Fire Ice

33

WASHINGTON, D.C.

SANDECKER GLANCED AROUND the Oval Office and reflected on the life-and-death decisions that had been made in the famous room. It was hard to believe that the political currents that swirled around Washington had their center within these quiet walls. On his last visit to the White House, he'd been treated as a pariah and warned to butt out of national security matters, but after NUMA had rescued the NR-1's captain and crew and saved the White House major embarrassment, Sandecker had become the proverbial eight-hundred-pound gorilla. He lost no time throwing his weight around.

The White House's formidable appointments secretary hadn't hesitated when he called and asked to meet with the president on an urgent matter. The secretary bumped an ambassador and a congressional delegation from the president's busy schedule, and she never blinked when Sandecker asked that only the president and vice president attend.

Sandecker had politely refused the offer of a White House limousine and made the trip in a Jeep Cherokee from the NUMA motor pool. The receptionist had ushered the admiral, Rudi Gunn and Austin into the Oval Office and saw to it that a steward served them coffee on White House china.

As they waited, Sandecker turned to Austin. "I've been meaning to ask you, Kurt. How did it feel to commandeer a national monument?"

"Quite the rush, Admiral. Unfortunately, with only two cannon in the bow, I couldn't yell, 'Give 'em a broadside!' "

"From what I've heard, you and the Constitution's crew acquitted yourselves with undeniable valor. Old lronsides lived up to her glorious name."

Gunn said with a twinkle in his eye, "The scuttlebutt among the top navy brass has it that Old lronsides is being commissioned as part of the Seventh Fleet. After she's patched up, of course."

"I understand that the navy plans to retire an aircraft carrier in her favor," Austin said, with a poker face. "The Pentagon sees great cost-cutting opportunities in the use of sail and belaying pins."

"Cost cutting would be a new one for the Pentagon," Sandecker mused. "What happened to the men who attacked you?"

"The Coast Guard and police scoured the harbor. They found three boats scuttled in the marshes on a harbor island, the hulls shot full of holes."

"I understand there were some injuries."

"The tugboat crewmen were wounded, but they had the presence of mind to play dead."

"What of the Russian, the man you call Ivan?"

"He was only grazed by the bullet and is doing fine."

"What did Razov have to say about these pirates?"

"Nothing. He cut his party short, kicked his guests off the yacht and sailed out of the harbor before anyone could ask him questions."

"This Razov is a shifty character," Sandecker said with a j knitted brow. "We've got our work cut out for us. We've been keeping an eye on him since he left Boston?"

Gunn nodded. "Satellite surveillance had him heading at a leisurely pace along the Maine coast."

"Just a gentleman yachtsman out for a cruise," Sandecker said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I've asked the satellite department to run the latest results over here for this meeting," Gunn said.

The door opened, and a Secret Service man stepped inside. "The boss is on his way," he said.

A bustle of activity could be heard in the hall and President Wallace came through the door, wearing his trademark smile, his outstretched hand cocked for action. The towering figure of Vice President Sid Sparkman was a step behind. After a round of handshakes, the president settled behind his desk, and as usual the vice president drew up a chair close at his right elbow, emphasizing his place in the executive hierarchy.

"Glad you asked for this meeting," the president said. "Gives me the chance to thank you personally for saving the folks from the NR-1."

Sandecker acknowledged the thank-you and added, "Kurt and the others in the NUMA Special Assignments Team deserve the real credit."

The president's eyes narrowed. "I heard about that business in Boston, Kurt. What sort of a lunatic would shoot up Old lronsides?"

"The same type of lunatic who would order the massacre of a NUMA crew, Mr. President. Mikhail Razov."

The vice president leaned forward in his chair as if he were using his body mass to intimidate. "Mikhail Razov is a prominent figure in his country," he said, his smile belied by the fierce expression in his eyes. "You're talking about the man who might be the next leader of Russia. What evidence do you have that he's involved in any of this business?"

Austin leaned forward as well, emphasizing his broad shoulders. "The best kind of evidence. An eyewitness."

"I read the report on the Sea Hunter attack. The ravings of a hysterical woman," Sparkman said, with a snort.

Austin felt the bile rising in his throat. "Hysterical, yes; ravings, no. Razov's man Boris made sure we knew the attack was retribution for trespassing on the old Soviet sub pens."

