A Novel by Phil Rowe

Fall rains pelted noisily against windows of the Board Room at StratoWest's corporate headquarters in the Long Beach area south of Los Angeles. A distinguished looking slightly frail, but fiery-eyed gentleman rose to speak. His snow-white wavy hair contrasted pleasantly with his well-tanned skin and gray business suit. This former WWII bomber pilot is only the second man in the company's history to hold the top job.

"I just left a meeting with the Board of Directors, ladies and gentlemen. It was not a pleasant experience. In no uncertain terms I was told that StratoWest cannot survive the next twelve months unless we win a major contract. Our stock is plunging and the bankers say we don't have much of a credit rating now. I must tell you that there has even been talk of selling the company, all or in part, to our major competitors. This I cannot stomach. We built this company and, by god, we're going to do everything we can to save it."

Murmurs spread throughout the elegantly paneled and furnished boardroom, where the company's chief executive officer, Steven B. Stockman, delivered the unwelcome, but not unexpected, statement. Practically every one of the 16,000 employees of this old-line aircraft manufacturer knew that things were bad and getting progressively worse. Few knew or accepted the reasons why things had gotten so bad. The union knew they had no chance of getting increased wages or benefits under the present conditions.

Stockman continued, "My job, your jobs and those of thousands of our loyal employees stand in serious jeopardy. We've got to do something and damned soon."

Members of the executive staff and senior department heads, all 16 of them, looked a bit frightened. Never in the past 25 years had things looked so bleak. Almost without effort they had garnered a steady stream of government contracts to build airplanes and airplane parts. Medium bombers, small transports and even parts of fighter planes traditionally passed through the design and production facilities of this once-thriving and bustling enterprise. Founded in the latter days of WWII, StratoWest grew steadily during the Korean War era and then throughout the period of the Cold War. Business was always steady and good, until recently.

"The problem, as I see it, is that our competition repeatedly beats us in marketing. It's not that our marketing and sales people aren't trying, it's that we are always a day late and a dollar short in responding to what the government wants. We just aren't getting the advanced signals necessary. By the time that government requests for proposals (RFP) hit the street and we try to respond, we're already six months to a year behind. Our competition has already found out what the Air Force and the Navy really want and have designs in hand, while we are still trying to figure out what the RFP says. With the Cold War and easy contracts behind us, we've got to work smarter and get that essential advanced information sooner."

Nervous executives shifted in their seats. Some shuffled papers in their folios upon the table, while others poured glasses of water from the silver-plated pitchers. Others sat there glumly, simply staring out into space. Stockman wasn't sure that they truly appreciated the gravity of the situation.

Turning to Stewart Sanders, his Vice President of Marketing, seated on his right, Stockman demanded, "Well, Stu? What are you fellows in marketing going to do about this? But, before you answer, I want to tell you all that this is a company-wide problem. I'm not putting the blame solely on Sanders here."

Sanders stood up, looked down at his blank notepad, and then turned to Stockman. "Steve, I agree that we've not always been as quick on the trigger as our competitors in responding to those RFP's. And you're right about them seemingly getting a big jump on us of late, but we're working on it."

"Working on it?" Stockman bellowed. "Just exactly what are we doing to get a handle on things?"

"You don't have to yell, sir," replied the soft-spoken Sanders. "We all know this is serious. Yelling won't solve our problem. New ideas are what we need. My first suggestion is to beef up the team in our Washington office. Sid Sturgess and his people can't cover all the bases with the few people they have. WestAero, for example, has six times the number of people in their D.C. office, not to mention others in Dayton and down at Langley."

"Maybe it's high time that I took a direct hand in marketing's intelligence gathering efforts, in addition to beefing up the Washington office," Stockman replied. And then, turning to Sidney Sturgess, Manager of the Washington office, Stockman added, "Would more people on your team solve this problem, Sid?"

"It would help, Mr. Stockman. It would help a great deal, but frankly we don't have the expertise on board that can establish and work the right contacts. We have good rapport with a number of Congressmen and Senators, as well as some staffers on important committees. But what we really lack are pipelines to those who define and set the future systems requirements. I don't want to minimize the importance of our political friends, but that's only part of the game."

Sam Sargent, the chief financial officer, at the other end of the table, spoke up, "Are you suggesting that we need spies, people who spy on our own government?"

"Yes, in a way, Sam, that's generally what I am suggesting."

"I can't believe that a StratoWest vice president would say such a thing. You can't be serious. Spies?"

"No. I merely attempted to indicate that we need to work on getting the right people in Washington, Dayton and Langley to talk to us, to consult with us on their future needs. We won't get what we need from just those political channels. What we need is access to defense planners and those who determine performance needs ten to fifteen years down the road. We don't have that."

Stockman seemed puzzled at Sid's reply, and immediately shouted, "Damnit, Sid. We don't have ten to fifteen years. We have to get a contract now. Our collective asses are on the line today. Do you have any clues about what programs will be initiated this year?"

Sanders stood up, motioning for the badgered Sturgess to take a seat. "Sir, we have been looking at the trends. We know, for instance, that the Strategic Command has lost much of its clout when it comes to defense spending. Our military posture no longer depends on a long-range bomber fleet. The Soviet threat pretty much ended in the late Reagan era and the years that followed. We know that our military has been transformed to a rapid response, brush fire fighting force, sending its resources to smaller and more localized conflicts. Fighter-bombers and transports are what the Air Force and Army need. Even the Navy has reduced its huge fleet substantially and is emphasizing quick response limited theater operations."

"That's all very interesting, Stu, and nothing we haven't all read about in the Wall Street Journal or the trade press. But it doesn't give us anything specific to get our engineers working on. What in the hell do we know about the next systems to be funded?"

Sargent raised his hand. "May I make a suggestion, sir?"

"Of course. That's why you're all are here, to put on your thinking caps and help me solve this crisis. What's on your mind, Sam?"

"Why don't we go after some subcontract work? We could build wings or fuselage sections for WestAero or other commercial airplane makers. Hell, we're known for being some of the best metal benders in the business. We could even make buses or railroad cars. Why don't we sell that expertise and at least keep the wolves at bay until we land a big airplane contract? Are we too proud to do that?"

Stockman was livid. "I thought you were a StratoWest man, Sam. Damnit, we're a prime contractor, not a damn job shop for our competitors. We built airplanes, not just parts."

"Not true, sir," Sam responded. "Twenty-two percent of our revenues for the past four years have come from making spare parts." Sam knew his facts, for the nattily-dressed CFO had a terrific memory.

"Yeah. That's right, spare parts for StratoWest built airplanes. Not parts for WestAero or any other damn competitor."

"Well, sir. Perhaps it's time we faced reality and swallowed a little pride just to keep the place open and the lights on."

Nobody in the room seemed to have insightful words to offer, so Stockman opted to terminate the meeting, saying on closing, "Stu, I want you and Stan in my office right after lunch. We've got to come up with a plan. None of the others seem to have much to offer, so it's up to us. One o'clock, my office."

Sid and Stu left the plant for lunch and were joined at lunch in a nearby café-brew pub by Stanley Swain, Stu's principal assistant and the one who brought Sid into the company ten years ago. Stan had been offered the Washington post, but turned it down when his wife refused to leave southern California for the east coast. She was totally turned off by weather reports at the time depicting blizzards that shut the city down for a week.

Hanley's was a delightful place for private business meetings. It's elegant brass and mahogany furnishings, accented with deep green velour upholstery and isolated booths, is an ideal place to dine, drink and talk. Extended lunches at Hanley's are commonplace for StratoWest executives and others in the prospering Long Beach area.

"I'll have my usual, Gracie, the Rueben and a tall draft," Sanders declared, as the attractive vivacious waitress took their orders. Stan opted for the garden salad, and Sid chose the soup and salad combo.

"Well, what do you guys think of Stockman's performance this morning?" Stu began.

"It's about what you might expect, for a guy to have just come from a Board meeting. He must have been chewed out royally by those guys," Sid suggested.

"Yeah, that couldn't have been a pleasant experience, but you know I think it's a wake-up call we should have gotten some time ago. Steve should have known it was coming. We really have done a lousy job of getting inside advanced information," Stan added. "We just don't know how to crack those inner circles."

The three sipped their drinks and enjoyed the meal, without any inspired suggestions of what to do. Then Stan asked, "C'mon Sid. Surely you must know some folks in the D.C. area who can get inside the system."

Sid paused, chewing on his salad. "Come to think of it, I just might know a fellow who could be useful. He's a former CIA type. I met him at my monthly poker group, when he filled in for one of the regulars who couldn't make it. Barry, Barry Benson. That's his name."

"What do you know about the guy? And why do you think he could help?" Stu inquired.

"Well, I'm told that Benson once headed up the CIA's efforts to establish contacts with foreign embassy staffers in the D.C. area. He was known to be a highly effective information gatherer, able to make friends easily and win people's confidences. He just might the kind of guy we need, except for one thing."

"Except for what?" Stan pressed.

"As good as Benson is claimed to be, he left the CIA under a cloud. Rumor has it that he misused some money. He likes the good life and spends beyond his means. I heard that he was asked to leave the CIA, five years before retirement. They never convicted him, but his career was suddenly over."

"So? What's he been doing since then?" the now-curious Stu inquired.

"Some of the guys in the poker club tell me that he's now freelancing as a consultant, doing some kind of security work for folks in and around Washington and other places. He seems to travel a lot and is never without his golf clubs, they say. But still everybody say he knows his stuff."

Stu seemed interested and suggested that Sid set up a meeting with Benson. "Why not get him into your office next week, Sid? I'll have Stan fly back there and you fellows can explore the idea of getting Benson, or somebody like him, to help us out."

Stan didn't seem keen on heading to the east coast just to meet some ex-CIA type with a dubious reputation. Yet he had little choice when his boss said go. They agreed that Sid would set something up and then Stan would fly east, even if it meant taking the 'red-eye' on short notice.

Sid cautioned, "Let's not mention this to Stockman until we have met and talked with this Benson fellow and convinced ourselves that he should come out here. We'll look like fools if he turns out to be a jerk."

Back at StratoWest, Stu met briefly with Stockman, just long enough to say that he and Sid were working on some ideas and would get back in a day or two. All Stu said was that Sid might have a lead on a fellow with the right skills. Stockman was preoccupied with several other matters and left it at that.

That night, on the red-eye, Sid headed back to Washington, but not before he talked with a couple friends from the poker club. He passed a message on to Benson that a next-day meeting for lunch would be appreciated. Sid suggested Maxie's, a popular bar and grill in Georgetown.

Leaves blew all about the street as Sid's taxi pulled up in front of Maxie's that colorful Fall day in the nation's capital. A nip in the air hinted that Winter wasn't far off. The green canvas awning over the restaurant's portico flapped noisily.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Sturgess," greeted the owner. "Your luncheon guest is already at your regular table." Sid followed his longtime friend to a corner near the back. "At least the guy is punctual," Sid muttered to himself as he approached the table.

Barry Benson smiled as he greeted his luncheon host. He looked immaculate in his blue blazer, gray trousers and white shirt with regimental striped necktie. Barry is an athletic looking, well-tanned fellow, a good head taller than the five-foot nine Sid Sturgess. Sid noticed that right away as Barry stood to shake hands. Barry's grip was firm, yet friendly and not so hard as to seem threatening.

"A couple of your poker pals said you wanted to talk," Barry began.

Sid noticed that Barry already had an emptied martini glass at his place, when the waiter came by to take drink orders. "I'll have just coffee, but my friend here might enjoy another of those, a martini Mr. Benson?"

"Ah no. Thanks. One is my limit in the middle of the day. I'll have coffee too, please." The waiter nodded and disappeared toward the kitchen. That comment was favorably noted by Sid. "At least the guy isn't a lush," he thought.

"Well, Mr. Benson. You're right. I made some inquiries about you and then asked my friends to arrange this meeting. Thank you for coming."

"Let's make it Barry, please. I prefer more casual greetings, if that's all right with you," Barry replied, as the coffee's suddenly appeared. The menus were still on the table. Sid motioned that he would like to order lunch, suggesting, "They make a great chowder, if you like that sort of thing. In fact, I'll have a bowl of the New England clam chowder," Sid said to the waiter.

Barry ordered a Philly steak sandwich with a side of beans and some coleslaw. Then he turned to Sid, to ask casually how the flight in from the west coast had gone. Sid muttered something about it not being his favorite, the red-eye, that is.

"What I wanted to ask you, Barry, was if you have any experience in gathering intelligence about what the Department of Defense is thinking along the lines of their next aircraft buys. My company, StratoWest, really needs to know what's coming down the pike so we can be competitive in our bidding."

"Yes, I do know something about that, if you mean do I know people in the Air Force's plans and requirements section. And if you mean have I any familiarity with the folks at Air Material Command (AMC) at Wright-Patterson AFB in Dayton, I believe I indeed have the kind of expertise you need."

"I'm impressed. Can you be a bit more specific?" Sid urged, spooning more of his chowder.

"Let me see if I understand what it is you, that is StratoWest, wants, you need insider information so the competition doesn't get ahead of you. Right? You want the advanced word on what systems and equipment the military really plans to buy and when."

"Yes. That's basically it, but our needs are immediate, not long term. We haven't had a big contract in .."

"In the last four years. I know," Barry remarked, completing Sid's statement. "I did some homework when your friends arranged this meeting. You guys haven't been doing all that well lately. You really do need an edge when it comes to new business. Right?"

"Yes. That's about it. We don't seem to be able to develop the right sources or get the advanced information that others do, like WestAero, Dixie Aircraft and the rest."

"So, what can I do for you? Exactly what do you need to solve your near term problems, aside from my giving you a buy for say 100 new transports or bombers?"

"That would be a nice order. We'll even take your check," Sid suggested, now beginning to wonder about this Benson fellow. Benson obviously knows the buzz words, talks the talk and gives the appearance of moving in the right circles.

"Who do you know, say in the Pentagon or down at Air Combat Command (ACC) in Langley?"

"Well, let's see. I play golf now and then with General Langtree. He's a four handicapper, you know. And he happens to be the head of ACC plans."

"Yes, I've heard of him. Who else?"

"I also know that General Donneley is a lousy golfer, but great fun around on the course. He owes me twenty bucks from our last round at the Wright-Pat course. He's.."

"Yes, I know of him. He's in charge of aircraft systems at the laboratories there. I've met the general, but only briefly."

"I also happen to know several of the secretaries who work in the important project offices at AMC. Those gals are even more useful than their bosses, when it comes to getting the scoop, the real scoop and not the party line BS that the brass hands out."

"Sounds like you know your way around the Air Force. But what about the Pentagon? Any contacts there?"

"Yes. I know Colonel Paddington in the plans and requirements office. He's pretty impressed with himself and tends to talk too much after about four drinks. But if anybody knows what's coming down the procurement pike, he does. And I also have a couple contacts in the Pentagon's budget office. That's where wish lists become reality."

"Okay. I'm sold. Would you be interested in working for StratoWest, say as an information specialist in a consulting capacity?"

"Might be. It all depends."

"Depends on what?" Sid asked, as a feeling of being in the presence of a con man crept over him.

"Depends on how soon you need my services, as I do have other clients. And it depends on how much you are prepared to pay for my special kind of information gathering. It can be complicated as well as expensive."

"I understand. Are you available to meet with some of our executives right away to discuss specifics?"

"I suppose so, depending on when and where. If we meet here in Washington it can be any time. But if you mean on the West coast, that'll take some schedule juggling."

Both finished their meals and were now working on coffee, when the waiter left the check. Sid nodded and said, "Just put it on his account." Barry suggested that he could at least get the tip, but Sid demurred.

"Look Barry, the assistant to our V-P of Marketing can fly out tomorrow for a chat here. Or, better yet, how about you flying out on our corporate jet this Friday? We'll bring you back on Monday. That gives us the weekend to get you with our people, and perhaps leave time for a round of golf. In fact, Mr. Stockman, our CEO, might like it if you could play a round with him at his favorite course. How does that sound? Even if you decide not to work with us, you'll at least get to play under our California sun." Sid didn't mention that it had been pouring buckets when he left last night.

"Let me get back to you. I'll check my schedule and see if this weekend fits. Some of your famous California sunshine sounds good. What course is it that Mr. Stockman plays?"

"He's a member at the Solano Beach club. It's a beautiful course. He and his pals have a standing Saturday morning 9:30 tee time. I'll see if there's room for you."

"Okay. I'll call you at your office this afternoon, say around four. Will you be there then?"

"Yeah, sure. I look forward to hearing from you. And thanks for taking the time to meet here with me."

"My pleasure. I'll call you."

Back at his office, Sid called Stu to report on his meeting with Benson. Stu seemed genuinely interested, but suggested that they needed more information on Benson, his background, character and even his credit rating. "I'll get Stan working on some inquiries and get back to you. But, in the meantime, I agree that bringing him out here would make sense. And besides, we'll have all that time in the air to get to know him better, before we introduce him to Stockman."

"Makes sense. So, you'll take care of arranging for our corporate jet? And are you coming along on the trip?"

"Yes. Stan and I will come pick up you and Benson. Let's say mid-day Friday at Dulles. I'll confirm the exact schedule later. We'll come in the StratoExec because it can make the trip non-stop. In the meantime, see what you can learn about Benson from your Washington contacts."

"Will do. See you Friday. And this time, make sure we've got some food aboard. Last time all we had was booze and peanuts."

Stu laughed and said he'd take care of the logistics.

