"As you can see from the inscription," Mason continued, "both photographs are of the Iranian naval facility at Bandar Abbas, right on the Straight of Hormuz. The first one was taken on 4 May. Note the two submarines in the upper left."

"Kilos," Captain Harrison, the CO of SEAL Eight, said, "The Iranian Kilos."

In 1992, amid considerable international controversy, Russia had delivered to the Republic of Iran two conventional attack submarines of the type known in the West as Kilo. Displacing 2,900 tons submerged, with a top underwater speed of twenty knots, they'd been designed by the old Soviet Union primarily as a commodity for export. Algeria, Poland, Romania, and India all had Kilos in their fleets, and possibly CSCUBA and Libya as well. Each was armed with twelve 533mm torpedoes.

"The second photograph was taken by a KH-12 satellite two days later, on 6 May. One of the submarines, note, is gone. We have identified the missing boat as the Enghelab-i Eslami. That's Farsi for the Islamic Revolution."

"Let me get this straight, Captain," Admiral Bainbridge said. "You're saying that the goddamn Iranians could be behind this?"

Mason faced him squarely. "There is no hard evidence to that effect, Admiral. At least not yet. But one possibility we must consider is that an Iranian submarine torpedoed the Shikishima, and that at the same time, a terrorist component aboard the plutonium freighter seized the ship. The Yuduki Maru's new course is consistent with a port in Iran."

"And this Iranian boat has been missing all this time?" Bainbridge asked, "Almost two weeks?"

"You know it's never as easy as it looks in the movies, Tom," Admiral Kerrigan told him.

Bainbridge scowled. "I thought we had subs in the Gulf watching the sons of bitches?"

"We did," Kerrigan said. "We've had an attack boat stationed in Bahrain ever since the Iranians took delivery of those boats, a blanket warning to them not to get cute with shipping in the Gulf. But tracking a submarine in the open ocean's tough, especially a conventional boat. They're quieter than nukes. No cooling pumps for the reactors. Our sub, the Sturgeon-class attack boat Cavalla, headed out after the Revolution as soon as we realized the Iranian boat was gone. We also have other attack subs converging on that area, but, well, it's a big ocean. Remember the flap a few years back, when that North Korean freighter carrying missile parts to the Gulf just disappeared? And that was with subs searching for her, satellites, the whole nine yards."

"Yeah, but I have a sneaky suspicion you'll find the bastard if you concentrate on the area around that Japanese freighter," Captain Whittier observed.

"I must stress again that Iranian involvement at this point is strictly hypothetical," Mason said. "We did not see the actual sinking of the Shikishima and our tracking of the Yuduki Maru so far has been through strictly electronic means."

"Electronic means?" Captain Friedman, the helo squadron skipper, asked. "What, radar?"

"An electronic transponder built into her superstructure," Hadley said. His speech, the way he said "transpondah," had the nasal twang of upper-class Massachusetts. "We used the same trick back in the eighties, tracking a load of fifty-five-gallon drums of ether we thought might lead us to a secret cocaine cartel lab in the Colombian jungle. The transponder's small, the size of a book, but it puts out a steady signal that can be pinpointed by an ELINT satellite in orbit. It was the change in position registered by our satellite that first told us yesterday something was wrong."

"My God," Bainbridge said slowly. "Didn't we have any spy sats following that tub? We should have been watching that ship twenty-four hours a day!"

"Our technical assets are limited, Admiral," Hadley said. "More than most people realize. We never have been able to provide full twenty-four-hour coverage of any one potential target."

"But damn it, this is the Jap plutonium ship!"

"We can still only watch the thing when our satellites are above the horizon, Admiral, and frankly, there just aren't enough satellites to go around. For the past few days, most of our watch time had been allotted to southern Iraq, following up on the aftermath of Blue Sky.

"Now, on the direction of the President, the National Reconnaissance people have shifted the bulk of our observation time to the Yuduki Maru. I'd estimate that we have about forty percent coverage now."

"In other words, we can see her two hours out of five, is that it?"

"Essentially, Admiral, yes."

"Damn." Bainbridge glowered a moment more, then glanced up the table to where Mason was waiting. "Sorry, Captain," he said. "Please continue."

Shepherding one of these high-level briefings was always a challenge, Mason thought. The admirals were used to running their own shows... while the SEAL commanders had less than the usual respect for rank, privilege, or decorum. It made for some lively sessions sometimes.

"Thank you, Admiral," he said. "Okay, judging from the Yuduki Maru's transponder track and where it departs her scheduled course, we believe that the raid took place at approximately noon yesterday, Zulu plus three, about 0400 hours our time. The National Security Council has been in almost constant session since we received news yesterday morning of Yuduki Maru's possible capture.

"This morning, the President gave the authorization to begin working on ways to get that ship back. Since it's a ship and it's at sea, gentlemen, it looks like this one's going to be a SEAL op."

There was a stir around the table at his words, though obviously the news was not a complete surprise. Mason saw a smile or two among the SEAL skippers. Only Kerrigan and some of his staff officers looked displeased. Kerrigan, Mason remembered, was not a fan of special-ops forces. Well, there were plenty in the military community who agreed with him — the usefulness of elite units like the SEALs and the Army Special Forces was still being hotly debated, as the ongoing Congressional hearings on SEAL funding proved — but there wasn't much choice this time around. Only the SEALs could reach Yuduki Maru before she got close to a populated coast. Sure, a submarine or an air-strike from a carrier would stop that freighter in her tracks. But at what terrible cost?

"All SEAL commands will be responsible for drawing up preliminary plans for the operation. Assume a ship-boarding action, aimed at securing the ship and holding it for the arrival of a NEST team." The Nuclear Emergency Search Team was one of America's most secret units. Operating under the Department of Energy, it had the sophisticated equipment necessary for finding, handling, and safing nuclear material.

"The code name assigned to the mission will be Sun Hammer," Mason continued. "My staff will provide you with whatever you need in the way of background intel. I also want your assessments, your honest assessments, of each of your Teams' readiness and capabilities. Some of you are stretched damned thin right now. Two, most of your people are in Germany right now, aren't they?"

"Hell, Captain," Whittier replied easily, "that just means they're halfway to the Indian Ocean already."

"This isn't a competition. I know all of you want to participate, but the final decision will be based on who is best able to handle this. Let me have a preliminary work-up by 0900 tomorrow.

"Now, we have one potential wild card in the picture," Mason continued. Opening the folder again, he extracted another photograph. It was a file photo of a battered-looking vessel, rust-streaked and decrepit, tied up to a crumbling pier. Her forward well deck was so low it seemed a fair-sized wave might swamp her. The number 43 was painted on her bow beneath her high forecastle deck.

"Looks like one of our old yard oilers," Admiral Bainbridge observed.