Oval Office
The White House
Washington, D.C.
1207 local time
What on earth are you talking about?” Ryan asked, failing to resist the need to rise from his seat at the Resolute desk. “Why is she aboard the Washington and why am I hearing about it after the fact?”
He was angry, but he knew he wasn’t angry with Mary Pat. She knew it, too—he could tell from her eyes.
What in the hell is Katie thinking?
“You’re hearing about it now, Mr. President, because I just heard about it myself,” she said calmly, just the cadence of her voice actually helping Ryan center himself. “And I’m afraid I can’t tell you why Lieutenant Ryan felt she needed to be aboard the submarine hunting the Belgorod. Maybe it’s simple genetics.”
He cut her a look.
“That’s not fair. When we were hunting for the Red October, I had insight that the skipper of the Dallas needed to hear from me. It was essential . . .”
“Jack,” she said gently and put a hand on his shoulder. “You raised four amazing kids, who, like you, are completely dedicated to this country. Katie is smart as hell. And, just like all your kids, she is dedicated to her duty and will execute what she sees as her mission to the best of her ability. And, more than any of them, she’s, well, you, Jack.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that she sees things, details, that others miss—just like a young analyst named Jack Ryan did, more than once. And when she knows she’s right, she’s a dog with a bone. Again, just like her dad.”
Ryan let out a long sigh and headed to the twin couches across from the desk, dropping heavily onto the one to his right. Mary Pat took a seat on the other, facing him across the low coffee table.
“She’s not a submarine officer, Mary Pat. She’s an intelligence analyst.”
“Again, that sounds familiar.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but had nothing.
“The good news, Jack, is that like you, she’s probably right about whatever made her believe she needed to be aboard the Washington. I say we trust her.”
Ryan nodded.
“And, just as good, our analysis of the data dump from the USS Washington that we received while she was on the surface has been analyzed. A lot of smart people, including Dr. Jones, who is still hard at work aboard the Ford, believe that Commander Houston’s crew has done the impossible. It appears the Washington has found the Belgorod, but we still need to rule out acoustic subterfuge.”
“Well, let’s pray that’s the case,” Ryan said, “and also that Houston will do the right thing when the time comes, since we have no way to communicate with him unless they break off the hunt.”
“Agreed,” Mary Pat said. “I think that may well be why Katie felt she needed to be aboard.”
Ryan looked at his closest adviser and friend. She was right. Katie wasn’t his little girl anymore. She was an Academy grad, a top naval intelligence officer, and one of the smartest, most capable people he knew. She’d been promoted early and made lead for a reason, and it had nothing to do with who her dad was.
And Mary Pat was right about something else. His daughter was doing exactly what he would do—what he had done.
The problem was, he didn’t know if that made him proud or terrified.
“We need to stop them, Mary Pat. This crazy son of a bitch is going to start World War Three whether Yermilov wants him to or not. We’re running out of time.”