Sid next called a couple of his poker club pals, asking them about Benson's reputation, credentials and general character. Only one would talk, replying that Barry was likeable, smart, very knowledgeable and savvy. He was known to be somewhat of a health nut, greatly into specialty diets, exercise and lots of golf. Barry was described as a bit of a gambler, a risk taker.

The fellow who wouldn't talk much told Sid that Barry had some dark things in his past that were better left alone. More specific the fellow wouldn't be, but that tweaked Sid's curiosity.

Out in California, Stan too was doing research into this Barry Benson character. He used the ruse that Barry was applying for a job at StratoWest and placed a call directly to the CIA. To Stan's amazement, the personnel office at the CIA actually answered a few questions. They said that Barry had been employed with the CIA for more than ten years and was stationed primarily in the D.C. area. He was dismissed from the agency four years ago without prejudice. His security clearances were no longer valid and the CIA would not formally respond to further questions relative to his specific duties. They did give Barry's last known address as a condominium in Georgetown.

Stan made some inquiries concerning Barry's credit rating, discovering that he had four credit cards, two of which were at their limit of $5000 each. He had no black marks on his record. He would not, however, qualify for a home mortgage beyond $150,000. Stan could not come up with anything on Barry's bank accounts or investment holdings.

Stu Sanders stopped by Stan's office to alert him to the upcoming flight to Washington, out and back on Friday. Stan was relieved that he wouldn't be taking a red-eye flight, but wasn't thrilled at spending a whole day aboard the company airplane.

"What have you got on Benson?" Stu inquired.

"Not a whole lot, even with a phone call to CIA headquarters. As far as I can tell he is not now employed. He could be self-employed, but I have no evidence of that. I'm hoping that Sid is getting more on him than I've gotten."

"Well, we'll just have to get what we can from interviewing him on the flight. Be at the Long Beach airport at 5:30 tomorrow morning. We're taking the StratoExec. And I've already told the pilot to have enough food and drink aboard for six, two pilots, you and me, plus Sid and Benson."

"Five-thirty? In the morning? Arrgh," Stan replied. "Okay. I'll be there.

Later that day Sid called Stu to report that he was getting mixed signals on Benson. Most of his information sources credited Barry with being capable, resourceful and well-connected. "I'm sure the guy could get information we don't seem able to get ourselves, but I have no idea what it could cost us. I do suggest that if he passes our muster we get him with Stockman ASAP, perhaps for a Saturday round of golf."

"Yeah. That might be the best venue for Steve to conduct his own interview and size the fellow up. I'll go ahead and confirm the usual Saturday tee time, just in case. But until we've talked aboard the StratoExec, I'm still not telling Steve about Benson. Saturday morning there will be Steve, Sam, me and Benson. I'll arrange for lunch at the club after the round."

"Sure. Play it any way you like. See you at Dulles on Friday."

Sid was not surprised when Barry called him, precisely at 4:00 PM eastern time, to affirm his availability for the California trip. Sid told him to be at the corporate terminal at Dulles no later than noon on Friday.

The non-stop eastbound flight aboard the StratoExec was pretty quiet. Stu and Stan managed to each get three hours of sleep on the way. The ride was smooth and uneventful.

At Dulles, Sid was waiting in the lounge of the corporate terminal when Barry arrived, toting one suitcase and, of course, his golf clubs. Barry was dressed again in the blue blazer, gray slacks and shirt, but wearing an ascot rather than a necktie. Sid wore his usual dark suit with blue tie.

The Fall sunshine and clear skies prompted Barry to greet Sid with, "Are you sure it'll be like this out west, Sid? I checked the weather on the internet and it's been raining out there."

"Hello Barry. Well, I don't know, but our pilots say that things will be improving by the time we get there. It wasn't raining at Long Beach when my associates called me just before taking off."

"Good. I wouldn't want to be lugging this heavy bag for nothing."

"Barry, some of our people will be on the plane specifically to talk with you before you meet our CEO."

"Yes. I expected that. The third degree, eh?"

"Not exactly, but my boss, Stu Sanders will be coming, plus his assistant, Stan Swain. There will be just four of us aboard the StratoExec. You can expect lots of hard questions, the answers being vitally important to us and to you, if you want the job we have in mind."

"Sure. That's par for the course, as they say. I'm ready and actually anxious to meet your management."

"Good. I expect them to touch down any minute. And just as soon as the plane gets refueled, we'll be taking off. There is food and drink aboard."

"And a corporate stewardess?" Barry jokingly inquired.

"Sorry. No coffee, tea or me on this ride."

Soon two men dressed in slacks and sweaters entered the lounge area. Sid waved and walked over to greet the California team members.

"Stu, this is Barry Benson," Sid offered as the introductions were made. Handshakes all around were friendly but perfunctory. It wasn't until the group boarded the StratoExec and the pilot explained the route of flight, the weather and time enroute that they settled in for the ride and conversations to come.

Sam, shortly after level-off at 28,000 feet, offered to serve drinks. After a bit of casual chit-chat and two martinis, the main dialog commenced.

Stu led off by asking Barry about his CIA experience and the reason for leaving.

"Right to the point, eh fellows?" Barry began, observing that Stan was taking notes.

Barry sipped a bit of his second martini and began, "My job with the CIA involved getting foreign embassy people to talk, to tell me everything they knew about specific matters the agency wanted to know. I befriended many embassy staffers, including their military attaches and even some of their own spies. We played lots of golf, poker and mind games. I gained their trust and made it worth their while to provide the information my supervisors wanted. This is a kind of intelligence gathering that most people don't appreciate. It's a one-on-one, friendship-based rapport that needs time and personal effort."

"I understand that," Stu nodded. "But it also includes bribery, doesn't it?"

"That's your word. I would call it buying both information and expedient friendships."

"Yeah, plus it puts the one who takes your money in a vulnerable position."

"Perhaps. That's how we establish a network of useful people. It's an old and proven system."

Stu and Stan looked at each other. Sid just shook his head, in full realization that this was the real world of espionage.

"Okay," Stu continued. "Let's get some personal information out on the table. First off, are you married?"

"I was."

"Was?"

"Yes, my wife was killed in a car accident on the Beltway. That was five years ago. And right now I have no one, not even what you might call a steady girlfriend."

"Uh, I'm sorry about your loss. Do you have any children?"

"No kids. My wife was a grad student who wanted to finish her MBA before we started a family. No, no kids."

Stan asked, "How long were you with the CIA, and how did you happen to join the agency?"

"Just over 10 years, all in the D.C. operations group. They recruited me when I graduated from the University of Virginia with a law degree. I never took the bar though and haven't practiced."

"And what exactly was your job?"

"Well, my job title was simply special agent, but I worked the embassies in the D.C. area and on occasion around the UN in New York."

"Worked?" Stan queried.

"That's a general term for getting information from foreign embassy officials and staff. I guess I have the gift of gab and people get to know me easily. I find out what they like or dislike, what their problems were and sometimes what it was they really wanted out of life. I facilitated their adaptation to the American life style. You know, the good life that many will never know back home."

"Facilitate? How?"

"Some of those embassy folks, especially the newcomers, knew practically nothing about how we live. Such basic things as how to shop at Sears, a supermarket, sporting goods store, or even where to buy liquor. Some had never used a credit card. The basics, I suppose."

"And how did that lead to their providing you information?" Sid asked.

"Once I built up a level of confidence and friendship, I got to know what they really wanted out of life. Some wanted to know how to get asylum here. Those were the easy ones to get talking."

"For instance?"

"Well, there was a colonel serving as military attaché for an East European country who quickly decided he would rather live here permanently than go back to the drudgery and intrigues in his homeland. He'd been here two years and was afraid they would send him back. I convinced him that I could arrange for him to defect and start a new life here."

"And then you placed certain conditions on helping him?"

"Of course. He was more than willing to tell me just about everything we wanted to know, so long as I held out the carrot of assistance in defecting. I think I managed to get more out of him for the agency than they could have with people on the ground back in his homeland."

"Did he actually defect?"

"Yes. He got a new identity and life. He's now working for a mail order house in Pennsylvania and doing quite well. He even earned a business and got married."

"What about those people who weren't so easy to get to talk?" Stu pressed. "You didn't have to get rough did you?"

"Hell no. I had a learned that getting them to play golf worked best. There's something about being out on a beautiful golf course to make even the most paranoid or frightened fellow relax. I actually made some very good friends out there on the fairways and found that when they were relaxed I could get them to tell me things. Of course I had to let them beat me sometimes." Barry smiled, as if remembering specific occasions when that was necessary.

"You're a manipulator." Stan decided.

"Of course. Aren't we all, to some degree or another. I did it for a living and got pretty damn good at it."

"Fine. I think we've got the picture. We appreciate that you must have been quite good at it. But, now we want to know why you left the agency, and when was that?" Stu inquired, changing the subject.

"Will that get me something to eat? I didn't get breakfast this morning. I could use some food more than another drink," Barry asked, rubbing his stomach.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. We've got something to eat, haven't we Stan?"

"Yes sir, we've got some sandwiches, and even a couple TV dinners."

Barry said that a sandwich would be fine, and maybe a soft drink. Stan retrieved the food from a built-in locker and passed out several items for the group to chew on. Nobody opted for the TV dinners, though when asked, the pilots accepted them.

Barry unwrapped a pastrami on rye, complete with a huge pickle slice. He leaned over and looked out of the cabin window. "Looks like we're approaching the Rockies. There's snow on those peaks."

Pausing between bites, as he ravenously downed half of the sandwich, Barry continued, "Hmmm, you asked about my leaving the agency. Right?"

Stan nodded, his mouth also working on a sandwich.

"I left involuntarily, four years ago. It was a misunderstanding about how I used some government money."

Stan's eyes widened. Not only was he surprised at such a revelation so openly given, he was curious about the circumstances and beginning to have doubts about Barry's working for StratoWest, in any capacity.

"And?" Stu pressed.

"It was over about $20,000 they say I wasn't supposed to be spending. But it was they who created a special kitty for me to use in courting embassy officials. I just happened to use it to show some special people the finer things in American life, like championship golf courses around the country. My guests really liked Pebble Beach and several courses around Hilton Head."

"I'll bet they did. Wouldn't local courses have worked just as well?"

"Not in the winter. Once I got some folks hooked on the golf game, they didn't want to wait until Spring. So that's when I took them to warmer climes and some nice resorts areas."

"And the agency didn't approve?"

"Yes and no. They set up special funds for me to use for entertaining subjects, but somehow mistook it as all paid vacations for me. My supervisor and I got into some hot arguments about why I had to go along. He didn't appreciate the fact that if I wasn't there, escorting those folks, I had no chance of getting information from them. All he saw was me going to fancy places. I said before that something about the peaceful nature of golf courses, sunshine and beautiful surroundings working wonders to loosen tongues."

"So what happened?"

"They made noises about charging me with misuse of government funds, or unauthorized use or whatever the damn lawyers called it."

"What came of it?"

"I was invited out of the agency. I think that they were worried about my setting a precedent or something. But, they didn't have a leg to stand on for pressing criminal charges or anything like that. They just allowed as how it would be better for them if I left. So I did. And I left with the equivalent of an honorable discharge, but way short of earning a pension. I didn't even get severance pay."

"That was four years ago, you say?" Stu asked, following up.

"Yup. Four years ago last month, as a matter of fact."

"So how have you been earning a living since?"

Sid interrupted, "So far everything you've told us checks out with what we have learned from other sources."

"Hey. I have no reason to lie, to you or anyone else. I do what I do, and darn well. The agency would be the first to tell you that I was one of the most productive field workers they had, especially among those working the difficult embassy row."

Sam piped up, "Well, I called 'm, but they wouldn’t tell me much at all about you, except that you had worked there and left without prejudice."

"I'm surprised that they told you that," Barry smiled, wiping his face after finishing his lunch. "Thanks for the sandwich. It hit the spot."

"You were saying, about what you've been doing since you left the agency?"

"Oh yes. Well, I've been doing some freelance consulting of sorts, mostly for aerospace companies and even the military. They think that with my CIA background I know security systems. So what the hell, I let 'em and that led to a whole new career. I do a variety of analyses for all kinds of outfits, from their management of classified data to physical security of property and hardware. I've also gotten into computers and that's been a big help. That computer stuff didn't come easily, but I have a friend in Georgetown who's a real whiz and he's getting me up on the learning curve. But you know what I like most? Getting to meet all sorts of folks, especially golfers, who invite me to some of the best courses. That's how I got to know a couple of generals and a company president or two. I even play golf with some of my foreign embassy contacts, which really drives the agency nuts."

Stu looked at Stan, both coming to the same realization that Barry's story had to be true. He was far more open than they ever expected, especially for someone with a CIA background. Barry came across as a likeable, loquacious and a widely knowledgeable fellow. Now they began to wonder just how he could be applied to solving StratoWest's problems. Stan wasn't sure they believed all they'd heard or place much trust in Barry.

During a lull in the conversation, about an hour out of Long Beach, Barry let it be known that he had done some research of his own, on StratoWest and it's management.

"I never understood, fellows, why StratoWest didn't pursue the executive jet business when the military contracts stopped coming. This bird, you call it a StratoExec, seems to fly like a dream. It's reasonably roomy, as executive jets go, and climbs like a homesick angel. Why didn't you make more of 'em?"

"We just couldn't make it affordable for anybody but the government. This particular aircraft is nine years old, a modification of the military C-49. We only made sixty of 'em, all for the military, and never saw it as viable in the competitive executive jet market. It's not cheap to fly or maintain, you know."

"Yes, but it's built like a tank and obviously has the legs to cross the country non-stop. Couldn't you civilianize it to be market competitive? And how about foreign sales?"

"Oh, it's a solid workhorse all right," Stu admitted with pride. But it isn't as sexy as the new birds our competitors are selling. And its avionics package is still military." Another pause developed in the conversation, probably because Stu had no answers for Barry's questions.

"So tell me again, please, gentlemen, exactly what is it that StratoWest would like me to do?"

"In general terms, we want information, the timely kind that will give us a chance at the next big contracts. But, I'd prefer to have you get details first-hand from Mr. Stockman, our CEO. I've confirmed that you're set to play a round of golf with him in the morning."

"And what does the weatherman say?" Barry smiled.

"Clearing. Our pilots think that by morning the southern coast will clear and it'll be a sunny day for golf."

"Barry?" Stan interrupted. "How can you work with security and classified projects if you don't have your old CIA clearances any more?"

"I get interim military SECRET clearances on each project. Some of my general friends simply sign the right papers and give me access. All of the companies I work with think that's good enough. Simple."

Stan simply shook his head, knowing all the hoops that StratoWest employees had to jump through to get their clearances. "Amazing," he muttered, "absolutely amazing."

StratoWest's jet landed at Long Beach airport, as the sun set over the Pacific. A few clouds made the scene spectacular, with reds and shades of orange across the western sky. Darkness fell by the time Stan drove Barry to the motel and got Barry checked in.

"Here are the keys to a company car, which you are free to use during your stay, Barry. It's only a blue Chevy sedan, parked in the east side lot, but it'll get you to the Solano Beach golf course in the morning."

"Thanks, Stan. This will be just fine."

"Oh, and by the way," Stan added," Sid will be staying here too, so perhaps you two could get together for dinner this evening. He has a few things he'd like to brief you on, about StratoWest and your golf partners in the morning."

Barry headed for his room and began making himself at home. It was a comfortable place, clearly not new but still in great shape. A reclining lounge chair looked inviting. He flicked on the television and flopped comfortably into the chair to watch the news and check the weather forecast. Sure enough, tomorrow morning looked like fine weather for a round of golf.

A knock on the door brought Barry to his feet. "C'mon in, Sid. Stan tells me that you want to talk some more."

"Tell you what, Barry. I'm down the hall in 123. Why don't I get out of this east coast coat and tie into something more casual. I'll meet you in the lounge in, say, ten minutes. We can chat and decide what to do about dinner. Okay?"

"Yeah sure. Meet you in the lounge."

Barry was seated at a side booth in the lounge when Sid came in. Sid was now wearing slacks and a sport shirt, looking more like a Californian than a died-in-the-wool Washington type. The change of clothes apparently changed his attitude as well, for he seemed more relaxed. After a drink, the two decided to just have dinner there in the hotel dining room. They agreed that the prime rib sounded good.

When they'd ordered their meals, Sid started telling Barry a little about StratoWest's history, and especially Stockman's role in helping build the company from a small parts shop to a full-fledged aircraft manufacturer.

"Mr. Stockman is a proud man, a bit old fashioned, I suppose, but justifiably proud of what the company has accomplished on his watch. He just hasn't come to grips yet with the downsizing of the military and the impact that'll have on future business. He won't consider diversifying, so things have gotten much tougher. The contracts are fewer and come less often, plus the competition is eating us alive."

"You said earlier that Mr. Stockman plays golf regularly. Is he any good?"

"No, not really. He just likes getting out there with a few pals and old-timers from the plant. He breaks 100 consistently, even 90 when he's feeling his best, but he doesn't worry about his handicap. I think he likes to take out his frustrations on that little white ball."

"Do his partners beat him? Or do they let the boss win?"

"Oh, they beat him frequently. He'd blow a fuse if he thought they were letting him win."

"That's good to know."

"Don't worry about it if you beat him, or the others, for that matter. None of them take their scores all that seriously."

"How about talking shop on the course? Is that a problem?"

"Hell no. If others don't, he will. It's not a problem."

By ten o'clock both men called it a night. Stu suggested that Barry allow an hour and a half to drive down to Solano in the morning. It won't take that long, but you may not be familiar with the area. Just stay on the coast highway until you see the Solano Beach Golf Course signs."

