This time, he couldn’t decide. Uncle Thomas… or was he the CNO right now?… looked grave. He sat in a chair facing Tombstone on the couch, apparently struggling with how to begin. Finally, he said, “Oh, hell. I never was any good at being tactful with you, Tombstone. So I’ll just say it.” He took a deep breath. “Your mission to Vietnam — it’s causing problems.” He held up one hand to forestall comment. “I know, I know. You would do it all again if you had to. And just the same way, I imagine. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences to it, Stony. Big consequences.”
“I knew that when I went after him, sir,” Tombstone said. “But the government lied to us — lied to you and me.” He shook his head, remembering how he had to go through an underground network of POW families to find the first clues. “If they just told us what they knew, told the families the truth, it would have been over a lot faster.”
The senior Magruder nodded. “No argument from me on that. But the fact remains that you have embarrassed a number of high-ranking people in the Navy by proving that your father was taken to Russia. I don’t have to tell you that it doesn’t matter how right you were about it. It should, but it doesn’t.”
Tombstone shrugged. “I’ll be as blunt as you are, Uncle. This isn’t news. So what’s your point?”
“It has to do with your next assignment, Stony,” his uncle said. “At one time, there was some talk that you might be in line for my job.” He made a gesture, encompassing his office, the vast spaces beyond, and whole Pentagon. “I don’t think you would have liked it, but now it’s pretty clear you won’t have a chance to find out.” He paused for a moment, giving Tombstone time to absorb it. “So the question is, what do we do with you now?”
“I’ll stay on active duty as long as they let me, Uncle,” Tombstone said immediately. “Unless I’m grounded.” He held his breath for a moment, hoping that was not the case. But they couldn’t simply yank his flight qualifications without his knowing about it. And he’d have heard long before through the rumor mill, even before any official notification. Besides, there’d have to be a naval flight board of some sort. No, they couldn’t do that.
Or could they? The rules might contain some loophole exception for an admiral who’d stepped too far out of line.
“I’m not, am I? Grounded, I mean?” Tombstone asked.
His uncle shook his head. “Not as far as I know. No, it’s not about flying. I wish to hell it were.”
“Then what?” Tombstone asked. As long as he could fly, anything else would be bearable.
“Since you’re not headed for CNO, there are some that think that the available operational three-star billets should be reserved for those who are. As much as I hate to say it, that makes sense to me, too,” his uncle said. “We have too many admirals and too few billets.”
Tombstone was aghast. “They’re not going to make me retire, are they?” He felt a strange sensation of fear combined with relief at the thought. What would it be like to be a civilian? He couldn’t remember — it had been too many years, since the time he was eighteen. After high school, he’d entered the Naval Academy, and ever since then had been on active duty. At the same time, he felt strangely curious about what it would be like to be a civilian.
And what would Tomboy think? His wife, now Commander Joyce Magruder, was commanding officer of VF-95. Of course he would not expect her to retire if he did. No, that wouldn’t be fair at all. He’d had his shot at it, and now it was her turn.
“I’m one of the ones that thinks there’s still a place for you in the Navy,” his uncle said. “Tombstone, the places you’ve been, the conflicts you’ve seen — I’m willing to bet that you’ve had more actual combat time than any other admiral in the navy. Myself included. I’ve spent too many years flying a desk.”
“Somebody had to do it. I’d rather have been there than here.”
His uncle made an impatient gesture. “I know, I know. Still, there are times I wish that it could have been different. For both of us. Maybe I should have encouraged you to spend more time in DC, build up a power base. If you had more friends here, it might lessen the impact of this whole mess.”
Tombstone didn’t know what to say. Privately, he knew he would never have survived his uncle’s career path. Sure, there were plenty of officers who did, including his oldest friend. Batman — Admiral Everette Wayne now — had seen his share of combat, but had also spent the required tours at the Pentagon. If anyone was headed for the CNO job, it was Batman.
“What would you think about coming onboard my staff as a troubleshooter?” his uncle asked. “And I don’t mean administrative matters — I mean actual conflict.”
“What do you mean?”
His uncle smiled. “You’re a great straight man, Stony. That brings me directly to my second problem. Are you following what’s happening in Greece and Macedonia?”
Tombstone nodded. “Mostly through CNN, but I’ve seen some of the classified traffic as well. The Republic of Macedonia may be independent, but Greece isn’t acknowledging the fact. Not as long as they’ve got the word Macedonia in the name. I know they’re worried about Greek Macedonia and the coast, too. From what I heard, it sounds like it’s getting bloody.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Two hours ago, the Greeks knocked a news helicopter out of the sky.”
“They shot it? Was it ACN?” Tombstone asked. His mind started racing to the inevitable possibility.
His uncle met his eyes. “No missiles. Evidently some Greek Tomcat pilot caught them in a jet wash. But you’re right about the rest of it. It was ACN. Pamela Drake was onboard.”
Tombstone was stunned. Was it possible, after all these years? The seemingly invincible Pamela Drake, killed in a helicopter crash? It was, he thought, the way she would have wanted to go. On the trail of a hot story, in the middle of the action. Although Pamela had grown older gracefully, he suspected that she never would have been really comfortable as she aged. Her industry was peculiarly brutal to women, and he suspected Pamela Drake would be no exception.
“Is there any word on survivors?” he asked quietly, already offering up a private prayer for Pamela Drake’s soul.
His uncle shook his head. “Rescue efforts are under way, but it looks like they went down in a pretty rocky area. I have to say, Stony, I don’t think there’s much hope she survived. There have been no emergency beacons, nothing like that.”
Tombstone let out a long, slow breath, one that felt like he’d been holding for years. “I appreciate your telling me yourself, Uncle. You could have let me hear it on the news.”
His uncle made a dismissive gesture. “Don’t start thinking I’m getting soft, nephew.” He leaned forward, now evidently at the heart of the issue. “We’ve got problems in Greece, big problems. You know what happens when a member of the news media gets killed. Every other one jumps into the feeding frenzy, and a conflict gets blown all out of proportion.” He shook his head gravely. “The one thing all these people never seem to understand is that war is a constant. It’s always been with us, and I’m afraid it always will be.”
Tombstone nodded. “So what’s going to happen? There’s already a UN peacekeeping force in place. Not that they’ve been able to exercise much control over the Greek nationalist, I hear.”
“It’s not that simple. Sometime tomorrow, the UN will pass a resolution calling for peace and a negotiated cease-fire in Macedonia. There’s thought in some quarters that the Greeks aren’t going to be any too happy about that. They may even back down from the few compromises they’ve been willing to live with up until now.”