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stopped in his tracks. His complexion paled as he continued into the room, leaving his eyes on her until he turned abruptly and headed toward one end of the conference room, with Chernov following behind.
    *   *   *
    Kalinin turned toward his minister of defense, looking over his shoulder at the American woman.
    Chernov spoke first. “I am sorry, Yuri. I should have warned you about how closely she resembles Natasha.”
    “That would have been wise,” Kalinin replied. “She could be Natasha’s twin.” He was silent for a moment as he stared at the woman. “What is her heritage? Is she Russian?”
    “Her last name is O’Connor,” Chernov replied. “Irish descent.”
    “She looks Russian,” Kalinin countered. “She could have Russian blood.”
    Chernov placed his hand gently on the president’s shoulder. “I know how close you and Natasha were, and how difficult those last few months were. Do not let this woman’s likeness to her affect you. When you are ready, I will find you a suitable Russian woman.”
    Kalinin grinned. “No doubt a close relative of yours.”
    “No doubt.” Chernov matched Kalinin’s grin, then dropped his hand as he glanced at the American woman. “Come, we should introduce ourselves.”
    *   *   *
    Christine extended her hand as the two men approached. “Mr. President. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
    Kalinin shook her hand firmly. “It is my pleasure,” he said with only a slight accent. “If I may ask,” he added, “what is your heritage? You remind me of … someone I once knew.”
    “I’m half Irish and half Russian.”
    “Russian?”
    “I am Boris Chernov,” the minister of defense interjected, speaking in a heavy accent as he extended his hand. “Are you enjoying your time in Moscow?”
    “Yes,” Christine replied. “Although I haven’t seen as much as I’d like. We’ve been working long hours. Your director of security and disarmament drives a hard bargain and, unfortunately, we’ve reached an impasse. Director Posniak says you want to remove missile warhead inspections from the next nuclear arms treaty.”
    “Only regarding our Bulava missile,” Kalinin explained. “You may inspect our older weapon systems, but not our newest strategic submarine or its missile.”
    “That will be a problem, Mr. President. The treaty must be approved by our Senate, and without the ability to count warheads, I doubt there will be enough votes.”
    “Perhaps you can use your influence to ensure the new treaty passes,” Kalinin replied. “I think we can agree that a significant reduction in nuclear weapons is a worthwhile goal.”
    “I do agree, Mr. President, but without the ability to verify every weapon system is in compliance, I won’t recommend we sign a new treaty.”
    Kalinin’s expression hardened as he replied, “Then we do have a problem.” He turned toward Posniak, speaking to him in Russian.
    Posniak nodded. “Da,” was his response.
    Kalinin turned back to Christine and said briskly, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. O’Connor.” He forced a smile onto his face.
    “Likewise, Mr. President.” Christine did not reciprocate the smile.
    Kalinin and Chernov exited the conference room, and Christine settled into her chair across from Posniak. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Christine said, “what did the president say to you?”
    Posniak stared at her for a moment, then answered, “Americans will set foot on one of our Borei class submarines when the crayfish sings on the mountain.”
    As Christine tried to decipher the last part of Posniak’s response, he added, “It is a Russian idiom. It translates in English to— when Hell freezes over .”

 
    6
    BARENTS SEA
    YURY DOLGORUKY
    Captain Nicholai Stepanov ducked his head as he stepped through the watertight doorway into Compartment One, closing the heavy metal door carefully to prevent a transient from being transmitted into the surrounding water. A day ago, they had