credentials were as bluechip as his family connections and dividends from the family investment trusts.
“What this meeting about, sir?” Jake asked as he and the admi- ral walked the outer ring of the Pentagon — the B-ring — toward Ludlow’s office.
“Don’t know. When Ludlow wants you, he summons you— now.”
It was common knowledge that Ludlow had vigorous hands on the throttle and helm of the navy. He had firm ideas about what ships and weapons systems the navy needed, how they should be acquired, how they should be employed. With his insider’s knowl- edge of Washington and the upper reaches of the defense establish- ment he outargued most admirals. Those he couldn’t win over he shuffled off to sinecures or retirement. Unlike the usual dilettante who spent a year or two as a service secretary on his way to a bright political future or the vice presidency of a major defense contractor, Ludlow behaved exactly like a man whose present job was the fulfillment of a lifelong quest. If Ludlow had any other political or business ambitions, no hint of them had percolated down to Jake’s level. His saving grace, or so it appeared to the rank and file, was his strong commitment to the navy as an institution, to its people and its traditions. This was probably one of the rea- sons for unease at the flag level, since the admirals were unwilling to defer to anyone as keeper of the faith, the role in which they cast themselves.
The Minotaur
The corridor in which the secretary’s office was located was dec- orated for the general public. Large oil portraits of naval heroes of the past were prominently displayed; Farragut, Dewey, Halsey and many others. The old admirals stared dourly at Jake and Vice Admiral Henry as they went to their appointment to discuss the navy of the future.
Ludlow’s large office was paneled in dark wood, the real thing, not veneer, Jake noticed as he took his first, curious look — and nautical memorabilia were everywhere, on the desk, the credenza, the little sitting desk. Oil paintings of famous naval scenes — also original, Jake noted — adorned the walls. The chairs were black leather. One of them was occupied by a fat gent in his mid-sixties whose skin looked as tough as the chair covering. Jake recognized him from his picture — Senator Hiram Duquesne, chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee. Ludlow was behind his desk and didn’t rise from his chair.
“You gentlemen know the senator,” Ludlow said after Admiral Henry had introduced Jake-
Duquesne eyed Jake speculatively. “Aren’t you the pilot that strapped on El Hakim last year?”
“Yessir.”
“Sit down, gentlemen. Please.” Ludlow gestured to the chairs. Jake ended up on Henry’s left, Duquesne on the admiral’s right Ludlow’s executive assistant sat on the sofa with a legal pad on his lap, ready to take notes.
The senator and the two naval officers faced the secretary across his massive mahogany desk strewn with paper. Ludlow had one leg draped over his chair arm, revealing hairy skin in the gap between the top of his sock and his trouser leg. In his hands he held a rifle cartridge that still contained a bullet He worked the cartridge back and forth between his fingers as he spoke to Jake- “Senator Duquesne wanted to meet you when I informed him you would be doing the testing and evaluation of the ATA prototypes.”
“Now, as I understand it, George, you people are not going to do your usual T and E routine,” Senator Duquesne said. T and E was Test and Evaluation.
“No way to keep the lid on or meet our time goals if we did it the usual way.”
“You a test pilot?” Duquesne shot at Jake.
“No, sir.”
Ludlow’s leg came off the arm of his chair. “He’s an attack pilot,” the secretary said mildly, “one of the very best we have. He knows carrier aviation as well as anyone in uniform.”
“What d’ya know about stealth?” the senator demanded.
“Very little, sir, but I’m learning.”
“Horse puckey! What does the navy need for an attack plane at the turn of the century? What about range, payload, survivability, maintainability? How much should the navy pay?” ‘”
“I—” Jake began, but Ludlow was also talking: “Senator, policy is my—“
Senator Duquesne raised his voice. He thundered at Ludlow:
“I’ll say this again with these gentlemen present. I’m not happy about this whole thing, George. Not happy- You have a program here that you will want funded for three hundred and fifty air- planes at about fifty million each, seventeen and a half billion dol- lars worth, and you intend to make the decision on which proto- type to buy based on Captain Grafton’s quick and dirty recommendation?”
“You overstate it, Senator. We — being me, CNO, Vice Admirals Henry and Dunedin — we propose to make a recommendation to SECDEF based on the needs of the navy. We will look closely at Captain Grafton’s evaluation to help us determine which of the two prototypes best meets those needs. And his evaluation will be quick but it won’t be dirty.” The senator twisted in his chair. The secretary continued, relentless. “No captain determines the needs of the navy, Senator. I do that. The President and SECDEF—“
Duquesne stopped him with an upraised palm. “Don’t lecture me, George. And don’t patronize me! Major weapons systems pro- curement gets shrouded in secrecy, taken out of the normal chan- nels where Congress can look things over, and major decisions get made on the basis of one document generated by one of your junior subordinates which no one can confirm or refute. And you tell me to relax? Seventeen billion dollars for a plane that may or may not be adequately tested, that may or may not do what we’re buying it to do? Plus ten more billion for spare parts and simulators and all the rest of it. No dirt, huh? Goddamnit, Ludlow, I don’t trust you any further than I could throw a scalded cat! You’re trying to make Congress a goddamn rubber stamp!”
Ludlow leaned forward in his chair. “I never said for you to relax! You people agreed to the classification level of these black stealth projectsl You people understood the problems involved and approved the administrative shortcuts! Now you—“
“I said don’t patronize met And quit pointing that fucking bullet at me!”
Henry rose nastily and Jake followed. “Talk to you later, Mr. Secretary,” he said, and Ludlow nodded as he fired another volley at the senator.
“Jesus.” Jake muttered when they reached the hallway and the door closed behind them-
“Yeah,” the admiral agreed.
“How come Duquesne is so upset when the decision hasn’t been made?”
“That’s just it. One of the prototypes was manufactured in his home state. He’s fought hard on the Hill for stealth and he wants his plane to be chosen and the air force didn’t buy it. Now, if the navy doesn’t… Well, you get the idea.”
“Uh-huh,” Jake said as the full dimensions of his new position came into much better focus. So Henry had asked for him to run the ATA project, eh? No doubt his name had been discussed with Ludlow and the Chief of Naval Operations as well as Vice Admiral Dunedin — NAVAIR. They could praise him to the skies for his report or ease him right out of the navy. They needed a man they could dispose of if necessary. And they found me, Jake thought bitterly. A gilt-edge reputation, my ass!
In Henry’s office, Jake said calmly, “Better make sure your anti- bugging devices are on.”
The admiral did so while eyeing Jake. When he was seated, Jake said, “I took a little drive yesterday, sir. Saw a state trooper up in West Virginia named Keadle. Read an accident report.”
“So?”
“Passed one of the guys from my shop on my way back here yesterday afternoon. He was on his way to West Virginia.”
“Oh?”
“Admiral, why don’t you tell me what really happened in West Virginia after Harold Strong was killed?”
“Are you suggesting I haven’t?”
“I can’t do my job, sir, unless you play straight with me. I play straight with you, you have to play straight with me.”
Admiral Henry looked out his window a while, examined his fingernails and finally directed his gaze back to Jake. “I think you had better discuss any concerns you have with Admiral Dunedin.” He picked up a sheet of paper and began to scan it. The interview was over.
“Aye aye, sir,” Jake said, and left the room. He retrieved his hat in the outer office and caught the shuttle back to Crystal City.
As the shuttle bus wound its way from the parking lot, Jake looked back at the Pentagon. It appeared low
