“I am well aware of that horrible time, Miss Vice President,” Barbeau said in a clipped voice, only glancing at Maureen as she spoke. “But America is strong and we have proven once again that we can take a licking and still prevail with honor and pride. The incident may have been years ago, but Patrick still deserves the honor.”
“We’ll consider it, Senator,” the President offered.
“Then may I suggest, Mr. President, that one way to honor Patrick’s service and patriotism is to allow the American people to hear what he has to say regarding the future of America’s ability to strike back at our enemies,” Barbeau said, a bit more insistently this time. “You could pick no better point person for this very important campaign, Mr. President, I assure you.”
“Thank you for your advice, Senator,” the President said. “I’ll consider it very carefully as well.”
The outer office secretary came in, escorting someone else, who dropped a note into Barbeau’s hand and scurried away. “I feel it would be an insult to General McLanahan to subpoena him to appear before the committee,” she said, casually glancing at the note, “but I suppose that is always an option — unless you intend on exercising executive privilege.”
“That is always an option,” the President said. “But I’m sure we can come to some understanding to avoid any appearance of confrontation.”
“That is always our desire, Mr. President,” Barbeau said, giving the President another heart-melting smile. She then immediately turned to Patrick and said, “General, I know you’ve been out to Eighth Air Force headquarters many times, but just three or four times in the past six months. Are you getting all the information you need? I asked General Zoltrane to give you anything you require, any time, day or night.” Eighth Air Force, based at Barksdale Air Force Base near Boissier City, Louisiana, was the command responsible for all of the surviving long-range B-52, B-1B, and B-2A bombers — and the northern Louisiana districts were her base of power too.
Patrick glanced quickly at the President, whose smile began to dim but nonetheless nodded his assent to respond. “I receive outstanding support from General Zoltrane and all of the units, Senator,” Patrick replied.
“I had absolutely no doubt. But if there is anything at all you need, Patrick, please do not hesitate to call on me. At any time.”
Patrick noticed everyone in the Oval Office sigh and squirm with pleasure at Barbeau’s invitation, sad that it wasn’t directed at them. “Thank you, Senator. I will.”
“I was quite surprised to see you here this morning, General,” Barbeau remarked. “If I recall correctly, my staff had tried to make an appointment to speak with you just yesterday afternoon, and was told you’d be available later this afternoon. Yet here you are in Washington. My, you do get around, I must say.” Patrick said nothing but merely smiled and nodded. Barbeau’s eyes flared a bit as she added, “Almost as if they shot you out here from Nevada on a rocket ship.”
Patrick again glanced at the President and Vice President, who had both adopted stony expressions. Carl Minden stepped over to Patrick. “I hate to interrupt, Senator, but if we’re going to get that report in to your committee on time, we’d better get back to work.”
“Can I speak plainly, Mr. President?” Barbeau asked. “We are aware of the three major proposals being bandied about by the pundits for a long-range attack force: rebuilding the manned stealth bomber fleet, building a fleet of unmanned attack planes, and converting cargo planes to cruise missile launchers. But we have heard inklings of another proposal, using untested and very radical spacecraft technology.” She stepped a bit closer to Martindale. “I want to work very closely with you on this, Mr. President, very closely.”
To everyone’s surprise, the President responded, “You’re right, Stacy. We’re developing a fourth option, one much more advanced than the others.”
“The spaceplane, I do believe?”
“It’s called Black Stallion,” the President said. “It’s a single-stage-to-orbit spacecraft that can take off and land from any conventional runway in the world but boost itself into low Earth orbit, fly coast-to-coast in minutes, or around the world in less than two hours.”
“It sounds incredible, Mr. President!” Barbeau exclaimed. She looked at McLanahan and Noble and immediately understood how and why they were in Washington now. “I can’t wait to hear more. When can my subcommittee get a briefing on this amazing aircraft?”
“We’re still making the decision about whether or not to present it as an alternative to the others for the next long-range strike force,” the President said.
“And I do believe you have the most qualified man working on it — Patrick McLanahan,” Barbeau said. “Wonderful. Well, I hope it doesn’t hold up the bill for too much longer, but I completely understand the need for careful deliberation — we’re talking about a lot of money. The subcommittee staff would be happy to assist the general in writing his reports and gathering data, Mr. President.”
“The Pentagon and the White House national security staff are on it, Senator.”
“Yes, of course. But couldn’t we convince you to let General McLanahan make a closed-door presentation to the subcommittee and give us a sweet little taste of this mysterious new technology.”
“I promise you, Senator, that your committee will receive all of our proposals and supporting data as soon as it’s available, at the appropriate time,” the President said. “We are certainly not going to waste your time or keep you in the dark.” He glanced quickly at Minden, an obvious signal to get McLanahan and Noble out now.
Minden didn’t miss his cue — he stood behind them and tapped them on their shoulders. “General, we’ll be looking forward to your report. Thank you for…”
“Mr. President, may I take General McLanahan and Captain Noble to lunch?” Senator Barbeau asked sweetly. “It would give us an opportunity to get acquainted.”
“I’m afraid I have to excuse myself, Senator,” Patrick said. As he rose to his feet, he was surprised to feel the room seem to move and spin a little, and he had to concentrate to stabilize himself. “I really do have a lot of work to do.”
“Then we’ll have lunch right here in the White House dining room — with your permission, of course, Mr. President?”
“I’m going to have to defer to the general’s busy schedule, Senator. Have your staff give Carl a call and I’m sure he’ll have it set up right away for the earliest possible time.”
“I want the spaceplane impounded and a full investigation started, including complete details on the mission it just flew, who authorized it, and who’s paying for it,” Senator Barbeau said to her aide, Colleen Morna, as they exited the West Wing of the White House. “And I want a full background check on Captain Hunter Noble.”
“Noble? Who’s he?”
“He could be the back-door source I need to break Dreamland and HAWC wide open,” the senator said. “I thought I could get to McLanahan, but the guy is a clueless Boy Scout, and I can’t waste the time on him. Find out everything about Noble — where he comes from, his family, his girlfriends or boyfriends, his schooling, what he drinks and smokes, who he fucks, how often, and how.”
“What he smokes?”
“You can learn a lot about a man just by smelling him — and how he reacts when you do,” Barbeau said. “McLanahan likes the occasional cigar, but Captain Noble likes cigarettes — and he’s not afraid of making a pass at a woman, even a U.S. Senator standing in the Oval Office in front of the President and Vice President of the United States. That means he’s a partier, a ladies’ man, a player. If he’s got a weakness, or ambition, I want to know about it.”