Major Dandridge hated staff meetings, but then he never
stopped thinking of himself as a fighter pilot. Pilots
didn't have staff meetings, they had preflight briefings
before strapping into the cockpit, taking-off, and blasting
some unfortunate bastard from the sky. Besides, ninty-nine
percent of the time, the only purpose of the meeting was to
allow the pencil-pushing admin-pukes to kiss up to General
Keeney's tail end.
Today, however, fell into the other one percent.
Dandridge sat quietly at the far end of the table with
the same bored expression he had always displayed. He had
no notes, no reports with tabs or attachments, nor had he
carried in a clipboard to scratch on during the meeting.
This didn't phase the other officers, because it was the way
Dandridge had always reacted to the meetings. If he had
brought anything other than his body, it would have caused
them to whisper among themselves in wonderment of what was
amiss.
But Major Alexander Dandridge was not going to give
them the satisfaction: he would wait his turn (last, as
always), then speak his mind.
The purpose of the meeting was to bring General Keeney
up-to-date on the logistical, administrative, technical, and
security details of all the special projects underway at
Nellis. Keeney acted as a liaison between the base
commander, Air Force Chief of Staff, and civilian
subcontractors who conducted business with operations such
as the Stealth fighter wing, Strategic Defense Initiative
test facilities, and the HARBINGER project. The concept was
that by limiting all three projects to a single general
officer, there would be less rivalry for resources, less
public exposure, and two fewer chances of a leak.
Keeney let a captain finish an especially fascinating
report about offsetting the extraordinary depreciation of
certain SDI equipment by modifying the logged flight time of
the Stealth fighters. By showing less then the actual hours
flown, he could claim less depreciation due to expected life
to wash out the balance of SDI. The only problem was
covering the credit balance of the fuel account. He felt
that by shuffling various perishable supplies between the
compounds, he could keep the GAO off their backs for another
few months.
Dandridge yawned.
When the captain had finished, General Keeney shifted
in his chair in an all to obvious attempt to arouse himself.
"Very good, gentleman. If there is no further-- Oh, I'm
sorry Major, I almost forgot about you. Do you have
anything to add today?"
"Yes sir, I do." An uneasy hush filled the room and
the surprised eyes of the seven other officers all fell upon
Dandridge. "It appears we may have a possible security risk
associated with the HARBINGER project."
General Keeney sat wide-eyed and speechless. It was
the first time during Major Dandridge's tenure as security
officer that he had hinted to a problem with HARBINGER. As
a matter of fact, the last time there had been any trouble
with HARBINGER was when a new communications sergeant had
flipped out. He dismissed the rest of the officers, and
waited for the last one to close the door. "Is this a
problem of physical or operational security?"
"It appears, sir, that a reporter from the Los Angeles
Herald is attempting to get information on HARBINGER. His
source is Technical Sergeant Gatewood."
"Surely that's nothing to be concerned about: Gatewood
is certifiably insane. No one in their right mind would
take him seriously."
"I agree, sir. That is why I'm bringing this situation
to your attention. If this reporter is accepting Gatewood's
information as fact, he is either crazy or desperate.
Either way, he could cause undue turbulence."
"What action have you taken, Major?"
"I put him in touch with Gatewood's wife in hopes that
her statements would verify the Sergeant's unreliability.
Instead, he trespassed on the bomb range."
"Jesus! Did he see anything?"
"Negative. The AP's found the east gate open during a
routine patrol. They were able to locate him on the range
road, but he managed to outrun them. His car sustained
moderate damage during the engagement, and we were able to
recover several pieces of wreckage. Apparently the vehicle
was a blue Pontiac Firebird, I have the FBI working on the
vehicle year and serial number on the parts. They were
informed that it was probably just some kids hunting
souvenirs."
"Can we call the paper and narrow which reporter it
was?"
"No need." Dandridge removed a slip of paper from his
pants pocket. "His name is Walter Fletcher. I've already
run a check on him: he does work for the Herald. I also had
NSA check California's computer to see if he had any priors.
Mr. Fletcher has been arrested six times on drug related
charges. No convictions, because the paper claims he was
working undercover and wasn't actually selling or using. It
sounds to me as if this guy thinks he has Carte Blache to do
as he pleases."
"Yes," added Keeney. "What actions do you recommend?"
"First step is to secure Gatewood. Second, we should
disappear his wife, both of which Major Ritter should have
done over a year ago."
Keeney stared at the Major for a long moment. He knew
the man was right, but he had to give Gatewood a chance.
"Major, Gatewood was a good man. The Air Force owed him a
chance."
Dandridge was unmoved. "Do you want me to plug this
leak or just patch it."
"Transfer Gatewood and his family to an institution in
New England. That should do the job."
"I don't see why you're so reluctant to let me
eliminate this man-- you've done it before." The General
felt the heat of the Major's stare and thought the man
insolent for not breaking eye contact. "If Gatewood had
been doing his job to start out with, Lt. Bradford might not
have been scattered across a hundred acres of California
wine country."
"Dandridge, you know damn well that if the avionics
subcontractors had coordinated the way they should have, Lt.
Bradford would still be alive and you'd still be flying.
Thanks to Gatewood, no one else was killed. Send the man to
New England."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe I have final
word on the handling of military security breeches," stated
the Major.
General Keeney turned his back on the Major and fumed
over his last comment. He did have the authority. Keeney
could only court martial him, or request he be relieved; but
neither was an acceptable option. Dandridge was just too
damn good. "Major, I would appreciate it if you did it my
way." Dandridge reluctantly accepted Keeney's wishes only
because he felt it unwise to push his boss any further.
"What about the reporter?"
"With six drug arrests, it wouldn't raise any suspicion
if we set him up for a seventh. We can plant enough
evidence to guarantee a conviction. Anything he publishes
from jail will be laughed off." Dandridge hesitated. "For
that, I do need you're approval."
"Make it so."
Dandridge simulated a salute before leaving the room.
A faint smile crossed the unscarred portion of his face. It
looked like things were going to get fun, after all.
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