everyone in government as thieves and liars and worse. How can you listen to this?”
“Oh. That. I never listen. I’m too busy thinking about Athena. I shut out all that other stuff.”
“Wish I could.”
“Hmmm,” said Fritsche, obviously not paying much attention to Jake either.
“If he doesn’t cool it some, I’ll probably strangle him by dinner- time. Better learn all you can this afternoon.”
“Uh-huh,” said Fritsche, who was bending and reexamining the cooling unit that kept the computer temperature down. It was certainly a marvel of miniaturization and engineering. “How this man made this in a backyard workshop just boggles the mind. Look here, the craftsmanship of these welds, the way he polished this forging with acid to minimize heat loss. Look here! See how he built this to maximize cooling and shorten the wire runs. And he didn’t even use a computer to design this!”
“Instinct. The troll’s a genius,” Jake Grafton admitted reluc- tantly.
The other shoe fell on Sunday morning, when Jake received a telephone call from Washington. George Ludlow was on the other end of the wire. “Royce Caplinger’s flying out to see you this after- noon. He’s bringing Senator Hiram Duquesne with him. Each of them will have an aide along. Get them rooms in the BOQ.”
“Jesus, Mr. Secretary. This project’s got a security lid tight as a virgin’s twat. We don’t need any godda — any senator—“
“Duquesne had to be told, Captain. He’s the chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee. I’m not asking your opinion. I’m informing you. Got it?”
“Yessir. I got it. Have you also informed Admiral Dunedin?”
“Yes.” The connection broke. Jake cradled the phone. He soon learned there were but two empty rooms in the BOQ, so he sent the two junior members of his party to a motel off base. Those two were Toad and Rita, neither of whom looked very distressed when they tossed their bags into the back of a navy station wagon and drove away.
He wore his only clean white uniform and was standing in the sun in front of the terminal when the T-39 taxied up and Royce Caplinger stepped out. The CO of the base was standing beside Jake. Both officers saluted smartly. They also snapped a salute to Senator Duquesne, who was dressed in slacks and pullover shirt and looked like he had had a couple snorts on the trip. As Du- quesne blinked mightily at the bright light, a woman descended the little stair from the plane.
Jake recognized her even as Caplinger said her name. “Ms. DeCrescentis. She’s a guest of Senator Duquesne.”
“Consolidated Technologies. She’s a vice president, isn’t she?”
“Yep,” said Duquesne. “Good to see you again. Captain,” he said in a tone that implied just the opposite.
“Hitchhiking today, Ms. DeCrescentis?”
“She’s here to take the tour with us,” Caplinger said.
“Could I talk to you privately for a moment,” Jake said, not a question, and walked away from the group.
Twenty paces or so away Jake turned around. Caplinger was right behind. Jake let him have it: “Ludlow said you were coming for a briefing with a senator, even though this project is classified to the hilt. But I’m not about to let a vice president of a defense contractor that is going to be bidding on the ATA have a look at Athena or be a party to any conversation on the subject. She has no bona fide need to know at this stage of the game. She doesn’t have access. Not only no, but hell no. Sir.”
“My responsibility,” Caplinger said, then clamped his lips into a thin line.
“No, sir. Ludlow didn’t mention any defense contractors, and even if he had, I’d have to clear this with Admiral Dunedin. I take orders from him. He’d probably have to talk to CNO. Her pres- ence would violate a couple dozen reg—“
“Call him.”
“Now?”
“Yes, goddamnit, right fucking now. We’ll wait in the lounge.” Caplinger stalked for the blue carpet that led inside, followed by Jake Grafton. The base CO led the others inside.
Jake used the phone in the operations officer’s office on the sec- ond deck.
He reached Dunedin at his office in Crystal City on the first try and outlined the situation. “Fuck!” said the admiral.
“Yessir.”
“I’ll call Ludlow. If that goes sour I’ll call CNO.”
“Okay.” Jake gave him the phone number where he could be reached.
“You’re really sticking your neck out, Jake.”
“So fire me.”
“I’ll call you back.”
Thirty minutes went by. Jake stared out the window at the little passenger jet and watched the men with the gas truck refuel it as heat waves rose off the tarmac. Blue mountains lay on the horizon. Not a single airplane stirring this Sunday morning. After a while he examined the photos and mementos the ops boss had arranged on his walls. He recognized some of the names and faces in the group pictures.
He was sitting behind the desk with his feet propped on it and doodling on a scratch pad when the phone rang. “Captain Graf- ton.”
“George Ludlow. Admiral Dunedin tells me there’s a problem.”
“Yessir. Caplinger and Duquesne arrived here a while ago with a vice president of Consolidated Technologies tagging along. They want her to see Athena. It’s classified special access, above top secret, and she’s getting an unfair advantage over the other con- tractors. I said no.”
“What did Caplinger say?”
“He wasn’t happy.”
“Do you understand that Hiram Duquesne is chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee? We have to have his support if we’re going to get a replacement aircraft for the A-6. Without it we’re pissing up a rope.”
“I understand that. And I understand that you chose me for this job because I can wear a Medal of Honor on my shirt and because I’m expendable. You’re going to have me make a recommendation on which plane to buy based on a short operational evaluation fly- off, and if you like it, I’ll have to go over to Congress and defend it. You can disavow me anytime. I understand all of that. I took the job anyway. Now I’m telling you, I can’t go over to the Hill and make a recommendation if five or six senators and congressmen are out to cut my balls off with a scalping knife because I let Consoli- dated in on the ground floor in violation of the law and DOD regulations. I won’t be able to hide behind Royce Caplinger over there. That little shit is too goddamn small to hide behind.”
Ludlow chuckled, a dry sound that lasted three or four seconds. “Go get Caplinger. I’ll talk to him.”
Jake left the phone lying on the desk and went downstairs to the VIP lounge. “Mr. Secretary, you have a phone call upstairs.”
Duquesne’s face was still red and mottled. DeCrescentis looked like she could chew up all of them and spit hamburger. The base CO was nowhere in sight. He had probably attacked in another direction, maybe toward the golf course.
Jake followed the Defense Secretary back up the stairs.
As soon as Caplinger recognized his son-in-law’s voice, he shooed Jake from the office. Jake could hear his voice booming through the door. It wasn’t just the Advanced Tactical Aircraft he was concerned about — ft was the entire defense budget. As he roared at Ludlow: “… you and I both know that Grafton will probably recommend the TRX plane. With Athena, it’s the obvi- ous choice. But that leaves Duquesne in political trouble at home and we need his support. Jesus fucking Christ, George, you people have an aircraft carrier up for funding, three Aegis cruisers, two boomer boats, the air force wants more F-117s and some B-2s,”the army wants more tanks. SDI is desperate for money. And Con- gress is trying to cut the deficit! Don’t tell me to tell Duquesne to fuck off!”
He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was low and Grafton couldn’t hear the words. He knew Ludlow well enough to know how it was going, however. Let Grafton take the heat, the Secretary of the Navy was probably saying. Make Grafton the villain.
And that was how it went. When Caplinger came out of the office he buttonholed Jake. “You’re going downstairs and explain to the senator that you personally must put DeCrescentis back on that plane. You will brief
