Code 13 (19 page)

OFFICE OF THE COMMANDER

U.S. NAVY DRONE COMMAND

E-RING

THE PENTAGON

WEDNESDAY MORNING

Captain Paul Kriete walked down the long corridor of the E-Ring of the Pentagon, passing the office of the Secretary of Defense on his right. The clicks of his white uniform shoes echoed off the wide tile floor as he reached the next angled bend, just past SECDEF's offices.

A moment later, he turned through a large double-door office on the left.

“Attention on deck!” the new command master chief in the newly formed U.S. Navy Drone Command barked. Four officers and three enlisted men jumped to immediate attention as the commander of the U.S. Navy Drone Command walked into the room.

“Everybody at ease,” Paul said.

“Welcome aboard, sir.”

“Sir, welcome aboard.”

“Good to be here, everybody. Now, let's get to work. What have we got on the agenda? Commander Wong?” He looked over at a short Navy commander with Asian features. The commander wore the wings of a U.S. Navy pilot and had been assigned as Paul's second in
command at Drone Command, the functional equivalent of the executive officer on board a ship.

“Sir,” Wong said, “the first thing I see on our schedule is a written brief for you from the Secretary of the Navy outlining our proposed operational sharing between the Navy and Homeland Security in Project Blue Jay.”

“Between the Navy and what?” Paul said.

“Between the Navy and Homeland Security.”

“What are you talking about, Wong?”

“I'm sorry, sir. I forgot that you'd not been briefed on that portion of the project, Captain.”

“Come into my office, Wong. And bring that report.”

“Aye, sir.”

Paul stepped from the foyer area of the offices back into his new but basic-looking personal office, complete with a window view of the outside alley separating the E-Ring and D-Ring of the Pentagon. He had not yet taken time to, nor did he care to, decorate. No diplomas or military commissions on the wall. No photographs of himself and all the admirals for whom he had worked.

He wasn't much on “I love me” walls and would get to all that stuff later. Right now, his new chief of staff had piqued his curiosity. And he didn't like the direction of the pique.

“Have a seat, Commander.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So . . .” Paul sat for the first time behind his new desk. “What were you saying about Homeland Security?”

“Yes, sir. As you will see from the briefing papers, for political reasons, there is a proposal that the Navy and Homeland Security share operational control of the drones operated under Operation Blue Jay. The Navy would have ultimate control, and you would, of course, remain overall commander. Homeland Security would assume operational control over the drones operating over domestic areas of the United States, while we assume operational control at sea.”

Paul shook his head. “You've got to be kidding me, Commander.”

“I wish I could say I am, Captain. Homeland Security has been pushing hard on all the political buttons here, because they feel trying to sell a drone project to Homeland Security for purposes of conducting domestic surveillance would run into trouble getting passed by Congress.”

“I could see why.”

“So they want to piggyback in under a drone contract sold to the Navy, which they think has a better chance of passing in Congress.”

Paul shook his head. “I love last-second surprises.”

“I don't know what their thinking was in not telling you until you arrived, sir. But I know they're trying to keep a lid on the Homeland Security part and emphasize the Navy part of the operational plan. But the Homeland Security component has been the most controversial part of the internal debate. In fact, as I understand it, Navy JAG here at the Pentagon is expected to deliver a legal opinion to the Secretary evaluating the Homeland Security component.”

Paul looked at Wong. “JAG?” His mind moved to Caroline.

“Yes, sir.”

“
The
Admiral Brewer himself?”

“They've assigned it to Code 13 here in the Pentagon. Last I heard Admiral Brewer was waiting on the opinion.”

“Interesting. We just had a JAG officer transfer to Code 13 from San Diego who was doing a ton of work on my ship getting us ready to deploy.”

“Well, sir, maybe he'll be able to give us some insight on what they're thinking.”

“Not he. She.”

“I see, sir.”

“Anyway, let me see that briefing paper.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Paul opened the yellow envelope and extracted the three-page, top-secret briefing paper, titled “Operation Blue Jay—Joint U.S. Navy–Homeland Security Operational Plan.”

Paul read down the brief, outlining the plan to give the Navy
ultimate operational control over Blue Jay but to “loan” Navy drones to Homeland Security, under ultimate Navy authority, for “domestic surveillance operations.”

The more he read, the more he felt his blood boil. Finally he tossed the memo down on his desk. “Are these people crazy, Charlie? What kind of horse-manure proposal is this?”

Wong adjusted his glasses. “Homeland Security has their lobbyists, Captain. On the political front, the Navy Legislative Affairs Office tells us the Republicans in Congress would favor allocation for drones to the Navy but would be reluctant to purchase them for Homeland Security. With the Democrats, it's the opposite. They spend tons on Homeland Security but want military budget cuts.

“Right now, as you know, the Democrats control the senate and the Republicans control the House. So I'm told that to make this fly politically, we've got to throw in the Homeland Security component.”

Paul shook his head again. Why wasn't he informed about the proposed Homeland Security component when he was ordered to take this job? Of course, he already knew. That was the Navy way—keep a lid on things until there was an absolute need to know.

What could he do about it anyway? Walk into the Secretary of the Navy's office and pick an argument based on philosophical grounds? Bottom line, as a naval officer, he was duty-bound to obey the orders of his superiors and to go where the Navy ordered. But still . . .

“Charlie, why do I feel like I need to take a hot shower?”