The sun was bright in a clear sky, as Barry drove south, the blue Pacific off to his right. A breeze off the ocean made it feel a little cool, clearly jacket weather. After parking the StratoWest car and getting his clubs out, Barry headed toward the small pro shop. It was 8:45. Greg Gaylord, the club pro, greeted him with a smile, asking, "Can I help you, sir?"

"Yes. I'm here to play a round with Mr. Stockman and a couple of his friends."

"Oh yes, Mr. Stockman's people told me that they were having a guest join them. They'll be here shortly. Do you need anything? Balls? Tees? Or anything?"

"Ah, no. I'm all set. Do I need to sign in or anything?"

"No. It's all been taken care of. You can wait out there on the porch benches if you like. It won't be long. Mr. Stockman is always here at nine for his regular tee time."

Barry sat down, looking across the fairways toward the ocean in the distance. The Solano course impressed him as a delightful place to be this Saturday morning. A foursome was just teeing off on the first fairway, hitting into the on-shore wind.

"You must be Benson," a smiling white-haired man said, approaching the pro shop. "Stu Sanders called me last night to tell me about you. He didn't tell me you were so tall. And he also said that he'd not make it today, something about his boy's little league game."

"Yes, sir. Barry Benson. Stu described you to a 'T'. And I want to thank you in advance for asking me to play this morning with you and your friends. This is a beautiful course, and your California weather is ideal."

"Yeah, I was a little worried yesterday about the stuff clearing out in time, but we'll have a good round. Seems a bit windy though. I see you have some of those new titanium clubs in your bag there. You like 'em?"

"Yes, but then I'd better. These aren't cheap."

"Improve your game, do they?"

"Too soon to tell. This will be just my second round with them. I hope so."

"Well, if they give you any trouble, don't worry about it. This bunch is far from competition quality. We just go out and have fun. Oh. I see the others just pulled up. Sam Sergeant and his assistant, Sol Steinmetz, complete our foursome." Introductions all around took place as the four ambled out toward the first tee.

Stockman suggested, "Bingo, Bango, Bungo at five bucks too rich for you boys this morning?"

The others just shook their heads, Sam adding that perhaps Barry might not be up to it. "Gets kinda expensive, friend. Cost me fifty bucks last time."

Barry looked puzzled. "I've played golf at dozens of courses around the country, even some in the Bahamas, but never heard of this Bingo, Bango, Bungo thing. What is it?"

"What?" Stockman asked in amazement. "You've never heard of Bingo, Bango, Bungo? It's just a harmless way for duffers like us to add a little spice to the game. And don't let Sam here scare you off. He's won as often as he's lost."

Sol, standing next to Barry, as Stockman headed for the tee to take a practice swing, explained. "Barry. It's pretty simple. The first one onto the green on, each hole, gets five dollars from each the others. That's a Bingo. Then the one landing closest to the pin gets five for what is called Bango. And finally, first in the cup gets five dollars. Lowest score on the hole doesn't count for anything, except maybe buying the first round of drinks at the 19^th hole."

"Well, that's a new one on me. Okay. I'm in. I'll play this Bingo Bungo thing, if you like. Live and learn. Eh?"

With the wind in their faces, drives off the first tee didn't go very far, except for Barry's. He hit a straight shot down the fairway a good 275 yards, with a click from his titanium driver that didn't sound like a typical wood. The others were much shorter off the tee, Sol being the shortest with barely 125 yards. But at least he didn't slice off to the right like Sam, who wound up in the edge of the rough.

"Nice shot, Barry," exclaimed Stockman. "You must have found it easy to transition to those metal clubs. Maybe I oughta get me some."

By the time they'd played four holes, Sam was ahead with $50 in his pocket. Barry was next with $45, which he got on the par-3 third by chipping in from ten yards off the green. He claimed the Bingo, Bango and Bungo money on that hole all at once. Sol hadn't won anything so far.

As Barry and Stockman walked together down the fifth fairway toward their balls, Stockman began to talk shop. "Barry, Stu tells me that you have some expertise that can help StratoWest. He says that your CIA background might be useful to us."

"Yes, sir. I know it would be. You need information and much sooner than you've been getting it on what the government plans to buy. Knowing what the customer really wants can help you be more competitive."

"Competitive isn't what I want. Winning is what I want and that's the only thing that'll save the company. But more than that, we need to win in a hurry. We need to know what the government really wants, and not what they say, and we need to know what the other guys are offering. We need an edge, badly."

"Right you are, sir. Companies that are winning contracts today are those who find out what's wanted far enough in advance to just about have their designs ready when the solicitations come out. Playing catch-up won't cut it."

"Hmmm. What do you suggest here, Barry? A five iron?" Stockman asked, looking back and forth between his ball and the green up ahead into the wind.

"Yes. A well hit five iron ought to do it, but play it a little to the right, so you get some roll toward the pin."

"Thanks. That's what I was thinking." And Stockman hit a sweet shot, right where Barry suggested. "Bingo. That'll be five bucks, gents."

Barry muttered out loud something about not giving any more advice if it was going to cost him five dollars each time. Stockman laughed.

While the other two were approaching the green with their shots, Stockman asked Barry what he could do to get the information that StratoWest so badly needed, and right away.

"As I see it, Mr. Stockman, you need a multi-pronged effort. You need somebody to go to work on the military planners and definers of systems requirements. But, you also need sources at the R&D centers, like Wright Field in Dayton. That's where user requirements are developed into specifications for bidders, for StratoWest and others. The right methods can get at that early, as well as finding out what your competitors are telling the government. And finally, you need contacts inside the political system, people who can tell you what Congress is willing to fund and when."

"I agree, but it sounds expensive. How can we come up with those information-gathering resources?"

"Why don't we take a little break after the ninth hole, for coffee or a brew or something in the clubhouse. I'll describe for you and your colleagues a rough outline of what it'll take and how I can help."

On completing nine holes, Barry and Sam were tied on the money, with Stockman close behind. And finally, Sol had won $15. So Barry and Sam were tagged to buy the refreshments at the club house before they went on to the back nine.

The group sat by themselves at a table on the porch overlooking the course. Stockman told the others what he and Barry had covered so far in the search for a solution to StratoWest's problems. Stockman was impressed by Barry and fast becoming convinced that this ex-CIA man was just who they needed to ramrod a special intelligence-gathering effort.

"How soon could you get things going, Barry?" asked Stockman.

"That depends on how much you want me to do, and the availability of funds to bring the right operatives into action. But, I think I owe you a plan, a fairly comprehensive definition of what I will do and what it will take. You don't want to buy a pig in a poke. Why not give me until, say, this Tuesday to put something together?"

"Yeah, sure. I like your way of thinking, young man. You're organized," Stockman said, though Barry was older than all but Stockman and possibly Sam Sargent. Barry was almost 50, but he looked younger and exhibited a great deal of energy.

"What do you think, fellows? Shall we let Barry put together a plan and brief us on it, by Wednesday at the latest? Time's a'wasting."

The three men agreed that a plan was appropriate and certainly they would need that as a basis for deciding whether spending any money was worthwhile.

"Good enough," Stockman declared. You can work out of the empty conference room next to Stu Sanders' office. It's on the second floor of our headquarters building. Sol? Would you take care of getting Barry a pass and brief Stu on what's happening?"

"Thank you, sir," Barry declared. "And, if you don't object, I'd like to coordinate what I come up with with Sid Sturgess, since his Washington people will have to play a key role."

"Good idea. We'll have Sid stick around at least until Tuesday."

The foursome went back onto the course and completed the remaining nine holes. Barry was way out front in terms of total score, shooting a respectable 77 on the strange course. The others didn't even add up their totals, except for who won how much at Bingo, Bango, Bungo. Stockman stayed in second place behind Sam. Barry was third and Sol brought up the rear with $30.00 in winnings. He was, however, out $75.00, so the meager winnings didn't help much.

Saturday night Barry made several calls from his motel room. First on his list was Ben Brigham, a fellow CIA colleague, now retired and living in D.C.. He was Barry's right hand man on many projects and held down the fort when Barry was on the road.

"Ben? Barry. We've got a job, I think. It could be a big one. I need you to do some things for me to get things started."

"What kind of job? And how much money?"

"Could be big bucks. I'm out on the west coast with some aerospace folks who need our special kind of help. Can't talk much on the phone, but I need you to get our computer whiz, Bert, lined up for some heavy duty work. See if you can have him in our office Friday morning. And tell Betty I'll need desk space for two more folks, with phones, by Monday. Okay?"

"Sure, Barry. But can you give me a hint of what's up?"

"This aerospace outfit, StratoWest, needs information. No. What they need is a D.O.D. contract, but to get it they need information and that's our job. We're talking a million or more for an operating budget."

"Wow. A million? Okay, my friend. I'll get on it right away. What are you doing until Friday?" Barry then explained that he had to put together a plan to sell to some executives at StratoWest. Next he asked Ben to get all the dope on the company he could, it's key management people and what the Pentagon folks thought about them.

Sid dropped by Barry's room to get a feel for what Barry was contemplating in the way of an intelligence-gathering effort. Sid had already talked to Sam and Sol to get feedback on their golf day. When Barry explained that Stockman wanted him to stay over through Tuesday, Sid wasn't happy, but agreed he would remain. That's when Barry suggested that they work together as a team on the planning effort.

"You know that Stu is going to want all the details too," Sid reminded.

"Yes. I'd be surprised if he didn't. Stockman will surely put Stu in, at least as the figurehead for whatever this project becomes."

Sid wasn't sure he liked Barry using that term 'figurehead', for it seemed that Barry was exceeding not only protocol but his authority as well. Yet he said nothing, waiting for more insight into what Barry might be up to. Though they chatted for a hour or more, Sid left with hardly a clue about what Barry was planning. All he got were general terms about developing sources in the Pentagon and Wright Field, as well as down at Langley.

After Sid left, Barry went out to find an all night supermarket. There he bought a notebook and some loose-leaf paper, plus a dozen pens. He also picked up a six-pack of beer and returned to his room.

All day Sunday and late into that evening, Barry wrote a detailed outline of what he proposed to do. But in the back of the notebook he started building a list of specific tasks for his colleagues in Washington. Then estimated what all the effort would cost, both in terms of the people he needed to hire and the material things required. And finally, he developed a budget estimate for bribes, payoffs, travel and special-use funds. The total came to $750,000 for a one-year period.

"Guess I'll call that $2.2 million when I brief the StratoWest folks," he muttered to himself.

Monday morning at 9:30, Barry appeared at the headquarters of StratoWest. The guard at the gate was expecting him and called for an escort to get him a picture-badge and limited access to the facility. He wasn't to be allowed unescorted outside the administration building. Soon Barry headed for Stockman's office, before even trying to locate the marketing group and Stu.

Stockman's secretary, a stunning tall brunette, dressed in a stylish suit and high heels, greeted Barry with a smile that would melt even the sternest and most serious business visitor. And when she stood up to escort Barry to Mr. Stockman's inner office, Barry followed and couldn't take his eyes off that slim, yet curvaceous woman. Sally Spivans clearly got Barry's full attention. "How in the world could this old geezer keep such a beautiful creature for his secretary, and not have his wife object?" Barry mused.

Stockman observed Barry's distraction with Sally, as she announced his visit. He smiled knowingly, for Sally had disarmed many a visitor to the front office, giving Stockman a little edge in overcoming visitor aggressions or anger about one subject or another. Sally was his secret weapon, though she never became involved with any of the visitors to the front office. Sally was happily married to a Navy commander at the Long Beach yards.

"Never fails," Stockman greeted, as she disappeared back into the outer office.

"What never fails?" Barry asked.

"That gal never fails to distract my visitors just long enough for me to gather my thoughts and decide how to handle whatever comes through that door. Ain't she a doll?"

"That she is. That she is indeed, sir."

"So? What have you come up with so far, Barry? Have you figured out how to do this, and quickly?"

"Well, I've got a good start and am waiting for some information from my associates back in Washington. But yes, I think I have an approach outlined. I want to run it by your marketing VP, Mr. Sanders, before firming up the details."

"Barry. Let's get something clear right now. You report directly to me. I'm the one who's got the responsibility, able to get the project financed and willing to take the heat for what we do. Your relationship with Stu Sanders is window dressing, if you get my drift."

"Yes sir. But I'll need Mr. Sanders support and acquiesce, or at least non-interference, when things get rolling."

"I can see you're one savvy fellow. I like that. We'll get along just fine. You tell Stu as much or as little as you feel you have to, but you work for me. Understood?"

"That's crystal clear, Mr. Stockman."

And for the next half hour Barry outlined some of the things he planned to do, though he omitted some specifics. He left Stockman with the definite impression that he'd chosen the right man who could and would use every trick in the book to get the information StratoWest needed, from the government and the competition. When Barry mentioned that all this might cost as much as $2.2 million, and Stockman didn't even blink.

"When the very future of this company is at stake, you'll get what you need. Just don't fail us. We're counting on you."

"Yes sir. I'll deliver. But right now I have to get over to Mr. Sanders' area to get some wheels in motion."

Barry headed for the marketing offices, but not before one more long admiring look at Sue, as he left the outer office. "Married to a Navy man?" he thought. "What a waste."

Barry stopped by Stu's office to inquire about using the vacant conference room as his workspace. Stan was just coming out of the office as Barry arrived. "Hello Barry. I hear you learned about Bingo, Bango, Bungo on Saturday."

"Hi, Stan. Yes, sir. That was a new one on me, but I have to admit it was kinda fun. Poor Sol took it on the chin though."

"Oh, don't worry about him. He's done pretty good over the long haul. You here to find the conference room?"

"Yes. I'm working on the plan to describe what we're going to do to get StratoWest back into the ball game."

"It's room 24, right down the hall on the left. There's a phone in there too, if you need it. Dial 9 for an outside line. You need a computer?"

"That would be helpful."

"No problem. I'll have our systems manager wheel in a roll-around PC for you. It uses the Windows software, if that's okay."

"Great. And I could use a few floppies to bring my work back to D.C. with me."

"No sweat. Smitty, will get you whatever you need."

"I appreciate that. Have you seen Sid?"

"Yeah. He's wandering around here somewhere. He and Stu were having a meeting just a short while ago. If I see him I'll tell him you're in the conference room."

Barry thanked Sam and then poked his head into Stu's office. "You got a minute, sir?"

"Yes. C'mon in, Barry. What's up?"

"I just wanted to give you some feedback on my golf session with Mr. Stockman and the others, as well as a separate meeting about the plan I'm working on. I'd like to brief you and your people before presenting it to Stockman."

Barry made it a point to give the impression that Stu was in charge, for as he said, this is a marketing research problem. Stu seemed satisfied that Barry was following the proper protocols.

"So? Have you got anything put together yet?"

"Yes, Mr. Sanders. I've got a start. And I've got some of my Washington associates cranked up to get the ball rolling."

"Good. But why don't you just call me Stu. Everybody else around here does."

"Sam has me set up with workspace in the conference room, Stu. I'll be putting together details the rest of today and probably some of tomorrow. When would you like me to brief you all on the package?"

Stu thought a few minutes before responding, and then he flipped through his appointment book. "Looks like I won't be free to spend much time with you until tomorrow evening. Would 7:00 PM tomorrow night be too late, say in the conference room?"

"Ah, sure. That would be fine. Who will you have there?"

"Let's see. Sam, Sid, Stan and maybe Sol. That's about it. Are you going to want handouts or any typing done?"

"No. This will be all verbal. Some of what I'll describe is sensitive and you wouldn't want documents floating around, if you get my drift."

"Uh huh. Yeah, I guess not," Stu responded, a bit of a frown on his face, realizing just now that what Barry might be planning was possibly borderline illegal.

"Okay then, let's plan on 7:00. I'll let the others know."

Barry headed down the hall and found the empty conference room. Off to one corner was a desk and an office chair. A telephone with four line buttons sat on the right side of the desk. Barry sat down, and opened his notebook with the outline and other planning details.

For an hour or so, Barry continued to sketch out elements of his plan. It would involve using almost a dozen people. Three would be in Washington, operating out of the office where he, Ben and their secretary, Betty, worked. He expected to add two others, not counting Bert, the computer whiz. And he'd want a couple long-time trusted associates down at Langley AFB and out in Dayton. He'd need half a dozen laptop computers with modems, reasonably powerful ones because he was going to use special encryption software that Bert designed. That way he'd be able to communicate securely with all of the team from his own PC.

He didn't put into the portions of the plan that would be briefed to Stu, or even Stockman, his intention to create a computer hacking and phone tapping operation. "No sense in getting these fellows too paranoid," he thought.

He was more specific about using some of his contacts, like General Langtree at ACC, Colonel Paddington in the Pentagon and a couple secretaries and an old pal at Wright-Patterson AFB. He explained what kinds of information they might provide.

And then he went to considerable length to explain the importance of StratoWest getting a study contract for the Phase Zero effort on whatever next project might be coming down the pike. Phase Zero contracts are opportunities for aerospace companies to help the military describe how operational requirements become systems, conceptually. If the Air Force had preliminary ideas about using advanced technologies on, say, the next bomber or transport aircraft, they would turn a few potential contractors loose to describe what such a new aircraft might look like, with special attention at how the newest technologies might be used, how program risks could be minimized and what an orderly R&D effort might be, leading to a full-scale production contract. Barry placed special emphasis on this activity, for StratoWest wouldn't have a chance at all unless they were one of those selected for Phase Zero work. That is the one place where in the past their competitors had gained the advantage. StratoWest didn't seem to appreciate the essential nature of being one of the Phase Zero participants. He even mentioned the importance, in these times of pollution and social consciousness, of the preliminary environmental impact statements that would be a part of any Phase Zero effort.

