Clear and Present Danger

"What about SHOWBOAT?" the President asked while buttering his croissant.

"It's underway, sir. Ritter's people are already at work," Cutter replied.

"I'm still worried about security on the operation."

"Mr. President, it's as tight as one could reasonably expect. There are risks - you can't avoid them all - but we're keeping the number of people involved to an absolute minimum, and those people have been carefully selected and recruited."

That earned the National Security Adviser a grunt. The President was trapped - and as with nearly every president, it had come about from his own words. Presidential promises and statements... the people had this annoying way of remembering them. And even if they didn't there were journalists and political rivals who never passed on a chance to make the necessary reminders. So many things had gone right in this presidency. But so many of those were secret - and, annoyingly to Cutter, those secrets had somehow been kept. Well, they had to be, of course. Except that in the political arena no secret was truly sacred, most especially in an election year. Cutter wasn't supposed to be concerned with that. He was a professional naval officer, and therefore supposed to be apolitical in his outlook on the ins and outs of national security, but whoever had formulated that particular guideline must have been a monk. Members of the senior executive service did not take vows of poverty and chastity, however - and obedience was also a sometime thing.

"I promised the American people that we'd do something about this problem," the President observed crossly. "And we haven't accomplished shit."

"Sir, you cannot deal with threats to national security through police agencies. Either our national security is threatened or it is not." Cutter had been hammering that point for years. Now, finally, he had a receptive audience.

Another grunt: "Yeah, well, I said that, too, didn't I?"

"Yes, Mr. President. It's time they learned a lesson about how the big boys play." That had been Cutter's position from the beginning, when he'd been Jeff Pelt's deputy, and with Pelt now gone it was his view that had finally prevailed.

"Okay, James. It's your ball. Run with it. Just remember that we need results."

"You'll get 'em, sir. Depend on that."

"It's time those bastards were taught a lesson," the President thought aloud. He was certain that the lessons would be hard ones. On that he was correct. Both men sat in a room in which was focused and from which emanated the ultimate power of the most powerful nation in the history of civilization. The people who selected the man who occupied that room did so above all for their protection. Protection against the vagaries of foreign powers and domestic bullies, against all manner of enemies. Those enemies came in many forms, some of which the founding fathers had not quite anticipated. But one sort that had been anticipated existed in this very room... though it was not the one the President had in mind.

The sun rose an hour later on the Caribbean coast, and unlike the climate-controlled comfort of the White House, here the air was thick and heavy with humidity on what promised to be yet another sultry day under a lingering high-pressure system. The forested hills to the west reduced the local winds to a bare whisper, and the owner of Empire Builder was past being ready to go to sea, where the air was cooler and the breezes unrestricted.

His crewmen arrived late. He didn't like their looks, but he didn't have to. Just so long as they behaved themselves. After all, his family was aboard.

"Good morning, sir. I am Ram n. This is Jes s," the taller one said. What troubled the owner was that they were so obviously tidied-up versions of... of what? Or had they merely wanted to look presentable?

"You think you can handle this?" the owner asked.

" Si . We have experience with large motor craft." The man smiled. His teeth were even and brushed. This was a man who took care with his appearance at all times, the owner thought. He was probably being overly cautious. "And Jes s, you will see, is a fine cook."

Charming little bastard . "Okay, crew quarters are forward. She's tanked up, and the engines are already warm. Let's get out where it's cool."

" Muy bien, Capit n ." Ram n and Jes s unloaded their gear from the jeep. It took several trips to get it all stowed, but by nine in the morning, MY Empire Builder slipped her mooring lines and stood out to sea, passing a handful of party boats heading out with yanqui tourists and their fishing rods. Once in open waters, the yacht turned north. It would take three days.