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Dodgers wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin beside his plate。 〃Tomorrow。〃 He nodded at everyone except Grafton and departed。
When the door had firmly closed behind the inventor； Caplinger remarked； 〃Senator； what will happen on the Hill if it bees mon gossip that the father of Athena is a fascist churl？〃
〃You'll be in trouble。 That man couldn't sell water in Death Valley on the Fourth of July。〃
〃My thought exactly。 We'll have to make sure he stays out of sight and sound。 Little difficult to do in America； but not impossible。〃 He grinned。 When he did his face twisted。 It didn't look like he made the effort very often。 〃So how do the elephant's feet look； Captain？〃
Jake Grafton reached for the coffeepot。 〃I confess； sir； that I'm baffled。 Seems to me that these new weapons systems under development； with the sole exception of Athena； are going to be too expensive for the nation ever to afford enough of them to do any good。〃
All traces of the smile disappeared from Caplinger's face。 〃Go on。〃
〃As the cost goes up； the quantity goes down。 And every technical breakthrough seems to double or triple the cost。 If anything； Athena will be the exception that proves the rule。 Athena should be a fairly cheap system； all things considered； but it'll be the only one。〃
〃And。。。〃 prompted the Secretary of Defense。
〃Well； if our goal is to maintain forces which deny the Soviets any confidence in a favorable oute in any probable nuclear war scenario； we seem to have reached the treadmill。 We can't maintain forces if we can't afford them。〃
〃You made a rather large assumption。〃
〃So what is our goal？〃
〃The general public regards nuclear war as unwinnable。 That's the universal popular wisdom； and like anything that almost everyone believes； it's wrong。 The Soviets have invested heavily in hardened bunkers for the top leadership。 They've built underground cities for the munist elite。 Somebody over there thinks they can win！ Now their idea of victory and ours are two very different things； but as long as they think they can win； the likelihood of a nuclear war increases。 Nuclear war bees more likely to happen。〃
Caplinger glanced at the senator； then turned his attention back to Jake。 He seemed to be weighing his words。 〃Our goal；〃 he finally said； 〃is to prevent nuclear war。 To do that we must make them think they can't win。〃
〃So you are saying that any method of denying the Russians confidence in a favorable oute…however they define favorable…is acceptable？〃
Caplinger tugged at his lower lip。 His eyes were unfocused。 Jake thought he seemed to be turning it over in his mind yet again； examining it for flaws； looking。。。 Slowly the chin dipped； then rose again。 〃We need。。。〃 His gaze rose to the ceiling and went slowly around it。 〃We need。。。 we need forces that can survive the initial strike and respond in a flexible manner； forces that are controllable； programmable； selective。 It can't be all or nothing； Captain。 It can't be just one exchange of broadsides。 If all we have is that one broadside； we just lost。〃
〃Explain；〃 prompted Senator Duquesne…
〃We'll never shoot our broadside。 That's the dirty little secret that they know and we know and we will never admit。 No man elected President of the United States in the nuclear age would order every ICBM fired； every Trident missile launched； every nuclear weapon in our arsenal detonated on the Soviets。 Not even if the Soviets make a massive first strike at us。 To massively retaliate would mean the end of life on the planet Earth。 No rational man would do it。〃 Caplinger shrugged。 〃That's the flaw in Mutual Assured Destruction。 No sane man would ever push the button。〃
Royce Caplinger sipped his coffee； now cold； and made a face…
〃We must deny the munists the ability to ever e out of those bunkers。 We need the ability to hit pinpoint； mobile targets on a selective； as…needed basis。 That's the mission of the F…l 17 and the B…2。 If we can achieve that； there will never be a first strike。 There will never be a nuclear war。〃
Caplinger pushed his chair back away from the table。 〃Life will continue on this planet until pollution ruins the atmosphere and sewage makes the seas a barren； watery desert。 Then life on this fragile little pebble orbiting this modest star will e to the end that the Creator must nave intended when he made man。 Watching our Japanese televisions； listening to our pact laser disks； wearing our designer clothes； we'll all starve。〃
He rose abruptly and made for the door。 Jake Grafton also got to his feet。 When the door closed behind Caplinger； Jake shook the senator's hand and wished him good night。
〃He's a great man；〃 the senator said； trying to read Jake's thoughts。
〃Yes。〃
〃But he is not sanguine。 The political give…and…take…it depresses him。〃
〃Yes；〃 Jake Grafton said； and nodded his farewell。 Suddenly he too needed to be alone。
On Monday morning Jake put Secretary Caplinger； Senator Duquesne； and their aides on a plane to Fallen with Helmut Fritsche and Harold Dodgers。 He had decided to stay at China Lake and supervise the good doctor。
Sam Dodgers was in a foul mood； muttering darkly about money and conspiracies。 Jake managed to keep his mouth shut。 When the Athena device was ready and installed in the A…6； he helped strap Rita Moravia and Toad Tarkington into the cockpit。 Toad was whistling some tune Jake didn't recognize。
〃No birds today。 Okay？〃
〃Whatever you say； boss。〃 Toad was in high spirits。 Higher than usual。 He must be screwing Moravia； Jake decided； trying to catch some hint between them。 The pilot was all business。
〃Work the long distances today。 Start at thirty miles and let Fritsche call you closer when he has the info he wants。 Just keep the radar he's using on your left side。〃
〃Sure； CAG。 We understand。〃 He resumed his whistling as Jake helped him latch his Koch fittings。
〃You know who whistles in the navy； Toad？〃
〃No； sir；〃
〃Bosun's mates and damn fools。〃
Toad grinned。 〃I'm in that second category； sir。 Enjoy your day with Dr。 Dodgers。〃
Jake punched him on the shoulder and climbed down the boarding ladder。
