Gambit

by Karna Small Bodman

  She reached up, absently straightened her head-band and replied, “Yes, you too … colonel.”

  Jay Keller was eyeing Cammy and sensed there was something wrong. He glanced over at Hunt and saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat. There was a certain tension in the room. It was palpable. What was it with these two? He’d heard they had worked together before, but now their expressions mirrored the Hatfields and McCoys. Interesting.

  At the same time, he appraised Cammy again. She certainly was attractive with high cheek bones, a slim figure and great legs. He couldn’t help noticing them when she had walked gracefully into the room. He wondered what she was really like. Was she always so serious? Did she have a sense of humor? Did she ever relax and laugh once in a while?

  He tried to picture the no-nonsense scientist at a football game or sunbathing on the prow of his sailboat. Now that was a pleasant image. After all, he was single, his wife had died two months before the last election. While he had been heartbroken at the time, he realized much later that their ticket had benefited enormously from a big sympathy factor. Then again, he had done everything in his power to save her, but when the brain aneurysm had hit so suddenly, it was the one time in his life that he felt truly powerless.

  Austin Gage cleared his throat and began the meeting, forcing Jay out of his reverie. “We have some results from the FAA and NTSB on those crashes I want to show you. They’ve raised the wreckage from the Logan flight and compared it to what was left of the other two planes. Here, we have some video.” He pointed to a multimedia center and a member of his staff who had quietly slipped into the room started the DVD.

  Images of part of an airplane filled the screen. As the camera panned across, Cammy saw where something, obviously a projectile of some sort, had torn through the wing and fuselage. Parts of mangled and charred seats filled the frame, along with what she feared were body parts. It all made her cringe. As the picture moved to a close-up of the jagged opening, Cammy started to speak.

  “It had to be a missile.”

  “Yes, I think so,” Austin said, looking closely at the carnage. “But what kind? That’s the big question. And if it really was a missile, why didn’t our radar systems detect it? Not once, but three times?”

  “Are we certain it couldn’t have been an interior explosion of some sort?” Hunt asked.

  “No, that doesn’t look right,” Cammy said defiantly challenging his idea.

  He looked over at her and repeated his question, “How can you be so sure it wasn’t a device that exploded on board the plane, Dr Talbot? That would explain the lack of radar detection, you know.”

  Antagonistic bastard, she thought. Not a diplomatic bone in his body. “There could be other explanations for the lack of radar sightings, colonel.”

  “Like what? Give us your best SWAG,” Hunt said.

  She paused and l glanced from Hunt to Austin and Jay, who had puzzled looks. “My best Scientific Wild-Ass Guess?” Cammy said, emphasizing the next to the last words. “I lived on an Air Force Base, colonel. I recognize military jargon.”

  The vice president chuckled and stared at her expectantly. Should she mention her theory about a new type of missile? It was only a theory, she had no proof, and this was a group that appreciated facts, not crazy propositions. On the other hand, Hunt was challenging her, so why not come up with a new hypothesis. “I have an idea that it was a missile with stealth capability.”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding,” Hunt said. “We know all of the countries with stealth technology. Russia, India, France, Israel, China. There are lots of them, but they’re not spending their money on stealth missiles. It’s going for planes. Besides, of all the countries with that capability, what motive would any of them have for shooting down innocent Americans?”

  “I’m not sure,” Cammy said. “But I intend to do some more research on the concept because I think it’s a valid one.”

  “The lady may have a point here,” the vice president said, quickly coming to her defense. “What do you think, Austin?”

  “She may be right. But as Hunt said, in all of our meetings so far, we haven’t been able to come up with a single, logical motive for these attacks.”

  “Except for al Qaeda,” Hunt said.

  “Right. Except for al Qaeda or one of their off-shoots,” Austin said. “Then again, we have absolutely no evidence that their groups are operating at anywhere near that level of sophistication.”

  “We’re still working on all of that, though,” Hunt interjected.

  “Now, about our own technology for the airlines,” Austin continued. “What do we hear from DHS?”

  Jay pulled a sheaf of notes from his folder and read off some numbers. “Thorne says that if he can get an extra fifty million for the test phase, he believes both of those companies will be able to gear up and be good to go within a matter of months.”

  “We may not have months,” Austin said.

  “And Congress may not pop for the fifty million, although at the Pentagon they spill more than that over coffee,” Jay answered with a slight wave of his hand. He then turned to Cammy, “How are you coming with your laser project, Dr. Talbot?”

  Should she say that she and Wen Hu had developed a new plan for a pulse laser even though it was only in the initial stage at this point? She didn’t want to say anything about the photo concept for a missile. That was too far out. She had to do a lot more checking on that one. But she could certainly explain her three hundred sixty degree laser idea. She wondered if they would give her time to set up her own tests. Or would Hunt Daniels find a way to knock her down again? She kept trying to ignore him, even though she felt a frisson of electricity every time she glanced at him across the table. She decided to forge ahead.

  “Right now, I’m working on a new concept. It involves a pulse laser that I believe could be effective against any number of search-and-destroy devices. Stealthy or not.”

