Sigma One (7 page)

"Agent Clifton Walker, Mr. Huxley. Let's just say I represent National security interests, who have an investment in your project. In fact, if you don't mind, during your presentation and at some appropriate time, I'd like to address this body myself. I think they all will find what I have to say quite intriguing, and I'm sure after they hear it, those not convinced of the viability and importance of your project will soon change their minds after they hear what I have to say.

Pat was astonished. Radcliff hadn't told him anything about someone else making a presentation. And Walker seemed so confident and reassuring. It made him feel like some of the pressure was off him to perform and he was glad of that. He liked Walker. But what was he up to?

While Pat sat there thinking about agent Walker, Radcliff moved slowly by him, skipping the scientist who was lighting another cigarette, and positioned himself at the back of the army colonel's seat. The colonel sat there silently chewing on his unlit cigar. To Pat, the cigar looked like a toxic pacifier the way the colonel rolled it from one side of his mouth to the other. Pat raised his eyes from the colonel's mouth, disgusted from watching him. As soon as Pat's eyes focused on him, Radcliff quickly mouthed the words "be careful of this one," before he began the introductions again. No one else caught the warning the senator had sent.

"Pat, this is Colonel Anderson representing the United States Army."

The square-jawed colonel took his cigar out of his mouth and stood up. He then pointed it directly at Pat before he began to speak.

"Listen here, Mr. Huxley. I represent Headquarters United States Army European Command. I'm here in Washington on temporary assignment to the Pentagon. I'm not here to praise the project either, to borrow from what the lady said. I'm here to make damn sure all Army funding for this here SIGMA ONE project is stopped immediately, unless you can show me personally why it shouldn't be!" The colonel stared directly at Pat and lowered his cigar.

Pat's jaw slacked. Funding stopped? That would mean over twenty percent of his budget would be cut. That was unacceptable. Pat now understood the meaning of the previous warning.

Colonel Anderson started again. "In case you're not aware of it, Mr. Huxley, we're at war over in Europe. Now it's not a shootin' war, yet," (his Kentucky accent was thick)" but if we don't match the Reds buildup of conventional forces with increased modernized, mechanized forces, hell, we'll lose before we ever fire a shot. Now you don't want that, do you Mr. Huxley? You don't want to see this proud nation blackmailed by some third rate communist hues, do you?"

He didn't wait for Pat to answer. "Nor do I. That's why they sent me here: to let me judge for myself whether or not I want to risk billions on brainwaves when I could be investin' in bullets."

The alliteration was damnable, Pat thought. Bullets or brainwaves. The colonel was an idiot, but Pat was too smart to be sucked into his childish debate. He knew his position was risky especially with tensions easing in Europe and talks of further conventional arms reductions, but he also knew he could out maneuver the army colonel by simply focusing on extremely complex technical details when he briefed later. The old Kentucky Colonel wouldn't be able to keep up with him in that kind of race. His plan determined, Pat simply nodded and smiled at his adversary.

Pat watched as the colonel sat back down and put the stogy back into his jaw. He was smiling and winked at Pat knowing that at this point he had the upper hand, or at least thought he did. Pat leaned forward on one elbow and returned the wink. Playing poker with this good ole boy would be fun.

Radcliff moved next to the navy man.

"This is Commander Packett, Pat."

The young commander stood up. Pat must have misgauged his age. No way could a man appearing to be in his twenties have achieved the rank of commander. More likely Packett was in his mid-thirties.

