NOT since May 1, 1960, when U-2 Pilot Francis Gary Powers paid an unexpected visit to the Soviet Union, has an official security screen dropped so thoroughly over a major news event. No sooner was the capture of the U.S.S. Pueblo reported last week than high-placed and usually accommodating news sources became tight-lipped or inaccessible. From Washington to Tokyo, no one in the know was talking--at least not for the record. Everywhere, TIME'S correspondents had to work overtime, patiently questioning, prodding reluctant officials, prying out the facts that would raise their reports above routine conjecture.

In Japan, Tokyo Bureau Chief Jerrold Schecter and Correspondent S. Chang were at a dinner party when a friend from the diplomatic corps hinted casually that "something big" was happening in Korea, something even more important than the assassination attempt on President Park Chung Hee. The diplomat would say no more, but Schecter and Chang got the story as soon as they left the party. Chang's wife told them she had heard a radio report that an American ship had been seized off North Korea. As quickly as he could make arrangements, Schecter was on his way to Seoul, where he had an interview with Premier II Kwon Chung. Correspondents Frank Iwama and Erik Amfitheatrof raced to Yokosuka to speak to the families of the Pueblo crewmen.

On the island of Hawaii, where he was vacationing with his wife, Los Angeles Bureau Chief Marshall Berges got the news while sunning himself on the beach. He made a hurried hop to CINCPAC headquarters on Oahu to tap what military sources he could. Back in California, Reporter David Lee talked his way into a darkly shuttered San Diego hotel bungalow, where Pueblo Skipper Lloyd Bucher's wife Rose gave him an exclusive interview. The security screen dropped in mid-conversation when a naval intelligence officer in civilian clothes interrupted to confer with her for 20 minutes in another room.

In Washington, correspondents who had worked together through the Bay of Pigs, the Dominican intervention, the Berlin crisis of 1961-62, and countless other crises, found the silence from sources almost routine. The trick was to get the story once again despite obstacles.

Bureau Chief John Steele and Deputy Chief Hugh Sidey ordered what they like to call a "Red Alert." Reporters were tracked down all over town. One was found at a meeting at his child's school, another in his doctor's office. Pentagon Correspondent John Mulliken talked with Air Force and Navy officers. He cornered civilian defense officials for prebreakfast interviews and late-night conversations after they broke out of meetings at the Pentagon and the White House. State Department Correspondent Jess Cook got guidance from top department sources, and Aerospace Specialist Jerry Hannifin pieced together a thorough rundown on the Pueblo's mission and capability. Everyone in the office worked round the clock.

In New York, all the carefully gathered information was assessed and organized in the cover story written by Associate Editor Ronald Kriss and edited by Senior Editor Michael Demarest. By Saturday night, even as he watched for further developments, Steele told his tired staff that they could begin to relax the Red Alert. As if to make the order official, he tossed his cigar butt into the wastebasket. It was still lit, and for one blazing moment, there was another crisis in TIME'S Washington bureau.

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