“Who’s the worst offender this time?” Jay asked as the steward replenished his iced tea.
“I think they said it was Egypt this time. They still get over a billion bucks in aid from us, and they’ve got almost eighteen-thousand parking tickets. Can you believe that?”
“What about Nigeria. They’ve always been on the list.”
“I think I heard they owe close to a million dollars worth. Actually, the House did pass something to deal with the situation. It’s in conference.”
“Now that nobody is flying anywhere, they’re all using cars to get around so I expect the problem is just going to get worse.”
“Probably. And with the media still pounding us on the attacks, nobody wants to talk about anything else,” the president said. “I pray we don’t have any more situations where I have to go on television and explain that more innocent Americans slipped the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God,” to quote one of Peggy Noonan’s most inspired lines. Of course, that was decades ago, and nothing like that challenger explosion has happened until now.”
“I know what you mean.”
“At least it’s been a whole week without an attack, but the market is still sliding. So of course, I get nailed for every single loss in stock price. Did you see that editorial about how my predecessor had a great economy?”
“Oh for God’s sake, Warren Harding had a great economy,” the vice president scoffed.
The president shook his head and said, “By the way, I just had a report that NSA may be on to a new communication scheme.”
“A new scheme? What is it this time?” Jay asked.
“It’s called Steganography.”
“Don’t know that one. How does it work?”
“It’s pretty damn clever. Term is Greek. Means hidden or covered or something like that. What they do is encrypt a message and then disguise it as something else. Like a photograph maybe.”
“So how do the NSA types figure it out?”
“I was going to include you in the meeting on it this morning, but I knew you were tied up on the plans for Japan, so I let you off the hook.”
“Thanks, but I’d still like to know how we deal with it, if that’s what some of the terrorist groups are using to communicate.”
The president leaned back an thought for a moment. “The way I understand it, with a photograph, they have to analyze all the pixels. If there’s just one or two that are sort of off, too bright or not bright enough for example, they go on to take the whole damn thing apart. I don’t know all the details, but they’ve got people on it because they’re starting to pick up a few of these things. I just hope to God they can decipher some messages before we’re attacked again.”
“At least I guess that’s good news,” the vice president said. “In fact, if they’ve really got something new, it’s the best news since the call I got from the National Zoo this morning,” he said with a slight grin.
“Oh? What was that?”
Jay started to laugh. “The yaks are having a baby.”
“Well,” the president said, “At least we can expect something in this town besides disasters.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
TRAVIS AIR FORCE BASE
Cammy was nervous during the entire flight across the country to Travis Air Force Base, located half way between Sacramento and San Francisco. At least she had been surrounded by her laser team from Bandaq. All of their equipment had been packed on board the military cargo plane. Yet, she had never been able to shake her fear of flying. It had been a tense experience all the way.
Hunt had been seated up front with some of the crew. She and her former lover had been avoiding each other all during the boarding process. He didn’t even bother to come back and chat with her at any time during the long flight. That was fine with her. This was a business trip. All business.
She was going to be racing to work with the crew chiefs to get her entire laser apparatus installed on an F-16 that they were ferrying over from Luke Air Force Base in Glendale, near Phoenix.
They didn’t usually have F-16s at Travis these days. It was home to the 60th Air Mobility Wing and they had big transport planes like C-5 Galaxys and KC-10’s that were used for in-flight refueling. The base handled more cargo and passengers than any other military terminal in the entire country, so it was logical that their planes would be used not only to transport her equipment, but also to take Bandaq’s Q-3 components and staff all the way to Taiwan in a couple of days.
She didn’t have much time to work on the laser before joining her former colleagues on the trip overseas. She’d never been to Taiwan. It could be quite an adventure. And it would be good to exercise her skills on the Q-3 software again where she had figured out how to identify, lock on and take control of a cruise missile, allowing her to redirect it back on the heads of the bad guys if she wanted to.
It was an incredible invention. At least that’s what everybody said at the time. Now she just hoped they could get it deployed in Taiwan as a defense against some of those missiles that the Chinese had aimed at the island.
When they finally landed at Travis, Cammy and her top assistant, Sarah McIntyre, were shown to their suite of rooms at the DV quarters. She knew that stood for “Distinguished Visitors,” and she was pleased that they were being allowed to stay on the base. Their place was actually a small house with two bedrooms.
Civilians usually had to stay in nearby Vacaville. But since this visit had been requested by the White House, the base personnel were scurrying around to treat her like a real VIP and make everyone comfortable.
The White House must have worked all of this out with the Travis Protocol Office, Cammy thought, because she saw that they did follow some of the other rules. They had put Hunt over in “Air Force Lodging” where visiting officers and enlisted men stayed.
For the DV quarters, either you were a special civilian like Cammy, or you were military at the rank of bird colonel or above. And since Hunt was just a Lieutenant Colonel, he was in the other building.
