"No! You said there were other lifeboats!"
"Get a corpsman in here! Now!" one of the Americans said.
"Prepare to dive! Prepare to dive!" Alarms sounded all over the submarine.
"No! We cannot leave Dima! No! No!"
"Dive! Dive!" the loudspeaker was saying.
One of the American sailors, a big man with muscular arms, pinned her to the table now. She felt the submarine begin to sink under the water.
"Nooooo!"
Another sailor wearing a blue jumpsuit walked in, carrying a syringe with a long, silver needle that sparkled under the lights.
"Jesus! You said you would help me! Please help Dima!"
The sailor stuck the needle into her arm.
"No!"
Fluorescent lights overhead started spinning. Sleep overpowered her.
The White House
President Williams was sipping tea with the Honorable Jack W. Davis, the Irish ambassador to the United States. They were accompanied by Robert Mauney, the United States secretary of state.
Mack liked the Irish, liked their temperament, and had even joked with Ambassador Davis that he was a Notre Dame fan, at least when Notre Dame was not playing Kansas.
This was good small talk, Mack thought, especially since he was not comfortable discussing the ambassador's true agenda. The Irish wanted America to press Britain on the issue of independence for Northern Ireland.
Personally, Mack did not care whether Northern Ireland was part of Ireland or Great Britain. And while he liked the Irish, America needed Britain's power, influence, and prestige, especially at a time when antiAmerican sentiment was at its highest point in history.
"I know it is a very delicate situation, Mr. Ambassador, and I will voice your concerns to Prime Minister Anthony." He was referring to his close personal friend British Prime Minister Anthony McMillan.
"My government appreciates your consideration, Mr. President."
"I cannot promise anything, except that I will speak to him."
"That is all we can ask."
The phone buzzed on the president's desk as the ambassador took another sip of tea. Thank goodness.
"Excuse me, Mr. Ambassador."
"But of course."
The president picked up the phone for his appointments secretary, Gale Staff. "Yes, Gale?"
"Mr. President. I'm sorry to interrupt, but the secretary of defense and chairman of the Joint Chiefs are on the line. They say it's urgent, sir."
"Patch it through to the ante room."
"Yes, sir."
The president hung up. "Mr. Ambassador, my apologies, but the secretary of state and I are needed for an urgent phone call."
"By all means, sir. I was just leaving."
"No, we can take it in the next room."
The Irish ambassador smiled. "No reason to displace the most powerful man in the world. Please take your call here in the Oval Office. I will show myself out. Perhaps we can speak later, Mr. President."
"You are a friend and a gentleman, Mr. Ambassador." Mack shook the ambassador's hand, and Secretary Mauney walked him to the door.
"Gale, we'll take that call in the Oval Office. Put 'em on speaker."
"Yes, sir."
Secretary Mauney closed the door to the Oval Office, then sat in a Queen Anne's chair just in front of the presidential desk.
"Mr. President, you have Secretary Lopez and Admiral Ayers on the line, " Gale Staff said.
"Erwin. John. What's up?" the president said.
"Good news and potentially disastrous news, " Secretary Erwin Lopez said.
Mack looked at the secretary of state. "Good news first."
"We've confirmed on solid intelligence that the Honolulu has sunk the Alexander Popovich, Mr. President."
"Excellent, " Mack said. "When and where?"
"Best we can tell, between thirty minutes to one hour ago. In the Black Sea. About one hundred miles west of Sevastopol."
"Now what's the potential disaster? Have the Russians discovered us?"
"Mr. President, this is Admiral Ayers."
"Yes, Admiral. Go ahead."
"Sir, we've intercepted some radio traffic. The Popovich sent out a distress signal before she sank, claiming that children were on board."
Mack locked eyes with Secretary Mauney. "Admiral, did you say children?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
"I mean, can that be confirmed?"
"Frankly, I'm worried about it, sir, " the admiral said.
Mack's pulse raced to about two hundred beats per minute. "Why do you say that, John?"
"President Evtimov is on his way to Odessa. He and President Butrin of Ukraine were going to welcome a group of orphans sailing from Sochi, to announce some sort of Russian-Ukrainian humanitarian initiative for displaced orphans. While we can't be absolutely sure that the orphans were on the Alexander Popovich, the pieces are starting to fit together, Mr. President."
"Dear God, help us." Mack buried his face in his hands. "How did our intelligence miss that?"
"Can't answer that, Mr. President, " Secretary Lopez said. "I guess we could ask the CIA about that."
"That's not good enough!" Mack snapped, looking up at his defense secretary. "If this is true, the Navy is just as culpable as the CIA. And ultimately, if this is true, these children's lives are on my shoulders."
"You did what you had to do, Mr. President, " Admiral Ayers chimed in. "We had no way of knowing, sir. Besides, at least we got the plutonium."
Mack buried his head back in his hands. "Dear God, what have I done?"
Ilyushin I1-96 jetliner
50 miles northeast of Odessa, Ukraine
Comrade President. As you requested, Admiral Voynavich is on the line."
"Spaceeba, Sergey Semyonovich." The president took the secure air phone from his chief of staff and spoke to his Black Sea fleet commander. "Admiral, you are familiar with the distress call from our freighter off Sevastopol."
"Yes, sir."
"And you know my orders?"
"Yes, Comrade President."
"Well, as you know, I am about to meet with President Butrin in just a few minutes when we land. This meeting is an opportunity to shore up our relations with Ukraine. This whole orphans issue is killing him on the inside. Are you aware of this?"
"Yes, sir. It is my understanding that Butrin once lived in an orphanage."
"I want to assure President Butrin that we will find and sink that submarine. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Drop every sonobuoy we have into the Black Sea, if we have to. Find that sub. I hold you personally responsible for this, Admiral. Do you understand me?"
"Comrade President, our Bear bombers are already dropping sonobuoys in the water even as we speak. We will cover that area with so many sonobuoys that no one could ever escape. This is one sub against the entire Black Sea fleet. Not even the Americans are that good. You have my word as an officer, sir. We will find and destroy this submarine."
The USS Honolulu The Black Sea
Miss Katovich! Miss Katovich!"
The faint sound of her name spoken in Russian slipped softly through the ringing in her ears.
"Masha. Masha. Wake up."
The voice had changed its tone. Now it seemed more familiar. Somehow sweeter.
Yet despite the sound of her name, the world was still black.
But in the midst of it, something small and white flickered far away. Like a single flickering star on a cold wintry night. The small white object was coming at her, floating through space. It grew larger and larger. It came into vision now, this bright, white object in the midst of her black universe.
It was a cross! Floating through space, coming at her, bringing chills to her spine. Did this have anything to do with what the Allisons had told her about? Was she hallucinating? Had she drowned and gone to heaven?
"Miss Katovich!" The cross grew closer, larger. Its pure angelic whiteness obliterated the dark.
And then fluorescent lights hung over her head.
The officer, the American officer who had spoken in Russian, was standing over her. She squinted her eyes for a better view.
"Miss Katovich, " he said again in Russian. "Does this little fellow belong to you?"