any suggestions. 'If it does, more people may know about it.'
Batman considered that for a moment, then said, 'I have a feeling about this,' he continued, clearly making up this story as he went along.
'Russians tend to do things in patterns ? if this is some sort of routine communications, it'll probably occur tomorrow at the same time. Or exactly twelve hours off of this, if that's the sort of schedule they're on. For the time being, make sure your two guys ? Martin and Scruggins was it? ? have the watch for two-hour time periods surrounding this detection time and the time exactly twelve hours off. That ought to minimize the number of people that know about it.'
Carl and I glanced at each other again. I could see that he reached the same conclusion that I did, almost at the same instant. Whatever game the admiral was playing, we weren't going to call him on it. He had no duty to explain his reasoning to us, and we had no right to demand it.
What was clear now was that the admiral wanted dissemination of this information limited to the people that already knew about it, and he wanted USW assets in the air conducting what he claimed were safety-of-navigation operations.
Captain Smith stood and I followed his lead. 'I understand, Admiral.
That's what we'll do, sir. Should there be any further detections, we'll make sure you're briefed immediately.'
Batman stood now, too, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and his heels. 'Good, good. That's what I like about intelligence officers ? you don't have to explain everything to them. They understand… well… that sometimes there are nuances to situations. Other things that have to be considered, that sort of thing. Keep me posted,' he concluded abruptly, apparently suddenly aware that he sounded like he was rambling. 'That's all.'
After we left the admiral's cabin, Carl and I went back down to my office spaces to talk to Martin and Scruggins. We found them seated in front of the high-frequency spectrum analyzer, with Martin pointing out to Scruggins the critical features of the communications burst he detected.
'It looks just like a lofargram,' Scruggins said, referring to a low-frequency analyzing recording graph generated by sonar equipment.
'Same general principles,' Martin agreed. 'Now, you see here-' His voice cut off abruptly as he saw me standing in the doorway.
I strode into the room, followed by Captain Smith. 'Martin, and you, too, Scruggins ? I need some help here,' I began. That's often a good way to start with sailors, because needing help is something they understand.
Moreover, it was God's honest truth, and I knew they would appreciate that as well. 'I don't know why, I don't know any of the details, but the admiral wants this kept real quiet. This communications burst you are detecting,' I elaborated.
The puzzlement I saw on Martin's and Scruggins's faces mirrored that of my own, I was certain. 'Don't ask me why ? I'd tell you if I knew, but God's honest truth, I don't.' I briefly outlined the admiral's plan for keeping the two of them on watch during the period of signal vulnerability, and they nodded appreciatively. Both were clearly intrigued by the unexpected secrecy and sensitivity of their data, and were eager to continue maintaining ownership of the problem. Finally, I asked, 'Any suggestions?' including in the question whether or not I'd told them everything they needed to now. I hoped so ? it was all I knew.
'No, sir,' Martin said thoughtfully. He glanced back at Captain Smith, then over at Scruggins. 'I think we can manage.'
'That's good, real good,' Captain Smith said. I hoped he was telling the truth this time.
3
The little Commie bastard tripped me on the way to the hangar. Oh, if you asked him I'm sure he'd say that I slipped on a piece of pavement, or didn't notice a recessed pad eye inset in the concrete, but that's not the truth. It was just as Admiral Magruder was looking back at me to make sure I knew that I'd be flying that afternoon ? like that would be a problem for me or something ? and I was trying to let him know that I'd heard him, that I was paying attention, and that no, I wouldn't go swilling down pints and pints of vodka and then climb back in the Tomcat to kick this cocky little bastard's ass, when it happened. One second I was proceeding along, trying to listen to the Russian guy practice his broken English on me, letting Tombstone know I was a-OK, good to go, and ready to take on the world, when my right foot hit something. I didn't fall, caught myself pretty quick ? after all, I am a fighter pilot, aren't I? Excellent reflexes, good sense of balance, top marks in spatial orientation, right?
And I think maybe he didn't exactly realize I saw him, you know? I mean, he waited until he thought I was distracted before he edged over a little and just stuck out his foot in front of me.
But he's got a lot to learn about Americans. Me, in particular. For one thing, unlike the guys he's been used to fighting against, I can do more than one thing at once without some GCI on the ground telling me when to take a leak. For another thing, I have excellent peripheral vision. I mean, truly excellent.
So when I say the little bastard tripped me, I think that's pretty much the truth. Now, as to why ? that's an entirely different question.
Maybe he wanted me to see him, get some sort of first shot in on me. Or maybe he thought he'd shake my confidence a little, make me think I was more tired than I really was.
So I didn't let him know. Made some little remark about it and let it go at that, but I'd seen him. And that put me in the firing position, asshole.
The rest of the reception went pretty much as planned. I had my backseater, Lieutenant Commander Kennedy, under close control. I guess she had orders from Tombstone to keep an eye on me, make sure I didn't act like a jerk to the Russians. But if truth be known, I ended up keeping an eye on her as much as she did on me. The Russians aren't big on having either blacks or women fly their aircraft, so Sheila and I stood out like ? well, like a black male and a white female. They gathered around us, not saying a whole lot, like they wanted to reach out and touch us to see if we were for real.
Sheila didn't back down, not a bit. She wouldn't ? not her. You've got to fly with somebody to really know them, and Sheila and I had logged enough hours together in work-ups to have a pretty good idea of where each other stood. No, we didn't necessarily like each other much ? but hell, that's not a requirement for a pilot and a RIO. As long as you trust the other guy to do his job and keep some asshole from shooting your aircraft out from under you, that ought to be enough. It was for us.
I thought the Russians were pretty well snowed by Sheila. It's easy to do ? I made that mistake with her from the first. A little short blond-haired, blue-eyed cutie pie, something you might find on your local cheerleading squad if you were real, real lucky. You might ask her out a couple of times, even think about making it serious ? until you found out she had a mean streak about a mile wide and a temper not a whole lot longer than Bird Dog Robinson's. Now that would have been a pair, teaming up those two. They would have killed either a lot of Commies or each other within the first thirty minutes.
And Sheila's not only her real name, it's her call sign as well.
Somebody who thought Australian was the hottest liberty around decided that, since 'sheila' down under is slang for female.
Anyway, Sheila and I found that flying together was pretty much all right by us, so the skipper left us teamed up for this exhibition. I suppose we might have been offended, like they were trying to see us as some equal opportunity poster children, but the truth was that we were just so very, very good. The captain knew it ? and we knew it. The way I figure it, there wasn't a single logical choice in the squadron except for the two of us for this mission.
I drew Sheila aside as soon as a hole broke in the Russians around her and said, 'You hear what the admiral said? We fly the first mission this afternoon.'
Sheila nodded, a slow, strange smile spreading across her face. I'd seen her knocking back the caviar, so I
