Leviathan

"You're right, of course," Everett said as he reached down, grabbed Robbins by his lab coat, pulled him from the chair, and shook him once, twice. "Jack, do you have that resignation letter?"

Collins slid a piece of paper in front of Robbins. He couldn't see it; all he could see was the hate in Everett's eyes.

"Look at it, Gene," Pete said, his own features masked with disgust.

Robbins turned and looked at the paper on the table.

"Your official resignation, signed by you, turned in to Pete here just before you disappeared from the complex. Whereabouts unknown," Collins said as he took a chair next to Robbins.

"I suspect the little bastard committed suicide after we found out about his culpability and treachery," Everett said, pulling Robbins's face back around so he could see the seriousness of his great acting skills.

Collins looked at Pete, and they both realized at the same moment that Everett could scare a rock if he had to.

"In all actuality, Dr. Robbins, you are going to disappear," Jack said.

Robbins finally forced himself to look away from the most-feared Everett and finally saw Jack.

"You're going to Saboo, and you know what else? You're going to make sure your friends show up."

"How ... how am I supposed to do that?" he asked as Everett finally released his coat collar.

"Why, you're going to call them, of course," Carl said, smiling brightly.

"You receive your orders somehow. You'll just use the same method to contact your boss and tell them you're coming home."

"What is the name of that home by the way, Gene?" Everett asked, his smile never wavering.

Robbins looked from Carl to Jack to his former boss. His head slumped and they barely heard his answer.

"Leviathan."

An hour later Jack, Everett, Jason Ryan, Will Mendenhall, and Robbins were in field gear and on their way to California for a transfer to a U.S. Navy Greyhound flight to the Pacific for a rendezvous arranged by the president. Collins spoke directly to the White House via scrambled communications. Robbins looked miserable, but he had complied with his orders to send Leviathanan emergency message. He informed his master he would be waiting on Saboo for immediate pickup, that his cover had been blown, and that he had barely escaped. There had been no reply, nor even a confirmation that his message had been received.

"Okay, Colonel, I have you a ride to Saboo: USS Missouri. She's the sub that just put two torpedoes into our friend."

"Thank you, sir," Jack said as he looked into his end of the camera from the cargo hold of the C-130 air force cargo plane.

"Now, what in the hell makes you think they'll take you aboard after discovering you turned in their operative?"

"We're banking on Heirthall's arrogance. After all, how can four men be a danger to her?"

"That's one hell of a big assumption, Colonel."

"I know perfectly well what's at stake, Mr. President."

"Okay, Colonel, you have your sub and I've alerted COMSUBPAC. He's alerting the crews of three Los Angeles attack boats to prepare for sea. They will rendezvous with Missouri, so I wish you luck. You must understand, Colonel, those captains have their orders. I don't have to tell you, of all people, what those orders are."

"If Leviathanmakes an aggressive move, they are to use any and all means to destroy her."

"You have the letter to Captain Jefferson?" the president asked. "Yes, sir."

"Duplicates have been delivered to the captains of the other subs. Good luck, Colonel, bring my people home if possible. I'll inform Admiral Fuqua that Operation Nemo is a go."

The screen went blank.

Jack felt as if he were on the outside of the poker game looking in, and was just hoping to get a seat at the big table. The one problem: He knew beforehand that the other player held all the cards.

The bluff was on.

LEVIATHAN

Niles, Virginia, Lee, Alice, and a very quiet Sarah sat in the ship's mess. They were sitting at a far table within the seventy-table compartment. Over a hundred of Leviathan's crew were taking a late-night meal and their voices were subdued. Every once in a while one or two would glance over at them, and this time they weren't friendly or welcoming faces they saw. Niles pushed away the soup that the mess steward had placed in front of him and looked at the others.

"My opinion is, if Jack is fit, he, Carl, and Pete will discover a way to find us. My money is on our people."

The group was silent as they waited for Niles to finish what they knew he was going to say.

"I also don't want anyone here at this table to have any false illusions about us escaping. It's not likely." Compton looked at McIntire, who was dipping her spoon in and out of her soup. "Sarah, I'm going to say something you may not like. We owe Colonel Farbeaux nothing--not for saving you at the complex, or for what he did earlier today. He's dangerous, and we have to consider ... eliminating him."