And getting StratoWest one of any Phase Zero studies contracts depended upon insider information from several key sources. Barry included words in his plan about gaining access to internal military communications, computer files and documents to determine which way the wind was blowing. StratoWest had to become familiar with the latest buzz words, jargon and those military organizations tasked to direct and oversee any Phase Zero work.

Further, Barry described the importance of getting Phase Zero secrets from StratoWest's competitors. To do that he described how he would get some of his special operatives into competitor plants to ferret out their advanced thinking and proprietary documents. He knew it would surprise Stu and the others to learn that he would do that with clerical people. Those, he would explain, are the ones who do the typing and who see practically all the most sensitive documents in competitor design and engineering groups. And Barry knew the ways of doing that, though his presentation wouldn't explain. "No point in telling them how to do it," he reasoned. "They might think they no longer needed me."

Barry was so totally engrossed in outlining his plans, he failed to notice an attractive woman tap on and then open the conference room door, and then come in. It was Sue Sullivan, Stu's secretary. "Ahem. Mr. Benson. I'm Mr. Sanders' secretary, Sue."

Barry looked up. He hadn't seen Sue before, as she was away from her desk earlier. "My god," he thought. "Where do they get all these gorgeous secretaries?"

"Ah, sir. Mr. Sanders wanted to know if you had dinner plans this evening. He was hoping that you and Mr. Sturgess could get together after work, say around 6:30?"

"Hello, lovely lady. I didn't see you come in," Barry explained on standing to greet the attractive auburn-haired beauty now standing in front of the desk. "What was that about dinner? Did you say you and me, I hope?" Barry smiled, noting that there was no ring on her left hand.

Sue smiled, demurely. "No, sir. I was speaking on behalf of Mr. Sanders. Are you free this evening for dinner with him and Mr. Sturgess? He suggests the Blue Turtle restaurant."

"Yes, of course. But what about tomorrow evening? Would that invitation apply for the two of us, say around 9:30 for cocktails and a late dinner?"

"I'll get back to you on that, sir."

"Barry. Please call me Barry, Sue." And Barry took note that she hadn't said no.

Sue left the room, quietly closing the door behind her as Barry watched her walk away. "Oh my, I think I could learn to like working around here," he muttered. "Where do they get all these women? Must be the Hollywood thing."

The next tap on the door was Smitty, wheeling in a cart with a computer. He placed the portable work station next to the desk, connected some wires and declared it was ready. "You need any of the manuals for this, sir?"

"No. This will be fine. Oh. Have you got any floppies I could use?" Smitty reached into his lab coat pocket and withdrew a box of new diskettes. Barry thanked him and Smitty left.

It took Barry a few minutes to get his concentration back. "These California women are a real distraction," he thought. "Concentrate, man. Concentrate. This is serious stuff and can mean big bucks, if we work it right."

It was after 5:30 when he realized that it was time to take a break. And besides, he had no idea where this Blue Turtle restaurant was that Sanders suggested for dinner.

The guard at the gate came to Barry's rescue, explaining how to find the Blue Turtle. With just a few minutes to stop by his room and get into fresh clothes, Barry was uncharacteristically late on arriving to meet his dinner companions.

"What happened. Get lost?" Sid asked, as Barry finally found them at their table, both working on tall drinks.

"No, I got engrossed in the project plan and didn't leave the plant until late. Sorry 'bout that."

"What'll you have to drink?" Stu asked.

"Actually, just coffee. I've still got more to work on tonight and I need to be clear headed. So? What's the occasion?"

"Nothing special, Barry. I just wanted Sid to join me in getting to know you better. After all we might be placing the future of the company somewhat in your hands, or at least Sid's and mine. We want to know what makes you tick and motivates you."

"I thought you already knew. I like golf and the finer things in life. That's what motivates me to work."

"Don't we all." Stu agreed, "but seriously, what's in all of this for you. Why do you give a damn what happens to StratoWest?"

"Maybe it's because you guys hire the best damn looking secretaries I've ever seen and I don't want them out on the streets. Oh, you said seriously. Well, being serious, if I must, this is a challenge and I thrive on challenges. Getting inside the government's darkest secrets is a challenge and a real high. It's an intellectual game that can be rewarding, as well as remunerative."

"Don't you ever work about the risks, about getting caught and thrown in jail?" Sid inquired.

"No. Not really. And how do you know I'd do anything illegal or have ever been prosecuted?"

"We don't, but you hint at times about using covert methods. Surely some of what you do must be shady, if not downright illegal."

"I’ll admit to shady, perhaps, but I prefer the terms resourceful and knowledgeable about the system and how it works. Getting information, the right kind at the right time, is key, and you both know that information is power. If StratoWest had the information they needed, they wouldn't be a struggling company. They'd be on top and able to exert their power against the competition."

"Okay. So just how far are you willing to push the envelope between shady and illegal? If you're acting as our agent out there, we need to know." Stu insisted.

"If I said trust me? Would you?"

"Of course not, but I guess we don't have all that many choices at this stage. We'll probably have to trust but verify, as someone once said."

"That was Ronald Reagan, I think. But you've already checked me out. I have no criminal record, just a bit of a shady past, if you believe that garbage the CIA claims about me."

"Okay. Okay. Let's not spoil our dinner by getting paranoid. You about ready to order, Stu?"

The three enjoyed a fine seafood meal. Barry relented about drinking only to the extent of a glass of wine with his Mahi Mahi.

"Sid, I've been meaning to ask you about your contacts in the Senate and House. Are you close to the legislators involved in Armed Services matters? And what about their staffers?"

"Close? Hell no. I've collared one or two now and then to suggest that California's aerospace industry is hurting and the next contracts should be given to west coasters. But we don't have anybody that we can call close."

"And staffers? Have you developed any rapport with committee staff people, or even clerical types?" Barry continued.

"No, not really."

"Well then, you've missed out on some valuable sources. I'll work on that as part of the total effort. How about contacts with your competitors? Do you have any of those folks you can prod for information, possibly former StratoWest people?"

"No. None of our people who left have ever stayed in touch."

"Did they move for better opportunities or as disgruntled StratoWest types?"

"Hell. I don't know. We don't track that sort of thing," Stu impatiently replied.

"Let me tell you fellows something. In the intelligence business, which I know well, these are the kinds of things that you have to track. You need dossiers on people, especially former employees who move to your competitors. You just never know when that information could be useful."

"We are in the airplane building business and not the spy business," Sid added.

"Sure, I understand that. That's why you need me. I just wanted to get you to thinking about what it takes to gather the kinds of information StratoWest must have." As soon as he'd eaten, Barry looked at his watch, commenting, "I gotta get back to work, gents. I'll have something for you to consider tomorrow evening. If you don't see me in the office, I'll be out making arrangements for the work ahead. But I'll be there at 7:00 PM for sure. And thanks for a fine meal. You know the best places."

Barry didn't show up at StratoWest at all during the normal work day Tuesday. He decided instead to bring a rented laptop computer to his motel room, where he continued defining his approach to getting the government data for the StratoWest client. Despite not formally being hired yet, he was confident that they couldn't manage without him. Everything he'd seen so far convinced him that these guys were wimps.

At 7:00 PM on the dot, Barry appeared at the second floor conference room down the hall on the second floor from Stu Sanders' offices. The only other lights visible throughout the StratoWest complex were a few in the engineering building across the courtyard. Otherwise the place seemed deserted.

There, seated around the table was Stu Sanders, his assistant Sam Swain, Sid Sturgess, Sam Sergeant and Stu's beautiful secretary. "Good evening, gentlemen and lovely lady," Barry graciously began.

For the next hour Barry explained in considerable detail what he proposed doing on StratoWest's behalf. And then he opened up the floor for questions, but not before making a strange request. He asked Sue for her steno pad, where she had been taking copious notes on the presentation. "Sorry, Sue, but keeping written records of what StratoWest is about to undertake is not allowed. Some of what we are about to embark upon should not go beyond this room and the few operatives I will be assigning to help."

Sue passed he notepad to Barry with a puzzled look on her face, for her boss, Stu, had specifically asked her work overtime just to record this important presentation.

"It's all right, Sue," Stu assured her. "You don't have to stay any longer, if you'd rather leave."

"No. I'll stay, just to hear what is going on, if you don't mind."

"Stay if you wish, but remember that what you hear in here stays here. And that goes for all of you," Stu affirmed.

Outside the closed door to the conference room, making his regular rounds down the darkened hallways of the Administration building, a night watchman paused as he heard heated arguments and shouting emanate from the room. This was unusual, something he'd never experienced in his ten years as a security guard.

"You guys must be crazy." Came one shouting voice. "Are you actually going to let this Benson character spy on our own government in the name of StratoWest?"

"Calm down, Stan," came the second loud voice, which the guard recognized as Mr. Sanders'. "You know that what Barry suggests here is absolutely necessary. If we don't do what he says the company could well fold, and we'll all be out on the streets."

The guard shook his head. This was strange. Company officials inside that room were actually talking about spying, and it was deadly serious. This was the first he'd heard about the company being in real trouble. He did know, of course, that business was slow and not much was going on in the manufacturing area, but he never realized the company might fold. He was tempted to stay outside the door and hear more, but his clock told him that he'd better continue his rounds and punch in at the next station.

"This is the dumbest thing I ever heard of," Stan continued. "We could all go to jail for what this guy is planning to do."

"Okay, Mr. Integrity," Stu responded. "And just what is your master plan for saving the company?"

"Hell, I don't know. I don't have a plan. Does Mr. Stockman know what this is all about? I'll bet he wouldn't tolerate such nonsense."

Stu calmly explained to Stan that Mr. Stockman indeed knew what was being proposed. It was Stockman who first heard the plan and approved Barry staying here to flesh out the details."

Stan shook his head. "I can't believe that we are so desperate. Sure things haven't been exactly been booming lately, but to stoop to this way of gaining the edge and the next contract is wrong, flat wrong."

"Perhaps you would feel better working elsewhere," Sam suggested. "You could walk out of here right now. But for me this looks like the way things have to be. StratoWest is not going to survive without a big contract. I don't relish being party to this kind of stuff, but from where I sit there is no choice."

Barry stood, looking squarely at Stan. "I appreciate your feelings about this. It's dirty and it's messy. But, if it will make you feel any better about it, why don't you fellows ramrod this whole show. I'll do just as much or as little as you allow. Mr. Sanders, here, can control the purse strings and assign any of you or others to work side by side with my team. If you honestly feel we are doing something illegal, blow the whistle and it'll stop. But for anything to work, StratoWest has to commit, here and now, to changing the way they do business."

The room fell silent as the participants thought over Barry's challenge. They were surprised that he would suggest giving such control over what he was going to do. What they did not know, of course, was that Barry was playing them like fiddles. He had no intention of letting them know everything that would go on. He also knew that he would, in fact, be reporting only to Mr. Stockman. Stockman would dole out the money and fund the enterprise. The people around the conference room table were being placated by a smooth operator.

"Okay, Stan. How about we put Sid in charge of monitoring what Barry does from the Washington office. In fact, let's make sure by insisting that Barry's people operate from Sid's offices exclusively."

"Hold on there," Sid interrupted. I haven't got any room in our Washington offices for more people. We have only two rooms and there are already three of us."

"We'll get you more space, Sid. Don't worry about that."

"Well, that would help some, I suppose," Stan reluctantly declared. "But, let's not allow ourselves to go beyond the pale to save what may be a sinking ship. I'm sure we'd all rather be out on the streets than in a prison somewhere."

The remainder of the next half-hour, it was already approaching 9:00 PM, dealt with details and schedules that Barry proposed. Soon Stu declared it was time to wrap things up. He said he would personally meet with Stockman in the morning to voice the reservations expressed. He ended by adding, Okay, Mr. Benson. I guess we'll give your way a try. But no funny stuff. You keep Sid informed and I'll watch your progress closely. Tomorrow I'll ask Mr. Stockman to approve the first quarter of the budget you've proposed. Consider yourself on the payroll, but in a probationary status. We'll pull the plug any time that Sid tells me you have stepped out of bounds."

"Fair enough, Stu. I'll leave for Washington in the morning and move my office to wherever Sid provides the necessary space and support."

The all rose to leave, and Barry gave Sue back her memo pad, minus the pages he'd torn out. "Are we still on for that dinner tonight. I have 9:30 reservations," Barry asked her in a whisper.

"No. I don't think so. Somehow, I just don't like you and your methods. And you better not bring any grief to these people. They are my friends." Barry smiled politely and left the facility.

Around midnight, Barry got a call in his room. He was already in bed, trying to get some sleep before his 8:00 AM flight. "Yeah. Who is it?" He mumbled half asleep.

"Stockman here, Barry. Hope I didn't wake you."

"Uh, no. It's all right I wasn't asleep. What's up?"

"I heard you had quite a loud meeting tonight with Stu and his people. They are not happy campers, from what Stu tells me. He called me at home right after your session broke up."

"Oh? Does that mean you've change your mind?"

"Not by a damn site. It's go all the way. I'll take care of Stu and his crew. You just do what I hired you to do. And here is my home phone number, so you can deal with me directly. Keep me posted."

Barry smiled, as he thanked Mr. Stockman and placed the phone back on the hook. "Now the fun begins," he muttered to himself. "Hot damn. I got the $2.2 million."

The huge 747 touched down at Dulles just after 4:00 PM, bringing Barry home to commence in earnest the job just garnered from StratoWest. It was time to hit the ground running. There was much to do.

"Hi-ya, Barry. Over here," greeted his old pal, Ben Brigham, as Barry came off the gateway. He waved vigorously to get Barry's attention.

A big smile came across Barry's face. "Well, my friend, we got it, the StratoWest account and a million to work with."

"All right. Well done," Ben acknowledged, giving Barry high fives and relieving him of his carry-on bag. "What's first on our agenda?"

"Well, first thing is to retrieve my checked luggage, just my golf clubs. That carry-on is the only bag I packed."

"Did you say a million?"

"That I did. I've got fifty g's in this briefcase and the rest is in a special account set up by the StratoWest CEO. We'll have to go through their Washington office to use the money, but that's just a formality. Did you get that data on the StratoWest people that I asked for?"

"Yes. It's all on your internal email file. Betty finished collating it yesterday. There's nothing much out of the ordinary in it though, except for an interesting tid-bit about Sid Sturgess."

"Good. I'll look at it this evening. Let me call Betty at the office, and then we'll go some place to talk," Barry declared as he looked for an empty phone booth in the long line of them in the terminal.

"Betty? Barry. Just got in. Ben's here with me at Dulles. Just as soon as I pick up my luggage we'll head into town. Why don't you close up the office for the day and meet us as Casey's for a drink?"

"You got it, didn't you. Oh, that's great. You did it."

"Yes, we did it. I'll tell you all about it at Casey's. See you in a half-hour or so. Bye."

Ben drove them into downtown, fighting rush hour traffic all the way. It was getting dark now, as the season Fall meant shortened days. By 5:00 o'clock they were at Casey's, a favorite watering hole and sandwich eatery just a block from their office. Betty was already there, holding down a booth in the back. When she spied them, she got up and ran up to give Barry a big hug.

"Welcome back, Oh Barry. I'm so excited. I can't wait to hear the details."

Ben waved at Wes, the bartender, and pointed toward the back booth. "A big pitcher and three glasses, Wes. And a bowl of that popcorn too." Wes nodded as he recognized the three regulars at his busy establishment. The place was full of Friday afternoon happy hour patrons, most of them government workers. But there were also lobbyists, contractors, reporters and a variety of political junkies.

As Wes brought the pitcher and three glasses, Barry paid him with a fifty and told him to keep the change. Ben noticed the exchange and commented, "Wow. You're sure generous with StratoWest's money." Barry just smiled and they all sat down for a hushed conversation. The din of the place made whispering impossible, of course.

"Look, guys," Barry began. "Time is of the essence for this project. I was able to get the job because I promised results in a hurry. StratoWest hasn't got much time. Now here's what we're going to do."

Betty poured the beer, as Ben grabbed a handful of popcorn. Both eagerly looked to Barry for instructions.

"Betty, you must know some gals who are looking for work. I'll let you bring on one that you know to be savvy, who knows computers and whom we can trust. Implicitly. You get my drift?"

"Sure, Barry. I have a couple of names on my Rolodex, all gals we can trust for sure."

"And Ben, we need to round up two of our contacts with experience working the Hill. See if you can get Bret Baldridge and Bart Bascomb to join us. I'd like them to work out of the StratoWest office, along with the new gal that Betty hires, to demonstrate how we can tap the information some of those Senate Committee staffers have. They'll teach Sid's team how to do it. There are no smoother guys that I know of. Do you know if they are working now?"

"I'll check. Last I heard Bart was working with a team of lobbyists on some internet stuff. Bret isn't working now, but there's nobody better at schmoozing and ferreting out which way the winds blow. I'll call 'em this weekend."

"Great. Let's get on it right away. I'd like to have our folks at the StratoWest office by next Wednesday. And Betty, remind me to call Sid Sturgess first thing Monday."

"What pay scales are you offering these folks?" Betty asked.

"Let's give 'em 10 percent more than they were earning before. They'll tell you what they made."

"Okay, but what about us? We ought to get raises too, don't you think?" Betty added.

"Of course. Put yourselves in for 10 percent raises too. And I guess I'd better put some of this money in the bank right away. I don't like carrying around so much. Better yet, you both carry some of it. All three of us aren't likely to get mugged."

