James Huston - Fallout

“What do you have in mind?” Luke asked cautiously.

“The United States government would like to accept your proposal.”

Luke’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be.

“On two conditions.”

“What?”

“First, that you allow the United States to send through your school certain… foreign students who have been clamoring to get into our TOPGUN or Red Flag for a long time. This would be a means for us to encourage and… um, reward our allies who do not have the same training opportunities that U.S. pilots have. Sort of a diplomatic plum.”

“What foreign students?” Luke asked, searching for future problems.

“I don’t really have any in mind right now. It could be any number of them with whom we currently have defense treaties or to whom we sell arms; but they would have to be capable of accomplishing the rigorous training conducted at the school.”

“Who would decide who comes?”

The Undersecretary looked into Luke’s eyes. “I would.”

“What about clearances?”

“That would all be in my area of responsibility. They would all be preapproved. You would simply need to give me the quotas I request, and I would then tell you who would be coming. The countries would pay you directly, and you could charge whatever you want. Perhaps an amount substantially over your actual cost, so that you can make a profit. The U.S. students could be charged at cost, which would include your amortized expenses of the airplane leases, the airfield, and the like. In fact, we could even reserve certain quotas for American students that would equal the amount attributable to the lease value of the MiGs and the air base. You could charge the foreign students whatever you want and get whatever you can from them. That’s where you would get your profit.”

Luke was amazed. “You’ve actually thought this through. I’d never even thought of that approach.”

“There are many possible scenarios.”

Luke looked around to see if anyone was nearby. The road was silent, and the sky was growing lighter by the minute. “You said there were two conditions.”

“Yes. The second will be acceptable to you. I promise.”

“What is it?”

Merewether took a long time to remove a cigarette from a pack and light it with a gold lighter that looked very expensive. He inhaled deeply and looked at Luke again as he slipped the lighter into his coat pocket. “As you probably know, when we purchased the MiG-29s from Moldova, we also purchased five hundred Russian air-to-air missiles.”

Luke nodded.

“It has long been our intention to conduct actual air-to-air test firings of those missiles with telemetry, so we can get the most accurate information possible on their performance. It has never been done because we don’t have airplanes capable of firing them. The MiGs are capable. So part of this deal is that you would agree to test the Russian missiles from the MiG-29s within the first twelve months of the school’s being open. That way we can get the telemetry we need.”

“Seriously? You want us to actually fire them?”

The Undersecretary smiled. “I thought you might be agreeable to that condition.”

“We’d get paid for that work?”

“Aha, the businessman wakes. Yes. Of course. You would be paid handsomely through a government contract for your work.”

“Why did you need to come here to tell me that? Why not call?”

“I’m not actually here to see you. I’m on my way to Tonopah to see how much needs to be done to get the air base ready. I flew into Reno, and you were nearby. I thought I’d stop and tell you myself.”

“So what do I do now?” Luke asked.

Merewether grinned in a way that made Luke uneasy. “Someone from my office will be in touch. Your letter of resignation has been accepted, as well as that of your friend, Lieutenant Thurmond. You’ll both be out of the Navy in sixty days.” Merewether extended his hand.

Luke smiled as he shook Merewether’s hand and tried to control his excitement. He couldn’t wait to tell Katherine. “I look forward to it,” he said, as Merewether returned to his car and it began backing out of his long driveway. Watching it go, all he could think of though was what Thud’s father had said in their meeting: “Don’t trust the government, don’t trust the government.” But then Thud’s father was paranoid.

Bill Morrissey wasn’t accustomed to getting interesting data that didn’t fit with other things he knew. He was used to getting no data, or bad data. But having good, hard intelligence that he couldn’t explain drove him crazy. And now there was more. He looked at Cindy Frohm who had asked to see him right away. She had new information that had just come across her desk. “Talk to me,” he said.

“The armory was attacked in the middle of the night. Pakistan isn’t telling anyone about it. Not even us, officially. We got this through our Air Force attaché in Islamabad. We’ve had it confirmed. Ten or more men attacked the armory, killed the gate guard and three guards at the armory itself. No shots fired by the guards at all. Two of them were found miles away and two at the armory.”

“And this was on a Pakistani Air Force base.”

“Yes.”

“How the hell do you break into an armory on an Air Force base? You just walk in?”

“Hard to say. Pakistan isn’t sharing any of this with us.”

“What was taken?”

“They’re not sure.”

Morrissey rolled his eyes. “How can they not be sure?”

“Whoever took the weapons destroyed the records.”

“Isn’t that where we think they kept some of their nukes?”

“Right, but not the warheads. Just the bombs that were to carry the nuclear warheads.”

“So were those taken?”

“Nope. We’re sure their nuclear program is unaffected. And their nuclear warheads are known to be stored elsewhere.”

Morrissey was puzzled. Especially when he tried to match it to the border incident. Warhead-grade plutonium and nuclear-warhead-carrying bomb casing. That was what was common. Except they didn’t get the plutonium at the border, and they didn’t take the bombs from the armory. “Why destroy the records?” he asked.

“Only reason would be because they didn’t want anyone to know what they took.”

“But why? What’s so unique or valuable that they wouldn’t want anyone to know?”

“Only the nuclear-capable bombs, but those are all accounted for.”

Morrissey closed his eyes and rested his chin on his hand. “I don’t get it. You?”

Frohm was equally confused. “No, sir. I don’t.”

“See anything about this that makes it look like it has anything to do with the U.S.?”

“No, sir. I don’t.”

“Me neither. But I sure don’t like what’s going on over there. Keep working it,” he said as he walked out of her office.

After the Undersecretary’s strange early-morning visit to Luke, it was as if someone had said “Open sesame.” All resistance seemed to fall away. Tonopah Air Base was his, subject only to getting those who had been working there on active duty off the base. The contracts that would be required appeared in a few short days, and even Katherine’s skeptical eye as the new general counsel of the Nevada Fighter Weapons School, Inc., couldn’t find anything to complain about.

The former TOPGUN instructors whom Luke and Thud called to ask to join them were falling all over themselves to make sure they got picked to work for this new school. It didn’t seem to matter what they were doing; they all offered to quit the next day if Luke wanted them to.

Once Thud had gotten up the nerve to actually submit his letter of resignation to Gun, he’d jumped in with both feet. And Thud’s father had transferred the initial money to the corporation. Thud had seen it as his opportunity to mend fences with his father. Not only would he be doing what he wanted—flying fighters—but he’d be doing what his father had wanted him to do—run a business. Thud’s father had finally dropped the other shoe, though. He told them that his financial support was contingent on his getting to fly the MiG-29. Luke had initially balked, but when he remembered that Dr. Thurmond had a couple thousand hours in the F-105 in Vietnam, Luke figured he might actually be able to fly the MiG. They’d start him in the two-seater and see how he did.