"Those other ships don't protect the carrier?"
"Oh, to a certain extent, sure. The frigates are mostly for ASW ― that's anti-submarine work ― and they act as a screen to keep enemy subs from getting too close. But Jefferson's aircraft are her whole reason for being. Look…
think of a map of the United States. Now imagine the Jefferson sitting in Washington, D.C., okay?"
"Okay."
"Her frigate escorts would be deployed as far apart as, oh, say, Pennsylvania and parts of North Carolina. But her F-14 Tomcats would be on patrol over Maine, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Michigan."
"My God…"
"Her S-3 Vikings would be sub-hunting in Ohio. If there was need for a bombing run, her A-6 Intruders could hit Chicago."
"Good Lord! I had no idea you guys covered so much territory," Baughman said. He sounded impressed.
"Put that same battle group in the Med," Tombstone continued. "With the Jeff off Greece, our planes could cover places as far apart as northern Italy and Syria, Odessa on the Black Sea and the deserts of Libya." He paused, suddenly self-conscious, then smiled and gestured at the Vicksburg. "You see, as far as we're concerned, it's us who protects them!"
She laughed, a warm sound, and she reached out and touched his arm. "I must say, Commander, that I admire your love for your ship. Boat," she corrected herself. "It certainly shows when you talk about her!"
He smiled in reply. "If you think that's bad, wait until you get me talking about flying. That's my real love."
Suddenly she turned serious. "Yes, I imagine it would be." She looked at Tombstone for a moment, then, abruptly, turned away. "Okay, boys. You got what we need?"
"That should do it," Griffith said, patting his camera. "We've got five ― ten good minutes' worth."
"We could get you back on board in the next day or two while we're conducting flight ops," Tombstone offered. "You could get some great shots of catapult launches… or recovery operations aft. It's a lot more exciting than miles and miles of gray steel passageways!"
"We may take you up on that," Pamela said. "For now, though, I think we should set up a time to meet you in Bangkok. I'll want to get some of what you said today on tape. You can be quite persuasive when you want to be, Commander."
"I guess that's why they made me tour guide," he replied. "To keep your show from getting too one-sided!"
She smiled. "We'll see. I'll take up your schedule with your admiral.
By the way, Admiral Magruder is your uncle, isn't he?"
That again. "Yes, ma'am, he is."
She laughed. "Well, that must be convenient!"
"I don't know what you mean." He couldn't tell from Pamela's bantering tone whether she was serious or not. Back at Yokuska, after the fight at Wonsan, the press had had a field day with the fact that he was the nephew of the battle group commander. Tombstone kept his face impassive and turned away. "This way, if you please."
As he led the civilians across the flight deck, Tombstone couldn't help connecting Pamela's seemingly offhand comment with their quiet, unstated hostility to the very idea of the Jefferson. To them, the carrier represented billions of misspent dollars, and he could tell they were looking for ways to attack her.
And now it felt as though they were attacking him.
CHAPTER 7
"You're at attention, Mister!"
Batman gave up any thought of keeping this discussion on a friendly, personal level and held himself ramrod stiff, keeping his eyes focused on a point on the bulkhead behind CAG Marusko's left shoulder. "Yes, sir!"
Marusko examined the Shore Patrol report in his hand and shook his head slowly, as if he couldn't quite believe what he saw written there. "One ornamental hedge. Two rows of flowers. Tire marks across the landscaped lawn. A rock garden, complete with a decorative Buddhist shrine. A goddamned palm tree." CAG looked up, peering over the top of his reading glasses.
"Just how the hell did you manage to park the car in the hotel tennis court?
It was fenced in!"
"Well, it was. Sort of. Sir."
"Rental car."
"Yes, sir. You see, the brakes were kind of bad, and-"
"How much did you have to drink?"
"Gee, I'm not real sure, CAG. We'd stopped at the Oriental first. Then we went to the That Intercontinental. The girls were showing me around, you see."
"Driving under the influence. Property damage. This is serious, Mister.
Damned serious!"
"Yes, sir."
"Next there's this… this complaint from the same hotel. An unidentified man wearing boxer shorts, and two… ah… partly dressed young ladies, ran through the lobby, startling a number of the hotel's guests. That wouldn't be you and your 'friends' again, would it?"
"Uh, probably not, CAG. I mean, I don't remember too much after the-"
"The man in boxer shorts was screaming, 'Viper Squadron, launch when ready!" at the top of his lungs. Ring any bells?"
"No, sir."
"And then the finale. This same man and his female companions removed the rest of their clothes and went swimming in the hotel pool."
"I really wouldn't know anything about that, sir."
"It seems one of the restaurant lounges in this hotel has a large picture window, which looks out into the pool. Underwater. Very atmospheric, I understand.
"I'm sure it is, sir."
"The man proceeded to grapple with one of the women in the water, apparently in an attempt to copulate with her. In front of approximately fifty of the hotel's guests who happened to be in the lounge at the time."
"I'm sure if he'd known they were watching, he wouldn't have done it, sir."
"Responding to a call by the hotel, the Shore Patrol finally found you behind the pool house, apparently hiding from the establishment's security people, stark naked and sopping wet." CAG looked up again. "It doesn't say what became of your skinny-dipping companions."
"Oh, that was their hotel. I imagine they made it back to their room."
"You sorry son of a bitch! In one night you have managed to disgrace your uniform, your squadron-"
"Well, actually, I wasn't wearing the uniform at the time-"
"Damn it, Wayne, don't you play games with me!" He slapped the report down on his desk. "I could have your ass out of here with this! Do you understand me? I could have your wings handed to me on a platter!"
Batman swallowed. This was worse than he possibly could have imagined.
"Yes, sir."
"Now, you have a choice, mister. We can handle this right here, just you and me. Or we can go to the Captain with it. What's it going to be?"
"I'll be glad to… to work it out with you, sir."
"Good." Marusko nodded. "Good! The skipper wouldn't want to be bothered with shit like this. Now for the good news. Somehow you managed to luck out on one part of this sorry story, Wayne. The hotel has agreed not to press charges so long as you pay them ― — " He consulted the report again.
"Right. Two thousand, nine hundred fifty dollars for damage to their landscaping. Apparently they haven't been able to connect you with the swimming pool incident, because that wasn't mentioned in their claim. Or maybe they've decided to start featuring X-rated sex shows for their clientele."
"Three… three thousand dollars, sir?"
CAG picked up another paper. "Add to that an estimated eight hundred dollars for the rent-a-car people. The collision with the palm tree and the tennis court fence didn't do that Datsun's bodywork any good." Marusko removed his glasses. When he spoke again, it was with a low, almost quiet voice, the voice which CAG Marusko used when he was in his most dangerous mood. "So, four grand will settle things with the civilians and you luck out, but by God you still have to settle with me, Wayne. I'm not letting you off the hook that easily! Do we understand each other?"