on his shoes, he walked next door to the officers’ wardroom where he poured himself a cup of coffee, and then headed forward to the attack center, passing the sonar room where the duty supervisor and one of the kids were playing a game of chess. They both looked up as the captain passed. Lieutenant Earl Layman, his executive officer, had just shown up; he had the conn with another officer and six enlisted men. “Just about time to get the mail” Webb said, ducking through the batch. Layman looked up from the chart table. “Good morning, Captain. We’re back on station” He and Webb had served together for nearly five years now. Layman was next in line for his own boat and he deserved it. The two of them were almost exact opposites in every respect. Where Webb was short, dark, and husky, Layman was tall, pale, and lanky. Webb had graduated from — Oda Kansas State with a degree in engineering, while Layman had graduated first in his class from Harvard as a mathematics major. Webb was a pragmatist, Layman was an idealist.

  But their differences never got in the way, in fact they were complementary” Best damned skipper and exec combination in the entire Navy” Admiral Wannover, CINCSUBATLANT, called them. Webb picked up the telephone. “Sonar, conn, what’s it look like out there”

  “Nothing in the past hour, Skipper”

  “All right, Tonnny, keep your ears open, we’re heading up” Webb put the telephone down. “Earl, bring the boat up to periscope depth”

  “Aye, Captain, bringing the boat uplayman responded. “Reduce speed to five knots and come right to zero-zero-five degrees” Webb said softly.

  II Reducing speed
to five knots, coming right to zero-zero-five, aye”

  The problem with submarines had always been communications. While they were submerged the only effective means of contacting them was through either the ELF (Extremely Low Frequency) or VLF (Very Low Frequency) systems. The former was based in Wisconsin and could transmit to submarines anywhere in the world, even subs that were as deep as a thousand feet. The problem with the system was its speed. It took fifteen minutes to transmit a single three-letter code group. And communications were only one way. With the VLF system, an updated C-135 aircraft flying at thirty thousand feet over a sub’s patrol station would trail an eight-mile-long wire antenna. But again communications were slow and only one way. The alternatives were communications buoys either sent up by the submarine, or dropped from a passing ship or aircraft, or for the submarine to come to periscope depth and raise her satellite antenna. The latter systems, however, exposed the submarine to detection. Lieutenant jg. Robert Hess, the ELINT (Electronic Intelligence) officer, popped his head around the corner from his cubicle. “Are we going upstairs, Skipper” Webb turned to him. “On our way up, Bob. Have you got something for us”

  “Negative. But if we have the time, I’d like to put up the ECM mast. We can use the practice” The Electronic Counter Measures mast, like the boat’s two periscopes, could be raised or lowered. It contained three directional antennae and two omni-directional arrays. Anything transmitting electronic energy within a hundred miles of their position was detectable with the system. “Permission granted. But we’re not going to be long”

  “Aye, aye, Skipper” Hess said, ducking back. It took another three minutes to reach periscope depth, where Layman leveled the boat, and the satellite antenna and ECM mast were raised. “We have an uplink”

  the radioman reported. “Send our ready-to-receive” Webb ordered. “Aye, Captain” the radioman replied, and he activated the high-speed burst transmitter that sent the Indianapolis’s identification code, position information, and the ready for reception signal in less than a quarter of a second. One second later the complete message was received, and the printer chattered into life.

  280301ZJUL TOP SECRET FM: COMSUBMED TO: USS INDIANAPOLIS A. LOOKUP TERMINATED AS OF DAY AND DATE. B. PROCEED COMSUBMED INST. 1733.4 AREA OF PATROL AS ASSIGNED ODRS. C. REPORT AS NECESSARY. xx EOM 280302ZJUL BREAKBREAK

  “They could have said thanks, job well done, or something”

  Layman said when he read the message. Webb smiled. “What’d you expect, Earl? Two more weeks we’ll be back in port. Not so Tough. Layman had to grin as well. “That’s what we’re out here for”

  “Right” Webb said. “Lower the masts and take us down”

  “Hold on a second, Skipper” Hess called from his cubicle. Webb turned and stepped around the corner. “Got something”

  “I think so” Hess said. He was listening intently to a pair of earphones. “It sounds like … like a mayday, but very faint. Broken up.

  Sometimes garbled”

  “A long ways om. “No, sir” Hess said, looking up.

  “Close” He turned a couple of knobs on his console. “My DF puts him a couple of hundred yards out”

  “What else”

  “Nothing, sir. Just the very faint SOS. Sounds like his batteries might be just about gone” The Indianapolis was equipped with the BQQ-5 passive/ active sonar suite. There had been no reason for them to go active in the past twenty-four hours. They had missed the target above, apparently because the boat was dead in the water. Back in the attack center Webb picked up the phone. “Sonar, conn”

  “Aye, conn”

  “We have a target on the surface, fairly close, and probably stationary.

  Ping it once for range and bearing, give it five seconds and ping a second time for movement. “Aye, Skipper” A moment later everyone aboard the ship heard the lone pong as the sonar went active. “Range one hundred seventy-five yards. Relative bearing, 175 degrees”

  The second pong sounded throughout the ship. “She’s dead in the water, Skipper”

  “Search periscope” Webb said. The larger of the two periscopes rose up and broke the surface of the night sea. At first he couldn’t see much, so he dialed in the image intensifier and suddenly he could see the white tops on the waves. A small pleasure boat wallowed in the seas.