As the Intruder taxied out； Jake climbed into the yellow ramp truck that the base ops people had loaned him。 He had no desire to return to the hangar and watch Dodgers tinker with a puter。
He drove down a taxiway and parked near the duty runway。 He got out and sat on the hood。 Already the morning was warm； growing hotter by the minute as the sun climbed higher and higher into the deep blue sky。 Singing birds were audible here； away from the hustle and bustle of the ramp。 A large jackrabbit watched him from the safety of a clump of brush。
He could hear the faint murmur of engines in the distance； and assumed that was Rita and Toad。 The minutes passed as he sat there in the sun with the breeze in his hair。 He had joined the navy those many years ago to fly； and now he was reduced to sitting beside a runway waiting for younger people to take off。 Yet this was the world he knew。 The world Royce Caplinger had spoken of last night…nuclear deterrence； global tragedy…that was an alien environment； as foreign to him as the concerns of headhunters in the jungles of the Amazon。
He saw the tiny tail of the warplane moving above the swell in the runway。 It turned and became a knife edge。 Still at least a mile away； the visible tail came to a stop and remained motionless for several minutes。
Caplinger's pessimism troubled him。 Sure； the world had its problems； but every generation had faced problems： problems were the stuff life was made of。 A man as brilliant as Caplinger； he shouldn't be so。。。 so bitter。
He heard the engines snarl； yet the tiny white speck of tail did not move。 No doubt Rita was standing on the brakes； letting the engines wind up to full power and the temps stabilize before she let it roll。 Now。。。 now the tail began to move； slowly at first； then faster and faster。
The Intruder came over the swell in the runway accelerating quickly。 A river of hot； shimmering air poured down and away behind the bird。
He pressed his fingers in his ears as the sound swelled in volume and intensity。 The nose wheel rose a foot or so above the concrete。 With a delicate wiggle the bird of prey lifted itself free of the earth and continued toward him in a gentle climb as the wheels retracted into the body of the beast。 The howl of the engines grew until it was intolerable。
Now the machine was passing just overhead； roaring a thunderous song that enveloped him with an intensity beyond imagination。 He glimpsed the helmeted figure of Rita Moravia in the cockpit with her left hand on the throttles； looking forward； toward the open sky。
He buried his face in his shoulder as the plane swept past and waves of hot jet exhaust and disturbed air cascaded over him。
When the gale subsided the noise was fading too； so he looked again for the Intruder。 It was climbing steeply into the blue ocean above； its engine noise now a deep； resonant； subsiding roar。
He got down from the truck hood and seated himself behind the wheel。 The birds in the scrub were still singing and the jackrabbit was still watching suspiciously。
Grinning to himself； Jake Grafton started the engine of the pickup and drove away。
18
The day Terry Franklin died was a beautiful day； 〃the finest day this year〃 according to a TV weatherman on one of Washington's local breakfast shows。 The sun crept over the edge of the earth into a cloudless sky as a warm； gentle zephyr from the west stirred the new foliage。 The weather reader promised a high temperature of seventy…four。 Humidity was low。 This was the day everyone had dreamed of while they endured the cold； humid winter and the wet； miserable spring。 Now； at last； it was here。 And on this day sent from heaven Terry Franklin died。
He certainly didn't expect to die today； of course； or any other day in the foreseeable future。 For him this was just another day to be endured； another day to live through on his way to the life of gleeful indolence he was earning with his treason。
He awoke when his alarm went off。 If he beard the birds singing outside his window he showed no sign。 He used his electric razor on his face and gave his teeth a very quick pass with the cordless toothbrush he received for Christmas from his kids； whom he hadn't seen or heard from for three weeks and； truthfully； hoped he wouldn't hear from。 If he heard from the kids he would also hear from Lucy； and she would want money。 He assumed that she was back in California with her mother； the wicked witch of the west。 If so； Lucy didn't need any money： her father the tooth mechanic could pay the grocery bill and buy the kids new shoes。
He put on his uniform while the coffee brewed。 The coffee he drank black； just the way he had learned to like it on his first cruise； which he had made to the Med aboard a guided…missile frigate。
He paused automatically on the front stoop and looked around for the morning newspaper； then remembered that there wouldn't be one and pulled the door closed and tried it to ensure it was locked。 He had canceled the paper a week after Lucy left。 He never read it and Lucy only scanned the front page and read the funnies。 She always wanted it for the crossword puzzle； which she worked every morning while watching Oprah。 Twenty…five cents a day for a fucking crossword puzzle。 He had relished that call to the circulation office。
The Datsun started on the first crank。 He backed out of the drive and roiled down his window as he drove toward the stop sign at the corner。 He fastened his seat belt； punched up the Top 40 station on the stereo and rolled。 He only had three miles to go to the Park'N'Ride； but still he enjoyed the private tittle world of his car。 These few minutes in the car； with the music he liked adjusted to the volume he liked； he cherished as the best part of the day。
He hadn't heard from the Russians since his talk with that Yuri fellow； and he had mixed emotions about that。 In a way it was quite pleasant not sweating drop trips or clandestine puter time or the slim chance of being searched leaving the Pentagon。 Yet every day that went by without a call was another day he had to waste on his dreary； humdrum job； on this humdrum bus ride； on th