Code 13 (20 page)

Her heart raced in her chest.

“Long time no see, stranger.” She blurted the only thing she could muster, unable to suppress her smile. “Where is everybody?”

“Everybody is either out to lunch or still at the gym or on a run. Only ones in right now are me, Captain Guy, the master chief, and Lieutenant Fladager.”

“Well, are you going to introduce me to your friend, P.J.?” The ice-cold voice came from over her shoulder. Caroline turned, and there stood the gorgeous redhead, flashing a superficially fake smile, casting a stare that burned with apparent anger.

“Uh, yes. Excuse me.” Squeamishness saturated P.J.'s voice. “Lieutenant Commander Caroline McCormick, meet Lieutenant Victoria Fladager. Victoria is an action officer in our Ethics Division, Subcode 132.”

“Nice to meet you, Victoria,” Caroline said.

“And likewise. A pleasure to meet you, ma'am.”

“Please, call me Caroline.” She extended her hand.

“Yes, ma'am.” Victoria shook Caroline's hand with a handshake that felt as cold as an ice cube.

What was up with this lieutenant? Wait a minute.
Could she and P.J. be . . .?
Caroline dismissed that thought.

“Anyway,” P.J. interjected, “since we're all going to be working together, I volunteered to take Caroline out on our jogging route.”

“Oh, I see.” The lieutenant cut her eyes at P.J. “That's very nice of P.J. to volunteer to take you out. He's a hospitable guy. But, P.J., I'm surprised you have time to PT today, with your big paper due to the Secretary tomorrow.”

“Well, I—”

“You know, I've been trying to get P.J. out on the running circuit
all week, but he's been bogged down with this sensitive project. So I'm not sure how you convinced him, ma'am.”

“Please,” Caroline said. “It's okay to call me Caroline. I'm sure you'll be picked up for Lieutenant Commander soon anyway.” She looked at P.J. “From what I hear, Code 13 pretty much guarantees it.”

“Thank you, Caroline.” She looked at P.J. “Say, P.J., if you're in a big-time jam today because your opinion letter's due tomorrow, I'll be glad to take the commander out for a run.” Victoria shifted her eyes back and forth between P.J. and Caroline. Something was going on here. “I'm sure the commander and I could spend the time getting to know each other.”

“Thanks, Victoria.” P.J. looked guilty. “But the opinion letter's almost ready to go. In fact, I've got two different letters ready to go, so all the work has been done. It might do me some good to get out and run to clear my head.”

Victoria beaded her eyes like a viper ready to strike, all the while smiling coyly. “Well then. I suppose you have a point. Anyway, Caroline and I will have plenty of time to get acquainted.”

“Yes, I'm sure of it.” Caroline forced a smile.

“Well,” P.J. said, “we should be going. I'll be back in an hour.”

“Have fun.” A sarcastic tone.

P.J. opened the door and Caroline, with her purse and a small blue gym bag over her left shoulder, stepped out into the D-Ring. The door to Code 13 shut behind them.

“This way to the locker rooms,” P.J. said, and they turned left, walking in the direction opposite from where she came in. She thought he might comment on the lieutenant's behavior, but he seemed to clam up, clearly uncomfortable with the encounter that had just taken place. Something was up with those two, which was fine with her. After all, she and P.J. had broken up, and they both were free to date whomever.

Whatever. “Okay, here's the ladies' locker room. Meet you in a few.”

“Okay, I won't be long,” she said.

CHAPTER 14

INTERSECTION OF MARYLAND ROUTE 235 AND PEGG ROAD

U.S. NAVAL AIR STATION “PAX RIVER”

GATE 1

LEXINGTON PARK, MARYLAND

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON

Sitting on the peninsula at the convergence of the sparkling blue waters of the Potomac River and Chesapeake Bay, the massive and picturesque Patuxent River Naval Air Station, known as “Pax River” within U.S. Naval circles, provided for the United States the principal base for land-based U.S. Naval air power in the middle Atlantic.

Located sixty-five miles from the center of American military power, the Pentagon, the Pax River Naval Air Station, like the Pentagon, entered service to the U.S.
military
in 1943, in the middle of World War II. But that was about the only commonality between the Pentagon and Pax River.

None of this was lost on Captain Paul M. Kriete, the newly appointed commander of the U.S. Navy Drone Command. The physically chiseled, cleft-chinned captain, who years ago had passed up an appointment to the Coast Guard Academy to pay his own way to Duke, where he entered into the Naval ROTC, looked out the passenger window as the car began to slow on its final approach to the base. His mind raced with thoughts of his action-packed agenda for the day,
even as the Navy lieutenant driving the car that contained Kriete and his chief of staff, Wong, pulled up to the main gate.

Paul exchanged salutes with the SP at the gate, then unloaded on Wong as the staff car rolled through the gate. “Makes a heck of a lot of sense, doesn't it, Wong? You set up the operational command for all these drones here at Pax River but put the commander of the operation back at the Pentagon.”

Wong shook his head as the car rolled through the gate.

“No kidding, Captain. When did anybody in Washington propose solutions that made sense economically?”

“Yeah, well, I've been told they've got the command at the Pentagon for political purposes, until we can get this contract finally approved by Congress. Once that's done, all the operation commands will be at Pax River and San Diego. Right now, Charlie, it looks like we're going to have to put up with a bunch of bull until we can get this baby off the ground.”

“I hear you, sir.”

“Okay, here we are,
gentlemen
,” the driver said.

Paul looked up at the blue sign outside the three-story stucco building.

U.S. NAVY DRONE COMMAND
EAST COAST OPERATIONS
TEMPORARY OPERATIONAL HEADQUARTERS

“Home sweet home,” Paul said. “They should be waiting for us. Let's check it out.”

