“Ex-sergeant Malloy of the SDs,” Swyley said. “He decided he’d had enough and quit over a month ago. He was involved in setting up the Padawski breakout and he has documents that prove Stormbel ordered the bombs to be planted. He wants to go public.” Swyley shrugged. “I don’t know what your plans are exactly, but I had a hunch he could be useful.”
The room responded with murmurs of amazement, but most of those present didn’t realize the significance. Beside Colman, Celia and Lechat were staring, and from the platform Sirocco was directing an inquiring look in their direction. Celia turned her head to look at Colman. “I don’t believe this,” she whispered. “Who is that corporal?’
“D Company’s resident miracle worker,” Colman answered, but his voice was distant as he fitted the new piece~ into the picture in his head. He made a sign to Sirocco to get Swyley up to the front of the room, and to a chorus of groans1 Sirocco turned back and suspended the briefing once again.
Five minutes later Swyley and Malloy had gone into conference in a corner with Celia and Lechat, and Colman stood apart with Sirocco and Hanlon, discussing tactical details. “We might have enough now to put a demolition squad outside to take out the Battle Module drive section like Carson suggested,” Hanlon said. “Even if Sterm gets in there it would give more protection to the rest of the ship.”
“I’ll have to keep that option open until we see how things shape up.” Colman said. “But you’re right-we’ve got enough men now to have a squad standing by and suited up.”
“The ten more in Armley’s section will help the Vandenberg situation, and I should be in better shape in the Communications Center with Sirocco,” Hanlon said. “So where does that leave us?’ / –
“All set, except for springing Borftein and Wellesley,” Colman said. “Now that we’ve got Malloy, those two would make the whole thing cast-iron.” He turned his head to Sirocco, who was half listening but looking away across the room with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Had any more thoughts about that?” Colman asked. Sirocco responded distantly, “Borftein and Wellesley.”
“I’ve been thinking about that …” Sirocco continued to gaze across the room at Driscoll, who was recounting his experiences to Maddock and a group of others. “He’s pretty good, isn’t he,” Sirocco said, still half to himself.
It took a second for Colman to realize what Sirocco was talking about. “Yes … Why? What are you-”
“Come over for a second. I want to ask him something.” Sirocco led Colman, and Hanlon followed. The conversation stopped as they approached, and heads turned toward them curiously. “Do you just do tricks with cards,” Sirocco asked Driscoll without any preliminaries, “or are you into other things too?”
Driscoll looked at him in surprise. “Well, it depends on what you mean,” he said cautiously. Then after a second he nodded. “But, yes-I can do other things too, a pretty diversified act, you might say.”
Sirocco tuned his head towards Hanlon. “Get a couple of pistol belts and side arms from the Armory, Bret,” he said. “Let’s find out just how good this character really is. I think he might be able to help us solve our problem.”
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
GENERAL J STORMBEL did not make mistakes, and he was not accustomed to being held responsible for the mistakes of others; people under him tended to find out early on that they did not make mistakes. Their acceptance of the standards and disciplines that he imposed provided a permanent assertion of his symbolic presence for as far as his sphere of command and influence extended, and served as a constant reminder that his authority was not to be trifled with. Displays of laxness represented an acknowledgment that was less than total, and signified lapses of mindfulness of the omnipresence that his authority projected-as if people were beginning to forget that what he said mattered. Stormbel didn’t like that. He didn’t like people acting as if he didn’t matter.
The bureaucrats who had mismanaged the sprawling politico military machine that had come to dominate the North American continent had been unable or unwilling to recognize his worth and dedication while they heaped honors and favors on Sons of spineless sycophants and generals’ blue-eyed protégés groomed to the movie image at West Point, and he felt no compassion for them now as the laser link from Earth brought news of nuclear devastation across the length and breadth of Africa, and of titanic clashes between armies in Central Asia. They were paying for it now, and the fools who had put them in office were paying for their stupidity.