“Wow. Thanks. That helps a lot.”
Bird Dog tried for a moment to convince himself that he had indeed clarified the whole situation in his nugget’s mind, but couldn’t manage to buy it himself. For just a moment, he felt an intense nostalgia for hearing the clipped accent of Gator coming out of the backseat. Up until now, he hadn’t realized how fast a yes-man suck-up could get on your nerves.
THREE
A young yeoman with curly blond hair rapped lightly on Rear Admiral Matthew “Tombstone” Magruder’s door. He pushed it open when he heard Tombstone say, “Come in.”
“Admiral? Phone call for you on the secure line in Admiral Wayne’s quarters.”
Tombstone put down the operational plan he was studying and said, “Thanks. I’ll be right there.”
What was this all about, he wondered. Anything operational could have been handled on the normal radio circuits or via the encrypted computer lines that link the intelligence agencies around the world. Tombstone followed the young sailor down the passageway to Batman’s office.
Batman looked up as Tombstone came in. “It’s your uncle, Stony,” he said. He stood and came out from around the desk. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
“Not necessary.”
“Your uncle said it was.” With a worried look at his old lead, Batman left.
Now what the hell? Tombstone picked up the receiver. “Magruder.”
“Good morning, Stony. Or afternoon there, isn’t it?” his uncle said.
“Afternoon, sir,” Tombstone answered, even more puzzled now. It wasn’t like his uncle to waste time on pleasantries, not on a Navy phone. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“There’s no way to say this to make it easy, Tombstone,” his uncle began after a moment. “It’s not about Tomboy or anything like that. But the selection board just met, and while I can’t release the results yet, it doesn’t look promising. You might give some thought to what you’re going to do after you leave the Navy.”
Tombstone sat down hard, stunned. Sure, it had always been a possibility. As a pilot, and later as an admiral in command, he had always been a bit more daring than his peers, at times resorting to outrageous and unconventional methods to achieve results.
And results were what counted, right? None of the rest of it mattered as long as you got results.
Or so he had always thought. His uncle had cautioned him several times that the rest of the Navy didn’t necessarily see it that way. Sometimes a team player was more valuable than an officer who could get down and dirty with the enemy.
Yeah, there’d been a chance he was stepping in it, but he hadn’t expected this, not really. Even though he and Tomboy had talked over their options, he never truly believed that he’d have to face the day when he would be forced to retire. On some level, he had always thought he would die in the Navy and never have to make the transition to civilian life.
“I know this comes as a shock, Stony,” his uncle said, as though reading his mind. “And for what it’s worth, you’re not alone in this.”
“When?” Tombstone asked, surprised to find his voice slightly tight. “Not right away, I hope.”
“No, not immediately. But soon. We have six months.”
It took Tombstone a moment, but then the significance of his uncle’s pronouncement “we”, hit him like a sledgehammer. “We? Surely you don’t mean…” He broke off, not entirely sure he could keep his voice steady.
When he answered, his uncle’s voice was peculiarly gentle. “Yes, I said we. While the board can’t force me to retire, there were certain strong… recommendations… from other quarters that I give the matter serious thought.”
“Who? JCS? The president?” If anything, the revelation that his uncle would also be retiring made the situation even harder to bear. Because, at some level, he thought that his uncle’s predicament was probably due in part to allowing his favorite nephew free rein in fighting the Navy’s battles. “Oh god, I’m so sorry to hear this.”
There was a long silence, and then his uncle finally spoke. “I’ve had a day or two to get used to the idea. When the subject was first broached with me, I couldn’t believe it. But since then, certain… opportunities… have come to light. And for what it’s worth, I think you may be interested in them.”
“Opportunities? What do you mean?”
“This is so secret, Stony, I can’t even begin to assign a security classification. And there’s not much I can tell you, not even on this line. But there are certain operations within the U.S. government that don’t suffer the same restraints as we have in the Navy. There are ways of achieving objectives, and some very different departments to take care of them. I’ve been asked to head up one of them — and if you’re interested, I liked you onboard as my chief of staff.”
Tombstone leaned forward and put his hands on his forehand, wedging the telephone receiver between his shoulder and his ear. “I have to think about it. And Tomboy… I’ll have to talk it over with her.”
“You can’t. Tomboy isn’t cleared for any of this. If you agree, you’ll appear to be working for a defense contractor. And that’s all that Tomboy will ever know.” His uncle’s voice took on an urgent note. “I promise you, Stony, we can make a difference in the world. We can keep people in the battle group from getting killed, make missions safer. No dirty tricks, nothing that you wouldn’t approve of — you think I would take the job if there were? And…” His uncle paused, as if to make sure he had Tombstone’s full attention. “It would require a fair amount of flying on your part. Tomcats, mostly, but other aircraft as needed. There will be funds to bring you up to speed on anything that we need to have you fly. How’s that sound?”
Hope leaped in Tombstone’s heart. He realized that his anguish over the prospect of retirement had been primarily related to the fact that he would never fly again. Oh, sure, he had his Pitts Special, and he dearly loved it. But there was nothing that could compare to the sheer power and grace of a Navy combat fighter. To contemplate the possibility of never again strapping a Tomcat onto his ass and soaring wild and free in the air was almost more than he could bear.
“Flying?” he asked, a new note of hope in his voice.
His uncle chuckled slightly. “I thought that would get your attention. No uniforms, no regulations, no squadron CO telling you what you can and can’t do. It would all be up to you. And as the operation expands, you’d have other pilots under your command. But the choice of who flies what missions, how much flying you’d do yourself, would be completely up to you.”
“But what sort of missions? How can I possibly make a decision based on what you’ve told me?” Tombstone asked.
“We’ll talk more when you get back to D.C. For now, keep your retirement confidential. The message will be out in a few days. Then you can start talking about your upcoming retirement, but not a word about this. Keep your plans vague. Say that you’ll look for work in the defense industry. Not that you need to — I know that your investments over the years have netted you a tidy nest egg. Between that and Tomboy’s active duty pay and your retirement pay, you could live quite comfortably without ever having to work again. But I have a feeling that that won’t be enough for you. It never has been.”
“It may be a while before I’m back in D.C.” Tombstone said.
“Not as long as you think.” Again, the peculiarly gentle note in his uncle’s voice. “This is Batman’s show, Stony. I’m going to recall you, give him free rein. It could be that someday he’ll be up for this job, and I need to make absolutely certain that he can handle everything the world can throw at him without you there to keep him honest. He’s only standing in your shadow, the way things are now. Now it’s time for him to be on his own.
“I’ve never interfered with how Batman does things,” Tombstone said.
He pictured his uncle shaking his head as he often did, the look of grave amusement on his face. “You don’t have to. Batman is no dummy. If you’re there, he’s going to listen to your advice. Whether you intend to or not, you affect his decisions. Primarily for the better, I imagine, but he simply has to be on his own. Like you were.”
