by Unknown
Petyr got a shocked look on his face. He lowered his eyes. “Sorry,” he said.
Freda placed her hand on his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. It makes it fun to be with you,” she said. “And yes, that would be a fun trip. But let’s get to know each other a little more before we plan on any weekend trips,” she giggled. Several of her friends at school had mentioned that he was a burst of energy around them. They were right.
The two sat for nearly an hour before, after a gentle cough from a floor above, they called it a night. Petyr watched her climb the steps to her apartment and go in. That’s when he noticed two men walk quickly down the street from the side of the building. Petyr was surprised that one of the men was his father. He hated going out at night, and Petyr wondered what could possibly make him change.
Entering her home, Freda saw her father sitting in his easy chair reading. Mr. Polski looked up from his book and smiled at his daughter. She was the delight of his life. Watching her grow up had been thrilling for both he and his wife, but tonight he saw something else. Somewhere along the way, she had become a very lovely young woman. When he had looked down on her and the neighbor’s son, he saw them interacting, not as children, but a young couple. What’s more, she had held his hand.
While sitting in his chair he had thought back on all the times of their lives. Apart from his wife, Marta, she had been there – always smiling, always helpful. When Marta could no longer get around, Freda had stepped in. She had never complained to him about anything. For the last five years she had taken over the running of the house, giving up what personal life she had, to care for her mother and the family. He was so proud of her.
He motioned for her to come sit beside him on the stool. “My little Freda,” he said lovingly. “You have always been such a good little girl. I had neglected to see what a fine woman you are turning out to be,” he said. “I think it is time your brother and I took over more of the duties around the house.”
There was a questioning look on her face, “Why, Papa?”
He shrugged his shoulders, “Well, for one thing, you have been doing so much of the work for the last five years. A young woman needs to get out and see things, meet people. I feel like I took all that away from you,” he said.
The smile returned. “It’s alright, Papa, I don’t mind,” she said.
“Oh, but I do. For example, I noticed you have met our neighbor, young Petyr. He is a very nice young man,” he said with a sly look. “I think you like him, maybe a little bit.”
Freda turned slightly red. “Yes, I do, Papa, but we just met…”
“And that’s all the more reason to let you have some time of your own. You may meet a lot of young men and you will need the time to get to know them better. That way, if you do eventually fall in love, your heart will know he is the right one,” he said smiling. “You and I have always told each other what we think, so now I think you must spread your wings a little. Don’t worry about us so much, just think about yourself,” he said as he patted her cheek.
Still blushing, she looked up at her father. Somehow he had always known what was going on with her and had the perfect solution. “I would like that, but I still want to help.”
“Oh, I know that, but when a friend calls, don’t let us hold you down. Now, tell me about young Petyr,” he said with a smile.
Her eyes brightened and her smile widened. “I think he’s wonderful,” she blurted out.
Those four words brought both joy and great worry to her father.
Chapter 2
Plans
Charlotte, NC
The compound had taken forever to get right. Chemically, it was more complex than the professor had ever seen, but then, the final mixture had been done under an electric charge. The result was a polymer-type string that could be wound on a spindle. The compound kept making and making until finally, thirty minutes later, the string stopped. In just a few minutes, it began to glow. Placing the strings in a loom, the men began to weave the string into a sort of blue glowing cloth. Unfortunately, their loom was a small one and what came out was only the size of a common washcloth. The cloth was spread across a steel plate and the student applied a light coating of resin. A second sheet was spread over the resin and coated again. Then the metal plate was heated. Immediately, the glow got much brighter – enough to light a room. As the men watched, the resin hardened into a solid sheet while the light increased.
Just as they were about to pronounce the experiment a success, the glow suddenly stopped. The radio, which had been playing softly in the background, went silent. Another man, on his cellphone in the far corner suddenly stood and looked at his phone. He shook it and tried to redial a number. His curses could be heard through the room.
“Damn it! That was an important call,” he said to no one in particular.
“Oh well, let’s try it again,” the Professor said to his student. “Maybe we don’t heat it as long as the last one.”
After the resin coated sheet cooled, the student used a spatula to slide under the now hardened plate of resin and material. When it popped free, the radio suddenly came back to life.
“Hold on a minute,” said the student. He placed the sheet back down on the metal table. Once the bottom fibers made contact, the radio went silent again. The student and professor looked at each other in amazement. “What did I make,” the student asked.
The Pentagon
On Friday morning, Hammond summoned Jeffers into his office. “Rod, we have been invited to dinner tonight. Since you picked up your car yesterday, do you mind doing the honors?” he asked.
“Sure, Admiral. What time is dinner?” Jeffers asked.
“About seven, but we probably need to be there about six thirty. Our host will want to meet you and say hello and we have some times to catch up on. We can go in service dress whites, so let’s plan on leaving here around four to get ready. If you can pick me up at six, we’ll head over. It’s across the river and I can get us there,” Hammond said.
“Who is the host?” Jeffers asked.
“Just a guy I know that works in government. We go back a ways,” Hammond said cryptically.
