Wait and plan his escape, because once the missiles flew out of the sea, there would be twelve missile trails pointing to his location. If the U.S. military detected him with the launch, Snare wouldn’t last an hour. If he did survive the launch, and the missiles made it to the coast, the hunt for Snare would happen after impact. Either way, he would be a dead man if he remained aboard. He would need to abandon ship in the middle of the ocean, which was not a pleasant thought.

There was no real need to rush this. Better to arrange for Amorn to be ready to pick him up at the launch point and spirit him away from the Snare. The question was — what to do with Dr. Wang? Leave him aboard to fend for himself? Shoot him as they left the Snare! Or take him into the business?

Krivak told One Oh Seven to slow and come shallow. He’d patch in the cell phone connection to Pedro and Amorn and arrange to meet them in a chartered yacht near the firing point. He’d set the Snare to sail to China then, and by that time he’d have an idea what to do with Wang. A couple of nine-millimeter rounds in the eyes would probably be the best solution, though, he thought. The Snare could be the doctor’s coffin, and he could die with his creation.

Admiral John Patton hated the evacuation bunker’s office. It was cramped and smelled like moldy concrete. He tried to concentrate on his E-mail when Commander Marissa Tyler, his aide, peeked in the door, a look of concern on her face. He motioned Marissa to take a chair.

“Trouble?” Patton asked.

“One of NSA’s satellite cell phone network monitors filtered and saved a call. The keyword was Snare. Here’s the conversation.”

Marissa pointed her pad computer at the main display monitor, and the sound playback module flashed at the screen. She pointed the laser pointer at the play function.

Amorn, it’s me. Krivak. On the Snare, dammit.

Yes, sir, I can hear you now. Listen to me. Get a motor yacht, a fast one, and get it to the Atlantic coordinates I’m about to read to you.

Patton listened to it two more times, then began to draft a message to Kelly McKee.

24

This time the messenger shook Admiral Ericcson’s shoulder hard the first time and said loudly, “Sir, I know you’reawake. Captain Hendricks sends his respects at the hour of zero one hundred and requests your presence in air operations. Strike aircraft launch begins in twenty minutes, sir.” With that she whirled and slipped out the door. Ericcson struggled to a sitting position, staring after her, eventually finding his voice and muttering, “Damned straight I was awake.”

Ericcson raided the humidor, checked his uniform in the mirror, rigged the stateroom, and opened the door to the passageway. The Marine guards snapped to attention and he waved a salute at them, then made his way toward air operations. Every officer and enlisted man he passed greeted him with a quick, “Morning, Admiral,” the words slurred together. When he reached air operations, he entered the room and let his eyes adjust to the dimness, the glow of the flat panel displays the only illumination.

“Admiral,” Carrier Commander Hendricks said.

“Sir,” the ship’s operations officer said. Simon Weber was a newly promoted commander who had just assumed the duties after Captain Jones had rotated ashore.

“Good morning, Admiral,” Captain Pulaski said, the battle group ops boss seeming well rested for the first time this voyage.

“Gentlemen,” Ericcson said in a booming gravelly voice as he pulled out a Partagas. “Rumor has it we’re about to strike the enemy any minute.”

The air operations officer, Commander Eric Nussbaum, swiveled in his command chair, stood, and approached the admiral. “Sir, aircraft launch commences in five minutes. Request to launch strike in accordance with Attack Plan Delta and your night orders, sir.”

Ericcson clipped the cigar with the gold cutter. He put the cigar between his teeth and spoke around it. “Air Ops, you have permission to launch aircraft in accordance with Attack Plan Delta.” He put a flame to the cigar, then said to the room, “Gentlemen, good luck to you all.”