people lie to you, isn't it?”
“Who?”
“I call her Liz. The President calls her Elizabeth. Want a freebie?” Holtzman added.
“Sure.”
“Call this evidence of good faith on my part. Fowler and she are getting it on. Nobody's reported it because we figure it's not the public's business.”
“Good for you,” Clark observed. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
“Five years, man.”
“I'll be around.” Clark hung up. So, John thought, I thought that's who it was. He dropped another quarter in the phone. He got lucky on the first try. It was a woman's voice.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Caroline Ryan?”
“Yes, who”s this?'
“The name you wanted, ma'am, is Elizabeth Elliot. The President's National Security Advisor.” Clark decided not to add the other part. It was not relevant to the situation, was it?
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” The line clicked off.
Cathy had sent Jack to bed early again. The man was being sensible. Well, that wasn't a surprise, was it? she thought. After all, he married me.
The timing could have been a little better. A few days earlier, she had planned to skip the official dinner, claiming work as an excuse, but now…
How do I do this…?
“Morning, Bernie,” Cathy Ryan said as she scrubbed her hands, as usual, all the way to the elbows.
“Hi, Cath. How's it going?”
“A lot better, Bernie.”
“Really?” Dr. Katz started scrubbing.
“Really.”
“Glad to hear it,” Katz observed dubiously.
Cathy finished, shutting off the water with taps from her elbows. “Bernie, it turns out I overreacted rather badly.”
“What about the guy who came to see me?” Katz asked, his head down.
“It was not true. I can't explain now, maybe some other time. Need a favor.”
“Sure, what?”
“The cornea replacement I have scheduled for Wednesday, can you take it?”
“What gives?”
“Jack and I have to go to a formal dinner in the White House tomorrow night. State dinner for the Prime Minister of Finland, would you believe? The procedure is straightforward, no complications I know about. I can have you the file this afternoon. Jenkins is going to do the procedure — I'm just supposed to ride shotgun.” Jenkins was a bright young resident.
“Okay, I'll do it.”
“Okay, thanks. Owe you one,” Cathy said on her way through the door.
The Carmen Vita pulled into Hampton Roads barely an hour late. She turned to port and proceeded south past the Navy piers. The captain and pilot rode the port-side bridge wing, noting the carrier that was even now departing from the pier with a few hundred wives and children waving goodbye to USS Theodore Roosevelt. Two cruisers, two destroyers, and a frigate were already moving. They, the pilot explained, were the screening ships for “The Stick,” as TR was called by her crew. The Indian-born captain grunted and returned to business. Half an hour later, the container ship approached her pier at the end of Terminal Boulevard. Three tugs took their position and eased the Carmen Vita alongside. The ship had barely been tied up when the gantry cranes started moving cargo.
“ Roggen, Colorado?” the trucker asked. He flipped open his large book map and looked on I-76 for the right place. “Okay, I see it.”
“How fast?” Russell asked.
“From the time I leave here? Eighteen hundred miles. Oh, two days, maybe forty hours if I'm lucky. Gonna cost you.”
“How much?” Russell asked. The trucker told him. “Cash all right?”
“Cash is fine. I knock ten percent off for that,” the trucker said. The IRS never found out about cash transactions.
“Half in advance.” Russell peeled off the bills. “Half on delivery, a grand bonus if you break forty hours.”
“Sounds good to me. What about the box?”
“You bring that right back here. We'll be getting more stuff in a month,” Russell lied. “We can make this a sort of regular run for you.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Russell returned to his friends, and together they watched the unloading process from the comfort of a block building with a large coffee urn.
Teddy Roosevelt cleared the harbor in record time, bending on twenty knots before they reached the sea buoy. Already, the aircraft were orbiting overhead, first among them the F-14 Tomcat fighters that had lifted off from Oceana Naval Air Station. As soon as there was sea room, the carrier came into the northerly wind to commence flight operations. The first plane down had the Double-Zero number of the CAG, Captain Robby Jackson. His Tomcat caught a gust over the fantail, and as a result caught the number-two wire when it landed —“trapped”—somewhat to Jackson 's annoyance. The next aircraft, flown by Commander Rafael Sanchez, made a perfect trap on the number-three arrester wire. Both aircraft taxied out of harm's way. Jackson left the fighter and immediately sprinted to his place on Vulture's Row, high up on the carrier's island structure, so that he could observe the arrival of the rest of his aircraft. This was how a deployment started, with the CAG and squadron commanders watching their troops land. Each trap would be recorded on videotape for critiques. The cruise had not gotten off to a very good start, Jackson noted as he sipped his first mug of shipboard coffee. He'd missed his customary “OK” grade, as the Air Boss had informed him with a twinkling eye.
“Hey, Skipper, how my kids doing?” Sanchez asked, taking his seat behind Robby.
“Not bad, I see you kept your record going, Bud.”
“It's not hard, Captain. You just keep an eye on the wind as you turn in. I saw that gust you took. Guess I should have warned you.”
“Pride goeth before the fall, Commander,” Robby observed. Sanchez had seventeen consecutive OKs. Maybe he could see the wind, Jackson thought. Seventy uneventful minutes later, TR turned back east, taking the great- circle route for the Straits of Gibraltar.
The trucker made sure the container box was firmly secured to the bed of his truck, then climbed into the cab of his Kenworth diesel tractor. He started his engine and waved to Russell, who waved back.
“I still think we should follow him,” Ghosn said.
“He'd notice and wonder why,” Marvin replied. “And if something goes wrong, what would you do, fill in the hole it makes in the highway? You didn't follow the ship, did you?”
“True.” Ghosn looked at Qati and shrugged. Then they walked off to their car for the drive to Charlotte, from which they would fly directly to Denver.
Jack was ready early, as he usually was, but Cathy took her time. It was so unusual for her to look in a mirror and see hair that looked like it belonged to a real woman, as opposed to a surgeon who didn't give a damn. That had entailed the waste of two hours, but there were prices that one had to pay. Before she went downstairs, Cathy
