Senate. Suddenly, another star on his collar was looking a whole lot
more probable.
For her part, Pamela seemed to appreciate the insights he sometimes
gave her into military affairs. She’d told him more than once that he
helped her convey a more balanced picture of the military to her
viewers.
On a more personal level, they were equally compatible.
Last month, he’d finally asked her to marry him, and she’d accepted.
Now if she would only stay in the country long enough for them to
finalize the plans.
“What do you suggest I do?” the admiral asked, pushing aside the
thoughts of his fiancee to concentrate on the senator. Pamela had
warned him several times that Williams had the power to make him or to
break him.
The senator sighed. “Let me spell it out for you. As deputy AIRPAC,
you’re concerned about pilot safety. And about the F-14 Tomcats some
of those airframes are getting old. You decide to call a safety
stand-down and major responsibility for any strike prosecution shifts
to the USS Arsenal. Hell, you can even tell that admiral of yours to
shift his flag to her. That would be even better.”
“And the USS Arsenal gets to be the hero of the Cuban confrontation,”
the admiral said. “I don’t know. You’re talking about a major shift
in policy, pulling our carrier off the front lines.”
The senator’s voice was suddenly harsh and vicious.
“You won’t think so when I get that pilot’s grieving widow plastered
across every major network, complaining about how the Navy’s not taking
care of its people. How will that look?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.” The senator began attacking his pie, glancing up only once
to assess the impact of his statement on the admiral. “Do it,
Keith.”
“What’s in it for you?” the admiral asked suspiciously.
“Subcontracts,” the senator said promptly. “Every small business in my
state is going to have a piece of this.
Building them at Newport News was a masterstroke.”
I don’t like this man. Admiral Loggins thought suddenly.
Don’t like him, don’t trust him. Even if what he’s saying makes
sense.
But a safety stand-down isn’t that off an idea.
It’s what we might do anyway.
“I’ll think about it,” the admiral said finally. “No promises.”
“Think fast, Keith,” the senator said, his voice almost a whisper.
“There are plenty of admirals where you came from.”
0600 Local (+5 GMT) Admiral’s Briefing Room, USS Jefferson Batman’s
face was colder than Bird Dog had ever seen it before. Something
savage lurked just under the surface of the admiral’s dark brown eyes,
the harsh, demanding look.
“Any idea why he called the meeting?” Bird Dog whispered to Lab Rat.
The intelligence officer shook his head and motioned for the pilot to
keep quiet.
“The chief of staff is passing around a message I want each one of you
to see. You’ll notice it’s marked P4a ‘personal for’ message for me
from AIRPAC. I think once you read the message, you’ll get the gist of
it.” Batman paused, watching twenty sets of eyes glance quickly at the
text of the message. “This is bullshit.”
“A safety stand-down?” Bird Dog blurted out. “Sure, we’ve had some
mishaps, but” An angry glare from the ACOS Ops assistant chief of staff
for operations made him break off in mid-sentence. Batman’s eyes
pinned him to his chair.
“That’s exactly what it i san order to stand down.
Evidently, AIRPAC is concerned about the way I’m leading this battle
group and decided to give me rudder orders. It doesn’t set too damned
well with me, I can tell you that.”
The admiral sighed. “But, of course, we’ll comply. There’s no choice
in the matter.”
Lab Rat cleared his throat pointedly. The admiral glanced across the
table at him. “You have something to say. Commander?” the admiral
asked.
“Yes, Admiral. I understand the need for safety first, but things in
Cuba are going to get a lot worse before they get better.” The
intelligence officer shook his head. “I don’t understand why
Washington would stand down an entire battle group for at least one day
of training in the middle of this. Too many desk drivers, if you ask