the RAG?what the hell had he been doing on watch here by himself?
I’ve got more time in the chow line than this youngster’s got in the cockpit. And they sent him down like a sacrificial lamb for me to devour the moment I step on board?
Maybe they’re hoping I’ll chew him up and spit him out and calm down before I reach the admiral’s quarters. Sort of a symbolic bloodletting, if you will.
“Good afternoon, Lieutenant. I’m sure we’ll have time to talk later.”
He turned back to the captain. “I’d like to see the admiral?immediately.”
The captain appeared slightly taken aback at the lack of response to his introduction of Skeeter. He nodded uncertainly and led the way forward to the admiral’s cabin.
“What do you mean the transport’s not arranged?” Tiltfelt demanded. “God, man?I believe our message was quite specific.”
The attache nodded uncomfortably. “We received the message, of course, Sir, but no clearance from the Navy yet.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s only been eight hours, Sir. I imagine they’re a little busy out there right now.”
“We’re all busy, mister. And one of the things you’re supposed to be busy with is assuring that requests from senior State Department officials are acted upon in a somewhat timely and occasionally correct fashion. It appears that neither has happened in this instance, Mr.?Mr. Peals. I take it this is typical of your performance in your post here?”
“No, not at all. It’s just that?if you could excuse me for a few moments, Sir, I’ll follow up on that request.”
Tiltfelt turned to his aide. “This is just the sort of thing you must expect from the military. Delays, excuses?any reason to run amok on their own rather than working as part of a coherent national strategy.”
Tiltfelt was pleased to note that the aide looked suitably attentive.
Ten minutes later, the attache returned. “Sir, the last flight cleared out to the carrier left eight hours ago from Gaeta.”
“Why didn’t you have it held? You knew when I was arriving.”
“We couldn’t, Sir. The new Sixth Fleet, Admiral Magruder, was manifested on the flight. And the Navy owns the aircraft?I’m sure you understand that.”
“What I don’t understand is why you appear to be taking the Navy’s part in this, young man,” Tiltfelt said acidly. “I will give you ten minutes to make alternate arrangements and obtain the appropriate clearances. After that point, you will find that a permanent reprimand will be placed in your file. Unless you are quite eager to participate in the demanding professional duties at an embassy in some southern African country, I suggest you try to impress me in the next few moments.”
“Well, well, well,” Pamela said, holding her binoculars steady to her eyes. “Isn’t it nice of them to commence the off-load out in the open like this?”
The cameraman didn’t respond, she noted with satisfaction. Evidently, she’d managed to appropriately convince him of his place on the food chain for this assignment. “You’re getting all this?” she asked.
“Getting it,” he replied shortly. And she was. The telescopic lens zeroed in on the figures swarming around the Aeroflot flight. He panned slowly away from them, and focused on the tail insignia. “Did you notice that?” he said as Pamela looked at the monitor.
“Notice what?that it’s Aeroflot?”
The cameraman experienced a brief moment of satisfaction, then shuddered at the prospect of being permanently assigned to this woman for the duration of her stay in Turkey. Reluctantly, he divulged the one bit of information he had that she needed. “It’s not Russian. It’s Ukrainian.”
“You’re certain?”
He nodded.
“Even more interesting,” she said softly, speaking more to herself than to him. “Ukraine?now what did they?of course.”
She immediately made the connection between the nuclear weapon fired in the proximity of the USS La Salle and the Ukraine’s own experience in Chernobyl. “It takes a thief to catch a thief.”
“What? Was something stolen?”
The cameraman subsided into silence at her glare.
4
Tombstone went immediately to TFCC, the nerve center of the flagship.
No matter that the admiral’s cabin was merely fifteen or twenty paces down the passageway. With the eastern Mediterranean in an uproar, his first priority was maintaining a complete tactical picture.
There were other reasons to delay his meeting with the current Sixth Fleet as well, not the least of which was to give his own temper time to cool. While many of the officers who served under him would not have believed it, Tombstone Magruder possessed an incendiary temper, not often ignited, but an almost overwhelming force when it did. Sixth Fleet had tripped that trigger by sending the young Naval aviator down to take the full brunt of the relieving admiral’s displeasure.
We tell them that people are our most important asset, but do we really believe it?
A surface guy eating his young like that?I can believe it. But a pilot?he should know better. It was his call, his watch?and he blew it by putting this youngster on the console by himself. I’ll be damned if I’ll validate that mistake by executing this nugget at dawn.
Finally, when he felt he’d regained control of himself sufficiently, Tombstone said, “Let’s go see the admiral.”
The Chief of Staff nodded, relieved that the burden of following his new boss around was about to be lifted. The new Sixth Fleet was pissed?that much was clear. But at whom? Ascertaining that at the very earliest opportunity was essential.
“This way, sir.” The Chief of Staff led the way out into the flag passageway and down toward the admiral’s cabin. At the door, he knocked once, opened it, and stepped aside to let Admiral Magruder precede him.
The Chief of Staff hesitated at the door frame, wondering whether or not his presence was required in the compartment, desperately hoping it was not. When elephants dance, captains get out of the way.
Vice Admiral Dan Latterly was seated behind his desk, contemplating a stack of folders poised uneasily at the edge of it. He looked up at Tombstone, his face set in a hard mask of outrage. “Military courtesy is a dying tradition.”
He’s older than me?but not by that much. That gut, those bags under his eyes?he looks greasy, unkempt, like a junior officer coming off a three-day drunk. No senior aviator should look like that. And this ship looks worse than he does. Grimy?and it smells.
The anger Tombstone had struggled to get under control flashed into fiery incandescence. He stood at attention, snapped his hand up to the brim of his cover, and said, “I relieve you, sir.”
The abrupt entry into the traditional words of change of command startled Latterly out of his truculence. His scowl faded into dismay, then down a new path to annoyance. “Just like that? I’m aware of your reputation, Admiral, but even you might find it useful to have a brief turnover period. I had thought perhaps tomorrow-“
“Not acceptable,” Tombstone snapped, still holding the salute. “Get your ass up and do one thing right before I call the Master of Arms to remove you from this cabin.”
“Just who the hell do you think you are, mister?” Latterly shouted, surging to his feet. “You can’t come onto