"I'm glad you used the word trespass, because that's what it was, an illegal violation of another country's national sovereignty."

Austin's mouth widened in a grin, but his gaze had the look of a lion regarding a wounded wildebeest. Sandecker saw Kurt ready himself to unsheathe his claws and deflected the attack. "What's done is done, I'm afraid. We've got more to worry about now, gentlemen. The prospect of a plot against the United States. With all due respect, Mr. Vice President, we believe that the man behind this threat is Mikhail Razov."

"That's ridiculous – " the vice president said. The president silenced him with his hand.

"Razov expects to rise on the crest of a neo-Cossack revolution," explained Austin. "Claiming to be descended from the Romanovs gives him legitimacy in the eyes of his fanatical supporters, who will follow him to the death."

"Any truth to his claims?"

"We don't know, Mr. President. We do have evidence that the Grand Duchess Maria, one of the tsar's daughters, survived the Russian Revolution and went on to marry and have children."

"Maria? The only one I've ever heard of was Anastasia," the president said. "Saw that Walt Disney picture." He toyed with a pen on his desk. "Fascinating. Does Razov have any proof to back up his bloodline?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if he had a birth certificate. The Russians have decades of experience forging documents under communist rule. We believe he will buttress his claim with the crown of Ivan the Terrible. The crown is said to bestow mystical power upon its wearer. Razov will say that only the rightful ruler of Russia would have the crown. Once he's in power, I doubt if anyone would bother him for a DNA sample."

"He has this crown?"

"Maybe. We found a jewelry box containing a list of the tsarist treasures being carried on the Odessa Sta1: The crown was not included."

"What about DNA?"

"Once Razov is in power, he could fabricate any DNA evidence he needed. It would be a simple thing."

"The Russian people are pretty sophisticated, for all their problems," the president said. "Do you really think they'll buy a cock-and-bull story like that?"

Sandecker's lips tightened in a smile. "As an elected official, you've had more experience than I have with the ability of politicians to bamboozle the public."

The president cleared his throat. "Yes, I see what you mean. He wouldn't be the first tinhorn dictator to sell his people a bill of goods. We know Razov is furious at the United States for trying to paint him out of the political picture. Sounds like he intends to call our bluff, use this so-called threat as a little blackmail to get us to pull back. Well, I've got news for Mr. Razov. The United States won't be blackmailed. If we let Razov get away with this, there will be no end to the threats."

"It may be more complicated than simple blackmail," Austin said, recalling the story Petrov had told him about Razov's girlfriend. "Razov had a fiancee, a young woman who was going to be his tsarina. She was visiting Yugoslavia during the NATO air raids on Belgrade and was accidentally killed by a bomb from an American plane. It's given him a deep hatred of the United States."

Sandecker rejoined the discussion. "What Kurt is saying is that Razov's animosity toward the United States goes beyond our efforts to frustrate his political career. My guess is that neutralizing the U.S. fits in with his nationalist ambitions, but that he intends to satisfy his thirst for vengeance as well."

The president leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers across his chest. "It's the last part that interests me, Admiral. How's he propose to knock us out of the game?"

"We think Razov has found a way to release the energy stored in pockets of methane hydrates under the continental shelf off the East Coast," Sandecker said. "By destabilizing the shelf, he can cause massive underwater landslides that create tsunamis, giant waves that can be directed at specific targets."

A look of pure astonishment crossed the president's face. He sat bolt upright. "Are you saying Razov plans to launch giant waves against the U.S.?"

"He already has. He sent that wave into Rocky Point."

Turning to Sparkman, the president said, "Sid, I signed off on the federal disaster aid to Rocky Point. Did anyone say it was connected to terrorism?"

"No, Mr. President. Nobody I've talked to thinks the wave was anything other than a natural occurrence. In this case, caused by an undersea earthquake."

"Well, Admiral?" the president said to Sandecker. "Perhaps if we heard from an authority on the subject, it might allay any doubts."

"That seems like a good idea," the president said. "When can you line up your expert?"

"As long as it takes to summon him from the reception room. Actually, I've brought along two experts, Dr. Leroy Jenkins, an oceanographer formerly with the University of Maine, and Dr. Hank Reed, a geochemist with NUMA."

