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"Sir, may I suggest there are psychological considerations as well? There is the question of confinement, claustrophobia..."

"Perhaps Admiral Keene didn't make himself clear," CINCPAC said, a little sharply.

"The potential medical problems have been considered, and judged to be manageable."

"Yes, Sir," Lennox said.

"Captain Whittaker and Lieutenant Hammer, and the white hat, will come aboard the Drum at 0530," COMSUBFORPAC said.

"Their gear will be loaded aboard between now and then."

"Their gear, Sir?" Lennox asked.

"Their cameras and recording equipment and film," COMSUBFORPAC said.

"And the rubber boats," Captain Whittaker said.

"And their outboard motors."

"We plan to inflate them when we're at sea," Greg Hammer offered, "for what we call long shots, location shots."

"I don't know where we're going to find the room to store any rubber boats," Lennox said.

"Perhaps," CINCPAC said, "it might be a good idea for you, Lennox, to go aboard now and supervise the loading yourself."

"Aye, aye, Sir," Lennox said.

"Your permission to withdraw, Sir?"

"Granted," CINCPAC said. He offered Lennox his hand.

"Good hunting, Commander."

"Thank you, Sir," Lennox said. He nodded at the others and walked out of the room.

"Good bunting"? Jesus H. Christ! How the hell can I hunt for anything with a couple of second-rate movie stars and a photographer on board?

What the fuck did I do to deserve this?

The admiral's aide followed him back down the corridor and through the

living room and to the bar by the swimming pool, where Lennox ordered a double bourbon and drank it neat.

He looked the admiral's aide in the eye.

"Have they lost their fucking minds, or what? If it's so important to make a fucking movie, why not send a couple of photographer's mates, submarine qualified photographer's mates? Two fucking movie stars? It's absolutely insane!"

"Yours not to reason why, Commander," the aide said.

"Yours but to do and die--meanwhile being very courteous to your passengers. They have friends in high places."

He was never to know how close he came to being decked by the captain of the USS Drum.

When the Plymouth dropped him off at the wharf where the Drum was tied up, there were half a dozen sailors staggering under the weight of small wooden boxes.

Lennox went aboard.

"What the hell is going on, Skipper?" the officer of the deck asked.