talked into that. I could’ve had damn near any assignment I asked for after
that cruise, but I ended up pushing papers and smiling for the publicity
photos.” There was a bitterness there that Coyote didn’t like. Tombstone had
always been a little bit moody, but this was different, grimmer. Like he’d
lost a part of himself and wasn’t sure he’d ever get it back again. Tombstone
shrugged, then said, “How’s the baby?”
“Almost three now … what they call the ‘Terrible Twos.'” Coyote made a
face. “Julie claims she’ll get over it. I hope the house survives!”
“She must love you bugging out for sea duty again so quick,” Magruder
commented, chuckling.
“You know Julie. No complaints there.” Grant glanced at his friend.
“How’s Pamela doing?”
“Okay, I guess,” Tombstone replied, looking away. “We … uh, called it
quits a few months back. I haven’t seen her in a while, except on the tube.”
“I’m sorry,” Coyote said, feeling the words were inadequate. “I thought
you’d worked out all the … problems there.”
“I did too. Guess I was wrong.” He had that grim look again.
Tombstone’s romance with Pamela Drake had been the kind of relationship
Hollywood screenwriters loved. The red-hot Navy fighter jockey and the
beautiful television reporter had seemed perfect together, and Grant had
really thought his friend had found something to hold on to at last, something
as strong as what Coyote had with Julie. There had been some strains, of
course. Pamela had been faced With the problem every service wife or
girlfriend had to deal with, the danger of Tombstone’s career, and the fact
that her Marine brother had died overseas hadn’t helped. She’d pleaded with
Magruder to give up the Navy, but Tombstone had finally made her see how
important his job was to him. “I really thought she understood how much the
Navy meant to me, but I guess I was wrong. Even though she gave up on trying
to make me a pilot for United or whoever, she kept telling me I should use my
reputation to get myself a better job … you know, go into politics or on the
talk show circuit or something. Can you see me spending all my time making
the rounds with Jay or Phil?”
“I’m sorry,” Coyote repeated uselessly. “I thought you two had something
pretty good going.”
“Yeah, me too,” Magruder told him. He looked away, then turned back to
Coyote with a grin. “Well, if the Batman’s on board, maybe he’ll teach me how
to hold on to women.”
They both laughed. Batman Wayne had been as much renowned aboard the
Jefferson for his conquests in port as for his skill in the sky, but he wasn’t
good at lasting relationships. Not if “lasting” meant a period of more than a
week. But the laughter was strained, and Coyote felt there was a wall between
them.
He wanted to change the subject, but after so long he wasn’t sure if
there were any safe topics left. “How about your uncle?” he said hesitantly.
“How’s he been doing?”
“Good, good,” Magruder said quickly, latching on to the new topic. There
had been a time when his relationship to Admiral Thomas Magruder would have
been a sore spot as well, but that was one thing that being a hero had helped
him come to terms with. The admiral had commanded CBG-14 for a time, and his
nephew had taken a lot of flak from people who thought he owed his advancement
more to connections than ability. Tombstone had certainly disproved that.
“He just got a posting to the Pentagon, in the Joint Operations Staff. A bit
of a letdown from Presidential adviser, but after Connally came in it was a
pretty good career move. He was moving in about the time I was coming up for
reassignment.”
“Well, there’s one Magruder I’ll be glad to have in the Pentagon. The
Old Man will show them a thing or two, huh?” They had reached the carrier’s
island. Ducking through a hatch, they started down one of the seemingly
endless corridors en route to the ready room, where Magruder could get out of
his flight suit before reporting to Maintenance Control for the usual round of