Paul and his party stepped out of the staff car, and he paused to enjoy the refreshing, salty Chesapeake Bay sea breeze.

For a Navy man, nothing proved more refreshing than taking in the scent of the sea and breathing ocean air deep into his lungs. Already the stark contrast of the sea versus Washington's smells of asphalt and exhaust fumes made him long for his ship.

Perhaps he should have stayed with his ship. Yes, the appointment
was an honor, and yes, it would fast-track him to admiral. But would it be worth it?

Yes, Washington wanted him to take the job. But he had enough seniority as a senior captain that if he had pushed hard enough, they would have passed him over and selected another officer.

He almost told the detailer to find another officer to command the first-ever U.S. Navy Drone Command. After all, he was a ship driver. Not a remote-control airplane pilot.

But he had to make a decision, and in a now-or-never decision that might be his only chance to ascend to admiral, he took the now.

But more than once he had already second-guessed himself.

Would he ever
even
return to sea in command? Or would he trade his love of the ocean for stars on his collar, swanky cocktail parties, and the classic butt-kissing and bull manure that one had to endure to move up in the ranks?

Of course, one redeeming quality might make Washington worth enduring: the most gorgeous blonde he'd ever laid eyes on. And the fact that she wore a naval officer's uniform made her even hotter. And the fact that she was a lawyer wearing a naval officer's uniform shattered the thermometer as far as he was concerned.

Of course, it remained to be seen whether Lieutenant Commander Caroline McCormick would ever give him the time of day. Of course, if she didn't give him the time of day, his Washington tour could prove quite boring and even more regrettable. But he wasn't too worried about that possibility at the moment.

Captain Paul Kriete usually got his way, as Caroline McCormick would soon find out.

That thought made him smile.

Enough daydreaming about her. Time to get back to work.

As they stepped into the entry area of the building, they were greeted with a barrage of sailors and junior officers jumping to attention.

“Attention on deck!”

“Attention on deck!”

“At ease,” Paul said.

“Good afternoon, sir. I'm Master Chief Gonzales, your operations master chief.”

“Master Chief.” Paul nodded.

“Sir, Commander Jefferies sent me down to escort you up to the ops center on the second deck.”

“Very well. Lead the way, Master Chief.”

“Right this way, sir.”

The master chief led the triumvirate into an elevator, where he entered a code and then punched 2.

“The commander's been looking forward to having you aboard, sir, to give you a firsthand idea of what we can do once this drone fleet gets fully developed.”

“I've been looking forward to that myself, Master Chief.”

The elevator stopped and the doors parted. The master chief stepped out and shouted, “Attention on deck!”

Officers and enlisted men jumped to attention at Paul's entrance, with one exception: six middle-aged-looking men, two with potbellies, two more balding, all with short-sleeved white shirts, turned in their chairs, and only one stood. And the one who stood was slowest to get up and showed no semblance of any military bearing.

Homeland Security. Paul's stomach twisted in disgust.

“At ease, gentlemen,” he said.

“Welcome aboard, sir.” A slim, enthusiastic-looking commander approached him with a smile. “I'm Commander John Jefferies. I'm your officer in charge of the East Coast detachment. Glad to have you here, sir.”

Paul extended his hand and discovered Jefferies's handshake proved firm and confident. “So you're the lucky guy who gets to run this place and fly all these drones while I'm back in Washington having to kiss butt and raise money so you'll have more drones to play with.”

Jefferies smiled. “I feel lucky and privileged, sir. But frankly, we're looking forward to the day you can join us out here. That would mean the fleet is up and running as envisioned, and of course, we'd need to expand our personnel to operate that fleet.”

“Okay, Commander,” Paul said, changing the subject. “What are you going to show me today?”

“With pleasure, sir.” Jefferies nodded enthusiastically. “Do you mind if I give you a tour of the ops center as I brief you?”

“Whatever it takes to bring me up to speed.”

“Very well, step this way with me.” He motioned to three officers sitting front and center. “This is our command and control for U.S. Navy ops. As you know, sir, currently the Navy has purchased a total of one hundred drones for our experimental fleet, with fifty of these blue babies stationed here at Pax River and the other fifty stationed at North Island Naval Air Station in San Diego.”

“Technically Coronado,” Paul added. “But no biggie.”

“Yes, sir.” Jefferies nodded. “Anyway, sir, from this command and control center here at Pax River, we can control the drone activity of the fifty drones stationed here at this air station, and we can also control takeoffs, landings, and all operational aspects of the fifty drones flying out over the Pacific from North Island. Not only that, but we can launch and recover drones on both coasts at the same time and monitor live television feeds from both coasts at the same time. All this television feed is being fed into our computer for digital recording, and the computer can also flag areas of concern that we might miss with the human eye. Now, we already have two drones in the air, one over the Pacific and one over the Atlantic, and we'll be demonstrating our capabilities for you momentarily, sir.”

“Impressive, Commander.” Paul smiled.

“Thank you, sir. It's fairly easy through remote control right now, given the small number of drones in our experimental fleet. Once Congress passes the bill authorizing development of the entire fleet, our personnel requirements will explode and we'll be juggling hundreds of balls in the air at the same time.”

“Let's hope I can get you these balls sooner rather than later. JAG's supposed to be taking a look at it in the next day or so, then the legal opinion goes to the Secretary of the Navy and hopefully to Congress and we get the green light.”

“Hopefully, sir. Now, if you'd follow me over to the left side of the
control center.” They stepped over toward the short-sleeved civilians, who finally stood as Paul approached. Not that Paul would expect a civilian to stand. But the one potbelly who stood a moment ago was the first to stand again, and displayed a friendly countenance as he approached Paul. Perhaps the head Homeland Security guy?