“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen that,” she muttered in amazement as she looked down.
“Weil, you should have,” Senator Lord retorted. “You Democrats are responsible for the decommissioning of half the Navy’s fleet. In fact, we don’t have room to park them.
They’re scattered here and there, ghosts of their former selves and not worth a tinker’s damn if we need seaworth vessels fast. By the time you’d get one of those old tubs going, the Persian Gulf would be as long past as that other war they fought around here.”
“Frank, you’ve made your point,” she crisply said. “I believe we have other matters to attend to this morning.”
Wesley had put on a set of headphones so he could talk to the pilots. He asked for an update and then listened for a long time as he stared out at Jamestown and its ferry.
When he got off the radio his face was anxious.
“We’ll be at Old Point in several minutes. The terrorists still have refused contact and we don’t know how many casualties might be inside.”
“I hear more helicopters,” I said.
We were silent, and then the sound of thudding blades was unmistakable. Wesley got back on the air.
“Listen, dammit, the FAA was supposed to restrict this airspace.” He paused as he listened. “Absolutely not. No one else has clearance within a mile-” Interrupted, he listened again. “Right, right.” He got angrier. “Christ,” he exclaimed as the noise got louder.
Two Hueys and two Black Hawks loudly rumbled past, and Wesley unfastened his seat belt as if he were going somewhere. Furious, he rose and moved to the other side of the cabin, looking out windows.
He had his back to the senator when he said with controlled fury, “Sir, you should not have called in the National Guard. We have a very delicate operation in place and cannot-let me repeat-cannot afford any sort of interference in either our planning or our airspace. And let me remind you the jurisdiction here is police, not military.
This is the United States- Senator Lord cut in, “I did not call them, and we’re in complete agreement.” -Then who did?” asked Gradecki, who was Wesley’s ultimate boss.
“Probably your governor,” Senator Lord said, looking at me, and I knew by his manner that he was enraged, too.
“He would do something stupid like that because all he thinks about is the next election. Patch me into his office, and I mean now.”
The senator slipped the headset on and did not care who overheard when he launched in several minutes later.
“For God’s sake, Dick, have you lost your mind?” he said to the man who held the Commonwealth’s highest office. “No, no, don’t even bother telling me any of that ‘ ” he snapped. “You are interfering with what we’re doing out here, and if it costs lives you can be assured I’m going to announce who’s to blame . . .”
He fell silent for a moment, and the expression on his face as he listened was scary. Then he made several other salient points as the governor ordered the National Guard back. In fact, their huge helicopters never landed, but suddenly changed formation as they gained altitude. They flew right past Old Point, which just now we could see, its concrete containments rising in the clean blue air.
“I’m very sorry,” the senator apologized to us, because he was, above all, a gentleman.
We stared out at scores of police and law enforcement vehicles, ambulances and fire trucks, and flowering satellite dishes and news vans. Dozens of people were outside as if enjoying a lovely, brisk day, and Wesley informed us that where they were congregated was the visitors’ center, which was the command post for the outer perimeter.
“As you can see,” he explained, “it’s no closer than half a mile away from the plant and the main building, which is there.” He pointed.
“The main building is where the control room is?” I asked.
“Right. That three-story beige brick building. That’s where they are, at least most of them, we think, including the hostages.”
“Well, it’s where they’d have to be if they planned on doing anything with the reactors, like shutting them down, which we know they’ve already done,” Senator Lord remarked.