Kim Robinson: The Gold Coast

Feldkirk is shaking his head; a small smile makes him look boyish. “We aren’t going to put out an RFP on this one.”

“Ah!”

The meeting suddenly makes sense.

Legally, the Pentagon is obliged to offer all their programs for open bidding by contractors. This means publishing a Request For Proposal in Commerce Business Daily, which outlines the specifications for what they want. The problem with the system, of course, is that Soviet intelligence can buy Commerce Business Daily and get an excellent idea of the capabilities of the American military. In this case, they would know to close the window in their radar systems. “And,” Feldkirk says, “if they know they have to speed up their antiaircraft response, and can do it, then we’re no longer in the air. So we’ve decided to go superblack with this one, and deal with the company we judge would do the job best.”

Illegal, of course. Technically. But the Pentagon is also charged with defending the country. Even Congress recognizes that some programs have to be kept secret. In fact, black programs are an acknowledged part of the system, and a few members of the Armed Services Committees hear about them regularly. A superblack program, however… that’s between the Pentagon and the chosen contractor only.

So, LSR has a contract. Other defense contractors won’t complain about it even if they do hear rumors, because they’ve all got secret programs of their own.

Feldkirk continues justifying the decision to make the program superblack. “We figure we’ve got other ways to keep the Soviets from rolling, for now. We don’t need to make this public, to scare them. So while they’re ignorant of it, we’ve got a safeguard—if the tanks do roll, they’re goners. Ducks on the pond, as obsolete as aircraft carriers. Meanwhile, the government can get serious about the negotiations to get battlefield nukes off the front line. That should help reconcile the Soviets to our space installations, and it eases the use-’em-or-lose-’em situation with the artillery nukes in Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Thailand, all the rest. Nobody’s ever liked those, but we’re still living with them. This way, we might be able to end that risk—we just won’t need battlefield nukes anymore to do the job, and that’s the bottom line.”

McPherson nods. “That would be good all right.” He doesn’t like to reflect on how fully American strategy is entangled in nuclear weapons; the situation repels him. It just isn’t smart defense. “I’ll have to consult back at the office, you know.”

“Of course.”

“But, truthfully, I can’t imagine we’ll turn it down.”

“No.”

So Feldkirk raises his glass, and they toast the deal.

And the next day McPherson gives Stewart Lemon a call, first thing.

“Yeah, Mac?”

“It’s about my conference with Major Feldkirk at ESD.”

“Yeah? What’d he want?”

“We’ve been offered a superblack.”

McPherson’s boss, Stewart Lemon, stands in his office before his big seaside window, looking out at the Pacific. It’s near the end of the day, and the low sun turns Catalina apricot, gilds the sails of the boats as they glide back in to Dana Point and Newport Beach harbors. His office is on the top floor of LSR’s tower, on the coastal cliff between Corona del Mar and Laguna, overlooking Reef Point. Lemon often calls his window view the finest in Orange County, and since it includes no land but the distant bulk of Catalina, it may well be true.

Dennis McPherson is on his way up to give him the details of the meeting with Feldkirk, and Lemon, considering the meeting, sighs. Getting one’s employees to put their maximum effort into the work is an art form; one has to alter one’s methods for every personality under one’s command. McPherson has been working for Lemon for a long time, and Lemon has found that the man works best when driven. Make him angry, fill him with resentment, and he flies into his work with a furious energy that is fairly productive, no doubt about it. But how tiresome the relationship has become! The mutual dislike has really become quite real. Lemon watches the contained insolence, the arrogance of this uncultured engineer, with an irritation that barely holds on to its amusement. Really, the man is too much. It’s gotten to be almost a pleasure to bully him.

Ramona buzzes to tell him McPherson is there. Lemon begins to pace back and forth before the window, nine steps turn, nine steps turn. In McPherson comes, looking tired.

“So, Mac!” He gestures him to a chair, continues to pace in a leisurely way, staring out the window as much as he can. “You got us a superblack program, eh?”

“I was told to pass along the offer, that’s right.”

“Fine, fine. Tell me about it.”

McPherson describes the system Feldkirk has requested. “Most of the components of the system are fairly straightforward, it’ll only be a matter of linking them in a management program and fitting them into a small enough package. But the sensing systems, covert terrain ranger and target detector both—there could be some dangers there. The CO-two laser Feldkirk has suggested is only lab-tested so far. So—”

“But it’s a superblack, right? It’s only between the Air Force and us.”

“That’s right. But—”

“Every method has its drawbacks. That doesn’t mean we don’t go for it. In fact, we can’t very well refuse the offer of a superblack—we might never get another one. And the Pentagon knows it’s a high-risk program, that’s why they’ve done it this way. And it’s always the high-risk projects that bring in the highest profits. What’s your schedule looking like, Mac?”

“Well—”

“You’re clear enough. I’ll assign the Canadair contract to Bailey, and you’ll be clear to go at this thing. Listen here, Mac.” Time to stick in a needle or two. “Twice in a row now you’ve been manager of proposals that lost. They were too expensive, too elaborate, and you almost missed the deadline for turning them in, both times. It’s important to beat the schedule deadline by a couple of weeks, to show the Air Force we’re on top of things. Now here you’ve got a superblack program, and there isn’t a schedule per se. But with something outside normal channels like this, the trick is to get it done fast, while all conditions still obtain. You get me?”

McPherson is staring out the window, not looking at Lemon. The corners of his mouth are tight. Lemon almost smiles. McPherson no doubt still believes his losing proposals were the best made, but the truth is you can’t afford to be a perfectionist in this business. Projects have to be cost-effective, and that requires a certain realism. Well, that’s Lemon’s contribution. That’s what’s gotten him where he is. And this time he’s going to have to ride herd a little more closely than before.

He stops his pacing and points at McPherson, surprising him. “You’re in charge of this one because I think the Pentagon people want it that way. But I want this done quickly. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The clamming up does absolutely nothing to hide the anger and contempt in McPherson’s eyes; he’s as easy to read as a freeway exit sign. TURN OFF HERE, OVER THIS CLIFF. Now he will go back down there and work himself sick to get the program done quickly, to jam it back down Lemon’s throat. Fine. It’s that kind of work that makes Lemon’s division one of the most productive at LSR, despite the myriad technical difficulties they encounter. The job gets done.

“Let me know when you’ve got a preliminary proposal worked up. You’ll fly out and present it to them as soon as it’s done.”

“The targeting system and the management program may take a while—”