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"It's all right, son," said Metcalf quietly. "Go ahead."
"I have two ships approaching the area, sir. Stand by for a picture of the first one."
With a new shred of hope, their eyes locked on the screen. At first the image was small and indistinct. Then the weather plane's cameraman zoomed in on a red-hulled vessel.
"From up here I'd judge her to be a survey ship," reported Grant.
A gust of wind caught the flag on the ensign staff and stretched out its blue colors.
"British," announced Metcalf dejectedly. "We don't dare ask foreign nationals to die for our sake."
"You're right, of course. I've never known an oceanographic scientist to carry an automatic rifle."
Metcalf turned and said, "Grant?"
I Sir?"
:Contact the British research vessel and request they pick up survivors from the helicopter."
Before Grant could acknowledge, the vineo image distorted and the screen went black.
"We've lost your picture, Grant."
" One moment, General. My crewman manning the camera informs me the battery pack on the recorder went dead. He'll have it replaced in a minute."
"What's the situation with the towboat?"
"She and the barge are under way again, only more slowly than before."
Metcalf turned to Sandecker. "Luck just isn't on our side, is it?"
"No, Clayton. We've had none at all." He hesitated. "Unless, of course, the second ship is an armed Coast Guard cutter."
"Grant?" Metcalf boomed.
"Won't be long, sir."
"Never mind that. What type vessel is the second ship you'reported? Coast Guard or Navy?"
"Neither. Strictly civilian."
Metcalf dissolved in defeat, but a spark stirred within Sandecker.
He leaned over the microphone.
"Grant, this is Admiral James Sandecker. Can you describe her?"
"She's nothing like you'd expect to see on the ocean."
"What's her nationality?"
"Nationality?"
"Her flag, man. What flag is she flying?"
"You won't believe me."
I, spit it out."
