"Roderick Deveroux--Octavian Heirthall!" the crew members repeated loudly.

Sarah and Alice looked at Niles and the senator. Lee deferred by raising his eyebrow over his patch to the director; thus it fell on Compton, who nodded his head to toast a great man and his son.

Henri Farbeaux smiled, finally agreeing with Compton, turned his glass flute upward, and drank heavily.

"Absolutely the most despicable liquid I have ever tasted." He took another drink, as did the others. "Yet, somehow it grows on you," Farbeaux said, still grimacing.

"I see you like our sparkling wine?"

They looked up to see Alexandria Heirthall standing before them. She nodded toward the Frenchman. Her eyes were normal, and with them she carried an air of aggressiveness in her look.

"No, I find it vulgar in the extreme ... but somehow--how do I say-- compelling?"

"Well, wesay the fermented poison sac of the silver-spined sea urchin."

A questioning look crossed the features of the Frenchman.

"The drink, Colonel; it's the fermented squeezings of the poison sacs of small sea creatures that make up what we call Jonah's Ambrosia."

"Sea urchins? You go from the world's rarest wine to sea urchins? I believe you need to speak with your chef," Farbeaux said as he took another glass from a passing steward.

"There will be wine for dinner," she said as she took his arm.

As Niles watched her leave arm in arm with Henri, he looked at each person around him.

"She's living in another world. Birthday parties for fictitious characters, the whole Nemo thing, she's far beyond what I even thought," Lee said, watching the captain's back.

Compton didn't respond. He was busy studying the captain's movements. Her stride and demeanor seemed measured and precise as she made her way through the crowd of adoring crew members.

"Whether she's mad or not is irrelevant. Let's examine her achievements. Even if we don't take her at face value as far as her sanity is concerned, we better take seriously the toys her family invented, and the ones she plays with," Sarah said, nodding her head that they should join the rest at the long table that had been set up in front of the viewing glass. "Because insane or not, that woman holds one powerful hand of cards."

As the hundred officers and crew made their way to their places, a group of children, no older than twelve to fourteen, filed in and stood in front of the observation glass at the bow.

As an officer next to her seated Sarah, she saw the boys and girls were dressed in shorts and white shirts. They smiled as an instructor stepped in front of them, and then turned and bowed at the captain, who nodded. Soon the most harmonious song Sarah or the others had ever heard came flowing from the mouths of the children--it was slow, melodious, and sent chills through them. Sarah looked toward the head of the long table and saw that the captain, though Farbeaux was speaking to her, was looking directly at her.

Sarah nodded her head and the captain smiled. It was as though the woman had some great secret she held at arm's length about Sarah that was hers alone to know.

Outside the viewing windows, the cold Arctic Sea flowed by as Leviathankept course for the gap between the Aleutians and Russia--what was known in naval terminology as a choke point.

Leviathanwould soon learn there was good reason for that term.

THE EVENT GROUP COMPLEX,

NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA

The president listened to the story that Jack told him. After Europa and their investigative teams found out the name of the family they were dealing with, diaries and other government paperwork from history started flowing into the Group's lap.

The president understood that almost sixty percent of what he was hearing was conjecture, but given what the president had learned in his very short time of knowing these people in Nevada, he knew to throw out the percentages. Their guesswork was a better percentage risk than most agencies' facts.

"So your historical departments believe that this Octavian Heirthall assisted Lincoln in some capacity during the Civil War? And there was definite animosity between this man and Secretary of War Stanton?"

"From the few entries from diaries--with the mention of O. H., or the Norwegian--we assume these diarists were speaking of Octavian," Jack explained. "The most convincing piece of evidence comes from the official paymaster of the Confederate States. Five hundred dollars in gold was issued to Confederate Assistant Secretary of State Thomas Engersoll, and he was sent on a mission to Great Britain. His orders were unknown, but we have confirmed that he met directly with Queen Victoria and certain members of Parliament. There has been conjecture around here that a treaty may have been in the works between England and the Confederacy."

"What happened to this Engersoll, Colonel?" the president asked.

"He was lost in a storm in the Gulf of Mexico in eighteen sixty-three on his return trip, along with three British warships."

"Hmm, damn rough storm," the president said, shaking his head.

"Yes, it would have been, except for the fact our historians say there wasn't a severe storm in the general area for the entire months of June and July of eighteen sixty-three that could account for sinking three British men-of-war."

"Octavian Heirthall?"

"Yes, sir, we believe that was one of the missions he was tasked with. All the pieces of the puzzle fit together, Mr. President; we believe that the history is correct and it leads us right to Alexandria Heirthall."

"What do we do about it?"

Jack turned the meeting back to Pete Golding.

"Well, sir, we have a theory that places Octavian Heirthall somewhere within a three-thousand-square-mile area of the Pacific, where we believe he made his home base. That, coupled with physical evidence recovered here at the complex after the assault, makes us believe we may find them somewhere in between Saboo Island in the Marianas, and Guam."

"I need the chain of evidence sent over. The Russians and Chinese have set traps at the entrances into the Pacific and Indian oceans, around the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Horn of South America, and the Bering Strait."

Jack turned the monitor back to face him.

"Sir, this trap the Russians and Chinese have come up with--call it off. Get them to back away until we can figure out a more realistic plan of action. It's our opinion, as I'm sure is the navy's, that we can't outgun this woman."

The president sat motionless as he looked at the images of Pete and Collins. Then he thought a moment.

"Colonel, Admiral Fuqua has the attack boats Pasadena, Dallas, and Missouridispersed in those ambushing groups. I cannot pull them out at this time. We would lose all hope of cooperation between our Asian and Russian allies in this mess. The Russians, Venezuelans, British, and Chinese are fuming after this morning's attacks."

The double doors to the office opened and Gene Robbins came through with a sheaf of paper. He placed it on Pete's desk and waited for the meeting to end.

"What exactly is their plan of attack?" Jack asked.

"A cordon of eight attack submarines, arrayed at intervals and different depths, lying quiet and ready to shoot at anything that comes out of the polar passages. The same amount has been placed at the other areas I mentioned."