Page 105 of The Presidents Shadow

I AM ALONE. Alone in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, somewhere miles away from the west coast of Africa.

No other crew members, certainly no other passengers.

My battleship is operating by remote navigation. Although Gutta Linderson is thousands of miles away, the multiple onboard cameras, along with my voice commands, help guide his manipulation of the vessel.

The ocean is not gentle. The mid-Atlantic is never a safe location.

But my luck, recently astonishingly bad, has changed, at least momentarily.

The waves are no higher than a few feet, relatively gentle for this time and place.

Gutta has transmitted his evaluation that the winds are significant but not treacherous.

There is no other natural force at the moment to interfere with the radar tracking and satellite identification of the battleship’s location.

In other words, my ship and I can easily be traced by Gutta and by his monitoring allies from among the European coast guards.

And most importantly… by the insane and vigilant Glenn Ambrose.

And that is precisely what I want.