For U.S. concerns, this had serious ramifications. Quebec was a major trading partner with New England. A significant amount of its electrical power was purchased from Quebec Hydro. Beyond that, the most stable nation on the U.S. border-the longest undefended border in world history-threatened to come apart. In the most civilized country of the modern world, civil war wasn't out of the question.
The prospects were difficult at best. Unforeseeable. And it was the unforeseeable that was most troubling. Secessionist rumblings were starting to be felt in British Columbia, the westernmost Canadian province. Created by the enormous distance from Ottawa, resentment had been fueled by the federal decision to closely curtail the Pacific salmon fisheries, throwing many out of work, just as the Maritime crisis had devastated the economies of Nova Scotia and Newfoundland in the east.
Smith's thoughts veered back to the matter of the submarine christened Fier D'Etre des Grenouilles. It seemed incredible that a naval vessel manned by French or French-speaking crew would adopt such an undignified name. But Smith had punched up the phrase on his computer. And up had popped the fact-intelligence was too serious a term for the datum-that it was the name of a saloon song popular in France. It was possible the song had migrated to Quebec. Probable, in fact.
Smith accessed the Jane's Fighting Ships data base for the names of Canadian navy submarines.
The list was short. Canada did not have much of a military in geopolitical terms. There were only three subs:
The Whitehorse/Le Chevalblanc
The Yellowknife/Le Couteaujaune
Le Jacques Cartier/The John Carter
Smith blinked at the list. It indicated twice as many ships as Jane's reported. Then he noticed that the slash mark separating both columns, and recalled the federal law designed to appease French-speaking Canadians that required all Canadian signs and labels to carry bilingual names. The submarines, already commissioned when the law had been passed by the Canadian parliament, had been renamed with the most appropriate English and French equivalent names permissible.
"Absurd," Smith muttered. But there was no other explanation.
But none of the vessels had been designated Fier D'Etre des Grenouilles/Proud to be Frogs.
The French submarine fleet had no such vessel, Smith quickly determined.
Smith decided to look elsewhere. The more links the better. There were too many threads that went nowhere.
Using a paint-box program, Smith created a white fleur-de-lis against the blue background and executed a global search of the World Wide Web, using multiple-search engines. It was a very long shot. He wasn't accustomed to searching for iconography, only language strings. He didn't anticipate useful results.
Smith was astounded three minutes into the execution when the Altavista search engine displayed a wire-service photo of the previous Quebec secessionist referendum. An AP color photo showed two supporters wearing white greasepaint on their faces. The blue fleur-de-lis spread over mouth, lips and both cheeks just as Remo had described.
"Could it be this simple?" Smith muttered.
He decided it was time to bring this matter to the attention of the Oval Office.
THE PRESIDENT OF THE U.S. was feeling relaxed. It was the first time he felt really, truly relaxed in a very long time. The election was behind him. The campaign over. The long swim out of perilous political white waters to clear, untroubled seas was at last over.
Now all he had to do was survive the next four years.
From the standpoint of midwinter, it looked pretty good. Better than he expected, in fact.
Then his beeper beeped. The beeper was tied into a baby monitor up in the Lincoln Bedroom. But it wasn't monitoring a baby but a fire-engine red telephone nestled in an end table next to the bed Abraham Lincoln had slept in so many Chief Executives ago.
Snapping off the beeper, the President took the cramped White House elevator to the top floor and locked the Lincoln Bedroom door behind him.
"Yes?" he said into the red receiver.
The President recognized the tight, lemony voice. He did not know where Dr. Smith held forth, only that in times of crisis he could be counted on.
Smith calling him was another matter.
"Do we have a crisis?" the President asked in a hoarse, hushed tone.
"I do not know," Harold Smith said frankly.
The President relaxed. "Then everything is all right?"
"No."
"Explain."
Harold Smith cleared his throat. His voice was respectful but not awed. It was the voice of a man whose government position was all but unassailable. Rather like the White House valet staff. Presidents came and went. True continuity lay in those who knew where the keys were and how to change the White House fuses. Harold Smith, appointed in secret by a previous President, could not be fired or replaced. CURE could be disbanded by presidential decree, but to date no President had had the courage to issue that order.
The current President didn't plan to be the first.
Still, it wasn't pleasant to hear from Harold Smith, who never had good news unless it was a curt "Mission accomplished."
"Mr. President," Smith began, "we appear to have a foreign submarine operating off New England. It may be interfering with commercial fishing."
"Did you say fishing?"
"Yes. You are aware of the fishing crisis."
"It's global now, isn't it?"
"For our purposes it is also a domestic problem," Smith said. He went on. "An event in the North Atlantic caused me to send my people into the area. They encountered this submarine, and after a brief engagement in which a Coast Guard cutter was fired on by the aggressor, they sank it."
"They who? Your people or the Coast Guard?"
"It was a joint sinking," Smith answered truthfully.
"Sank a foreign submarine? My God," said the President, thinking the worst. "Was it Russian? Was it nuclear?"
"At this time, unknown. The name was French. Fier D'Etre des Grenouilles."
"I left my French behind in college," the President said dryly.
"It means Proud to be Frogs."
"Why would the French be mucking about out there?"
"It may not have been a French naval vessel. The vessel flew a flag that suggests the provincial flag of Quebec, and their sailors wear greasepaint disguises portraying the fleur-de-lis.
"Suggests? What do you mean by 'suggest'?"
"It was not the Quebec flag, but a quadrant of it with the colors reversed."
"Why would Quebec be cruising for an international incident?"