"Hello, Mr. Huxley," Packett said coolly. His blue eyes were burning holes through Pat. "I'm here representing the Office of Naval Research, and I’ll be blunt. I'm here to see if your cockamamie Project warrants any more of our agency's money. What you say today will determine that Mr. Huxley. I've read all your reports you submitted so far, and I don't find one bit of scientific evidence that your scheme--or should I say scam--is any closer to fruition now than it will ever be. SIGMA ONE is impossible, in my opinion, and if it were solely up to me, I'd have cancelled it years ago and not wasted any money on it at all. But my predecessors in this job saw it differently and I didn't have a thing to say about it earlier. Now I do. Every dime we spent on it so far could have been better spent by the Navy on its own problems instead of chasing the phantom of the dream you concocted. Ever since the Toshiba incident, our subs have had harder and harder times chasing the Soviet's newer models and our money could have been used to help there rather than on SIGMA ONE. But if you ask me, the Soviet subs aren't the real threat today to the U.S.! The real threat is scientists like you who say they're working for the betterment of mankind, when all they're really doing is feathering their own nests and using government financing to do so!"

Pat was furious. Commander Packett struck a nerve, and to Pat, was a disgrace to the Navy wings he wore. If circumstances were different and SIGMA ONE's success didn't ride on his ability to maintain his composure and tell a convincing story to the committee, he would have decked this bastard. When he was a flyer in Viet Nam years earlier, he had had more than his share of brawls and he wouldn't have any trouble now dealing with Packett. But now was not the time. He clenched his fists under the podium out of sight of everyone while he tried to regain his composure.

But his temper got the better of him and he had to make some sort of reply so he blurted, "Commander, whether or not you believe in SIGMA ONE'S viability doesn't matter one iota to me!" (It did, but he didn't want the commander to know it.)

He continued. "You say you've read our reports and it’s your opinion that we're no closer to realizing our goals today than we were five years ago. Well, let me tell you this commander, it's not just your opinion that counts. Many minds far superior to yours have spent years researching the viability of this project, and your opinion doesn't hold water. Granted, the reports you have read say that progress has been slow, but the most recent reports we have published indicate a ten-fold acceleration in our activities toward achieving the goals of SIGMA ONE. This progress is so recent, it hasn't been released to the full committee as yet. Why only today, I reviewed the final draft of the report and had it delivered to the senator's office before I came here. And that's why I'm here now, to give you and the other members a summary of that progress."

Pat began to speak slower to add emphasis to his next words. "And as far as feathering our own nest, Packett, let me add, my staff, just like your navy scientists, is highly dedicated. And I won't sit here and have you degrade their integrity by innuendo!"

Packett appeared stunned. Apparently he didn't expect Pat to reply so forcefully, so when Radcliff motioned for him to sit down he did without saying a word. As he sat, he did, however, utter a loud "harrumph" to show his indignity.

After this, Radcliff ignored Packett's disgust and moved around the room to the Air Force general.

"Pat, I'm sure this gentleman needs no introduction," Radcliff said referring to the man seated before him.

Pat recognized the man immediately as General Kurt Lassiter, currently assigned as deputy commander of the Air Force's Office of Policy and Analysis. It was Lassiter's office which first advised the President on acceptance of the Soviet's recent show of good faith by destroying some of their short-range missiles in Eastern Europe, prompting him to give orders to destroy our own. Lassiter later made notoriety when he reversed his position based on intelligence reports that indicated the Soviets were actually not destroying their missiles, but had devised an elaborate scheme of deception and were, instead, destroying mockups. As a result of Lassiter's reversal, scarce funding was diverted from the Strategic Defense Initiative to rebuild our defensive posture in Europe. The newscasters made a hay day of that. Riots broke out in the streets of Europe as the first of the new missiles were installed, and as a result, Lassiter became a national hero of sorts. There was even recent speculation that because of this popularity, that he might even be considering running for public office after he retired from the military within the next year.

Yes, Pat knew of Lassiter's reputation. But he didn't know how Lassiter stood on SIGMA ONE.

Pat cordially introduced himself. "General, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

The general didn't stand as the others had previously. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, folded his hands behind his neck and put his feet arrogantly up on the table before he began to speak.

By his gestures, Pat realized immediately Lassiter was all the press had written about him--a pompous, self-confident ass.

Lassiter unfolded his hands from behind his head and stared up at the ceiling before beginning.

"Well Mr. Huxley, I suppose you know how I feel about research and development money being spent on defensive weapons."
He didn't, but he was sure the general would soon tell him.

