pat-downs, questions, and the double and triple takes as they proceeded past the several layers of security.
Helping occupy Kelsey's attention was one of the female security guards, who identified herself only as Sandy, a small but very beautiful woman appropriately dressed in sand-colored battle dress uniform, web harness, desertweight boots, desert hat and aviator sunglasses, and carrying an Uzi submachine gun. Accompanying Sandy was her partner, one of the largest Doberman pinschers Kelsey had ever seen. It was lean, muscular, angular, and lithe in every movement it made. Its face never changed expression, but it was soon evident that the dog's demeanor could be judged by the position of its long, regal, pointed, cropped ears: When the ears were pointed straight up and motionless it was locked onto its prey; when they swiveled around like radar dishes it was hunting, searching; and when the ears were down, it was sorry for not paying attention.
Kelsey saw the big dog and instantly fell in love. When she tried to go over to it, the big dog's ears drooped, and its little stubby docked tail actually seemed to wag, but Sandy motioned her away. 'Stay away, little girl,' she said sternly.
'But why?' Kelsey asked.
'We call her the Alpha Bitch,' Jon offered. Sandy made a scolding expression toward him, and he smiled back. 'Not Sandy; the dog, Sasha. She was trained by the best military working dog schools in the world-right here at Tonopah. She is the most protective dog I've ever seen-I think she'd kill anyone who tried to lay on hand on Sandy. I've seen her in training: She can climb a two-story-tall vertical ladder, drag a two-hundred-pound man, and open doors with her jaws. I've also seen that dog eat-she devours two cans of dog food in two bites.' He smiled at Sandy again and quipped, 'Still can't find a date yet, eh, Sandy?' The guard said nothing, only smiled evilly. Kelsey waved good-bye to Sasha as they proceeded on, and Sasha seemed to be disappointed she was leaving.
With Kelsey was her mother, Cheryl, being escorted by Jon and Helen Masters. Although Cheryl was patient throughout the several-hours-long process, at the end of it all her patience was definitely wearing thin. 'Is all this security absolutely necessary?' she asked as they finally cleared the last checkpoint and walked inside the facility toward one of the large steel hangars.
'You should know better than to ask, Cheryl,' Helen responded.
'But we have Top Secret clearances…'
'That's just for you' Helen explained. 'These procedures are for this area-it's different. There is another set of security procedures once we actually get to the specific project-they won't be as difficult as those were, but you will have to submit to them as well, each and every time. The procedures change depending on which area we're going to and which projects are active, so they might be easier or harder next time-'
'Harder?'
'This isn't even the worst of it,' Jon added. 'Hangar Seven-Alpha's classification is only Secret. If you want to go to the Top Secret areas, it'll be an extra hour. Heck, we've gone through three hours of in-processing just to pick up a can of soda because the ice chest was in the wrong lab.'
'How do you get any work done?'
'You get used to it,' Helen said. 'You just budget your time accordingly. You learn not to come out here unless you've lined up an entire day or more of work, and you stay until the work gets done. We sleep out here all the time. You ask why we invest in the best computers, why we buy two or three systems when we only need one, and don't use leased equipment-this is part of the reason. Getting a service tech to come out here would be impossible, and it takes even longer to get clearance for a piece of electronic equipment to come in here than it does a person-every diode, microchip, and printed circuit board has to be checked for bugs before it comes in here.'
'This is insane,' Cheryl muttered. 'We've been involved with many classified projects before, and I've never seen security procedures this tight.'
'Getting a briefing or giving a talk on a classified program is one thing,' Jon said. 'Actually building a weapon system that won't officially exist for another five years is another.'
'This is like going to Disneyland,' Kelsey exclaimed happily.
'I love your attitude, kiddo,' Jon said. Her excitement and glee, Jon had to admit, was infectious.