Wong smiled. “I understand, sir. If it makes you feel any better, and I'm sure it won't, the general consensus on the Navy side of the house is just like yours. There's not a lot of appetite for sharing anything with Homeland Security. But it's all about politics.”

“I hate politics and I hate politicians. I should have stayed with my ship.”

Wong laughed. “Unfortunately, sir, Washington's full of politics and politicians.”

“Roger that, Charlie. The largest cesspool of rats in the country.” He picked up the memo again. “So as a practical matter, how the heck is this going to work?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I'm supposed to take you down to Pax River tomorrow for a joint demonstration flight of one of the drones. As you know, Pax River will be the operational command headquarters for the Navy's East Coast drone ops, with San Diego the operational headquarters for West Coast ops. The Homeland Security operators will be on base, and we'll launch from Pax River, swing out over the coastal waters, then fly inland over Washington and bring the bird back into Pax River. We should be able to get a feel for how it will work then.”

“Sounds like we're going to have to have both Navy operators and Homeland Security operators in the same operational facility.”

“Yes, sir, which is the reason for part of the controversy. But I think we'll get a better feel for it tomorrow.”

“Okay, Charlie. May as well make the best of it. Where'd you say that hot shower was?”

“I didn't, sir. But it's down in the locker room.”

CHAPTER 13

BASEMENT

D-RING

THE PENTAGON

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON

Wearing her summer white officer's uniform and smelling French fries, Caroline walked past the short-order grill in the basement of the D-Ring. That told her the Code 13 spaces were somewhere in the area.

Today marked only the second time she had been in the building, and frankly, the endless corridors that all looked the same, except for the upper decks of the E-Ring, made for a confusing morass that would take some getting used to.

She made the turn at the next corridor. The sign to her left on the wall proclaimed “Navy JAG Code 13—Administrative Law.”

She checked to make sure her belt buckle was aligned, her medals were aligned properly, and there were no runs in her hose. Today she would stop in, say hello to the captain, meet a few of her fellow officers, and return to administrative matters inherent in a permanent change of duty.

Friday would mark her first day on the job. Today she would see P.J.

A dual sense of anxiety and excitement pervaded her on both accounts.

She put her hand on the door and then saw she needed the security code.

“Oh, that's right.” She had forgotten. Her sponsor had told her about the security code and in fact had provided it to her in her welcome packet.

“What did I do with that thing?”

She stepped back, away from the door, because she didn't want anyone to see her fidgeting in her purse.

There.

4-2-1-2.

She stepped back to the door and punched the code.

The locks unlatched, and she pushed the door open.

“Afternoon, ma'am.”

The Code 13 command master chief, LNCM Richard Magadia, sat at the duty desk just inside the door.

“Afternoon, Master Chief. I'm Lieutenant Commander Caroline McCormick.”

“Oh yes, ma'am.” The master chief's eyes brightened. “We're expecting you Friday, as I recall.”

“That's right, Master Chief. I'm visiting the captain today and then hopefully going on a little run with Commander MacDonald.”

“Yes, ma'am,” the graying master chief said. “Most of our officers are out right now for PT or lunch. But the commander and Captain Guy are here. Let me take you back to the captain, and then we'll find Commander MacDonald.”

“Great, Master Chief. Let's do it.”

“Right this way, ma'am.” Caroline stepped in behind the master chief, and as she followed toward the captain's office, she sensed someone staring at her. She glanced to her left as they reached the captain's office.

A redheaded female lieutenant with fiery green eyes hit her with a stare that screamed first-degree murder. Then she looked down at her desk just as Caroline heard Captain Guy's voice.

“Commander McCormick. Welcome aboard.” Her new skipper
stood, extending his hand for a warm handshake. “I thought you were reporting on Friday.”

“I am, sir. I wanted to stop by and say hello, and then Commander MacDonald is going to take me out for a run.”

“Oh, that's right.” Guy's eyes lit like a lightbulb had turned on. “You and P.J. were at RLSO San Diego together.”

“Yes, sir. We used to PT along the San Diego waterfront, and the commander offered to show me this famous running route across Memorial Bridge over into the District that everybody's talking about.”

“Great run. I think you'll enjoy it.”

“I'm looking forward to it, sir. And I plan to be in first thing Friday morning to report officially.”

Guy's phone buzzed. “Captain Guy, Admiral Brewer is on line one.”

“Excuse me, Commander. Duty calls.”

“See you Friday, sir.”

They stepped out of the office. Caroline noticed the redhead's laser-beam stare again.

She was distracted when a smiling, handsome young officer, wearing the shoulder boards of a Navy lieutenant and who could have passed for Tom Cruise, walked up from another direction. “Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm Lieutenant Ross Simmons. I'm over in 133. Welcome aboard.”

The master chief interjected, “The lieutenant works with Commander MacDonald over in our legislative affairs subcode. He's just been deep selected for lieutenant commander.”

“Congratulations, Lieutenant,” Caroline said. “I'll look forward to working with you.”

“My pleasure, ma'am. Commander MacDonald speaks highly of you, and we look forward to having you at Code 13. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm headed out to PT.”

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.” Simmons walked away. She looked at the master chief. “Speaking of Commander MacDonald, where is he, Master Chief?”

“Right this way, ma'am.”

“Did I hear a familiar voice calling my name?”

She caught a whiff of his Geoffrey Beene cologne, a fragrance that tantalized her, even before she saw that irresistibly appealing face.

She wanted to hug him. But that would breach military protocol and professionalism, especially at the Pentagon.