"I think it's one god damned waste of money. That's what I think!" Lassiter looked over at the other servicemen to garner their concurrence. Commander Packett and Colonel Anderson smiled in agreement only to have their smiles change to deep concern when he continued.

"But Mr. Huxley, Pat....I mean...You don't mind if I call you Pat, do you?"

Pat shook his head.

"As I was saying, Pat, I may feel like spending money on defenses instead of offense weaponry is a waste of money, but, if SIGMA ONE is able to produce as you've advertised it can, the political consequences of such a success could be phenomenal.”

Pat didn't understand and spoke up. "What do you mean, general?"

Lassiter folded his arms arrogantly in front of him.

"Simple, Pat. If SIGMA ONE works, and I can be the one to make it public, then I stand to gain considerable momentum in the upcoming elections."

This last comment disturbed both Radcliff and Pat alike. The project had been set up as a secret organization for the joint purposes of protecting its sources of funds and to safeguard its progress from the rest of the world. If the Soviets even suspected the existence of such a project, much less read about it in the press, it just might give them the incentive to work harder to counter U.S. initiatives. That's why it was being held so closely and why what the general said was so disturbing to them both. The consequences of making the project public, as Lassiter was suggesting, was nothing short of treasonous.

Radcliff was visibly perturbed and beat Pat to the punch, speaking up first. "General Lassiter, may I remind you, you've been sworn to secrecy as all the rest of us have regarding SIGMA ONE. You, more than anyone, should respect the meaning of that. Your political aims are secondary to the project and I personally won't stand for any more of this. Do you understand me?"

Lassiter rolled his eyes back in their sockets at this admonishment, but when Radcliff saw his words clearly didn't faze the general in the slightest, he added ones that would. "And if you have even the smallest inclination of challenging this position, let me remind you that I have the authority to have you arrested, immediately stripped of your rank and all retirement benefits. You'll end up far worse than Oliver North. The President himself has promised me this. Now do you understand?"

Sheepishly, Lassiter nodded his head even though he wasn't convinced the senator had any power over him at all. His career goals were far more important to him than the threat of losing his rank, and he wasn't about to let any pork-bellied politician stand in his way. The sheepish smile he gave was for show only, given to make the senator think he'd acquiesced. Hell, he wasn't going to make SIGMA ONE public anyway, not at least until he knew it was successful.

Radcliff eyed the general. He wasn't convinced he had made himself understood, but he let it drop for the time being. The time he and Pat had with the committee was short. He'd deal with the general later in private.

Radcliff then moved back around the table, passing behind Lassiter, Packett and Anderson, stopping directly behind the scientist he had skipped earlier.

"And this, Pat, is Dr. Andrew Salinger, chief scientist at NASA's Advanced Computing Center."

Salinger looked the part of a mad, escaped German rocket scientist to Pat. To the other members of the committee, he was likely believed to be present to challenge the technical feasibility on which the project was based. No matter, Pat knew Salinger was hand-picked by Radcliff to lend credibility to the project, not to detract from it. They had prearranged this earlier.

Salinger stood up, ground his cigarette into the ashtray before him and stared over his Benjamin Franklin glasses before beginning to speak.

"Good morning, Herr Huxley." he said in a thick German accent.

Pat replied, "Good morning, Doctor."

Salinger turned to the other members. "Good morning gentlemen, and you Ms. Robinson. Most of you, I don't know and I'm sure you don't know me either or vy I am here. Vell, I will tell you. I'm here at the request of Senator Radcliff. My organization, NASA, like your own, is contributing to SIGMA ONE, but let me make one thing perfectly clear: Vee, too, are feeling the budgetary pinch. Vee, too, could perhaps prefer to have our monies not bled away by parasitic projects such as you think SIGMA ONE is. But, vee, gentlemen and Ms. Robinson, unlike yourselves, see SIGMA ONE's potential, not for its obvious military applications, but for its not-so-obvious application to NASA's long term mission itself."