“So you try to avoid the dogfight?”
“ACM, you mean — air-combat maneuvering, Jack,” Robby explained to the ignorant bystander. “That’ll change when we get the new engines, Cap’n, but, yeah, the farther away you can take him, the better, right? Sometimes you have to get wrapped up in the fur-ball, but if you do that you’re giving away your biggest advantage. Our mission is to engage the other guy as far from the boat as we can. That’s why we call it the Outer Air Battle.”
“It would have been rather useful at the Falklands,” His Highness observed.
“That’s right. If you engage the enemy over your own decks, he’s already won the biggest part of the battle. We want to start scoring three hundred miles out, and hammer their butts all the way in. If your Navy’d had a full-size carrier, that useless little war never would have happened. Excuse me, sir. That wasn’t your fault.”
“Can I show you around the house?” Jack asked. It always seemed to happen. You worked to have one of your guests meet another, and all of a sudden you were cut out of the conversation.
“How old is it, Jack?”
“We moved in a few months before Sally was born.”
“The woodwork is marvelous. Is that the library down there?”
“Yes, sir.” The way the house was laid out, you could look down from the living room into the library. The master bedroom was perched over it. There had been a rectangular hole in the wall, which allowed someone in there to see into the living room, but Ryan had placed a print over it. The picture was mounted on a rail and could be slid aside, Jackson noticed. The purpose of that was clear enough. Jack led them to his library next. Everyone liked that the only window was over his desk and looked out over the bay.
“No servants. Jack?”
“No, sir. Cathy’s talking about getting a nanny, but she hasn’t sold me on that idea yet. Is everyone ready for dinner?”
The response was enthusiastic. The potatoes were already in the oven, and Cathy was ready to start the corn. Jack took the steaks from the refrigerator and led the menfolk outside.
“You’ll like this, Cap’n. Jack does a mean steak.”
“The secret’s in the charcoal,” Ryan explained. He had six gorgeous-looking sirloins, and a hamburger for Sally. “It helps to have good meat, too.”
“I know it’s too late to ask, Jack, but where do you get those?”
“One of my old stock clients has a restaurant-supply business. These are Kansas City strips.” Jack transferred them to the grill with a long-handled fork. A gratifying sizzle rose to their ears. He brushed some sauce on the meat.
“The view is spectacular,” His Highness observed.
“It’s nice to be able to watch the boats go by,” Jack agreed. “Looks a little thin now, though.”
“They must be listening to the radio,” Robby observed. “There’s a severe-thunderstorm warning on for tonight.”
“I didn’t hear that.”
“It’s the leading edge of that cold front. They develop pretty fast over Pittsburgh. I’m going up tomorrow, like I said, and I called Pax Weather right before we left. They told me that the storms look pretty ferocious on radar. Heavy rain and gusts. Supposed to hit around ten or so.”
“Do you get many of those here?” His Highness asked.
“Sure do, Captain. We don’t get tornadoes like in the Midwest, but the thunder-boomers we get here’ll curl your hair. I was bringing a bird back from Memphis last — no, two years ago, and it was like being on a pogo stick. You just don’t have control of the airplane. Those suckers can be scary. Down at Pax, they’re taking all the birds they can inside the hangars, and they’ll be tying the rest down tight.”
“It’ll be worth it to cool things off,” Jack said as he turned the steaks.
“Roger that. It’s just your basic thunderstorm. Captain. We get the big ones three or four times a year. It’ll knock down some trees, but as long as you’re not in the air or out in a small boat, it’s no big deal. Down in Alabama with this kind of storm coming across, we’d be sweating tornadoes. Now that’s scary!”
“You’ve seen one?”
“More ‘n one, Cap’n. You get those mostly in the spring down home. When I was ten or so, I watched one come across the road, pick up a house like it was part of a Christmas garden, and drop it a quarter mile away. They’re weird, though. It didn’t even take the weathervane off my pappy’s church. They’re like that. It’s something to see, all right — but you want to do it from a safe distance.”
“Turbulence is the main flying hazard, then?”
“Right. But the other thing is water. I know of cases where jets have ingested enough water through the intakes to snuff the engines right out.” Robby snapped his fingers. “All of a sudden you’re riding in a glider. Definitely not fun. So you keep away from them when you can.”
“And when you can’t?”
“Once, Cap’n, I had to land on a carrier in one — at night. That’s about as close as I’ve come to wetting my pants since I was two.” He even threw in a shudder.
“Your Highness, I have to thank you for getting all of this out of Robby. I’ve known him for over a year and he’s never admitted to being mildly nervous up there.” Jack grinned.
“I didn’t want to spoil the image,” Jackson explained. “You have to put a gun to Jack’s head to get him aboard a plane, and I didn’t want to scare him any more than he already is.” Zing! And Robby took the point.
It helped that the deck was now in the shade, and there was a slight northerly breeze. Jack manipulated the steaks over the coals. There were a few boats out on the bay, but most of them seemed to be heading back to harbor. Jack nearly jumped out of his skin when a jet fighter screamed past the cliff. He turned in time to see the white-painted aircraft heading south.
“Robby, what the hell is that all about? They’ve been doing that for two weeks.”
Jackson watched the plane’s double tail vanish in the haze. “They’re testing a new piece of gear on the F-18. What’s the big deal?”
“The noise!” Ryan flipped the steaks over.
Robby laughed. “Aw, Jack, that’s not noise. That’s the sound of freedom.”
“Not bad, Commander,” His Highness judged.
“Well, how about the sound of dinner?” Ryan asked.
Robby grabbed the platter, and Jack piled the meat on it. The salads were already on the table. Cathy made a superb spinach salad, with homemade dressing. Jack noted that Sissy was bringing the corn and potatoes out, wearing an apron to protect her dress. He distributed the steaks and put Sally’s hamburger on a roll. Next he got their daughter in a booster seat. The one awkward thing was that nobody was drinking. He’d gotten four bottles of a choice California red to go with the steaks, but it seemed that everyone was in a teetotaling mood.
“Jack, the electricity is acting up again,” his wife reported. “For a while there I didn’t think we’d get the corn finished.”
The Secret Service agent stood in the middle of the road, forcing the van to stop.
“Yes, sir?” the driver said.
“What are you doing here?” The agent’s coat was unbuttoned. No gun was visible, but the driver knew it was there somewhere. He counted six more men within ten yards of the van and another four readily visible.
“Hey, I just told the cop.” The man gestured backward. The two State Police cars were only two hundred yards away.
“Could you tell me, please?”
“There’s a problem with the transformer at the end of the road. I mean, you can see this is a BG and E truck, right?”
“Could you wait here, please?”
“Okay with me, man.” The driver exchanged a look with the man in the right-front seat. The agent returned with another. This one held a radio.
“What seems to be the problem?”
The driver sighed. “Third time. There’s a problem with the electrical transformer at the end of the road. Have the people here been complaining about the electricity?”
“Yeah,” the second man, Avery, said. “I noticed, too. What gives?”
The man in the right seat answered. “I’m Alex Dobbens, field engineer. We have a new, experimental transformer on this line. There’s a test monitor on the box, and it’s been sending out some weird signals, like the box is going to fail. We’re here to check it out.”
“Could we see some ID, please?”
“Sure.” Alex got out of the truck and walked around. He handed over his BG&E identification card. “What the hell’s going on here?”