"You never go anywhere without backup, do you, James?" the president said, with a smile.

"It's my old academy training. Why fire one torpedo when you can launch a whole spread? I've also taken the liberty of inviting NUMA's chief computer programmer, Hiram Yaeger."

The president murmured an order over the intercom. A few minutes later, the Secret Service agent ushered Yaeger, Reed and Jenkins into the office. Yaeger was no stranger to the corridors of power and was little impressed by anyone who did not speak in terms of megabytes. In deference to the president's title, he had donned a well-worn Madras-plaid cotton sports jacket over his jeans and T-shirt and wore a new pair of desert boots. Jenkins had on his tan poplin suit from his college days and a new blue oxford shirt bought for the occasion. Hank Reed had made a valiant effort to subdue his Lyle Lovett hair, but even his suit and tie couldn't prevent him from looking like a troll doll.

If the president wondered at what may have been the oddest-looking assortment of human beings ever to visit the Oval Office, he was diplomatic enough not to show it. After a round of handshakes and introductions, he said:

"The admiral here was telling us about that tsunami business up in Maine. He seems to think the wave was man-made."

Jenkins had been nervously playing with the knot of his tie. Under gentle prodding from the president, he spun out the story of the Rocky Point tsunami and his investigation as to its cause.

The president turned to Reed. "Do you agree with Dr. Jenkins?"

"Totally. I see no reason to doubt his conclusions. My re- search shows that force applied at specific points on the continental shelf could produce the results he's predicted."

Austin jumped in. "I've described the projectile I saw on the Ataman ship to some ordnance people. They suggested that it might be a concussion bomb with a shaped charge capable of great penetration. The thrusters drive it deep into the seabed. It might have multiple warheads similar to a nuclear ballistics missile."

"You're not suggesting nuclear warheads?" the president said, with a look of alarm.

"From what I understand, it could be done with conventional explosives. Some of the new ones are almost as powerful as a nuke. There's another thing. When I talked to the captain and pilot of the NR-1, they said Ataman had been using the sub to look for weak spots, faults and thin cover in the crust along the slopes and canyons of the continental shelf."

"Where is this Ataman ship now?"

"Off the New England coast. I've asked our satellite people to look around. A courier will have the results here shortly."

"I'll instruct my receptionist to send your person right in," the president said. He turned to Sparkman. "You're the mining man, Sid. You know anything about this methane hydrate?"

Sparkman, who had been quiet throughout the presentation looked as if he were having acid indigestion. "Yes, Mr. President. It's basically frozen natural gas. Some people call it fire ice."

"Let's get back to specifics, Dr. Jenkins. What could we expect off the U.S. coast?"

Jenkins looked preoccupied, as if another thought had occurred to him. "Damage depends on the shallowness of water near shore, the shape of the bay, whether there is a river where the wave concentrates its energy." He took a deep breath. "It's possible that a wave might reach a height of one hundred feet after it hits the shore."

The president looked shocked. "That could cause unimaginable damage."

"Unfortunately, there are worse things than tsunamis," Jenkins said quietly.

"What could be worse than a giant wave hitting a metropolitan area?" the president said.

Jenkins took another deep breath. "Mr. President… a massive release of methane could trigger large-scale global warming."

"What? How could that happen? I thought it was just man-made causes we had to worry about."

"That, too, but – look, let me give you an example. Back in the eleventh century, there was a huge 'burp' of methane that released a giant amount of methane into the atmosphere and started a worldwide warming trend. The tropics advanced as far north as England and the sea may have extended as far as Arizona."

The room was silent.

"Razov must know about the possibility," Sparkman said, at last. "Why would he do such a thing?"

Reed offered an explanation. "The Russians have always wanted to warm the northern wastes of their country. It's an incredibly rich, but very harsh land. There was serious talk at one time of warming the waters off the Arctic with atomic energy to accomplish the goal. A temperate climate would allow vast development and settlement. At the same time, some people speculate that global warning would turn America's interior into a dust bowl."

"My advisors have filled me in on global warming," the president said. "It's a very complex process, as I understand it. There's no guarantee it would turn out the way Razov wants it to."

"Apparently, Razov is willing to take that chance," Reed said.

"Good God!" the president said. "That would be a disaster of unimaginable proportions."

