been doing it for decades, if not centuries.
“Although I may drop a hint to look into the details of this in a
couple of important places. You know the type I mean.”
“I don’t need to. You do what you think is best, my friend.”
1420 Local (+5 GMT) The Pentagon “I saw the same report you did.
Admiral,” Tombstone Magruder said, his voice cold and emotionless. “I
have no information other than that.”
The chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff studied him carefully. “You
understand, I find that hard to believe.” He left the rest of the
thought unsaid because of your relationship with Pamela.
Tombstone stiffened. “Miss Drake no longer clears her stories through
me. Not that she ever did. The only control I ever had over them was
when she was on my aircraft carrier and I had to transmit her
reports.”
And that went over really well, he remembered quite clearly. The
illustrious Miss Pamela Drake had not taken kindly to having her
precious copy edited or redacted. While Tombstone had found it
necessary to do that on occasion to protect the security of the
operation, he’d never enjoyed it. Particularly not the aftermath.
“And I certainly had nothing to do with her being in Cuba,” he
continued as a new thought struck him.
“No one said you did. But with your prior relationship, and with you
now in command of the Southern Forces, it does look suspicious. You
understand that.”
Tombstone nodded, feeling his throat tighten. What was the chairman
leading up to? Had there been a decision to relieve him of command
because of events far beyond his control, simply based on his prior
relationship with a reporter? Was that fair? And, he finally asked
himself, would he really care? To his surprise, he did. As tempting
as it might be to chuck his entire naval career and not a bad one at
that, finishing up with two stars on his collar and simply relax into
his marriage with Tomboy, start off on a new civilian career, he
couldn’t do it.
Part of it, he admitted, was the sheer headiness of command. As
commander. Southern Forces, he had operational control of everything
south of the Equator. That included the massively burgeoning continent
of South America and liaison with all the foreign navies there. It was
an opportunity to build on shaky relationships that were barely in
their infancy, to create peace instead of making war, for once. It
seemed like a fitting capstone to his career thus far, which had
consisted mainly of fighting first the Soviet Bear and then the Chinese
Mongoose that had sought to dominate entire parts of the world.
Am I power-hungry? He considered the idea for a moment, then shook his
head. Yes, it was true that all the ruffles and flourishes that went
with his current position were easy to get used to. And he was
eternally grateful for the fact that his uncle had found him a posting
in an operational force and not consigned him to a desk in the
Pentagon. An expensive, highly polished desk, but a desk
nonetheless.
If you couldn’t fly and he was far too senior for that then the next
best thing was command of operational forces. And at his current pay
rate, even command of a carrier battle group was beyond his reach.
“If the chairman lacks confidence in my abilities,” Tombstone began,
finally having reached his decision.
The chairman cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll be asked that enough times in the
media.
But never here. I’m just trying to prepare you for what’s ahead.”
“A public hanging?” Tombstone’s voice was harsh. “I have that to look
forward to?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” A speculative gleam lit the chairman’s eyes.
“There might be another option.”
“And what would that be?” Tombstone asked.
“Send you back to sea.” The chairman’s face threatened to smile, but
never really got quite that far.
“Back to sea!” Tombstone’s heart thudded as he considered it. But
how? And why? “You mean as a” For the second time in as many minutes,
the chairman cut him off. “I mean that we might form up a two-carrier