Betty looked at her watch. It was after 6:15 and she declared, "Oh oh, gotta run. I'm supposed to meet my mother for dinner. She'll worry if I'm late. Ever since Dad died, she's on my case all the time. See you two Monday." She clutched her purse closely as she left. As Betty disappeared through the crowd and out the door, Ben waved at Wes for another pitcher.

"I had an idea come to me on the flight, Ben. It's different, but I think it might be a way to give us access to the kinds of information we couldn't get otherwise."

"Now what have you dreamed up?"

"What's the best way to get into the Senate and Pentagon offices?" Barry asked. But without waiting for Ben's reply, he continued, "It's through young and idealistic staffers, wouldn't you say?"

"I suppose, but what do you mean?"

"What if we provided digs for young, naïve and gullible staffers that we could monitor around the clock? And what if that included their email and phone calls?"

"Sounds illegal to me. How are you going to do it?"

"Well, suppose we provide reasonably priced living quarters for say three to four Pentagon and Senate or House staffers, for people who work in the right areas. And suppose that we could offer them free internet access for their laptops or home computers, access that we could monitor night and day. Wouldn't that give us entrée into their office computers, by capturing their user ID names and passwords so that we could browse around undetected?"

"Boy, you really are going beyond the pale."

"Perhaps, but consider this. We could lease a building, say in Georgetown, that we could fix up into small studio apartments. Then we'd select the right young tenants and offer them a deal they couldn't refuse, completely furnished studios."

"Yeah. And how are you going to make sure that you get the right folks into your spider's web?"

"Simple. We'll put three-by-five cards on the bulletin right boards. Young folks looking for a place to live will see them and come to see what we've got."

"Okay. Let's say you do get some of those folks. What'll you charge for rent that they can afford?"

"Let’s suppose that we can lease a suitable building for, oh, $3500 a month. And that place can be divided up into four studio apartments. We'll rent them for $800 or so. That'll bring in almost enough to cover our lease payments while giving those tenants an affordable place."

"Sure. The money sounds about right, but where are you going to find a place in this tight market?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, it was a 'For Lease' sign in my neighborhood that got me to thinking about all of this on the plane. There is a row house on 33^rd, just off M, that is available. It's a three-story brownstone in a great area. There's public transportation just a block away, and it's convenient to the Senate office building and the Pentagon as well."

"Have you seen the place?"

"No, but we're going to this weekend. I'll call you when I've set up an appointment to look it over."

"Okay, but not too early in the morning. I like to sleep in on weekends, if I can."

"Sure. No problem, but I need to have Bert come in to the office Monday so I can discuss with him how we might set up our own internet service, or at least gain ready access to one we can monitor from the inside."

"You planning on making internet access a part of the rental packages for your tenants?"

"I'm planning on making it available free, as an inducement to get the right people. Like I said, I want them to be eager, young, idealistic and above all naïve."

Ben grabbed his coat and started to leave, when Barry asked, "You said earlier that you learned something about Sid Sturgess. What was it?"

Ben eased back into his seat. "Yeah, I learned that Sid is really in financial difficulty. He's max'd out on his bank cards, has a lousy credit rating, and is behind on some payments. He's right on the edge."

"Uh huh. That's interesting. It could be useful. Thanks Ben."

Saturday morning, before 8:00, Barry was taking his regular morning jog around Georgetown. Dozens of others were doing the same. It's the thing to do when the weather is decent. At the front steps of the brownstone, Barry paused to make note of the telephone number on the 'For Lease' sign. And as he was doing so, a fellow came out of the front door.

"Ya interested?" inquired the slightly built gray-haired fellow?"

"Might be. Are you the real estate rep?"

"No. I'm the owner. Ya want to see it?"

"Sure."

Up the marble front steps, close to the sidewalk, to the ornate heavy wooden door at the stoop, Barry climbed. He looked over the exterior, noting that it was in very good condition, obviously freshly cleaned and painted. That wooden door was impressive, of dark oak with a stained glass window.

"C'mon in. Just wipe your feet, please. There's new carpet in the hall. You looking for a place?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. How many bedrooms have you got here?"

"Four. Two on the second and two more on the third floor. And there's a bath on each floor. You got a big family?"

"Ah, no, but I have lots of visiting friends and relatives that need a place to stay when they come to town. Where do you park? You got a garage out back?"

The fellow laughed. "No. It's on-street parking only, and that's strictly by permit. Not many folks in this neighborhood even have cars. Most ride the bus. You get that over on M Street."

Barry got the grand tour, from top floor to basement. He couldn't believe his luck. This place was practically what he'd day-dreamed about on the plane. The upstairs bedrooms were huge, each more than 14 by 20 feet. They could be easily divided into sleeping and living room areas. And the bathrooms were newly remodeled. On the main floor was a living room, a kitchen and a small dining room, plus what might be either a library or yet another studio unit.

"Can I see the basement?"

"Yeah, sure. It's through that door to the right of the entry. It's dry down there. We've had no wetness, even in the hardest rains."

"Barry went down the stairs, while the owner stood at the top and talked down to him. "There's a light switch on your right, there on that post."

Barry found it and flicked on another light that showed him a huge open area, with a furnace off to the back and a water heater nearby. He noted that it was a 100-gallon size, more than ample for four tenants to use.

"What's this other room, the one with cinderblock walls and the metal door?" Barry shouted back up the stairs.

"I think it was a wine cellar or some kind of storage. Came with the place. It's dry. You can check it out."

"Yes. I see that. This place appears well built. How old is it?"

"It's been here since the 1920's. I got it last summer and just remodeled it. I bought it to use as a rental, for income to supplement my Post Office pension. I own it free and clear."

"Well, it certainly looks good. What did you say you wanted for it a month?"

"I didn't say, but I'd have to get $4000."

"Uh huh, four grand. That seems a little steep."

"No. Not really. Other places in the neighborhood are going for that, some even more. This is Georgetown, you know."

"How long has it been on the market?"

"Three months. I finished the renovations in September and have been trying to lease it since then. I've put more than $30,000 in upgrades."

"Yes, I can see that. You've done a good job, but don't you think that $4000 is too much, and the likely reason it's still not leased."

"Oh no. That's not the problem. What seems to deter these young people who want Georgetown addresses is the lack of off-street parking for their BMW's. It's not the price. Kids today are making more money than you and I ever thought of."

"Yeah. You're right about that, especially lawyers."

The owner laughed. "Lawyers. This town breeds them like rabbits. They are everywhere. Oops, sorry. You're not a lawyer are you?"

"No. I'm not. Tell you what. I'll give you $3200 a month and sign a firm one-year lease. Will you take that?"

"Can't. I'd lose almost ten thousand a year if I took that low amount. No, I can't do that. I have to recover my remodeling costs."

"Well, consider this my friend. You're already out 12 thousand for the past three months it’s been empty. Wouldn't you rather have $3200 a month guaranteed than lose more?" Barry paused and then exclaimed, "Say, what's that door in the back for?"

"It's a cellar door. Behind that wooden door on the wall is another and are steps up to the back yard. You never seen a cellar door before?"

"Well I'll be. No. I heard of cellars doors, but this is the first I've seen. In my part of the country, back home, houses don't even have basements." Barry was already thinking about the access he'd need to the basement for Bert's equipment and wiring. Before heading back to the steps, Barry noted a large fuse panel and a phone line that came into the house next to the little cinder block room.

On reaching the main floor, Barry stood there looking at the owner. "$3200 a month guaranteed beats having the place sit empty. You sure you won't take it?"

As Barry walked through the kitchen, opening cupboard doors and looking into the pantry closet, he was impressed with the cleanliness and condition of the place. "$3200 a month. I'll offer that just this one time."

"Okay. $3200. I'll take it, but you also have to put up the damage deposit of one month's lease amount, plus sign an unbreakable one-year contract."

Barry walked back into the hallway and stood in front of his new landlord. "Done, my friend. How about if we meet here Monday evening, say around 7:30, to sign the papers. I'll have the cash for you then."

"Did you say cash?"

"Yes. You do take cash, don't you?"

The owner stammered, "Uh, yeah. Sure. Cash is fine. I just didn't expect that in these times of credit cards and checks."

"Oh. One other thing, I'd like an associate to look over the place. Could I bring him by this afternoon some time?"

"Will that change your deal, if he doesn't like it?"

"No, not at all. Let's shake hands on the deal right now," Barry suggested, smiling broadly and extending his hand.

"Done. I like the way you do business. No problem about coming by. In fact, here's an extra key. You and your associate look it over all you like this weekend. I'll meet you here Monday evening. I've got to leave now. Just lock up when you're done."

By the time that Barry got back to his apartment, several messages awaited him on the answering machine. One was from Bart, responding to Ben's query about his availability for a job. Another was from Sid, asking if he'd be coming in to the office on Monday to get things started.

"Sid? Barry here. Got your phone message. I was out taking my morning jog. Sorry I missed your call."

"No sweat. I was just touching base and wondered if you'd be coming into the office on Monday. Sanders gave me authorization to rents some additional space. Fortunately, there was room right in our building, so we can accommodate your people."

"Good. We'll need it, because I'll be moving three folks in next week. Don't know if I can get in myself on Monday because I have to interview some new people. But don't worry. I'll keep you posted."

"Okay. Let me know if there's anything you need. StratoWest is anxious for you to succeed."

"Yeah, me too. I'm getting the wheels in motion. I'll call you. Bye." Barry hung up the phone, muttering, "Worry wart."

Ben called asking about the appointment time for viewing the brownstone building. Barry called him back, declaring, "Meet me here at my place, say around 12:30. We'll look at the place and then go for lunch. Did you get hold of Bert?"

"Yeah. He's ready when you need him."

"Good. Why don't you call him and ask him to join us to look over the house. I want him to tell me what's needed to set things up."

"Okay. See you at 12:30."

Barry showered, shaved and got dressed. His phone rang while he was dressing. It was Bart. "Barry? Ben called and said you've got a project. I'm interested. It'll probably be a helluva lot more fun that these lobbyists I've been working with. When do you want to meet?"

"Well, my friend, if it's something different you want, I've got it. Do you know of the StratoWest Aerospace Company?"

"Yeah. Who doesn't? Why?"

"That's our client. Meet me at their downtown office at noon on Tuesday. It's right across the street from the new Senate office building. See you then."

"Will do. It'll be like old times working together. I'm looking forward to it. See you then."

At 12:30, punctual as usual, Ben pushed the doorbell at Barry's apartment. Barry put on his jacket and greeted Ben at the door. "C'mon, Ben. It's just a block away. I want to show you the ideal place for our operation."

Bert pulled up in his ancient Volvo station wagon, just as the two started walking down the block. "Wait up guys. What's happening?" And Barry waved at him to come along.

"Who's place is this?" Bert asked.

"Ours. Come on in. I want you to look at something."

"Hey. This is nice," Ben declared on seeing the exterior of the brownstone. "Couldn't be handier for downtown workers."

Barry used his key and the three entered. Ben started looking around the first floor, while Barry asked Bert to join him in the basement.

"There's the power box," he pointed. "And over there is where the phone lines come in." Bert nodded while looking over the wire bundles. "This little room is where you're going to set things up, Bert. I want a complete internet access server and digital monitoring setup. We're going to hook up the upstairs bedrooms with phone jacks that come through here for both voice and computer connections. And I want private lines to each room, plus another to the first floor studio. Look around and then we’ll talk. I've got to get with Ben."

"Yeah, sure. Neat place for a monitoring setup."

Upstairs Barry found Ben in the kitchen. "Did you look at the bedrooms upstairs? Nice, huh?"

"Sure is. Bet this place leases for a bundle. Did you say it's already ours?"

"Yup. It's been vacant for three months and the landlord just spent 30 g's remodeling and fixing the place. With a few additions, it'll be perfect."

"What kind of additions, and how much did you get this for?"

"$3200 a month, including water and sewer. With each of those upstairs rooms bringing in $800, it'll barely cost us anything."

"You said additions. What kind?"

"Well, first of all, I want to divide each of those huge upstairs bedrooms with temporary partitions to create separate bedroom and living room areas. And each unit will have to have deadbolt locks, to give the tenants a sense of security. But the biggest additions are complete furnishings and an on-site internet and phone monitoring system. I've got Bert down in the basement now, figuring out what that will take."

"Furnished? How are you going to do that?"

"Simple. I'll go to one of those rental outfits and get their decorator to do the whole job. All our young tenants will have to bring is their own linens and personal stuff. You know that most of 'em don't have much more than they can carry." Then Barry explained how he got the place for just $3200, when the owner wanted 4 g's.

"You think you can get tenants willing to pay $800 for a studio apartment?"

"No problem. In this town that's a bargain. And as soon as it's fixed up, fully furnished and wired to our needs, I'll put up some three-by-five cards announcing the vacancies. I'll bet it'll be full in two weeks."

"Barry. Where are you?" came Bert's voice from the front hallway.

"In the kitchen. How does it look?"

It'll be a chore to string the wires to each bedroom and put phone jacks in. These old walls are plaster, you know."

"Well you can string the wires in the studded dry wall partitions we're going to use to divide each of those rooms. One part will be bedroom and the other a living and office area, so the people can set up their computers or laptops."

"Oh, that's a help. You wanna use that little room for the equipment?"

"Yep. And I want it made secure, with a cipher lock, to keep out snoopy tenants. You noticed that cellar door entry in the back, didn't you? That will make it easier to bring your stuff down than using the hallway."

"Yeah. Is there a garage out back, and an alley?"

"No garages, but you can unload from the alley."

"Okay. I'll get with you Monday or Tuesday with a list of things we'll need. You got the money?"

"Yes. Cash on the barrel head. You won't have to bankroll this job."

"Okay. I'll get with you then."

Barry invited Ben to come on down into the basement, where he pointed out the cinder block room and explained how it would be used.

"This place is in great shape. Are you sure the landlord won't mind you making modifications?"

"As long as we keep paying the lease, he'll not object. And besides, if we don't want no for an answer, we won't ask the question."

"Well, you did it again. When you get an idea, you don't waste any time going into action. So how soon will it be ready for you to advertise?"

"No more than two weeks. Maybe just ten days."

"Oh yeah? Who's going to do the carpentry work? I know Bert will do the wiring."

"I'm working on that. I figure we can pay top dollar to get a small contractor to rush the job. I'll have someone by end of business Monday."

"Top StratoWest dollar, right?"

Barry smiled, and added, "Oh, by the way. Bart called this morning. He'll meet us at StratroWest's office Tuesday noon. I want to introduce you two to Sid Sturgess and his people. And remember, make nice?"

"What's that crack for?"

"Well, I know that you and Bart aren't all that chummy. But we have to give the StratoWest people the impression that we're all one happy family. I'm going to have Bart hang his hat with Sid, when he's not cruising the hallways on the Hill or the Senate and House office buildings. He and Bret will be our overt operations team. You and I will, in the meanwhile, get the real show under way."

Ten days passed and the brownstone house was ready. Ben couldn't believe that all the work got done. He was still worried about Barry doing modifications to the interior of a place not his, but Barry allayed his concerns. The partition walls were free-standing and barely nailed into the structure. L-shaped walls stood by themselves, yet gave Bert the channels he needed to string wires and attach the phone jacks.

The interior decorator did a superb job. The once empty place now looks warm, cozy and inviting. While clearly showing a woman's touch, it wasn't too frilly to deter a possible male roomer.

The young, blond and attractive Caroline Cochran, dressed in a new and conservative green suit, timidly opened the huge wooden door to the office suite of Senator Christopher Carrington, Chairman of the Armed Service Committee. Tentatively she looked around, her eyes wide in wonder at the opulence of the place. Finally she saw Mrs. Carla Conroe, the Senator's long-time secretary and confidant.

"Oh my," Caroline declared, in her clear southern accent. "I do hope this is the right place."

"May I help you, young lady?"

"Ah, yes ma'am. I believe I am in the right place," as she fumbled for an envelope in her purse.

Even before taking the letter of introduction from her young visitor, Mrs. Conroe greeted, "You must be Miss Cochran. We've been expecting you. Please, have a seat." And Caroline took the seat next to Mrs. Conroe's huge wooden desk. A computer screen glowed a greenish gray, depicting a document being composed. Two multi-line telephones occupied the opposite side of the cluttered space. Several button lights blinked.

"Welcome to Washington, my dear. You're the young lady from Atlanta that the Senator told me about. My how nice you look. Did you just get into town?"

"Yes, ma'am. I came in on the train this morning, just a half hour ago, as a matter of fact. I'm here for the secretarial intern job described in that letter from the Senator. He knows my daddy, but then I suppose you knew that."

Caroline's father is a postman in Atlanta, serving the route through the Senator's home neighborhood. He delivered a lot of mail to the Senator and got to be known by the family and staff in the big mansion on Magnolia Street. When Caroline graduated from business college, a proud moment for her father and mother, the Senator said he would find a place for her in his Washington office. This would be her very first job.

In a few minutes the Senator came out of his inner office, turned and saw the young woman seated next to Mrs. Conroe's desk.

"Missie, welcome, my dear. I see you made it all right, and congratulations on graduating from business school. We are so glad to have you join us." And then the Senator walked her around the four room suite of offices. His private domain was luxurious, with leather and mahogany furnishings, dozens of plaques and engraved silver trays, bowls and trophies, plus photographs of the Senator with many famous people. Caroline was overwhelmed by it

"This room is where you will be working, my dear. You do know how to use a computer, don't you?" He exclaimed as they entered an adjacent room with four desks, computer work stations mainly. Two other young ladies and a tall older man, dressed casually, worked in their respective areas.

