cise, and they needed a reason to smile at something.
“NMCC, Admiral Jackson.”
“You have the duty again, sir?”
“Well, Master Chief, I guess we both do. What do you have to report?”
“Four Aegis destroyers offshore, east side of the island. One’s taking fuel
on now from a small fleet oiler. They showed up just after dawn. Two more
car carriers at the quay, another on the horizon outbound. We counted
twenty fighter aircraft a while ago. About half of them are F-I5S with twin
tails. The other half are single tails, but I don’t know the type. Otherwise
nothing new to tell you about.”
Jackson was looking at a satellite photo only an hour old showing four ships
in line-ahead formation, and fighters dispersed at both the airfields. He made
a note and nodded.
“What’s it like there?” Robby asked. “I mean, they hassling anybody,
arrests, that sort of thing?” He heard the voice at the other end snort.
“Negative, sir. Everybody’s just nice as can be. Hell, they’re on TV all
the time, the public-access cable channel, telling us how much money they
plan to spend here and all the things they’re gonna do for us.” I.u ksuii hoard
me disgust in the man’s voice.
“Fair enough. I might not always be here. 1 do have i« J>IM a little sleep,
but this line is set aside for your exclusive use now, okay?”
” Roger that, Admiral.”
“Play it real cool, Master Chief. No heroic shit, okay?”
“That’s kid stuff, sir. I know better,” Oreza assured him.
“Then close down, Oreza. Good work.” Jackson heard the line go dead
before he set his phone down. “Better you than me, man,” he added to him-
self. Then he looked over at the next desk.
“Got it on tape,” an Air Force intelligence officer told him. “He con-
firms the satellite data. I’m inclined to believe that he’s still safe.”
“Let’s keep him that way. I don’t want anybody calling out to them with-
out my say-so,” Jackson ordered.
“Roge-o, sir.” I don’t think we can anyway, he didn’t add.
“Tough day?” Paul Robberton asked.
“I’ve had worse,” Ryan answered. But this crisis was too new for so con-
fident an evaluation. “Does your wife mind .. . ?”
“She’s used to having me away, and we’ll get a routine figured out in a
day or so.” The Secret Service agent paused. “How’s the Boss doing?”
“As usual he gets the hard parts. We all dump on him, right?” Jack ad-
mitted, looking out the window as they turned off Route 50. “He’s a good
man, Paul.”
“So are you, doc. We were all pretty glad to get you back.” He paused.
“How tough is it?” The Secret Service had the happy circumstance of need-
ing to know almost everything, which was just as well, since they overheard
almost everything anyway.
“Didn’t they tell you? The Japanese have built nukes. And they have bal-
listic launchers to deliver them.”
Paul’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Lovely. But they can’t be that
crazy.”
“On the evening of December 7, 1941, USS Enterprise pulled into Pearl
Harbor to refuel and rearm. Admiral Bill Halsey was riding the bridge, as
usual, and looked at the mess from the morning’s strike and said, ‘When this
war is over, the Japanese language will be spoken only in hell.’ ” Ryan won-
dered why he’d just said that.
“That’s in your book. It must have been a good line for the guys around
him.”
“I suppose. If they use their nukes, that’s what’ll happen to them. Yeah,
they have to know that,” Ryan said, his fatigue catching up with him.
“You need about eight hours, Dr. Ryan, maybe nine,” Robberton said
judiciously. “It’s like with us. Fatigue really messes up your higher-brain
functions. The Boss needs you sharp, doc, okay?”
“No argument there. I might even have a drink tonight,” Ryan thought
aloud.
There was an extra car in the driveway, Jack saw, and a new face that
looked out the window as the official car pulled into the parking pad.
“That’s Andrea. I already talked with her. Your wife had a good lecture
today, by the way. Everything went just fine.”
“Good thing we have two guest rooms.” Jack chuckled as he walked into
the house. The mood was happy enough, and it seemed that Cathy and Agent
Price were getting along. The two agents conferred while Ryan ate a light
dinner.
“Honey, what’s going on?” Cathy asked.
‘ ‘We’re involved in a major crisis with Japan, plus the Wall Street thing.”
“But how come-”
“Everything that’s happened so far has been at sea. It hasn’t broken the
news yet, but it will.”
“War?”
Jack looked up and nodded. “Maybe.”
“But the people at Wilmer today, they were just as nice-you mean they
don’t know either?”
Ryan nodded. “That’s right.”
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
‘ ‘No, honey, it sure doesn’t.” The phone rang just then, the regular house
phone. Jack was the closest and picked it up. “Hello?”
“Is this Dr. John Ryan?” a voice asked.
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
‘ ‘George Winston. I don’t know if you remember, but we met last year at
the Harvard Club. I gave a little speech about derivatives. You were at the
next table over. By the way, nice job on the Silicon Alchemy IPO.”
“Seems like a while ago,” Ryan said. “Look, it’s kinda busy down here,
and-”
“I want to meet with you. It’s important,” Winston said.
“What about?”
“I’ll need fifteen or twenty minutes to explain it. I have my G at Newark.
I can be down whenever you say.” The voice paused. “Dr. Ryan, I wouldn’t
be asking unless I thought it was important.”
Jack thought about it for a second. George Winston was a serious player.
His rep on the Street was enviable: tough, shrewd, honest. And, Ryan re-
membered, he’d sold control of his fleet to somebody from Japan. Some-
body named Yamata-a name that had turned up before.
“Okay, I’ll squeeze you in. Call my office tomorrow about eight for a
time.”
“See you tomorrow then. Thanks for listening.” The line went dead.
When he looked over at his wife, she was back at work, iraiiMiibm^ wiles
from her carry-notebook to her laptop computer, an Apple IWcilxxik X