"It would be worse than that," Sandecker observed. "With his huge methane hydrate mining ships and a weakened U.S., Razov would be in a position to control the world's future energy supply. He could be the closest thing to a global dictator we've ever seen."

"This man must be stopped," the president said.

"A squadron of fighter planes would make short work of Mr. Razov," the vice president said.

"Do we have enough evidence to blast this ship out of water, especially with the situation in Russia?" the president asked.

Sandecker said, "That's an excellent point, Mr. President. As we all know, Russia is in turmoil with Razov's rightwing forces battling the moderates. Razov would use any at. tacks against Russian ships to show that the U.S. is the enemy. The moderates would be done for. Russia's nuclear arsenal would come under the control of the Cossack lunatic fringe."

"But we can't let that ship carry out its mission," the president said.

The receptionist knocked softly at the door, then opened it. A young woman rushed in with a folder in her hand. "Sorry for the delay," she said breathlessly. "We ran into complications."

"That's quite all right," Sandecker said, "but how complicated could it be to find one ship?"

"That was easy," she said, handing over the folders. "We picked up the target so quickly we decided to look at the rest of the East Coast down to Florida."

"You found another ship, then?"

"Actually, sir, we found three of them in position off the East Coast. Another three appear to be on their way, and there seems to be some activity off the Pacific coast as well."

"Thank you," Sandecker said, dismissing the courier. When she was gone, the president exploded. "Three ships? And more on the way? Damn! How will we know which city is the target?" The shadow of a cloud passed over the president's face. "What if there is more than one target?"

Sandecker turned to Yaeger. "Hiram?"

"Kurt and Paul did all the hard work," Yaeger said. "They gave me access to the encrypted files aboard the Ataman ship, but Razov was using a steganographic system. The communications were hidden within digital photographs – it's become a standard tool of terrorists because the images can be tough to decipher. In this case, it was a photograph of a Russian restaurant menu. It was part of what Razov called Operation Troika."

"Razov told me that Troika was nothing more than a nickname for his plan to open trade centers in three U.S. cities," Austin said. "There was nothing secret about it."

"The menu hid his plans for the real operation," Yaeger continued. "The key to deciphering the code was on Razov's yacht. Thanks to Kurt again, Max and I were able to get into the yacht's central control system. We tracked down the bi- nary code in a dark comer of the system. The actual operation is not Troika, but Wolfhound."

Austin raised an eyebrow. "Gorky and Sasha," he said. Seeing the quizzical expressions around him, Austin explained: "Those are the names of Razov's pet wolfhounds. He's pretty infatuated with the two mutts."

The president said, "I like dogs, too, but I'm more interested in the nuts and bolts of this operation."

Yaeger said, "The Wolfhound file indicated that the three , ships would be off the cities of Boston, Charleston and. Miami."

"But… those are the cities where Ataman plans to open his trade centers," the vice president said. He seemed stunned.

"What better cover for an operation?" Sandecker asked.

Yaeger said, "The admiral's right on the mark. I came across orders to evacuate Ataman personnel and interests in all three cities. Unfortunately, there was no information in the yacht's computer system about whether one city or all the cities are targets."

"My guess is Boston," Austin said. "There's a major international financial conference going on right now at the Boston Harbor Hotel. It's being attended by representatives from all the countries that have been trying to undermine Razov."

"Then the other ships are decoys?"

"I won't rule out the possibility that Razov means harm to all three cities, but Boston may be his prime target." Austin opened a manila folder he'd been holding on his lap. He pulled out two transparent sheets and put them on the presidential desk. "This is a map of Rocky Point. The other sheet is a mylar transparency of Boston Harbor and surroundings."

The president laid the transparency over the map and swore under his breath. "They're almost identical."

Austin nodded. "I think that when Razov chose Rocky Point to try out his wave-making machine, he picked a place as close to his intended target as possible."

The president banged his hand down on the desk and reached for his phone. "That does it," he said. "I'm calling an emergency meeting of the cabinet and Joint Chiefs of Staff to discuss air-and-sea strikes, no matter what the risks. We may have to evacuate those cities. How long do we have?"

Hiram said, "The operation is to be launched in less than twenty-four hours."

Sandecker said, "The panic of a mass evacuation may cause as many casualties as an attack. May I suggest a middle course, Mr. President?"

