When things finally slowed down a bit, Admiral Yates pulled George aside for a private conversation. The admiral looked him squarely in the eyes and said, “George, I know that from time to time during your assignment on the staff, I have been hard on you. I’m sure it seems to you that I pressured you more than others. The fact is, I have. And the reason is quite simple. Among all the officers on the staff, I believe you have the most potential for senior leadership in the navy.”
George was a little embarrassed by having this glowing praise laid upon him by the admiral. It did, however, solve the mystery as to how George had managed to be selected for command when he had perceived he was not in good standing with the admiral. Obviously, Admiral Yates had provided the Command Selection Board with an extremely favorable recommendation.
“However, an area where I perceived a weakness,” the admiral continued, “is that because of your exceptional capabilities, you had the tendency to try to do everything yourself. You needed to learn to rely on others and to better coordinate your efforts with others. Teamwork is the key to achieving great results, George. Individual capabilities will only carry you so far. You have to trust and rely on your team members.” Admiral Yates took a breath and sighed, and with a knowing look he said, “Even when you don’t like them!”
George laughed, looked at the admiral, and said, “I never said that, sir!”
Now, it was the admiral’s turn to laugh. “I know you didn’t. And that’s one of the things I like about you. Remember the day Commander Wayne manipulated the briefing to put Ops first?”
“How could I forget it, sir?”
“Well, it was clear Intel had no answers regarding al-Qaeda and their threat to nuke the U.S. We all knew that, and I knew the questions I was asking you were Intel questions. The point was you should have coordinated the briefing more thoroughly with Intel before you ever got in the room. Commander Wayne is an excellent intelligence officer, even if he is a bit of a kiss-ass, and you should have used his expertise in developing your Ops plan.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I appreciated the fact, however, that you stood up there and took your medicine like a man. I would have been disappointed if you had done otherwise.”
“Thank you Admiral. It’s good to know you don’t think I’m a total screwup!”
The admiral laughed again. “Keep up the good work, George,” he said while shaking George’s hand and moving back toward the group.
The congratulations kept coming, and George was so engaged in responding to them all, he barely noticed Lannis slipping out the door without a word or a handshake. George’s mind was running a thousand miles an hour in a thousand different directions.
One thought that kept recurring was he would definitely have to accelerate his plan.
Chapter 12
At his office at SUBLANT Headquarters, George was engaged in a telephone call when Petty Officer Harris brought him his mail. As he quickly ended the phone call, she heard him say, “Okay, Bill, in the morning, 0645, on the east walkway by the mess hall.”
Leona chuckled to herself. For years the navy had tried to formalize the name of the mess hall to the enlisted dining facility. George, a traditionalist, still called it the mess hall. She wondered whom he was talking to, but of course, she would never dream of asking.
The next day, while walking from his car to his office, George briefly stopped and talked to a middle-aged man in civilian clothes next to the mess hall. They set their identical briefcases down and talked for just a few moments. Continuing on their separate ways, each picked up the other’s briefcase. When George arrived at his office, he placed the briefcase on top of his gray metal desk and then opened it. Inside was a complete set of blueprints, as he had requested.
The blueprints showed a strange looking vehicle, which appeared to be a cross between different types of fighter jets. The craft had small moveable winglets called canards mounted forward on each side of the fuselage just behind the cockpit, similar to a Mirage 2000. The craft’s wings, which were mounted well aft on the fuselage, were short and stubby like those of an F-104. Viewed from above, the craft had a long sleek fuselage similar to the body of a great white shark. Viewed from the side, the fuselage looked more like the body of a bottle-nosed dolphin. Viewed from the front or the rear, the craft had a circular intake below the cockpit. Apparently, an internal tube ran the length of the craft from the bow to the stern. The cockpit, which appeared to be designed for two people sitting side-by-side, had four bulbous Plexiglas portholes, two in the front and one on each side of the cockpit, rather than a true canopy.
George studied the blueprints carefully, verifying each detail, and making notes in a small notebook he had taken from a locked desk drawer. After studying two or three sheets, he glanced at the clock on the wall, hurriedly placed the blueprints and the notebook into the briefcase, and secured the double locks. He would have to complete this task at home. It was time now to prepare for the admiral’s briefing.
With a sense of elation and satisfaction, he got up from his desk and headed for the briefing room.
Chapter 13
It was Tuesday evening, and after dropping Buffalo off at his house, George proceeded home and quickly changed into civilian slacks and a nice dress shirt. He got back into his car and headed out of town. He drove for about a half an hour along a nearly deserted country road to a quiet little town with a small restaurant. George preferred dinners on Tuesday night because it was the least crowded night of the week. In busy restaurants, it resulted in a shorter wait for a table. At the Crossroads Bar and Grill, it practically assured total privacy.
Entering the dimly lit restaurant, George scanned the room. The night’s menu was scrawled on a chalkboard near the door. In the main and only dining room, there were twenty or so tables, each covered with a plastic, red and white checkered tablecloth. Nothing but the best when I go out! George thought sarcastically. Two couples were eating in the dining room, and the rest of the tables were vacant. Looking into the darkly paneled waiting area, a blond lady in a black dress sat with her back to him at a large wraparound bar. She was talking animatedly with the bartender as if they were lifelong friends. Seeing that she was empty-handed, George approached her and in his best movie-star voice said, “Hi there, Sparkle Eyes. What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
Swinging around, Leona Harris recognized him, slid off the bar stool, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him! “George, where have you been? And what’s this Sparkle Eyes stuff?”
George kissed her back. “Sorry, I heard someone call you that once and thought it kind of fit. Anyway, I got stuck at the office. Got here as fast as I could.” Nodding to the bartender, he said, “Sorry for interrupting, Joe.”
“That’s all right, George. Can I get you guys a drink?”
“No thanks. We’re going to go ahead and get a table before they’re all gone!”
“Fat chance on a Tuesday night!”
Overhearing the conversation, a waitress standing nearby grabbed a couple of menus and with put-on pomp asked, “Your usual table, sir?”
“Absolutely, Alice. We’re creatures of habit!”
Alice, fortyish, her hair in a ponytail and dressed in tootight black jeans and a long-sleeved white blouse, led them to a table in a secluded corner of the dining room. The other two couples in the dining room glanced up briefly, but continued their meals as George and Leona took their seats out of earshot on the other side of the room.