The partnership deal between Jon, Helen, the shareholders of Sky Masters Inc., and Sierra Vistas Partners went through quickly and without any major glitches, once Jon was convinced it was the best for all-thanks to Kelsey. Jon and Helen Masters instantly became multimillionaires, not just on paper but in reality. The price for that newfound liquidity was twofold-having a lot of strange people working around the administration areas, and dealing with a whole new attitude from the board of directors, who overnight went from having virtually no power in the company to having the critical swing vote in every decision in the entire company. They didn't ask for information anymore-they demanded it. Memos flew, phone calls followed, and the staff was kept hopping keeping up with requests for updates from directors and their attorneys and accountants.
Most of Jon's day was filled with bringing Kelsey up to date on all of Sky Masters Inc.'s projects and programs, a chore that Jon actually found beneficial. Since very few engineers at the company could match Jon's intelligence and innovation, Jon rarely talked to others about his projectswhen he needed input or help, he usually had to spend more time explaining what he was trying to do. Not so with Kelsey. She listened intently, rarely took notes, could speedread a page of engineering data in just a few seconds, and always asked intelligent, relevant questions-not just on the basic science, but on future applications or future directions to push the research. Jon found that explaining a project to Kelsey actually helped him rethink the problems and discover a new approach to solving a dilemma or impasse.
Today was the most exciting day for Kelsey-actually going out to the flight line to see some aircraft. Cheryl's only reason for going along, other than the fact she wanted to be with her daughter as much as possible, was that she had spent so long getting her special Top Secret security clearance that she thought she'd better use it. Now she was regretting that decision. They had flown the company jet from Arkansas to Tonopah Municipal Airport, and then loaded up into a company Suburban for the drive out to the Tonopah Test Range, sixty miles to the southeast along narrow, winding, cracked roads.
'I thought we were going out to Groom Lake,' Cheryl said perturbedly.
'Not likely,' Jon said. 'Heck, it took me a year to go out there-and I designed a lot of the stuff they were testing out there! Helen is one of the senior engineers at the company and has been for years, and she's still never been there! As rough as you might think the security is here, it's nothing compared to… well, out there.' It was obvious Jon was uncomfortable even saying the words 'Groom Lake.' 'Security is not just a procedure out there, or part of the cost of doing business-it's a way of life.'
'So how did that Soviet spy make it in there?' Cheryl asked. 'How did-?'
Jon suddenly turned, stepped right in front of Cheryl until he was just inches from her, and held up a finger right in front of her face. 'Cheryl,' he began, his voice quiet but deadly serious. His eyes were affixed directly on hers, and it'shocked and surprised her. 'You have got to learn something right here and right now: We don't talk about stuff like that. No one does. Not here, not at the company, not anywhere, not anytime, to no one. No one.'
'It's no secret, Jon-'
'Cheryl, listen… '
'Jon, I heard all about it at a bar in Nashville, Tennessee, during a space technology conference,' Cheryl Duffield said with a nervous smile. 'Why, I even heard-'
'Cheryl!' Jon interjected-it was the most emotion he had ever displayed in front of anyone before. 'Listen, Cheryl, you have got to learn something-security is not something to be taken lightly around here or most anywhere in the company. To call these guys 'sticklers' for security would be a gross understatement. A company that gets a reputation for lax security gets aced out of every single contract competition-ask Northrop, ask British Aerospace, ask any of a dozen excellent companies that had one little breach. It doesn't matter how good your product isthey'll blackball you in a heartbeat.'
He pointed to a tiny white box on the side of a hangar several dozen yards away. 'This place is totally wired for sound-I should know, because I designed most of the systems they use here. We are constantly being scanned for bugs, weapons, recording devices, explosives, stolen components, tracers, communications equipment, chemicals, microwaves-you name it.
'Every word you or I say is recorded and electronically transcribed and analyzed, and any keywords found in the transcript sends a security flag all the way up to FBI, CIA, DIA, and a dozen other government and military security and intelligence agencies in Washington for follow-up,' he went on. 'You say the word 'Soviet,' 'bar,' and 'Nashville' in a sentence, and in two days the FBI will have launched an entire investigation of you, all your
