Fire Ice

"We've established effect," Jenkins said. "The big question is whether the cause was man-made."

"It's happened before," Reed said. "Remember what I said about a drill platform's collapsing after accidentally releasing a plume."

"Max, I know you've worked hard, but I wonder if you could do me a favor."

"Of course, Dr. Jenkins."

"Thank you. Go back to your map of the East Coast and show us weak spots similar to those off Maine."

The map appeared again with pulsating bull's-eyes of varying sizes. The biggest were off the New England coast, New Jersey, Washington, Charleston and Miami.

"Max, please simulate what would happen if the continental shelf collapsed at the major intersections with methane-hydrate deposits."

Within an instant, waves rippled out from the larger epicenters, reaching a height of thirty feet, hitting the coast and flowing into bays and up rivers and far onto land.

Reed's eyes blinked rapidly behind the thick lenses. "Good-bye Boston, New York, Washington, Charleston and Miami.”

"Meth is death," Yaeger said softly. Seeing the puzzled faces of the older men, he explained, "It's an old hippie saying, meant to warn people of the dangers of using methamphetamines to get high."

Reed said, "This is worse than any drug, my friend." Jenkins cleared his throat. "There was something I didn't mention." He told them about the encounter with the huge ship the same day as the Rocky Point tsunami.

"It sounds as if you think the ship had something to do with the landslide and the tsunami," Yaeger said.

Jenkins nodded.

"Were there any markings on it?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. The ship was registered in Liberia, as a lot of them are, and the name on the hull was Ataman Explorer I. I checked the dictionary. It means the head man of a bunch of Cossacks."

"Ataman? Are you sure?"

"Yes, does the name ring a bell?"

"Possibly. How long are you in Washington, Dr. Jenkins?" Yaeger asked.

"I don't know. As long as I have to be I guess. Why?"

Yaeger rose from his chair. "I've got a couple of people I want you to meet."

27

THE SUNLIGHT STREAMING through the tinted floor-to-ceiling window washed the sharp features of Admiral James Sandecker in a sea-green patina that made , his face look like a bronze bust of Father Neptune. From his office on the top floor of NUMA headquarters, he had an unparalleled view of official Washington. He stood at the window, in thought, his authoritative blue eyes sweeping the city, taking in the White House, the tall spire of the Washington Monument and the dome of the Capitol, as if he were a hawk searching for its prey.

Austin had spent most of the morning filling Sandecker in on the events in the Black Sea. The admiral had been fascinated by the description of the sub pen, and intrigued at the meeting with Petrov and the Odessa Star link to Lord Dodson, whom he had met. Occasionally, he asked a question to clarify or offer a theory of his own. But he listened in stony silence, tugging at his precisely trimmed red Vandyke beard, when Austin told him about the massacre aboard the Sea Hunter. At the end of the grisly narrative, he rose from his desk without a word and walked over to gaze out the window. After a few moments, he turned to Austin and Gu

Damned if I'm about to start now, This son of a bitch and his friend Razov are not going to get away with the massacre of an entire NUMA crew."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees.

Sandecker came over and settled behind his desk. "How is Ms. Montague, the young lady who survived the attack?”

"She's tough," Austin said, "She insisted on staying aboard the ship while the replacement crew brings the Sea Hunter back to port."

"Make sure I see the young lady on her return."

"I'll do that," Austin said, "What's the latest from the CIA?"

Sandecker reached into the humidor on his desk, pulled out a cigar and lit it, "The CIA is barking up the wrong tree, the FBI is skeptical and the armed forces aren't much good unless you point them in the right direction and give them marching orders. The secretary of state doesn't return my phone calls."

"What about the White House?"

"The president is sympathetic and concerned, of course. But I can't help thinking there is a bit of glee among some of his Cabinet, a hint that the massacre was justified retribution for sticking our nose in where it doesn't belong, They are angry that NUMA rescued the NR-1 crew."

"What difference does it make who rescued the crew, long as it was rescued?" Austin said in frustration.

Sandecker puffed out a plume of smoke that temporarily enveloped his head in a purple cloud. "I assume that was I rhetorical question, because you're much too savvy in the ways of this city. You know that gratitude simply does not exist inside the Beltway. We've stolen their thunder, and they resent that."

Gu

"Nice of us to provide an excuse for the incompetence of other agencies," Sandecker said. "But I'm afraid it means NUMA is on its own when it comes to the Sea Hunter business. Any lead on this man, Boris?"

"He's a will-o'-the-wisp," Austin said. "Our best chance is to concentrate on Razov. At last report, his yacht had left the Black Sea, and we're trying to track it down."

"We're going to have to do better," Sandecker said. Sandecker's intercom beeped softly, and the voice of his secretary came on.

"I know you're in conference, Admiral, but Mr. Yaeger is here with two other gentlemen and he says it's urgent that they see you."

"Send them in, please," Sandecker said. A moment later, the office door opened and Yaeger came in, followed by the diminutive Dr. Reed and a stranger. Sandecker had spent too much time on the water not to recognize Jenkins as a fisherman, especially after they shook hands and he felt the barnacle-hard calluses.

He greeted them warmly and told the men to pull up chairs. "Well, Hiram, what brings you out of your sanctum sanctorum?"

"I think Dr. Jenkins can explain it better than I can." Jenkins was nervous at being in the presence of the legendary director of NUMA. But once he started to talk, he hit his stride. When Jenkins finished his saga, Reed gave his opinion as a geochemist. Finally, Yaeger pitched in, passing around printouts of the diagrams Max had projected onto the screen. Sandecker sat back in his chair, tenting his fingers, his eyes alert to every nuance.

When they were through with their presentation, he tapped his intercom. "Please see if Dr. Wilkins can come up from the Geology Department."

Dr. Elwood Wilkins arrived a few minutes later. He was I slim, reserved midwesterner who looked like one of those movie character actors who always played the kindly pharmacist or family doctor. Sandecker pulled over another chair close to his desk. He passed Wilkins the printouts and gave the geologist a few minutes to study them. Wilkins finished reading the material and looked up.

Sandecker answered the question in the scientist's eyes. "These gentlemen have suggested that it is possible for the edge of the continental shelf along the East Coast to cave in, creating destructive tsunamis. While I value their opinion, it a never hurts to hear from a disinterested observer. What do d you think?”