“No problem, sir, I’ll come by around six. Just hope you don’t mind riding around in my old beater of a car,” Jeffers said.
Hammond noticed a strange twinkle in his eye, but ignored it. “I’ve had my shots. Now what’s next on the schedule?”
The rest of the day was the same bureaucracy as previous days, meeting with other military types or contractors. During one of the breaks, Hammond noticed a phone message on his desk from a Tim Maxwell. He picked up the phone and dialed Jeffers’ number. “Rod, what is this message from a Maxwell?”
“Admiral, I’m not quite sure, but he says he was aboard the Iowa when you were the CO and said it was very important,” Jeffers said.
A look of pleasure spread across Hammond’s face. Fireman Maxwell had been the one man to put out a fire on the boiler face in the number two fireroom aboard Iowa. He remembered talking to the young man and thanking him for his work. Every time he had gone down into that fireroom, he had been there smiling up at him. “Oh yes, I remember him now. Thanks,” he said.
Hammond dialed the number on the message and after two rings a familiar voice answered the phone. “Maxwell, how are you doing!” he nearly shouted into the phone.
“I’m doing fine, admiral. It sure is good to hear your voice again,” Maxwell said.
“Same here. What are you up to?”
“Well, sir, I am getting my degree in chemical engineering at UNC Charlotte and I have come up with something that I think you might be interested in and I need some help in testing. Is there a way you can help me test this stuff out?” Maxwell asked.
“What is it?” Hammond asked.
“Well, sir, I developed a compound that can be pulled into a sort of string. I won’t go into the details, but when woven into a mat and heated, it appears to absorb all RF energy,” Maxwell said. “I heard you
had gotten your new job and I figured you might be able to get some of the testing people to check it out.”
“You say it absorbs the energy? Like in radar and radio?”
“Yes sir. Like in it sucks it in from all around it. Nothing gets through. I just don’t have the stuff down here to really check this out, but if it does like I think, we could render a fleet invisible to radar.”
Hammond stared at his phone a moment. This would be the answer to a lot of stealth prayers. “Tim, I’ll call over to David Taylor R&D Center and see what I can do. Can you get this written up and bring a sample we can test?”
“Already done, sir. Whenever you are ready I will drive up there.” Of course one of my professors may come with me,” Maxwell said.
“I don’t really care how many you bring. Let me make a call and I’ll call you back,” he said. After a few more words he hung up the phone and punched in Jeffers’ number again. “Rod, get me the number to the head of David Taylor across the river.
A few minutes later the phone rang. “Admiral, Dr. Harry Thomas, the head of David Taylor is on line one,” Jeffers said.
Hammond picked up the phone. “Dr. Thomas, this is Roger Hammond,” he said. After some back and forth to get acquainted, Hammond got to the point. “Actually, Doctor, I need a favor.”
“What do you need, admiral?”
“Don’t you have one of those rooms where you test antennas and transmitters over there?” Hammond asked.
“Yes, we have an anechoic chamber. It’s a pretty good sized one, at that,” said Thomas.
“I just heard from a young man down at UNC Charlotte who needs to test some sort of material he has developed. He says it absorbs any and all RF energy. He’s being very careful because he says they just don’t have the equipment to really test it, but he is willing to bring it up here if we can check it out. If it works, I don’t have to tell you what it might mean,” Hammond said.
There was some rustling of paper on the other end of the line before Thomas spoke. “Can he bring it up this weekend? The chamber is open and I can have a guy there to give it the once over. If it works, we want in on it, if not, no harm done,” Thomas said.
“That’s great, doctor,” said Hammond. “I’ll get him up here tomorrow morning. If we can get in after lunch, is that enough time?”
“Plenty for the initial test. Of course, if it works, we will need to classify this stuff.”
“Agree. This could change the way we do some things. He says his professor will accompany him. I’ll get what information I can and get it all set up. I’ll call you back with the information and see you on Saturday.”
“Looking forward to meeting you, Admiral. I’ll have everything ready,” Thomas said as he ended the call.
Hammond punched the number for Jeffers again. “Rod, looks like we’ll be working for a while tomorrow,” he said.
Krakow
“I don’t care what he did, we need to use the situation to our advantage,” screamed Bugayev. An older man had been fired from his job at a local bus company, the MPK, when he could no longer pass a driver’s test. The old man was sixty nine. There had been several older men retired from their jobs lately. Nearly all had been from the old Soviet Union and had come to Poland when the state assigned them there. It was a part of a program the state had to insure a thorough integration of “good Russians” throughout the Warsaw Pact nations.
“We must use any means to garner sympathy for our cause. If we can cause a strike or a number of protests where we are headlining anti-Russian thought, it will help in our plans. Tomorrow, I need you to begin talking to the other workers. Complain that he was really fired because he used to be from Russia. That will strike notes with many in the company. But you need to stress that the next ones fired might be them for some other reason. Portray the leadership and cold and heartless, how they only want higher salaries for themselves. We keep pushing until the general unrest spills out to the media and into the streets,” he said harshly to the men assembled. “Now what of the people at the brewery?” he asked of another man.