  “Why would yours work when the other contractors are having such a tough time?” Hunt asked.

  There he goes again. Damn it. Can’t he ever accept the fact that I may have some new ideas here? She went on to describe her work with Wen Hu and her trip to Cambridge, the threats on his life, his original reservation on the doomed plane at Logan and finally, she described the explosion at his lab.

  Hunt listened intently to her explanations and realized he was holding his breath when she got to the part about the explosion. “I did see the report of an explosion in Cambridge, but I had no idea …”

  “Yes, we all heard that news, Austin said. I didn’t realize that’s where you were. My God!”

  As the others were lamenting the blast, Hunt lamented to himself that it was hard being in the same room with the woman, a woman he had taken into his home for a week when she was being threatened, a woman he had protected, a woman he had made love to, not just in Washington, but over in India when they had worked together to protect New Delhi from a terrorist attack. How could he ever forget those magical nights they had spent at the hotel overlooking the Taj Mahal when the crisis was finally over? She had been magnificent.

  On the other hand, there was a time back then when she had been rather maddening as well, accusing him of collaborating with Sterling Dynamics at one point, not trusting his judgment. It had really irritated him at the time, but when she had apologized and taken him to bed, well, what the hell?

  Then he was sent away, and he couldn’t tell her anything. Now he was back and any thoughts he had about rekindling the whole affair were being doused by Miss High and Mighty over there. Every time he had opened his mouth, she had countered him. She must have been royally pissed when he hadn’t called. How the hell was he supposed to crack through that damn shell of hers anyway? And even if he could, did he want to?

  Then again, when she described the fireball at the lab, the people running out with blood on their clothes, women crying, men coughing and how her friend and fellow scientist had been blown to smithereens, his stomach tightened
at the thought that if she had gone back in with her Starbucks’ drinks, or whatever she said they were, she would have been killed too. No, he couldn’t bear that thought. He lifted his head up and tried to make eye contact, but she was looking at Jayson Keller with what seemed like a rather intense stare. What now?

  The vice president listened to the whole story. He was aghast. It certainly sounded to him like this Dr. Hu had been targeted. Murdered. And Cammy could have been a victim as well. As he listened, though, and watched her face, he realized that he wished he had been there with her in Cambridge. Been there to comfort her when she had been through such a traumatic experience.

  He suddenly realized that this was the first time he had paid this much attention to another woman since his wife died. He’d been so focused on his job and world events, he never allowed himself the luxury of thinking about female companionship. Not until now anyway. He wondered what his next move should be.

  He tore his eyes away from the pretty scientist and began to watch Hunt Daniels and saw that the colonel was mesmerized by the woman as well. This could get interesting. But only if Daniels stays in town, he thought. Maybe I can do something about that.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  “I can’t believe you talked me into this!” Cammy muttered to Melanie as she got out of her car, handed it over to the valet and shoved the claim chit into her evening bag. She took hold of her long black silk skirt and walked up the steps of the Andrew Mellon Hall on Constitution Avenue. Her strappy high heels were already bothering her. She hadn’t worn them in ages and wasn’t too pleased about having to walk around in them all night.

  “This is a command performance, Cam,” Melanie said, pulling the door open and heading for a long receiving table. “Bollinger decided we had to take a table at this shindig. You know, keep up the corporate presence routine, especially since there’ll be so many muckety-mucks at this one.”

  They checked in, found their table assignments and moved into the reception area, a room with forty foot ceilings decorated with bronze frescoes. “You know how I feel about these balls and stand-arounds,” Cammy said, eyeing the men in black tie and women in the latest that Versace or Chanel had to offer. “At least I guess this one is for a good cause, Heart Association or something?”

  “Yep. It should be better than the usual organ balls.”

  “Organ balls?”

  “You know, Heart Ball, Kidney Ball. They even had an Eye Ball last year.”

  Cammy started to laugh in spite of her rather somber mood. She had spent the day briefing Stan Bollinger on her last meeting at the White House, her collaboration with Wen Hu just before the explosion, and her ideas about a pulse laser. He said he didn’t think it would work, but he had finally agreed to have their engineers retune her original laser experiments and to arrange for some field tests. He hadn’t sounded too happy about it, though.

  “By the way,” Cammy said, “I assume Bollinger will be here hosting the table, right?”

  “Oh sure. He’s bringing his wife.”

  “I’ve never met her. Have you?”

  “Only saw her once. I don’t think he takes her out much, but we’ll see what she’s like when we sit down. Hey, I didn’t tell you that I think that’s a neat outfit. Is that your grandmother’s jewelry?”

  Cammy fingered the ruby necklace and moved her hair to show off the earrings she had inherited. “Yes. I love these pieces. I don’t get a chance to wear them very often.”

  “Well, this is the perfect place.” Mel turned to accept a glass of champagne offered by a waiter carrying a silver tray laden with a variety of beverages. Cammy selected a glass of white wine and began to scan the room.

  “Hey look. Isn’t that Congressman Davis Metcher over there? I wonder who that woman … or rather … girl is that he’s got this time?”

