James Huston - Fallout

“What is wrong with that? You can guard the missiles at all times. It should be without risk.”

Merewether’s mind spun through the possibilities. It actually might solve several problems. “You have any other cards? Anything else you got hiding out there that you want?”

The Pakistani smiled knowingly. “There is always something, isn’t there?”

The Undersecretary nodded.

“We want the results of the missile tests.”

“Is that it?”

“We are your strongest ally in South Asia, and you know it,” he said with too much emphasis. “We need that information, because India flies the MiG-29 and has those same Russian missiles. We need to know it for the safety of our pilots.” Yushaf lowered his voice. “And we need four of our pilots to be in the first class at that school.”

“I think that’s enough for me to think about tonight,” Merewether said, standing. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“No, I need to know, I’m sorry,” Yushaf said, seeing the anger on Merewether’s face. “I would like your commitment tonight. I am getting pressure from my home office. They don’t believe I can produce results. If I don’t, I will be recalled… I—”

“So what?”

“Thomas,” Yushaf said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, “your country owes this to my country.”

“How the hell do you figure that?”

“Do you not remember the largest battle the Americans have been involved in since Vietnam?”

“What?”

“Eighteen American Rangers and Delta Team members killed, five hundred to a thousand enemy killed, with thousands more wounded…”

“What?”

“Mogadishu. Somalia. You Americans were pinned down. Three of your Blackhawk helicopters were shot down. You were completely surrounded. The city was teeming with armed people who hate Americans. And who came to your rescue? Who charged into that city and pulled the Rangers and other Army men out?”

“Who?”

“Pakistani armor led the column back into Mogadishu and into the fight to rescue the Americans.” He paused. “Can you not allow a few of our pilots to train here? Is that too much to ask?”

“I don’t know much about Mogadishu…”

“You can look into it. I am not making it up.”

“When was that?”

“1993.”

“Well, I don’t know…”

Yushaf was in deep trouble. There was only one acceptable answer. He couldn’t leave any cards unplayed. “I have been listening to you over the past few weeks. I detect that you are in some financial trouble. Perhaps I could arrange a loan…” He watched Merewether’s face for any offense. There was none. “It would allow you to take care of all your problems.”

“Yushaf, I can’t pay back a damned loan. Every cent I make goes to my wife and her house and her car—”

“It would need to be paid back only when you were able to pay it back at one time, in one lump sum, in cash. Until then no problem, no interest.”

Merewether thought of what he could do with money. It would solve everything. He could quit his job and finally go do whatever he wanted to do. “How much of a loan did you have in mind?”

“Without knowing your needs, I could only estimate, but I thought something around two hundred fifty thousand dollars might help.”

Merewether tried not to gasp audibly. It was ten times his current net worth. He looked at Yushaf and noticed that he was sweating. “How soon could you get the… loan to me?”

“Tomorrow.”

“If I have it tomorrow, I’ll approve the school and get you your quotas. How many?”

Yushaf took a breath. It felt like the first one he’d taken in days. “Four.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Luke opened the front door and walked out in his flight suit and boots to retrieve the morning newspaper. He had an early brief, but he lacked his usual enthusiasm. It had started to feel pointless. He knew that his time was limited. It was hard to hurry to work, excited to get every day under way as he had since reporting to TOPGUN. He’d begun to feel like an outsider.

He glanced up at the sky the way he always did. It was cool and clear. The stars were fading. He bent over and picked up the newspaper on the long dirt driveway and noticed a black sedan parked in the mouth of the driveway just off the state road. It startled him. He was annoyed he hadn’t seen it before. There was never any traffic on the country road in front of their house, and no one ever turned down his driveway by mistake. This sedan had turned down and stopped. Luke felt exposed and vulnerable. He looked at the car again. There was no frost on the windshield and no dew on the hood.

The hell with this, he thought. He walked straight at the car, armed with only his newspaper. He approached the driver’s side. His muscles tensed as he approached. He noticed that the windows were tinted just dark enough to keep him from seeing inside. He could see a man’s hand on the steering wheel and slowed as he got nearer to the car. He wanted to go back the other way. The hair was beginning to tingle on the back of his neck.

The driver’s door suddenly opened, and a tall man in his twenties climbed out. “Lieutenant Henry,” he said quietly as he walked toward Luke. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Who are you?” Luke said as he started backing up, shocked to hear his name from someone he’d never seen before in his life.

“I’m Jason Townes. You have a minute?”

Luke put his hands on his hips and tried to control his breathing as he examined the young man, who was about his size and very intense-looking. “What are you doing sitting in front of my house at six in the morning?”

“We need to talk to you.”

“ We who?” Luke asked, his annoyance growing.

The young man glanced at the sedan, and the back door opened. Merewether got out, closed the door, and adjusted the coat on his blue pin-striped suit. “Good morning, Lieutenant.”

Luke was speechless. He couldn’t imagine what the Undersecretary of Defense was doing in front of his house on a Tuesday morning at six o’clock. It was disturbing. “Mr. Undersecretary,” Luke said. “I’m surprised to see you here, obviously.”

Merewether nodded sympathetically. “I wanted to catch you before you went to work, but I didn’t want to call and wake your pregnant wife.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know she was pregnant?”

“You told me in Washington.”

Luke didn’t remember even mentioning his wife. “Thank you. That was considerate. But why didn’t you write or send me an e-mail? You left me with the impression in D.C. that you didn’t have any interest in me at all.”

“I’m afraid we didn’t treat you as we should have, and frankly, I didn’t give your proposal the consideration it deserved. But since you left, I have.” The Undersecretary looked around, pleased with the surprise he had occasioned and the image he had pulled off. It was the kind of thing he loved to do—show up when not expected and imitate a government official who actually knew what the hell he was doing. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“This is fine right here,” Luke replied. “I don’t want to wake my pregnant wife.”

“Right,” Merewether replied. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the drive. “We looked at the PowerPoint presentation you left for us in hard copy, and the written report you did. I would like to discuss it with you further.”

Luke’s heart jumped, then quickly returned to normal as reality reasserted itself. “Go ahead.”

“I think the idea of starting a new, civilian-run TOPGUN school is frankly rather brilliant. It would give the United States government several options and outlets, as well as employ the assets we’ve purchased that are currently sitting idle, in addition to keeping Tonopah active, which is to the benefit of the airfield. Airfields are meant to be used, not sit and gather dust.”