"People, I'd like you all to meet Miss Caroline Cochran from Atlanta. She's joining our office and I know you'll all come to love her as Mrs. Carrington and I do. She and her father are old friends." And then the Senator introduced her, one at a time, to her new office mates. "Do they still call you 'Missie' or do you prefer Caroline?"

Caroline blushed a bit, somewhat embarrassed at being still called by her girlhood nickname. "Please, Senator," she whispered. "I prefer Caroline." He smiled down at her and nodded in understanding. The little girl was now grown up.

In a few moments he escorted her back to Mrs. Conroe's desk, leaving her there. "Mrs. Conroe is my office manager, Caroline. She has the title of secretary, but believe me, she manages everything around here and I couldn't get along without her. She'll get you settled in. And again, I welcome you to and am so glad to see you. Please give your folks my best, when you call. Y'heah?"

"That you, sir," Caroline demurely replied, as the Senator disappeared back into his private office.

"Well, Caroline, we are all pleased to have you join our little group. You'll find it exciting, always interesting and at times hectic. The Senator is a very important man on Capitol Hill and things get pretty busy around here, especially when Congress is in session."

"Yes, ma'am. I understand."

"Please, my dear. Call me Carla. Ma'am sounds so, well, old fashioned these days. And it makes me sound older than I want to be seen. So? Do you have a place to live?"

"No, Ma'am … er, Carla. I just got into town a little while ago. I left my suitcases in the railroad station check room, until I decide where to stay. I suppose a hotel would be best until I find an apartment."

"Well, this must be your lucky day. Look at this notice I copied yesterday from the bulletin board by the coffee shop. This just might be ideal for you." And then Carla presented the message which Barry Benson posted only yesterday.

"Sounds nice, but where is Georgetown? I don't have a car so I have to be some place where I can catch a bus."

"It's a part of Washington, just a little ways west of where we are sitting, only 15 minutes by bus. Georgetown is a very nice part of the city, some might even call it trendy."

"Oh oh, that sounds expensive."

"Well, perhaps so by Atlanta standards, but see there, it's only $800 a month furnished. That is a real bargain in this town."

"Can you tell me how to get there? What bus should I take?"

"Tell you what. I'll call and see if it's still available and make an appointment for you to see it. I'll go with you, if you like."

"Yes, ma'am. I'd appreciate that. Oops. Sorry. I mean Carla."

Carla smiled, a friendly smile that reflected her instant liking for this naïve young woman, and remembering in a way how she herself felt when she came to Washington 20 years earlier, to accept her first secretarial job.

For the rest of the day, including a brief lunch break in the employees cafeteria, Carla devoted much of her time to getting Caroline acquainted. She also had to guide her through the process of getting an identification badge. She was even introduced to the security guards at the Senate Office building entry.

At 5:30, Carla and Caroline left together to keep the appointment with Barry at the brownstone house. It was dark by the time they arrived on the bus, Caroline was happy to have someone with her, for she had heard tales about how unsafe Washington streets were after dark. She climbed the stairs and rang the front door bell. "Is this the place with rooms to let?"

"Yes ladies. It is. Please come on in. I'm Barry Benson, the landlord. Welcome."

Tentatively, the two women entered. Both were impressed and pleased to find it such an inviting place, one obviously decorated by a woman with good taste.

"This is very nice," Caroline commented. "It's lovely."

"Your wife has excellent taste, sir," Carla suggested. "Everything looks so fresh and clean, as well as beautifully decorated."

"My wife is no longer living, I'm afraid. But the interior decorator I hired would be pleased to hear your comments. Won't you have a seat here in the living room. It's one that's available to all our tenants, though right now you two will be the first. The place was just finished last week. Which of the announcement cards did you find?"

Caroline wandered around, peeking into the main floor studio, which seemed obviously occupied. Then she looked into the huge kitchen, outfitted with brand new appliances, including two refrigerators and a microwave. There was a downstairs bathroom, small but with sink, toilet and shower stall.

"Do you live here, Mr. Benson?" inquired Carla.

"Part time. I travel quite a bit, but when I am in town this is where I hang my hat, so to speak. Are you both looking for a room?"

"Er, no," replied Carla. "It's for my friend here. She's new in town and looking for a place to live, a safe comfortable place convenient to public transportation and not too expensive. May we see the rooms?"

"Of course. There are four and you will have the pick of any one. Being first has its advantages. Here, I'll show you. There are two studios on the second and third floors."

Barry led them up the stairs to the second floor, pausing at the landing to point up to the third level. He explained that there was a full bath on each floor, to be shared by the tenants. "All four rooms are the same, and as you see each is equipped with a deadbolt lock for your safety and the security of your things. Tenants have the only keys, unless they choose to have maid service. In that case our maids, who are bonded and insured, will have a key."

"Maid service? Is that included?"

"No, young lady. It's extra, but I can recommend the maid highly. She takes care of my rooms and even does my laundry."

"Oh look, Carla. Isn't this nice?" Caroline declared, as they looked at the front side studio. It featured a canopy queen-size bed, dressing table with mirror and obviously all-new furniture throughout. The sitting room included a computer work table, recliner chair and bookshelves. Floor lamps and table lamps provided plenty of light. And there were lace curtains and venetian blinds on the tall windows. The sitting room window looked out onto the street, though the bedroom had none.

"You say this has been available only a week?" Carla inquired.

"Yes, ma'am. We just completed remodeling and the furnishing are all new. My decorator picked out all of the items and chose the colors. I hope it's satisfactory."

"Would you let us see the others, please?"

Barry escorted them to view the others three studios. All were the same except for one which did not have the dressing table or canopy bed. He left them alone to explore and said that he'd be in the downstairs living room, if they had questions. He knew that the ladies had to talk things over.

"Well, Carla. What do you think?" an excited Caroline asked.

"It seems very nice. Does it bother you that you have to share the bathroom?"

"I love it. And it's so convenient to the bus. It's so clean and new. Yes. I like it and I'd prefer the second floor front studio overlooking the street."

Downstairs, Barry sat reading the newspaper when the ladies came back down. He looked up and instantly realized that he had his first tenant.

"Where do you work, ladies? Is this convenient to your jobs?"

Carla explained that the both worked in Senator Carrington's office. Barry smiled, barely containing his delight that he first tenant worked in the very place that he wanted information access.

"You saw, I hope, that the sitting room of your studio has a computer connection. We even offer free internet service, though the telephone charges are the responsibility of each tenant. And you are free to use the facilities of the kitchen, the laundry area in the basement and this living room any time you like. We hope to create a family atmosphere, as I suspect all of our tenants will be living alone and want someone to talk with now and then. We offer privacy and security, as well as an open and friendly atmosphere."

Caroline said she'd take the second floor front unit and asked when she could move in. Barry said she could bring her things whenever she liked. So after taking care of the lease papers and paying the deposit and first month's rent, Caroline and Carla left, explaining that she'd move in tomorrow. Barry handed her the key and told her it also worked the front door lock.

"You are a fortunate girl," Carla explained to her young associate. "For the money, you couldn't find a nicer place. So, why don't we go pick up your suitcases and bring them to my apartment. You'll stay with me tonight. No need to find a hotel room."

In the next week three others joined Caroline as tenants in the Georgetown place. One was a secretary working in the Pentagon. Another was a young man, also working in the Pentagon, in the budget office. And the last one, a slightly older single woman, came from the Air Force's office of the Deputy Chief of Staff. She worked as a financial analyst.

Barry couldn't have been more pleased with the fact that the brownstone was fully occupied, with apparently very nice and compatible people, but especially for where they all worked. His plan was coming together perfectly.

Bert, the computer whiz, had access to the basement through the cellar door. It was locked at all times, except when he came to bring in or work on equipment. Barry and Bert let it be known to the tenants that Bert was using the space for a computer repair shop, though that was merely a disguise for Bert's elaborate system of computer and telephone monitoring. At all times the small block room was kept tightly secured, because tenants had access to the basement laundry facilities and storage space. Prying eyes weren't welcome. Barry told Bert only to come into the basement during working hours, when tenants would be out of the building.

Other parts of Barry's plan were coming together too. Bart and Bret, along with the new secretary, Brenda, were ensconced in the expanded StratoWest offices and doing well. Bart introduced Sid to a number of Congressional staffers, and even two or three Congressmen and women. He actually had to teach Sid the finer points of schmoozing, of paying attention to the small touches that would endear people to StratoWest's marketing team. He got them to send birthday greetings, to pay attention to things like engagements, weddings, child births and anniversaries of the people they needed to cultivate as information sources. If nothing else, he taught Sid and his people how to be welcomed in the various offices, rather than becoming pains in the neck or obvious snoops and lobbyists.

Sid reported to Stu Sanders and Stockman that he was pleased with the moves that Barry was making. Already, for instance, their Senate contacts gave an indication that consideration of a new assault transport was beginning, on the Hill and throughout the Pentagon. It was rumored to be a possible replacement for the Hercules.

One Friday, shortly after the brownstone was fully occupied, Barry called his golfing friend at Langley, General Louis Langtree.

"Hello General. Thanks for taking my call. I am going to be down on the Peninsula this weekend and wondered if you're up for a game, say on Sunday?"

"How the hell are you, you old hustler? You want some more of my money, eh?"

"Sure. I'll take whatever you manage to lose. But I seem to recall that you took me last time. Are you going to be available?"

"Yeah, this weekend is fine. I'll meet you Sunday at 0900. See you in the Club coffee shop. Just a twosome? Or do you want a couple others along to take your money?"

Barry laughed and said, "The more the merrier. See you Sunday, but remember, no Mulligans."

Saturday afternoon, Barry drove down to Langley, arriving in the Hampton Roads area just at dusk. He took a room at the Holiday Inn near the base. The weather looked favorable for a morning round on the base course.

By 8:45 Barry was on Langley AFB, home of the Air Combat Command and headquarters for the Air Force's premier fighting units. He pulled into the golf course parking spaces in his classic old Jaguar, just as the General drove up.

"You still driving that beauty, old friend," the General commented.

"Yes, sir. You remember this from our Washington days together, I see."

"You bet. I've always wanted you to put it on the line on one of our bets. How about today? Winner gets the Jag."

"Some bet. I've already got it. Good to see you again. Are we doing a twosome this morning?"

"No Barry. I brought along a couple of officers from my headquarters, one of whom you may remember."

"Les Livermore. You may remember him from those Pentagon days, when I was a new Colonel and Les was a young major in the Plan office."

"Yeah, I remember Les. I didn't remember him as a golfer though. Wasn't he your liaison with the Strategic Air Command plans group?"

"Yes. Same guy, only now he's taken up the game and has progressed nicely. He beats me now and then, on his good days and my bad ones. Now he's Colonel Livermore and still working for me."

"And the other member of our foursome?"

"Major Loni Lincoln. There she is over there. Loni is my public relations officer."

Les and Loni came over to where Barry and the general were loading their bags onto the electric golf cart. Both greeted the general and were in turn introduced to Barry. "I've known this guy for what? ten years or more, Barry?" Barry nodded and handshakes all around completed the greetings.

"Why don't Barry and I take this cart and you two share a second one?" the general suggested. We'll meet you on the first tee."

"No Jag on the line this morning sir. Let's keep this a friendly game."

The general laughed and took his practice swings. "You did say on the phone no Mulligans, Right?"

The four drew straws to see who'd hit first. Loni wound up going first and drove a straight shot a respectable 175 yards. Then Les hit and blasted a long one almost 300 yards, just short of the green.

"Are you sure we're in the right league with these experts, Barry?"

"Oh, I think a couple of old timers can still show the youngsters a thing or two. You're up next." And Barry just about matched Les's drive. The general sliced off to the right a little, but managed to stay on the fairway about 240 yards from the tee.

As they continued their game, competing three holes, Barry and Les were tied. Loni and the general were tied as well, just three strokes back.

"So, what are you doing these days, Barry? I heard that you left the agency a while back."

"Yes, I've been out on my own. Now I'm doing security related work with industry. In fact, I'm on a job now with StratoWest."

"No kidding. Do you know Steve Stockman? He was CEO the last I heard?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact I played golf with him out on the coast a few weeks ago. He plays a more relaxed game."

"Hell. I didn't know he was still in harness. How's he doing?"

"You know him, general?"

"Hell yes. He's an old bomber pilot. I've seen him quite a few times at our old outfit's reunions. You remember that I flew with the 22^nd Bomb Wing, back when they were converting to the B-52 H-models. Steve is a legend with the old timers."

"Well, he's doing pretty well. He introduced me to a thing called Bingo, Bango, Bungo. You ever hear of that?"

The general laughed and thoroughly enjoyed Barry's description of that variation on golf betting. "It doesn't surprise me one bit that he's still doing that. He never was a good golfer, but then you don’t have to be to win with that system."

When the game ended, shortly after noon, as the Virginia sunshine and the coast breezes refreshed the group, Barry asked if they would like to join him for lunch in the club house.

"We'll join you, Barry. But let's meet at the Officers' Club. The food is much better. All they offer here are sandwiches and beer," the general suggested.

Over a delightful buffet lunch at the O. Club, the four chatted about a variety of things, including some stories that the general told on Barry and his CIA work. "You know this guy taught the enemy how to play golf, Loni?"

"That's gotta be a first, sir?"

"Yup. When Barry here was with the agency, he was working embassy row, trying to get close to some of the eastern block staffers and officials. Well, he actually taught the deputy ambassador from Hungary how to play the game. And then he proceeded to take him to the cleaners with side bets. He even gave the ambassador ten strokes. Remember that Barry?"

"How could I. It made the papers, though they didn't print the fact that I was CIA. I'm still not sure that the ambassador ever knew. But you know, he was really not a bad sort for a communist. I liked him."

"So, you're working for old Stockman. Please give him my best when you see him, and remind him of next summer's reunion. It'll be in Shreveport this year."

"Yes, sir. I'll do that."

"So what is StratoWest doing these days?"

"Not too well. They haven't won any contracts in some time. Too bad too, 'cause they're some of the best metal benders in the industry. You don't happen to know if there are any new plane contracts coming down the pike, do you?"

"Nothing I can talk about, but you must have heard that we're thinking of replacing the C-130's in a couple of years. Tell Stockman he should go after that work. They'd be ideal for it."

"Sure will, general. I just wish I could pass along something more concrete."

"You know I can't talk about that. Hell, I'd be in all kinds of trouble if that ever got out."

"Yes, sir. I appreciate that. We'll leave it at that. I want to thank you for taking time from your busy schedule to play a round this morning," Barry said, shaking his old friend's hand. He also expressed his delight at meeting Les and Loni. "I've got to drive back up to D.C. this afternoon, so I'd better be shoving off. Give me a call if you come up this Spring. We'll play some golf up there, maybe at Burning Tree, General."

"Look forward to it, Barry. You take care now and stay in touch. And don't forget to pass along my hello to Stockman."

Barry stood up to leave. The general looked at his watch and said, I've got to run too." Then turning to Loni and Les he added, "Thank you two for joining us this morning. Wait up, Barry. I'll walk you to your car."

Barry and the general walked out of the O. Club door and down the steps toward the parking lot. "You tell Stockman to do his homework on tactical and assault transports, Barry. That's all I can say. And if you ever want to sell your Jag, give me first call."

"Will do, General. And thanks."

"Mr. Stockman? Barry Benson here. Sorry to call you at home, but I thought you might want a progress report, personally."

"Yes, Barry. No problem. How are you?"

"Fine, sir. I just played golf this weekend with an old friend of yours, General Langtree."

"Louis? Well, I'll be. How is he doing?"

"Just fine, sir. I was down at Langley for the weekend and we played a round. He's now the Director of Plans for Air Combat Command. Or did you know that?"

"Yes. I'd heard something like that."

"Well, the general says to say hello, and he hopes to see you at the next reunion for the 22^nd Bomb Wing. But, more importantly, when we got to talking about StratoWest and your dry spell on contracts, the general suggested that your people should get up to speed on tactical and assault transports. That's about as close to a hint of what's coming next as we've got so far, except for one other tidbit."

"What's that?"

"Well, my people working with Sid Sturgess also picked up the hint from Congressional staffers that a replacement for the C-130's is under preliminary consideration. Putting two and two together just might be in order here."

"Yeah. I get your drift. Keep on this and see what else you can learn. In the meantime, I'll get my engineers cracking."

"I'll keep you posted, sir. Call you later."

"Yes, please do. Goodbye."

Barry had no sooner hung up the phone, when Betty stuck her head in his office door, saying, "Bert's on line two, Barry. He says it's important."

Barry smiled, nodded and grabbed the phone again. "Yes, Bert. What's happening?"

"Can you come over to the brownstone, Barry? Right away? I've got something to show you."

"Yes. I'll be right over. Give me 20 minutes."

It took all of that a bit more for Barry to get through the Washington traffic. He couldn't find a parking space in front of the house, so it took a longer. He opened the front door. All seemed quiet. None of the tenants appeared to be around. Then he opened the door to the basement and called down, "Bert? You down there?"

"Yes, Barry. C'mon down here. You aren't going to believe this."

Bert was sitting in a folding chair, inside the cinderblock room, working on a laptop computer with wires connected to one of the several boxes. The place was a maze of wires, various computer processor units and modems.

"Come here, Barry. Look at this, here on the screen."

Barry leaned over Bert's shoulder to see a rapidly scrolling text pass across the screen. He didn't decipher was it was. "So? What is this?"