The president's hand froze in midair. "I'm listening, but I can't forget my duties as commander in chief."

"We're not asking you to. From what we've heard, the immediate threat is to Boston and possibly two other cities. According to Hiram's information, the command center is on the yacht. I propose that we disable the central control. As insurance, we send boarding teams aboard all three ships and deactivate the explosives. In the meantime, we can delay the arrival of the other ships, maybe under some pretense."

The president scratched his chin in thought. "I like it. Of course I. can't give official approval of an operation in international waters. I need deniability in case things get dicey."

"This wouldn't be the first time that NUMA has operated out of sight and sound of official channels," Sandecker said.

"No, it wouldn't," the president said dryly. "What do you think, Sid?"

"Razov's treachery can't be tolerated. My first instinct is to blow him out of the water. I'd keep the attack subs and fighter planes ready to destroy him, his yacht and ships if the plan doesn't work out."

"Fair enough," the president said. "Well, Admiral, looks f like you have my 'blessing.' But no one outside this room can ever hear about it. Sid, I want you to get this thing moving immediately with special ops and the armed services." He checked his watch and got up from his desk. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a Boy Scout troop coming in from my home state for a Rose Garden ceremony."

AS THE OVAL Office emptied, Sandecker touched Sparkman's sleeve. "I wonder if I might have a word with you in private." Sparkman gave him a troubled look. "Sure, why don't we go outside and get some air? We can talk about how to keep the White House liaison with NUMA close to our vest."

They walked out of the executive mansion to the south portico. Sandecker gazed around the manicured grounds. "Beautiful setting, isn't it?"

"The prettiest sight in all of Washington."

"A pity you will never get to live here."

Sparkman laughed, but there was an edge to it. "I have no intention of moving from the naval observatory. Couldn't t afford the heating bills for this place."

"Don't be modest, Sid. Everyone in Washington knows that you are the heir apparent after this president's term has expired."

"There's no guarantee I'd be elected or even nominated." There was something in his tone.

"You're being disingenuous. It's not a sin to have political ambitions."

"We're all politically motivated in this town, even you."

"No argument there." Sandecker swung around to face him. "But my ambitions aren't funded by a Russian madman, Sid. Tell me, what did Razov promise you? And don't tell me I don't know what I'm talking about. You've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar."

Sandecker's bluff was convincing. Sparkman looked for a moment like he was going to bluster – and then he caved in completely, his face a mask of misery.

"I was going to get a big cut of the methane hydrates production off the United States. It would have been worth billions," he said, his voice shaky.

"Now that you've heard the real reason behind those explorations, have you changed your mind?"

"Of course I have! You heard me in the Oval Office. I'm the one who took the hard line. I wanted to go after Razov tooth and nail."

"I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that if Razov were blown out of the water, your secret would be safe."

A wan smile crossed Sparkman's lips. "You're not a man known to dillydally, are you, Admiral? All right. What do you want?"

"First of all, I want you to know that if one word of what transpired in the Oval Office this morning gets back to Razov, I'll see that you are pursued by the hounds of hell."

"I may be greedy, but I'm not a traitor, Admiral. There is no way I would aid and abet Razov after what I've learned of his plans."

"Good. Second, as soon as this is over, I want you to submit your resignation."

"I can't – "

"You can and you will. Or else your role in this scheme will be played out on CNN twenty-four hours a day. Agreed?"

Sparkman's face had a haunted look. "Agreed," he whispered.

"There's one other thing. Tell Razov that the U.S. is still trying to figure out why the NR-1 was hijacked. A little disinformation couldn't hurt."

Sparkman nodded.

"Thank you, Mr. Vice President. I won't waste any more of your time. I know you've got a lot to do carrying out the president's orders."

Sparkman squared his shoulders. "I'll have someone from my office stay in close contact so we can coordinate our planning."

The two men parted without shaking hands, with Sparkman heading back to the White House. Sandecker strode to the parking lot, where the others awaited him. He was angry at having to destroy a man's career, angry that Sparkman had been such a fool. His blue eyes blazed with a cold fire as he slid behind the wheel of the Jeep and said, "Gentlemen, I think it's time we put Mr. Razov's wolfhounds in the dog pound."