It was actually a rather large hotel, kind of like an on-base Marriott. But since it was some distance from her quarters, it meant she probably wouldn’t see very much of him during their down time, if they had any at all. And that was fine with her. She doubted if he’d make a move to talk to her anyway. And she certainly wasn’t about to break the ice on her own. No, she had work to do here. As for her feelings, she’d just have to put all of those on cruise control. For the time being anyway.
She knew it would take a while for the crews to unload all of their equipment and get it organized in the hangar housing the F-16. She took the time to call her mother in San Francisco. She hadn’t seen her mom in months as both of them had full time jobs, and it was always hard to break away. But they often talked on the phone. Cammy explained her crazy schedule and said she didn’t know if she could get to San Francisco on this trip, but she’d try.
When she hung up, she looked out the window and saw planes taking off and landing in the distance. It brought back such a flood of memories. Memories of growing up on bases. Memories of her dad, Captain Casey Talbot, coming home from a mission, picking her up and dancing around the living room while singing an old song. She even remembered some of the lyrics because she’d heard them so often. “Casey would waltz with the strawberry blond, and the band played on. He’d glide cross the floor with the girl he adored, and the band played on.”
Her eyes began to mist over as she reflected on her childhood and how much her father had meant to her. She’d never found another man who could match his warmth, his encouragement, his dedication to duty until … she had met Hunt.
Damn it. There I go again with the nostalgia routine. She shook her head as if she were trying to clear away the old images. She turned around and unpacked her suitcase, hung up her clothes, put her make-up kit and hot rollers in the bathroom and finally walked across the hall to check in with Sarah.
The former Bell Labs scientist was sitti
ng by the window glancing through a copy of Popular Science when Cammy knocked and came in. “Hi boss. All settled in?”
“Sure. Pretty nice place we’ve got here.”
“Better than I expected,” Sarah said. “Where do people eat around here? I’m starved.”
“We could go over to the Officers’ Club if you want.”
Sarah jumped up, tucked her cotton blouse into her khaki slacks and said, “Am I dressed okay? I’ve never been to an Officer’s Club.”
“Oh yes. You’re fine. Most of the guys there will be in uniform or even flight suits or BDU’s.”
“What’s a BDU?” Sarah inquired.
“Battle dress uniform.”
“You know, with all these pilots around here, I been thinking that someday I might take lessons. I’ve always wanted to fly.”
“So did Icarus,” Cammy said. “And look what happened to him.”
Hunt swiveled on his bar stool in the Club when another officer came up and slapped him on the back. “Hunt? That you?”
“My God, Pete. Haven’t seen you in ages. I didn’t know you were stationed here.”
“Yep. Been here for a year now. Jesus, it’s good to see you, man. Last thing I heard you were at the Pentagon working on nuclear stuff or something pretty high level.”
“Well, I was. Now I’ve been detailed to the National Security Council,” Hunt said, taking a swig of his beer.
“At the White House?”
“Yeah. Pretty good assignment.”
“Pretty damn good,” Pete replied.
A bell rang and the officers began to hoot, laugh and point at a young Lieutenant who had just placed his hat on the end of the bar. “What the hell’s going on?” Hunt asked as the bartender held up his hands and shouted, “Drinks all around.”
“Poor bastard,” Pete said with a big laugh. “There are two things you do not do in this club?”
“Yeah? What?”
“Number one. You do not take a call on your cell phone from a spouse. And number two, you do not put your hat on the bar.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you do, you have to buy drinks for everybody in the house. Want another beer?”
Hunt burst out laughing. “Yeah. Sure. Crazy rules around here.”
“That’s why I always toss my hat on the table by the door over there. And as for a cell call, well, I’m okay with that because I haven’t got a wife. How about you?”
“Nah. She left me a while ago. Didn’t dig the military life, I guess. I was gone a lot, you know.”
“Same here.”
They got their second round and talked about old times when they had trained together as Air Force pilots. Hunt started joking about the time they had gone to what they thought was a strip club, and it turned out to be nothing but guys dancing on stage. The star had been called “Thunder Thighs.”
Then Hunt glanced over Pete’s shoulder and saw two women walk in and move toward the bar. Hunt stopped laughing, shifted on the barstool, and wondered if he really needed this encounter. But they were headed his way, so he knew he’d have to be polite.
“Hi Cammy,” Hunt said as she approached. He turned to the other women. “And you’re from Bandaq. I saw you on the plane.” He motioned to his friend, “And this is Colonel Pete Feldman, an old buddy from training days.”
Sarah looked up at Pete and gave him a broad smile. Cammy extended her hand but was much cooler in her approach. Pete offered them a drink and Sarah quickly accepted. Pete suggested they move to an area on the other side of the pool table where there were four available chairs. They trooped past historical pictures on the wall, photos of past commanders and old fighter planes and finally they sat down.
There she was, sitting so close to Hunt that he could feel her knees under the table. What now? He wondered. Pete kept on talking about their training exploits and then started to tell stories about some of his deployments overseas. Sarah gave him her rapt attention while Cammy sat fidgeting with the strap on her shoulder bag.