"It's files on Senator Carrington's office computers. Your young tenant in the second floor front has given us access to everything going on in the Senator's office. We captured her user identification and password when she used her laptop upstairs. Now we have access any time we want, and they'll think it's her."

"That's great. But what if she's connected at work? Won't that indicate that she's not connecting from her room upstairs?"

"No, not really. She gets on line, on their local office network, using the same user ID and password, so their server doesn't differentiate. Only if they ever suspect something will they change passwords and check on outside accessing."

"Okay. So you think our tap is safe?"

"Yes, for now anyway. But wait until you see what I've found in these files."

"Yeah? What?"

"Look at this," Bert excitedly pointed, as he pulled up a letter on the screen. "See that?"

"Oh my gosh. It's from the CEO of Dixie Aircraft Company to the Senator. And it says, hmmm let me see. Scroll down another page. Dixie wants more details on the performance requirements for the XC-109."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, my friend, that we have a pipeline into the early specifications on the next aircraft program, the replacement for the C-130. Great job, Bert. This is exactly what we need. And it also means that Dixie is getting insider information. I'll bet even WestAero isn't seeing this."

"So what do you want me to do with it?"

"Copy it to our system. Put it on a ZIP disk and make me two copies. I need to analyze what's there. Better yet, can you automatically copy all of it?"

"Okay. Easy. I'll write it to a CD or tape as it comes across. But you know what else we've got?"

"You've got more?"

"Oh yes, plenty. I also have ID's and passwords for the Pentagon's system. The roomers in both 3^rd floor units have been working at home too, and they've logged onto the Pentagon's computers."

"All right. Have you gotten anything from them yet?"

"Nothing much of interest. It seems that the tenant in the 3^rd floor rear has connected to some budget data of some kind. It's just spreadsheet stuff that doesn't mean much to me."

"Did you by chance notice any reference to the CX-109, or anything like that?"

"Nope. Just some gross R&D budget estimates. No project designators have come across yet."

"Have you tried to log in and browse around?"

"No. So far I've only prowled around in the Senator's system. What are you looking for, specifically?"

"I think this CX-109 stuff is important. Next time you log in, see if you can learn anything about budgets or budget estimates for a project with that designator. I need amounts and fiscal year notations, if you can find them."

"Okay. Will do. And there's something else I want to do."

"What's that?"

"I think that we should put a layer of safety between us and the tenant computers upstairs. Rather than being our own internet service provider (ISP), I think we should piggyback on somebody else's, just in case people get suspicious and put a tracer on things."

"How will that help?"

"Well, if we user another's server, there is no direct phone link to us. It'll give us some time, if things turn to worms."

"You know an ISP we can use? And will the change be transparent to our tenants?"

"Oh yeah. I have a friend who runs an ISP from his basement. He's kind of a hacker, but he has a partition on his drives that would be available for the asking."

"Can you trust this guy?"

"No problem. I have enough on him and his nefarious exploits guaranteed to keep his mouth shut. The guy is into worldwide hacking, mostly overseas computers."

"So? How does that guarantee that he won't mess with our setup?"

"He won't. Believe me. He's scared to death that the Feds are after him. He won't. I'll tell him that the CIA wants to use part of his system and he'll avoid that part like the plague."

"Okay. I have to depend on your skills here. How soon will you have the change done? And you're absolutely sure our tenants won't know the difference?"

"We'll be moved by tomorrow. They'll never know. I'll simply add a converter to the DSN codes."

"Okay then, do it. I'll see you later. Is this that ZIP disk with the stuff you just downloaded?" Bert nodded and Barry headed upstairs with the stuff just downloaded from the Senator's office. He turned, before closing the cellar door to yell, "Better button up before our tenants return."

"Yeah, okay. I'll be outa here in a minute or two."

Barry had no sooner gotten back to the office than Betty said "Better get over to the StratoWest offices. Mr. Sturgess called."

"Now what?" Okay, I'm on my way. I'll probably not be back here today. See you tomorrow." Barry grabbed his laptop on the way out, adding, "I'll do some work at home tonight. Seeya."

StratoWest's office suite included four or five rooms, plus a small conference area. Sid's people had all but one larger office for their own people. Bart, Bret and Brenda had the other one.

When Barry walked in, Sybil, Sid's secretary, greet him with her usual bright smile. "Good afternoon, Mr. Benson. Mr. Sturgess is expecting you in his office."

Opening the door brought a little surprise. Stan Swain, Stu's assistant, was there. It seemed there was a heated discussion going on, for Stan just said, "You guys are unbelievable. You're talking about stealing from those Senate offices. Have you lost your minds?"

"Glad you could make it, Barry. It seems as if we've got a little misunderstanding here."

"Oh? What's that?"

But before Sid could answer, Stan blurted to Barry, "This must be your doing. Your guys here are saying we have to steal papers from the desks of senate staffers."

"Oh? Is that exactly what they said? Hi Bret .. and hello Bart. What's going on?"

"No. That wasn't their exact word," Stan continued. "What I think I remember them saying was that we have to acquire copies of those in-basket papers. It's the same thing and it's wrong. StratoWest doesn't operate that way."

"What papers are we talking about here?"

"Some budget planning documents, Barry," explained Bart. "They have to do with next year's defense budgets for new R&D projects."

"Sounds interesting. And it sounds exactly like what StratoWest had better be on top of, Stan. You know what's a stake here. Mr. Stockman has approved our plans to get the advanced information necessary to keep StratoWest in the ball game."

Barry gave Bart a hand signal, asking him to step off to one side for a private conversation. In a whisper, Barry asked, "Was there anything in those papers about a project called XC-109?"

Bart quickly appreciated the meaning of Barry's question. Quietly he responded, "No. Not by that name, but there was something about allocating next year dollars for a study on a new tactical transport program."

"Where did you see this stuff?"

"In the offices of the Defense Appropriations Sub-Committee, over in the House office building. I was delivering flowers to one of the people we have been courting, her birthday, and just happened to see the papers in her in-basket."

"Good work. You didn't happen to get a copy of it, did you?"

Bart tapped his suit jacket pocket. "You mean with my trusty little miniature camera? Of course."

"Good. Give me the prints as soon as you can. I think there is something developing that could benefit our client, not withstanding our protester here."

"Stan? Do you know that our people have actually taken anything?"

"No. I just heard them talking to Sid about seeing the documents and suggesting that we need to get copies, one way or another."

"Well you know they are probably right, but since we don't actually have anything on paper that was inappropriately take, it sounds to me like you're making a lot of fuss about nothing."

"You mean you condone taking documents from Senate offices?" Stan accusingly shouted.

"Yes. If necessary. That's what we do in this business. The early bird gets the worm, as they say. And right now StratoWest needs all the worms it can get."

Sid interrupted, "Look, Stan. You have to understand that Stu and Mr. Stockman are behind this effort. Who are we to question it?"

"I don't know, but it's wrong, just plain wrong. Someday we're going to pay for this, all of us."

"Tell me, Stan," Barry pressed. "Just where in the hell do you think we're going to learn what it is we need to know, if we don't snoop around? And don't you think AeroWest and Dixie Aircraft are not doing the same damn thing?"

"You don't know that?" Stan snapped.

"Oh? Don't I? Well listen to this. I know for a fact that Senator Carrington's office is in direct communication with Dixie Aircraft about the next generation of tactical assault transports. And furthermore, Dixie is getting advanced information on the preliminary performance requirements for a project called the CX-109."

"How do you know that?"

"Never mind how I know that. But you and your idealistic conscience better get into the real world and damn quickly. Dixie already has a jump on StratoWest. Let's just hope it's not an insurmountable lead. Now I suggest you get your fat ass out of here and let Sid and my team do their jobs."
Sid was shocked and really set back by Barry's remarks. He knew that Stan would take all of this back to Stu and soon all hell would break loose. What Sid didn't know, of course, was that Stu could get as upset as he wanted. Stockman was calling the real tune on all of this.

Stan left the room, in a snit. Bart whispered to Barry, "Will that guy cause us trouble?"

"No," Barry responded quietly. "He doesn't know what's really going on. Don't worry about him. I want you and Bret to meet me and Ben at my office. No. better yet, let's the three of us go our for a drink and supper to chat. You two meet me at Maxie's at 7:00. Okay?" Bart nodded and said he'd bring Bret along.

In his studio on the first floor of the brownstone, Barry concentrated on reading some of the stuff that Bert gave him earlier. He kept his door closed, so the returning roomers wouldn't chance to see what he was working on. From time to time he heard the front door open and close, footsteps go up and down the stairs, and even the refrigerator door being shut. Yet none of the residents even called out to see if Barry was there.

File by file, Barry scanned the fascinating material from the Senator's office server. There were several letters between the Senator and Dixie Aircraft, the most interesting of which contained details about the desired performance of the new XC-109. Barry printed some of them out for FedEx to Stockman. This stuff was precisely what was important, so that StratoWest's engineers could conceptualize an aircraft design meeting those needs. "Better add a hand written note to Stockman advising him that these may or not be the latest requirements or anything more than some staffer's understanding of hearsay," he thought.

Then Barry came across a document related to funding of studies to define the conceptual designs for C-130 replacements. Though it didn't contain the words 'phase zero', Barry knew that it was indeed such a program. There was mention of $500 million to be spent over the next fiscal year, beginning this coming October. He mused about what it really meant and finally decided that there was enough money there for two or more contractors to do studies, for that amount was more than needed if there was no hardware involved, and clearly not enough if there was. "No, this won't involve prototyping for sure," he decided.

He added the information to his handwritten note to Stockman, deciding to mail this to his home and not the office, for he didn't want Sally opening it first. He also didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to it by marking it for opening by the recipient only.

It was a few minutes before 7:00 when he realized that time had slipped away. He shut down his laptop, hid the ZIP disk and quickly got dressed to go out to dinner.

At 7:10 Barry arrived at Maxie's restaurant. Bart and Bret were there waiting in a booth that afforded a measure of privacy. He waved at them as he gave his coat to the check girl.

Passing the bar, as he headed for his friends, Barry called to his friendly bartender, "My usual, Nick, please."

"It's already there, waiting for you, sir. Good evening and welcome." Barry smiled and nodded.

"Hi fellas. Sorry to be late, but I got engrossed in some information our client needs to see." Barry picked up his drink and raised it towards his bartender friend, in a toast of appreciation.

"What kind of information, Barry?" Bret asked.

And then Barry explained the essence of the documents he'd been reading, though he was careful not to disclose how he'd come by the stuff.

"Yeah. That should please StratoWest. Do you think the others already know it?" Bret inquired.

"No. I don't think so because my information is that the Senator has been communicating with Dixie Aircraft almost exclusively. They are in his home state, you know."

"Okay then," Bart queried, "What's our next move?"

"That's exactly why I asked you to join me here tonight. But first, let's order something to eat. I'm starved."

After ordering their meals, the conversation resumed with Barry beginning, "It's time to get two things going. We need information about what, if anything, is happening at Wright-Patterson AFB on this upcoming XC-109 project. And secondly, we need to get some folks inside some of StratoWest's major competitors."

"Well," Bart suggested, "we both know that Billy Bastrop is in Dayton. He knows this kind of operation. Why not get him to crank up a team inside Air Material Command's project offices?"

"Yes, I'd thought about that, but as I recall, Billy is a plodder. Oh, he good, all right, but we need somebody to put a boot on his rear end to get things moving quickly. If time wasn't such a factor, I'd not hesitate to give Billy the project, but time is not on our client's side."

"So? Have you got anybody else in mind?" Bret replied.

"Yes. You."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because you're already up to speed on what this is all about and I have confidence that you can get things rolling in short order. What do you say? Can you do it?"

"Of course I can, but the question is do I want to move to Dayton now. Winter's coming and they have worse weather than we do here in Washington. And besides, there's not nearly as much going on in Ohio. I really can't get enthused about this."

"What if I told you there's a 50-g bonus in it?"

"You're getting my attention. Fifty g's?, you say?"

"I'll give you ten up front and the rest when you get things up and rolling. But I gotta tell you, time is the important factor. You have to put together the right network of folks in a hurry, and get them into the right places. We need results yesterday, as they say."

"Hmm, fifty g's would come in mighty handy. Oh, what the hell. Yeah. I'll do it."

"Good. I want you there in 72 hours. Get an apartment, an office and Billy. I'll come over to give you a hand in a week or so. And be sure you have a copy of Bert's encryption software, so we can keep in touch without prying eyes. Don't worry about your budget too much. I'm allocating $200 thousand to get your operation up and running."

"What about Sid Sturgess and his requirements?" Bart asked. "He won't like it if you cut our support to his people in half."

"Life is rough. He'll just have to live with it. And I'll get Ben to help out. But I sense that the action will shift from Capitol Hill to Dayton, and soon."

"So what do you have in mind for me now," Bart continued.

"You, my friend, have to work the House Defense Appropriations Sub-Committee beat a lot harder. We need to know that there will be enough money to include StratoWest in any Phase Zero study efforts. And, if necessary, you should plant that idea in the right places to make sure they are included. That $500 million that Senator Carrington seems to be talking about has got to be distributed."

"Yeah, I understand."

"And furthermore, we need to know when the money will flow. But, even though we have indications that the next major aircraft procurement will be for a replacement for the C-130's, we have to be sure we haven't mis-read the signals. If it's really something else, we need to find out. And, if it is more than one thing, we need to know that as well, though I don't really think that'll be the case. Put your ear to the ground and get your antennae tuned to what's coming."

Bret offered, "That's something I'll be watching for in Dayton too. When the Air Force sets up project offices for new systems, we'll be there to help fill some of the slots they're sure to need manned. I'll for sure be alert to their secretarial and clerical hiring."

"Good thinking, Bret. But don't forget folks who deal with computers and communications. When they open project offices there is a flurry of stuff sent up and down the line, from the Pentagon, Andrews, Langley and the industry. We need access to what's being sent around. I'll send Bert out from time to time, if you need him."

"I sure will. In fact, I'll need him early on, as we get the office set up and whatever monitoring we can devise."

"Call me from Dayton, when you find space near the base. And remember, It's the Wright field area that'll likely be more heavily involved than the rest of the AMC complex. I'd almost be willing to bet that new project offices wind up in buildings 14, 15 or 16 at the bottom of the hill."

"What makes you think that?" Bret asked.

"Just a hunch, but that's where many of the earlier project offices worked, like the B-1, F-16, F-15 and others. I could be wrong, but my guess is that that office complex is still used for project teams."

"So? What difference does it make?"

"It could mean a whole lot. There is an underground tunnel system connecting those buildings. Not only utilities go through them, but so do communications lines and very likely computer links, not to mention all those clerks and secretaries walking to and from the snackbar. The tunnels are where you can meet all kinds of people moving from building to building, and I recall that lots of interesting conversations go on down there."

"Have you been through them?"

"Yes. Some years ago I wore a hard hat, carried a clipboard and a thermometer around, to look like I was doing something important. That was back in the energy crunch days, but also during the big military build-up period. I'd pause at various places under and between buildings and appear to be taking readings. Then I'd write some numbers on my clipboard. All kinds of military and civilian employees would walk by, paying no heed to me, as they continued talking. You'd be amazed at the things I heard that I wasn't supposed to. People never paid me the slightest attention."

"And that was in a restricted area?" Bart asked, with a smile on his face.

"Yup. I had no security badge or anything. I got into the complex, right through the security gates by merely signing in as a representative of one of the aircraft companies. I showed 'em a phony schedule for a technical meeting and mentioned that I was running late. The civilian guards waved me through and once I was inside I could go about anywhere."

"Well surely things aren't that lax today," Bret suggested.

"Don't be too sure. My guess is that entry still isn't all that difficult. And of course making a fake security badge isn't that hard."

"Yeah, but what if you're caught?"

"You'll probably be escorted out the gate and nothing much beyond that. They are as much afraid of lawsuits as spies. But getting caught isn't really that likely. Basically, you have to act like you belong there."

"Anything else?" Bart asked, nearly finished with his dinner?

"No. That's about it. We move on to the next level by opening up the Dayton effort. I think we're making progress, but there's a lot we still don't know."

"Okay, Barry. I'll head west and get the ball rolling. I'll call you when I need your help. Oh, one last question. Does Billy work for me or you? And how much are we going to pay him?"

"He works for you and we'll give him about five grand to get started and see how it goes."

"Gotcha. Sounds reasonable. Guess I'd better head home and get packed."

"Good night Bart. We'll be leaving in a few minutes too, I guess."

When Bart was gone, Barry turned to say, "Look, Bret. One thing I want you to be on the lookout for is anybody in the XC-109 project office, if there really is one, that's having problems. It could be financial, drinking, domestic or other problems. If we can befriend such a person and compromise him, or her, we can leverage that into information. Understand?"

"Yes. Of course I do. You mean like we did with some of those embassy types, right?"

"Exactly."

"Hello Billy, this is Bret Baldridge. How are you?" began the telephone conversation from Bret's Dayton area motel room to his long-time acquaintance, a former Wright Field engineer.

"You old son of a gun. Yeah, I'm fine. Where in the hell are you?"

"Right here in Dayton, well Fairborn actually. Are you working these days?"

"Oh, a little, but nothing important. Why?"

"How'd you like to get back in harness with me and Barry Benson on a project?"

"Barry? That hustler? What are you guys into now?"

"Are you interested in doing some special work? Barry and I are working a contract for an aerospace company and could use your special talents."

"Sounds like fun. What the hell. Sure, I'm interested, but I need to know more. Why don't we meet someplace and talk?"

"Okay. You're still a member of the Officers' Club at Patterson, aren't you?"