  Melanie giggled and inclined her head toward a stunning redhead holding on to the paunchy lawmaker’s arm. “She looks like she could be his daughter. I think he likes the ones still using Clearasil. And speaking of dates, thanks for bailing me out tonight. When Derek couldn’t make it, you were really nice to come with me.”

  Cammy sighed and said, “After Cambridge, tension at the office, pressure from the White House and the general hysteria around this town, I guess I should be glad for a night out. It’s just that I’ve been feeling so slammed, it’s sometimes hard to relax.”

  They mingled around the room, chatting with a few friends they spotted interspersed with the heavy hitters. After another round of cocktails and passed hors d’oeuvres, a waiter began moving through the crowd hitting a little metallic triangle. “That’s our cue to find our table,” Melanie said. “But I’ll bet it takes these folks a good half hour to go to their seats. In this town it’s all about who you can see and be seen with rather than the food or the speeches.”

  “I guess. Ever notice how there are little circles around some people at these things?”

  “Sure. The larger the circle, the more impressive the resume. The important people stand still. The climbers float around the room, trying to attract the attention of the stationary ones. Kind of reminds me of sharks circling their prey. Of course, once you get a chance to shake hands with some guest of honor type, he’s usually looking over your shoulder to see if there’s someone more important he should be talking to.”

  “Exactly. Actually, I don’t think there’s anybody here I have to talk to, so why don’t we find our table?”

  Melanie eyed her friend and replied, “Guess Hunt wouldn’t be at one of these things, would he?”

  Cammy jerked her head around and furrowed her brow. “Not on your life. He hates these things. Besides, even if he were here, I’m not sure I’d want to talk to him.”

  “Still shutting him out, huh?”

  “It’s not a question of shutting him out. I don’t think he wants back in. At that last meeting, all he did was argue.”

  “Give it time,” Mel suggested.

  When they sat down on gold Louis XVI ballroom chairs and checked the small menus done in calligraphy and propped up at each place, Melanie started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Cammy asked, setting her wine glass down next to three other goblets of varying sizes.

  “It says here that the main course will be a fillet of beef, and I was just thinking that that’s a heck of a lot better than the nutty recipes I pulled out of the paper today.”

  “What have you got this time?”

  “There’s this restaurant in Denver that’s serving Tamal al huitlacoche.”

  “What in the world is that?” Cammy asked.

  “Steamed corn tamales with corn fungus.”

  “Oh, for Lord’s sake!”

  Several other guests arrived at the table, walked around and introduced themselves. One was Congresswoman Betty Barton of California who remembered Cammy from the time she had testified before their committee several months ago. Cammy was surprised that the woman even recalled her name, given the number of issues those people had to contend with. Cammy then saw Stan Bollinger walk up with a very thin older woman on his arm. She appeared to be scowling about something.

  “Is that Stan’s wife?” Cammy whispered.

  “I guess so,” Mel said. “Looks kind of like a cross between a gargoyle and a Grant Wood painting, don’t you think?”

  Cammy grinned and nodded her head. “No wonder he’s always in such a bad mood.”

  Before the dinner got underway, everyone stood up as an honor guard made up of young military representatives of the various services marched in, carrying flags. They stopped in front of the head table and lowered all but the American flag which was carried high and erect. Then the orchestra struck up the national anthem. Everyone put their hand over their heart and sang along. When the music ended, the flag bearers made a professional exit from the ballroom.

  Next came the invocation by a Bishop. He referred to the tragedies in the skies, prayed for the souls of those
lost to the senseless attacks and then segued into a general thank you to everyone for supporting a good cause tonight.

  They all sat down again and waited patiently. Bollinger’s wife, acting as hostess at their table, finally picked up her fork, the signal that everyone else at the table could begin eating.

  Cammy wasn’t very hungry. She sort of picked at the small grilled scallop on a nest of what looked like dandelion leaves with a smattering of mandarin orange slices served as a first course. She leaned over and heard Melanie talking with the man on her right saying something about a catch and release program. Cammy said, “Catch and release? That’s what they do in California where I grew up.”

  The man glanced over at Cammy with a quizzical look. “They have fly fishing in California?”

  “Oh,” Cammy replied. “Sorry, I thought you were talking about illegal immigrants.”

  Melanie laughed and said, “This man’s from Wyoming. He was just explaining how they have the best salmon and trout fishing out there, but you can’t keep anything you catch. You have to release them.”

  They finished their salads, and the waiters then served the beef fillet along with a few pieces of red potato and a small bundle of asparagus spears tied with a slice of pimento.

  Melanie was still engrossed in her conversation, and the man to Cammy’s left was talking to someone else, so she picked up the program and saw a list of honorees and corporate sponsors. At the top of the list was Jayson Keller. She hadn’t realized that the vice president would be here. She turned around in her seat since the head table was behind her. There he was, sitting in the middle, looking rather attractive in his black tie and gleaming white dress shirt.

  She had to admit the man had an interesting aura about him. She wondered why he was here. Then she read a paragraph at the bottom of the page indicating that the vice president’s late wife had served as the chairman of this ball in prior years so it was only natural that he continued to support the cause.