Maybe I could ask her to go for a walk or something, he thought. No, she’d probably brush me off. Wrong move. Maybe if I just get her to talk quietly about the project. No, we shouldn’t talk details in front of other people. Maybe if she has another drink she’ll loosen up. After all, we’re working together again, just like we were two months ago. Sure we had some ups and downs back then, but there’s gotta be a way I can break through that ice shield of hers and get her to listen to some logic. After all, I had good reasons not to call her before. At least it seemed like I did at the time. Maybe she’ll have dinner with me. Then I’ll finally be able to explain.
Cammy’s cell phone rang. She fished in her purse and pulled it out. “Excuse me,” she said to the others, as she turned her chair slightly away from the table and took the call. She chatted in a low voice for a few minutes, closed her cell, pushed it back into her bag and got up from the table.
“I’ve got to go. Sorry,” she said.
Hunt jumped up. “Wait a minute, I was just going to ask if you’d like to join me for dinner.”
Cammy pushed some stray blond hair back under her headband and said, “No, I can’t really do that. There are a few things I have to do.”
“Look, Cam,” Hunt protested, “You’ve gotta eat. I mean what could be so important that …”
“I have to get a memo together.”
“A memo?” Hunt said. “At this hour? Who could need a memo unless it was the president or something.”
“No, not the president,” Cammy said. “That was the vice …”
Hunt raked a hand through his hair, sat down and muttered. “I should have known.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
THE WHITE HOUSE
Trenton LaSalle wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and shoved it back into his pocket. “The controllers are walking!” he declared, as he stood in front of the president’s desk in the Oval Office, his shoulders in their perpetual slump.
“They can’t do that,” the president barked. “It’s against the law.”
“We’ve been through all of this,” the transportation secretary said. “They know it. We know it. The courts know it. But they’re out anyway. Okay, so they’re calling it a ‘work stoppage’ or some such bullshit, but everybody knows it’s the same as a strike. Nothing, absolutely nothing is moving right now. And I have no clue how long this is going to last. The trains are so jammed, you can’t get a reservation to go anywhere for at least a week. It feels like the day after 9/11 around my shop.”
“It’s still about safety at the airports, right?” the president said, motioning to the secretary to pull up a chair and sit down.
“Yes. They say it has nothing to do with money.”
“Good thing because we haven’t got any.”
“I know. And neither do the airlines. Three of their presidents came to town last night. They were in my office at seven this morning saying that if we don’t find the terrorists, get new fail-safe technology, or give them a federal bail-out, they’re all filing for bankruptcy.”
“Isn’t that a case of collusion?”
“Not technically. They all just have the same bitches. It has nothing to do with setting fares or anything.”
“Back on the strike situation. Anybody else supporting this illegal action?” The president asked.
“On yeah. The flight attendants are taking a vote later this week to maybe join in. And the pilots are waiting to see how we handle the controllers. But, with nothing moving, they don’t have anything else to do anyway.”
The president’s chief of staff came in through a side door. “Sorry to miss the start of this meeting, Mr. President, but our senior staff meeting ran long.”
“Anything urgent?” the president asked.
The chief of staff glanced down at his notebook. “There’s still a lot of fallout from Winters’ hearings.”
“Like what? Didn’t he get enough headlines out of that charade to last him a while?”<
br />
“Something besides headlines. He got a bump in the polls. Everyone expects him to announce for the presidency pretty soon. Now that he’s at about fifty-six percent, he’s got all the other candidates cowed. He leads Jay by a wide margin.”
“We’ve got plenty of time before the elections. Those polls are like network ratings. One week they like Game of Thrones and another week it’s House of Cards, or maybe The Bachelorette or whatever they’re touting these days,” the president said with a wave of his hand.
“Speaking of a house of cards, ours has been falling down big time,” the chief said. “Our numbers have never been lower.”
“Nothing I can do about that now. As soon as we nail the bastards shooting down our airplanes, all will be forgiven.”
“And if we don’t nail them?” Trenton asked nervously.
The president ignored the question from his transportation secretary and asked one of his own. “Does anyone have anything new from NSA on the surveillance? Anything on the whole steganography process?
“Nothing firm yet,” the chief of staff said. “I just checked. It turns out they did find several emails that might contain some samples. They’re analyzing them right now.”
“Good. Let me know as soon as you hear anything.” The president turned back to the transportation secretary. “Now then. I want you to get a hold of the head of the Air Traffic Controllers Union. Haul his ass into your office and remind him of what we do to striking controllers. I know they want safer airports. Hell, we all want safer airports, safer planes, safer everything. But he’s not running the show here. I am. And I’d like a little cooperation from our government employees. You remind him about the agreements they’ve signed but then brief him on all the technology that’s in the pipeline. While you’re chewing him out, let him figure out that you’re taking him into your confidence on what we’re doing here. That ought to satisfy him for a while. And if he can’t handle his troops, well, maybe they need a new leader.”
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