"Bess, if that’s the end of the world, tell them we’re busy," he mumbled.

In the SitRoom, the air was cold and smelled of stale coffee. President Dalton looked tired. "Elizabeth. Tell me I don’t have to sink a Russian ship today."

"Ma'am, sorry to wake you," Blake’s voice was crisp despite the hour. "But the Russians just moved a research vessel into a disputed zone in the Beaufort Sea. And they aren’t looking for oil. They’ve cut a fiber-optic cable belonging to a NATO listening post."