'Let me ask you,' Isaacs looked intently at the young officer, 'do you think the ship's destruction was related to its mission?'

'I think we should be doing a lot more to find out.'

'I believe I have a way to open this case up. I'll handle it in the Agency and if it doesn't work out, I don't want you involved. Your data is intrinsically more accurate than ours. I can't ask you through channels, but if you could give me the most precise values you have for recent sonar data, times, and locations, I may be able to exploit them in a way which is satisfactory to us both.'

Szkada contemplated the man across from him for some time.

'I'll show you the numbers we have. You copy what you want on your own paper in your own handwriting. And good luck.'

Isaacs nodded his acceptance of these terms and reached in his portfolio for paper and pen. Enough time, he thought, to get this data to Danielson before the crisis team reconvenes. He could sense the presence of the hunter— killer satellites orbiting, Damoclean, overhead. For the moment, at least, the thread still held the sword aloft. He knew Danielson was stealing moments from the hectic press of other duties to analyse the positions of Soviet satellites to check for any correlation with the seismic signal. He wondered whether she were having any luck with that. He needed to see Martinelli to arrange surveillance of Nagasaki , only two short days away, but that would probably have to wait until tomorrow.

Vincent Martinelli came around his desk to greet Isaacs, his doughy face lit with a smile.

'Bob, how are you? Sit down.' He motioned Isaacs into a chair and sat in an adjacent one.

'What did you think of the President's decision to hang tight? Guts ball, huh?'

'So far, so good. I guess that makes it a wise move. We discussed the possibility that the Russians would take out the nuke and go for broke with the laser, but the more we talked, the more it seemed like their actual goal was to establish their right to orbit a laser, free of our interference, and that they would hold to the status quo. The President bought the idea that they didn't want an overt escalation any more than we did. But you're right, it took some nerve to just let the nuke sit in the range of those hunter-killers and wait it out.'

'What's it been?' Martinelli glanced at his watch. 'Sixty— odd hours since they were launched. As long as nobody nudges the trigger on one of those hunter-killers, we have a truce.'

'Looks like it.'

'So other than that, how are things in the think tank? Seems like we haven't had time to chat since that damn Russian carrier caught fire.'

'Things are fine, Voice. But I was hoping you could improve them by taking a couple of pictures for me.'

'Sure, any time. That doesn't require a personal visit.'

'I would like coverage of an area in Nagasaki near the bay, tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow! Jesus, man, you know it takes a week at top speed to get a request through the priorities committee.'

'I know that, Vince. That's why I'm here. All I need is one hour of your flex-tune, but I need it tomorrow. There's no tune to go through channels.'

'It would help to clear it through McMasters, at least, even on an informal basis.'

Isaacs was silent for a moment.

'I hoped that wouldn't be necessary.'

Martinelli contemplated his visitor. He had known Isaacs to work around McMasters before, but not in a matter like this when consultation with him was explicitly mandated.

'This is important to you?'

'Vince, I think I'm on to something that may help explain the Novorossiisk event and get us out of this whole mess it has led to. I can't prove it yet. I need more evidence, including your photos.'

'You want to tell me what it is?'

'You'll be sticking your neck out as it is if you do this. I think we should leave it at that.'

'And you need to steer clear of McMasters?'

'He's got me between a rock and a hard place. The less— said about that the better for now, too.'

Martinelli let out a sigh. 'Let's see whether what you're asking is even feasible. You have the coordinates?'

Isaacs withdrew a small sheet of notepaper from his pocket and banded it to Martinelli.

'I'll check with the scheduling office. Hang on a bit.'

Martinelli left Isaacs in the office. Isaacs rose and paced the floor. He severely disliked involving Martinelli in this way. He could not even be sure the photos would be useful, but some steps had to be taken to reduce their level of ignorance. He wanted to bring to bear as many means as possible. He had cabled the consulate in Nagasaki and arranged for an observer to cover the area, hinting at the possibility of some political turmoil. Again.he was operating out of channels since his office was not directly responsible for covert intelligence. He had gambled that any request from central headquarters would elicit a cooperative response and had apparently been correct. Martinelli returned in a few minutes.

'The satellite time is tied up tight. There're troop movements in southern China , near the Vietnamese border. On the other hand, we'll have a U-2 flight returning from the same area at about the time you want. I can't give you an hour, but maybe we can get him to save a few frames in his magazine and circle Nagasaki for ten minutes. Any longer and the Japanese will get suspicious. We're allies, remember. They don't appreciate us taking spy pictures of them. At least we try to be subtle about it,' he grinned.

'Ten minutes is cutting it very close. But if it's ten minutes spanning that time,' Isaacs pointed at the slip of paper in Martinelli's hand, 'that may do the trick.'

'We'll see what we can do.'

'Thanks, Vince, I owe you one.'

'Wait till you see if we get anything.'

Isaacs spent most of the next twenty-four hours as he had the last, in the frenzied analysis of Soviet signal intelligence, searching for clues that the deadlock in orbit might be broken. Danielson had used Szkada's sonar data to refine her estimate of the several block area in Nagasaki where she predicted the seismic event would encroach on the city. Isaacs had cabled the revised information to the consulate and passed it on to Martinelli. Martinelli had confirmed that they could get some aerial photos of the area.

As Isaacs headed home Wednesday evening he was concentrating on the upcoming event in Nagasaki, only a few hours away, a little after eleven in the morning Japanese time, July 8, allowing for the International Dateline. Would they learn anything useful? And, if so, for god's sake what? What were they dealing with? He replayed in his mind the interchange in La Jolla. Russians? Extraterrestrials? Damn it all anyway! He failed to notice that he had been following the same dark sedan all along MacArthur Boulevard nor did he notice the limousine that pulled in behind him as they neared Georgetown.

The sedan pulled into the quiet narrow street Isaacs always took to get home, and Isaacs followed. Part way along the block the sedan braked, and Isaacs also did so mechanically. The sedan's back-up lights came on, and it reversed to within a few feet of Isaacs's bumper. He felt a momentary hint of irritation at the delay and then looked back over his shoulder, preparing to back up himself to give room. All he saw was the hood of the limousine. At the same moment, someone opened his door and he jerked around with surprise.

A tall figure in a dark suit was silhouetted in the doorway. The man bent down, revealing a broad-featured face that was vaguely familiar.

'Mr Isaacs?' The voice was slow, working methodically with an alien tongue. 'Mr Zamyatin would like a word with you.'

Mr Zamyatin was it! Isaacs's eyes followed those of the man back to the limousine. Colonel Grigor Zamyatin was well known in the Agency as the head of the KGB station in the capital, a position that gave him immense power throughout the country, not to mention his own homeland.