“The plan is for them to strike against the management for unfair treatment beginning on Wednesday. We need the time to get things printed up and organized a little more. Everything else is in place,” the man said.
Bugayev smiled. “That is better. It guarantees media coverage and a lot of actions around the streets and the brewery. Just make sure they know what to say,” he said pointing his finger at the man.
“They know. We are going over it again with them Monday night. Will you be there?” he asked.
Bugayev nodded. “I will, but I’ll be watching from the back. If I see something we can take advantage of, I’ll call you,” he said. “Is there any other business?” The room remained quiet. “You have all done well. We are making fine progress. Now, we must keep it up until the stage is set. We will meet again Tuesday night to go over last minute plans,” he said curtly as he turned and left the room.
Bugayev didn’t like these men. They were weak. Besides, they had already deserted Mother Russia and should not be trusted. Unfortunately, they were necessary, at least for the time being. Once his homeland had conquered this nation again, they would ultimately be dealt with.
He made his way out of the building and down the street where he caught the tram towards where the old bus driver lived. After a ten minute ride, he stepped off and made his way down a dingy back street to the old Soviet-era apartments which were now no more than slums. The old man’s flat was on the fourth floor. Of course, the elevator in the building didn’t work. The walk up four flights of stairs didn’t tire him so much. He knocked on the door of the old man’s flat.
Ivan Ileneovich answered the door by the second knock and peered from behind the security chain. He didn’t recognize the young man standing there smiling at him. “What do you want?” he grunted.
“Mister Ileneovich, I am Boris Blonski from the MPK. The directors asked me to talk to you about returning to work,” he said with a smile.
Surprised, Ileneovich slid back the chain and invited the man in. The prospect of getting his old job back was much more than appealing; it would mean the ability to live again. He ushered Bugayev into the small, but neat sitting room and asked if he would like some tea. He turned to heat a pot. Once his back was turned, Bugayev sprung up and clubbed Ileneovich in the head with his pistol. He pulled the old man up to sit in a chair. Placing the pistol in Ileneovich’s hand, he turned the pistol so that it was sticking into the old man’s mouth. Waiting until the nearby tram was noisily clunking along the road, he pulled the trigger.
The bang was not so loud to be overheard over the sound of the tram. The blood had sprayed against the wall behind the table and the old man’s lifeless body was left slumped on the table in an ever spreading pool of his own blood. Bugayev took a towel from the bathroom and cleaned his own hands before he made sure everything he had touched was wiped clean. He left the gun in the old man’s hand. The suicide of a dejected and hurt old man would only inflame the rest of the workers and the public sentiment.
Quietly, he checked to make sure the hallway was empty before making his way down a staircase on the other side of the long hall. Exiting from a rear door, Bugayev made his way into the streets of Krakow. There, he grabbed the next tram and then blended into the crowds, stopping only to get something to eat from a street vendor before making his way back to the apartment.
Washington Navy Yard
Hammond exited his set of rooms in the Senior Officers Quarters and waited for Jeffers. He had made sure to get a fresh shower and clean uniform to be ready for this meal. He just hoped the ‘beater’ Jeffers was driving was relatively clean. He saw a vehicle round the corner and come toward him.
Even in the early evening light he could tell this was no ‘beater.’ It was a large convertible, deep blue in color with a white top and interior. It glided silently and effortlessly down the street with only the occasional crackle from the pavement
when the tires rolled over something. The car was more than distinctive. It glistened in the late afternoon sunlight, especially off the Palladian style grill topped by the figurine called the ‘Spirit of Ecstasy.’ It proudly proclaimed the car to be a Rolls Royce. Riding with the top down, Jeffers eased the car in front of his admiral and grinned.
Hammond nodded approvingly. “This ain’t no beater,” he said as he opened the door and slid into the soft leather seats. “Where did you get this beauty?”
Jeffers placed the shifter into drive again and eased the car around the circle and back onto the road. “I had always wanted one of these,” he said. “By the time I was ready for graduation, I had saved over $10,000 for a new car. A friend of my father had this car and wanted another. Between my money and a little help from Dad, I got it. It’s my baby. I call her the ‘beater’ so that people won’t be on me all the time for me to drive them around,” he said.
The car left the Navy Yard and Hammond instructed him to take “M” Street until it became Maine Avenue. The two sat back and savored the luxury as they sped along. Even the usual potholes of the DC streets didn’t faze this car. Eventually, they came up to 14th street and turned right. Then they turned left onto Pennsylvania Avenue. Jeffers suddenly got a strange look on his face. “We’re not going there are we,” he asked, shocked.
Hammond chuckled. “Pull right into that gate. They are expecting us,” he said as he pointed the direction.
The guard at the gate stepped out and broke into a wide grin. “Admiral Hammond! It sure is good to see you on the grounds again,” he said as he reached for their IDs. Another guard ran a mirror under the car.
“Jack, it’s good to see you too. How are the kids?” Hammond said with a smile.