  She showed no lights or any activity on deck. Webb made a quick 360degree sweep to check for any other ships or aircraft but there was nothing.

  “Looks Re a small cabin cruiser” Webb said. “Dark. Nobody in sight” He flipped another switch on the periscope’s control panel and the image of the small boat appeared on a small television screen to the left. “Still getting that SOS, Bob”

  “Yes, sir” Hess called out. “But it seems to be getting fainter. Her batteries are going fast now” The Indianapolis’s patrol station and her position at any given moment, like that of any other US. missile or attack submarine, was top secret. By surfacing now they would be giving themselves away. But then they could not simply ignore the code of the sea. Webb picked up the telephone. “Communications, conn. “Aye, conn”

  “Get a message off immediately to COMSUBMED. Tell them we’ve detected an apparent SOS from a small private cabin cruiser. We’re surfacing now.

  “Aye, Skipper”

  “Surface the boat, Earl” Webb said. He punched another button on his phone. “Quartermaster, conn. “Aye, conn”

  “We’re coming to the surface, Tony. Looks like we’re receiving an SOS from a small cabin cruiser. She’s showing no lights, no activity on deck. Get together a boarding party. Better bring Davidson with you”

  “Aye, Skipper”

  “And, Tony”

  “Yes, sir”

  “Take along your sidearms. “Yes, sir” Lieutenant jg. Tony D’Angelo, the boat’s quartermaster, said, “we’re on our way”

  THE MEDITERRANEAN

  The seas were running only two or three feet so that the Indianapolis, whose main deck was barely on the surface, provided a stable platform. Quartermaster Tony D’Angelo, Medic Chief Petty Officer Robert Davidson, and Petty Officers Charles Markham and Don Gilmore scrambled out of one of the aft maintenance hatches. D’Angelo-a tough, beefy Italian from Brooklyn-raised binoculars to his eyes and searched the sea behind them, almost immediately picking out the cabin cruiser barely one hundred yards away now. She was long and sleek, more like fifty or fifty-five feet, he figured. Probably worth a half a million at least. A definite pussy wagon, like only the Italians knew how to build.

  Markham and Gilmore had pulled out the rubber raft and it inflated with a noisy hiss as they tossed it over the side. “All right, lock it up”

  D’Angelo said. Markham closed the access hatch and a seaman below dogged and sealed it. “You copy, Tony” D’Angelo’s walkie-talkie crackled. He looked up at the bridge on top of the sail. Webb and Layman were looking down at him. “Aye, aye, Skipper” he radioed back. “Watch yourself”

  “Yes, sir” The night was warn, but the sky was overcast and the sea was very dark. The submarine showed no lights, and rowing away from her D’Angelo got the impression he was looking back at some prehistoric sea monster, which except for her lineage, she was. Twenty-five yards away from the cruiser, he was able to pick out her name on the stern. He radioed back to the Indianapolis. “I can see her name now, Skipper. The Zenzero, out of Naples. Means ginger, the spice. “Any damage evident”

  “Negative. No sounds of machinery, no lights, nothing. She’s definitely dead in the water”

  “Any signs of activity on deck, or through the windows”

  “Negative, Skipper” D’Angelo radioed. “Wait just a minute, we’re going around to the port side” They came around the stern of the cruiser.

  Markham was in the bow of the rubber raft. “The boarding ladder is down, Lieutenant” D’Angelo could see it. He also spotted empty davits amidships. “Skipper, their boarding ladder is down, and one of her runabouts is missing. Looks like she might be aband
oned”

  “Hold up there” Webb radioed back. They came up alongside the ladder and Markham secured a line to it. “Tony, we’re still receiving the SOS, but it’s very faint now. Someone is definitely aboard”

  “We’re starting up”

  “Just a second, we’re doing a radar sweep. We may be able to pick up that missing auxiliary” The rubber raft rose and fell on the swell relative to the much bigger cruiser. D’Angelo cocked his head to listen, but there were absolutely no sounds on the gentle night breeze.

  Absolutely nothing. “All right, we’ve got it” Webb radioed. “We’re painting a small target about eight miles out and heading almost directly south. Probably trying to make Sicily”

  “What do you want us to do here, sir”

  “Go ahead and board her, find out what’s going on”

  “What about the auxiliary”

  “We’ll message COMSUBMED, they can contact the Italian coast guard”

  Webb radioed back. “Don’t worry, Tony, we won’t leave them”

  “Aye, Skipper. We’re going aboard now” Markham scrambled up the ladder first, D’Angelo right behind him, and then Gilmore and Davidson. The cruiser was laid out with a large foredeck, a much smaller afterdeck, with the main saloon taking up most of the ship’s length. A ladder ran from the afterdeck up to a large, covered flying bridge. Everything about the aluminum-hulled vessel was rich and finely finished. D’Angelo pulled out his .45 automatic and led the way aft, where an opensliding glass door led into the well-furnished main saloon. The interior of the ship was in complete darkness. Gilmore pulled out a flashlight and shined it around the interior. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed.