“I agree, but we have what you might call it a visibility problem.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“I mean, over the past few years you’ve developed into something of a media darling, Amanda.” She could hear a hint of frustration creeping into MacIntyre’s voice. “Thanks to Drake’s Passage, China and North Africa, you’ve become something of a celebrity.”
Amanda felt her jaw drop. “A celebrity? Me? Admiral, I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”
MacIntyre sounded grimly amused once more. “You should. You’re a very attractive young woman who also happens to be a world class war hero.
You are made for newsbytes. You may not be aware of it, Amanda, but CNN and the
other infonets have you red-flagged as a permanent person of interest and they
track you wherever you go. That includes the Indonesian archipelago.”
“Oh, damn, damn, damn!” Amanda viewed the members of the media in the same way she did strawberries. She was allergic to them both.
“We’d originally intended to ease you over to the Phantom command after cooking up
some innocuous and dull on-the-beach assignment for you to disappear into,” MacIntyre continued. “As it is, we’re going to have to cook up some other justification for detaching you
prematurely from your current assignment. Possibly we’ll have to fake some health or personal problems. Something that will let us
ease you out of sight without too many questions being asked. If some of your
current ‘Band of Brothers’ disappear at the same time, people might start asking questions about where you’ve all hauled off to. That could compromise the whole project.”
Once more, Amanda ran her hand through her damp hair. Elliot was right, of course – but that didn’t reduce her need for her people. Again her mind sprang ahead, assessing and adapting.
To convert a negative into a positive. To turn a disadvantage into an advantage. That had been a pet tactic that had served her well many times before.
“Admiral,” she said, deep in thought, “I think I might have a way to solve a number of our problems simultaneously.”
“Already?”
“I don’t have the time to lollygag,” she replied wryly. “I have to start being brilliant immediately.”
She outlined her resolution to both her visibility and personnel problems and rode out the explosion at the other end of the circuit.
“It’s my career to throw away, sir,” she said finally. “I’ve seen you work miracles with the Bureau of Personnel before. I trust in you to
cook up something this time. And if it doesn’t work out, well, Phantom will be as good a capper for my time in the navy as I
could ask for.”
“Besides,” she mused, tilting her chair back, “it was pointed out to me a little while ago that we aren’t going to get at Makara Harconan until he does something stupid. Maybe this
will encourage a little stupidity on his part as well.”
Office of the Washington Post
Washington D.C.
1021 Hours; Zone Time, September 24, 2008
Reporter Ethan Smart ran a hand through his thinning hair and scowled down at the meager handful of notes scattered across his desktop. For once, the Washington beat was running cold. The single potential lead he’d been dogging all morning, a totally nowhere piece on malfeasance in Midwestern farm subsidies, had just flamed out.
The murmur of telephone conversation and the subdued clatter of word processor
keys issuing from the surrounding cubicles in the newsroom only enhanced his
sense of frustration, if not desperation. He had a deadline thundering down on
him and a very unforgiving editor whose battle cry was, “If you can’t find news, then make it!”
His desk phone rang and the reporter scooped up the handset without enthusiasm. “Smart here.”
The voice at the other end of the line was feminine, hushed and nervous. “Mr. Smart, my name is … Well, never mind my name for now. I think I may have something, a story you’ll be interested in.”
“That depends,” Smart replied laconically, wondering if he was dealing with yet another of the
nutcases who plagued the media, especially the Washington Post. “What do you have?”
“I’m a civilian employee at the Pentagon, attached to the office of the Joint
Chiefs of Staff. A big fuss has broken out about something that’s happened recently in Indonesia. A senior officer is going before a Board of
Inquiry that could lead to a court-martial. Because of who’s involved, they’re trying to keep it quiet.”
Smart came out of his slouch. “Who is involved?” he asked cautiously.
“The commanding officer of the task force we have down there. Captain Amanda
Garrett.”
Smart’s spine went ramrod straight. “Are you sure about this?”
“I am,” the voice replied. “I even have copies of some of the memos and documents.”
Oh, those lovely, lovely words.
“Can you give me some idea what they say?”
“They don’t go into a lot of detail but they mention, ‘dereliction of duty and conduct unbecoming to an officer.’”
This woman might be a nutcase but she was a nutcase Smart definitely wanted to
talk to. “Look, can I meet with you somewhere? I’d like to have a look at those documents and talk with you about this further.”
“All right, all right. I left early today. I told them I had a dentist’s appointment. I could meet you at the Denny’s at exit 29 on the Beltway. Would that all right?”
“Great! I can be there in an hour, Miss …”
There was a final hesitation. “Dewarshnick, Susan Dewarshnick. I hope you understand that I’m doing this because I really think the truth needs to come out, Mr. Smart – but I’ve had some family expenses lately …”
“Not a problem, Miss Dewarshnick,” Smart replied, smoothly taking his Post checkbook out of his desk drawer and
tucking it in his jacket pocket. “How will I recognize you?”
“I have dark hair and I’ll be wearing a red blouse and black skirt. You won’t have to use my name, will you? It would cost me my job.”
“Of course not, Miss Dewarshnick. You’ll just be one of our ‘informed sources.’ I’ll see you shortly.”
Smart hung up the phone, his day suddenly brighter. Amanda Lee Garrett of US Naval Special Forces had been one of the premier news figures of the past decade.
Smart checked out of the newsroom, the sweet siren song of the Pulitzer Prize singing in his ears.