"Of course. As a retiree I get to keep that perk. You wanna meet there?"

"Why don't I meet you there in the lounge, say at 5:30 or so, and then we can go upstairs for dinner?"

"Sounds good to me. See you then."

Bret had been in Dayton only 48 hours, staying in a motel on the outskirts. Fairborn is a suburb of the city, adjacent to Wright-Patterson AFB and ideal for his new operation. Just this afternoon he managed to locate a vacant office suite, three rooms, right across from Wright Field. The view out the office window included the USAF Museum and the complex where much of America's aircraft developments are managed. Dozens of once-proud warplanes stood outside the Museum, starkly in the cold. A foot or more of fresh snow covered the area, making the sometimes dingy facility look fresh and clean.

Billy Bastrop did free-lance work for Barry before. He knew his way around the air base, and had worked for 30 years on a variety of airplane programs as an engineer. His specialty was the so-called 'ilities', which included everything from systems reliability to maintainability, supportability, survivability and threat vulnerability. His career dealt with studies and analyses on the structures and systems of bombers, fighters and transports. Billy really knew aircraft systems and also the government's R&D processes. He never was what one might call a 'fast-burner' or a dynamic sort, but he knew hundreds of people in and around the AMC complex. He had contacts in most of the right places. He still wandered the halls and was in tune with the changes continuously occurring on the base.

Before going to meet Billy, Bret checked in with Barry, trying out their secure computer link. An exchange of encrypted email described what Bret had accomplished so far, including the fact that he and Billy were getting together. Barry responded by saying that one of the Pentagon types he monitored just revealed that a Phase Zero effort was indeed being initiated for a tactical transport called the XC-109. That was the first hard news that the ponderous machinery of government was grinding toward some new contracts. That bit of news, Bret thought, would help in his session with Billy.

The rathskellar lounge in the Club basement was dark and comfortable, with its generous use of wood, red velour upholstery and stained glass light fixtures which really didn't put out much light. Bret arrived at the same time Billy did, and after some friendly handshakes and back slapping in the lobby, they found a quiet booth opposite the long bar downstairs.

"Good to see you, old friend," Bret declared.

"Looks like life hasn't treated you too badly in the years since we last met," Billy replied. "You must like it in that hectic D.C. environment."

"Yes. It suits me. I like the variety of things to do and all the goings on inside the beltway."

"And how is Barry? Still playing too much golf?"

"Not around the city today, for sure. The snow you folks just got is headed east. His last outing was down at Langley."

"He always did know where to find the action. So what are you fellows up to now? And how can I help?"

Bret explained the situation with StratoWest, how they were desperate for new business. And then he announced that there was word of a Phase Zero effort about to start on the XC-109.

"Yeah. That doesn't surprise me. Just a couple weeks ago the AMC general appointed a system program manager (SPM) for that startup program. They're setting up shop in Building 15. The new honcho is a one-star with perhaps a dozen folks assigned now. That will grow quickly though, probably to as many as 80 by Spring."

"Sounds like you still keep your ear to the ground. Have you heard whether or not they are going to issue solicitations for multiple Phase Zero studies, and who might get 'em."

"No. I haven't heard, but it wouldn't surprise me if they sole-sourced it to Dixie aircraft. You know who's in charge in Congress."

"Yeah. Senator Carrington. Barry found out that the Senator has been exchanging advanced information about systems requirements with their CEO."

"So? Who's surprised?"

"Well, we've got to do something about that so that StratoWest at least gets a chance to help define the new transport. And to do that we need to get some people on the inside."

"That shouldn't be a problem. I know some of the available clerical types that we could get into the SPO's staffing build-up. You remember Donna Doolittle, don't you? She's available and we can count on her playing ball, for a price."

"Well, that's a start. Barry knows her too and he'll be out here next week. Maybe you could come up with some names and ideas between now and then."

"Oh sure. I'll nose around and see what's going on. Dan Davidson is the general's engineering chief. I know Dan well. I'll drop by and see if they're hiring. By the time Barry gets here I'll have an organizational chart for the program office."

"Great. We knew we could count on you."

"Sure, but don't forget, either of you, that I don't mess with anything classified. I'll dig around and see what I can come up with, but I won't mess with SECRET or other classified stuff. It ain't worth the trouble."

"What about CONFIDENTIAL?"

"That's not really classified information. It's just what they stamp on stuff they don't want U.S. citizens and the media finding out about. Naw. That's unclassified in my book."

"Good enough. And we wouldn't ask you to mess with classified stuff. There's more than enough that's useful in the unclassified material. And this XC-109 being a new transport, instead of a nuclear bomber or advanced fighter, most of the stuff shouldn't be highly sensitive."

"Where are you hanging your hat, Bret?"

"You mean an office?"

"Yeah."

"I found space across Wright Field from the Museum, a suite that's available right now. The rental manager is holding it for me until I can show it to Barry. It cost me a hundred to get him to hold it, but that's our client's money, not mine."

"You know why I'm willing to help you guys, in addition to taking your money for services rendered, don't you?"

"Yes, I remember. You're still ticked off at the system because you think some contractors are being screwed by the government. Right? I can still hear your past diatribes about them canceling the contract on TexAero, when politics took it away from them, even though they were the best contractor. That's kinda how Barry feels about StratoWest and why he's taken this project on their behalf."

"Well, StratoWest has long had a good reputation around here, but frankly they've dropped below the radar in recent times. The talk around the base, when their name comes up at all, is that they are slow learners and don't keep up with trends. And yes, I'm still upset about the way TexAero was treated."

"Shall we go upstairs and get dinner? Is their surf and turf still great?"

"Yep. But tonight is Italian. I recommend their lasagna. Good food."

"Okay. Lasagna it is. I'll be around to try their surf and turf another time."

Over a terrific dinner they chatted at length about old times, old friends and past accomplishments. Billy only once mentioned the TexAero matter, much to Bret's relief.

"So, Billy? Do they still use those tunnels that run between the buildings down at the bottom of the hill?"

"Yeah. That's one of my favorite haunts, especially when the secretaries take their lunch and coffee breaks. This place manages to keep a new crop of young ladies coming in every year. It's surprising how they get so many attractive gals to work here, with all the dirty old men around."

"Like you?"

"Of course. What do you think keeps me going?"

"And do they still run all the phone lines and computer network cables through the overhead of the tunnels?"

"Yeah. They're always lifting those ceiling panels to fix, move or install stuff up there. Why do you ask?"

"Well, Barry thinks that might be a good place to tap into the phones and data networks. Perhaps it's even worthwhile putting some acoustic listening devices to catch conversations. Lots of folks talk shop while headed from place to place down there."

"I suppose that's one way, but I'd suggest another."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Well, if I wanted to bug the place for overhearing conversations, I'd attach some listening devices onto the window panes of selected offices. I've seen little gadgets no bigger than a dime that can be placed with simple suction cups. Hell, they even make some that look like bird feeders. Can you imagine what you'd overhear in the Program Manager's office, or that of his Director of Engineering? And I'd not overlook the Contracting Officer's window either."

"Hmmm. Sounds interesting. Do you know any window washers we can trust?"

Billy laughed. "I think I can find one, but if you and Barry pay me enough, hell, I'll wash windows."

"In this weather? You'd probably charge too much."

Back in his motel room, Bret sent Barry a secure email message describing the session with Billy. He went on at some length describing Billy's suggestions about window devices. He suggested that Bert should check into what might be available along that line.

The next morning Barry responded with mail saying that he'd come out to Dayton on Tuesday. He said that he'd bring Bert along to assess the opportunities for putting in monitoring devices.

Barry completed sending off his reply to Bret and decided to watch the late TV news in the living room of the brownstone. Soon he was joined by a couple of his tenants who'd come down to get a snack from the refrigerator. Phil Percell, the one other male in the building and Caroline joined him. Caroline was spooning some fruit yogurt and Phil had a quart of milk in his hand.

"Good evening, guys," Barry greeted. "Did you hear about the snowstorm headed this way?"

"Snow? Really?" Caroline excitedly responded. "Neat. Oh, I love snow. It's so clean and everything gets so quiet and beautiful when it snows."

"I guess you've never had to shovel it," Phil replied. "You've never had to dig your car out of a snow bank. Around here they just don't know how to handle it."

"Do you like snow, Barry?" asked Caroline.

"Not really. It plays hell with my golf."

Caroline laughed, and even more so when Phil suggested that Barry needed to use red painted balls to play this time of year."

After a few minutes of light banter, between catching the weather reports on the tube, Phil asked Barry what he did for a living.

"I do studies and analyses for the aerospace industry. I'm a free lancer."

"Oh? Are you an engineer?"

"No. I'm a graduate of the University of Virginia's law school. But my work mainly involves management and security issues. What do you do, Phil?"

"I'm a Pentagon bean counter. I work in the budget planning section."

"Well, that's where the action is. You guys are probably up to your ears in getting requests in for the upcoming fiscal year requests to Congress. Right?"

"Yeah. Something like that. We're already working on next year's estimates. We have to get our numbers in before June for the October start of the new year."

"And Caroline? You're in Senator Carrington's office, right?"

"Yes, sir. And I love it there. Everyone is so nice. I'm learning a lot and couldn't be happier in this first job."

"What do they have you doing?"

"Mostly typing reports and position papers for the Senator to read. Mrs. Conroe, you remember her, gives me big thick documents to read. Then I boil them down to a couple of pages so the Senator has the key points. It's quite an education for me, for sure."

"Do you understand all of that stuff?" Barry asked.

"A lot of it. Some of it makes no sense at all, but I try."

"Is it all printed material, or do you read it on a computer screen? That can be hard on the eyes."

"Tell me about it. I have to take breaks quite often. Sometimes I think I'm getting cross-eyed looking at that screen all day. And I have to do some of my work here up in my room. But, to answer your question, sir, I'd say that half of the material is on paper and the other half on the computer. It's easier for me when the documents are on paper."

"Yes, I can imagine."

"You probably spend your day on the computer too, don't you Phil?"

"Yes. I do. And like Caroline, I also do some work here. That's one reason why I was so happy to discover that you provide connections in our rooms. It is really convenient."

"Good. We aim to please." And as his two visitors got up to return to their rooms, Barry added, "By the way, I'll be out of town for a week or two. If anything comes up you can leave me a message on my voice mail. I'll check it while I'm gone, at least every evening."

The blizzard hit Washington hard the next day, on Friday. Many government offices didn't open at all. The foot of snow about paralyzed the whole town. And since his tenants didn't really want to go out to find a place to eat that morning, Barry volunteered to make a pancake breakfast for them all.

Caroline and the other two women thought it was a real treat, having Barry and Phil prepare their breakfast. Everyone was in bathrobes and pajamas, eating their meal on TV trays. It was the first real occasion for them all to get to know each other and to talk at length with Barry.

Around 9:00 AM Bert came in, through the front door because the alley and cellar doorway were blocked with drifted snow. He joined in and got a free meal too.

Barry suggested, in a whispered side conversation to Bert, that he not work on his computers down in the basement. What he had really come over for was to check on the equipment and whatever files his automatic recording system had gathered. Instead, he joined in the festivities on the first floor and soon got into a discussion with Phil about computers in general. The women weren't at all interested in that, preferring to sip their hot beverages and look out onto the snow-blocked street.

Later, after the crowd thinned out and people went upstairs to get dressed, Barry asked Bert to make the Dayton trip next week. Now only the two of them remained on the first floor. Then Barry asked if Bert had ever heard about the acoustic listening devices that Bret described.

"Oh sure. That's not new. You want me to pick up some to take to Dayton?"

"Yeah. That might be a good idea. How far away can they be monitored, and what kind of gear do we have to have do that?"

"Depends on how big a battery they have. They are really only little transmitters that convert audio to digitally modulated radio signals."

"Could they broadcast to a receiver a mile away? Half a mile? How far?"

"With a battery like a small nine volt type used in transistor radios, perhaps a mile, line of sight. The frequencies they use are up there close to cel phones."

"Our guy in Dayton tells me they make some that even look like bird feeders. That ought to please the secretaries and nobody would be the wiser."

"Yes, and with the structure of a bird feeder there's room for a bigger battery and even a directional antenna. That's probably what we need. Oh, and if you want to separate the signals received, each unit can be on a discrete broadcast frequency."

"Good. Can you round up some by Tuesday? You and I are flying to Dayton that afternoon."

"Flying? No way. I don't do flying."

"You're not afraid to fly, are you?"

"Yes I am. I don't do flying. Uh uh, not me."

"Well how am I going to get you to Dayton then?"

"Any way you like, except not by airplane."

"Okay. Okay, not by plane. How about taking the train then? It goes to Cincinnati. You can drive up from there in an hour or so. So what about those audio pickup devices. Can you get some of those by then?"

"Probably, but I don't know about the bird feeder types."

"Well, bring along your tool box and we'll rig up some bird feeders out there. Would that do?"

"Sure. Have you got any place for me to work. All I need as access to a Radio Shack store and a table. I could get you set up in a few days."

Then Barry explained what kind of office space Bret had found, adding that it was only a half mile, as the crow flies, and line of sight to Building 15.

"Piece of cake. But who's going to install 'em?"

"You get 'em made and a way to receive the signals and I'll worry about getting them in place. I'll even get some bird seed. You sure I can't get you to fly? How 'bout if I dope you up, so you won't know you're flying?"

"You do that and we're through."

"Naw. I wouldn't do that."

Bert looked at Barry and wasn't so sure. He even declined another cup of Barry's coffee, fearing what might have been slipped into it.

By Monday the weekend snows were pretty much melted. The tenants of the brownstone were back at work when Bert dropped by at 9:00 AM to tend to the recordings in the basement. He was glad that he didn't have any of the electrical stuff on the floor, for water had seeped in through the cellar door. None made it to the cinderblock room, he thankfully noted. Few files had been recorded since last Thursday, the day before the snowstorm hit. But from the previous day numerous items came across for recording.

Bert scanned the contents in a cursory manner, just to see if there was anything that might especially interest Barry. An exchange of files between tenant Phil's computer upstairs and the server in his Pentagon office contained specific budget references to the XC-109 Phase Zero studies, and Bert made separate copies for Barry on some ZIP disks.

"Yes, he's in," replied Betty, when Bert called. "One moment, please Bert."

"Good morning, Bert. What have you got?" Barry inquired.

"Some interesting files came across last Thursday, but not much on Friday or over the weekend. You want me to bring over the Zips?"

"Yeah. That would be helpful. And, by the way, Betty has your train tickets for Tuesday. Actually, she put you on the Monday night train that gets you into Cincinnati around sun-up. You've got a small roomette, so you can grab some sleep. There will be a rental car reserved for you at the station. You don't have to fly after all."

"Fly? Not me. I'll pick up the train tickets when I bring the Zips by. And I did manage to find some stuff for your bird feeders."

"Great. You can explain to me how that'll work when you get here. How much did that set us back?"

"Two g's for the units, including the receiver but not the actual feeders, for a set of four. They ain't cheap."

"That's for sure. See you here shortly. Bye."

The files that Bert brought over pretty much confirmed what Barry already knew about $500 million being allocated. But it was something he could pass along to Stockman, so he slipped a note into a FedEx envelope and asked Betty to send it out.

Barry's flight on Tuesday got him in to the Dayton airport around 10:00 AM. He rented a car and drove to Fairborn to find Bret. They had agreed over the phone to meet for an early lunch at the Stockman's restaurant, not far from the office Bret wanted Barry to see.

"When did you say that Bert was coming?" Bret asked, as they two walked into the restaurant.

"He should be in the area by now. His train was supposed to be in Cincinnati at 6:30 or so."

"Where did you tell him to meet us?"

"Oh crap. I completely forgot to mention that. I hope he calls Betty. I'd better get hold of her now. What's the address of that office space across from the base?"

Barry rang Betty, to find out that Bert had already called. She told him where Bret was staying and he said he'd try to connect there.

"What's the number at your motel, Bret? Bert may be there waiting for us."

Soon Barry called the motel office and left a message for Bert to join them at the office. After a quick lunch, they drove over to the office and there waiting for them in his car was Bert. He was not a happy fellow.

"Sorry, Bert. I completely forgot to tell you where we'd meet. This is the place. Bret selected the second floor front. It's a suite of three rooms,"

"I have a key, Barry. The rental agent said he guessed I could have one with that $100 deposit. Let's go on in and I'll show you the joint. Actually, it's not too bad, and a helluva lot cheaper than space in D.C.."

Barry looked out the front window, a wide panel of single-pane glass with a pair of swing-out panes on each side. The bright sun glistened on the snow between them and Building 15 at the bottom of the hill across the way. Snow piled up along the roadsides was already dark and dirty.

"Well, Bert. That two-tone brick building over there, just to the left of the gate, is our target. Do you think your bird feeder bugs can reach that far?"

"Yeah, sure. That's not too far away. Which windows are we going to attach them to? And are they single pane glass, like these, or thermal double pane? It makes a big difference."

"Don't know yet. Billy will have to tell us. He's familiar with what offices are where and should know about the windows."

"Yeah, well it makes a whole lot of difference if they are double pane glass. In fact, the bugs might not work at all if they are. Is he going to install them?"

"No. You are. He'll get you access. You're going to have to rent an unmarked van and get some traffic cones and a long ladder. The two of you will put on coveralls and act like utility repairmen or building maintenance types. You should be able to get them installed in short order, before anybody gets too curious about you, your van or what you're doing. I'd judge that the best time to do it would be around 5:30 PM. Most folks will be scurrying out to go home and not pay too much attention to you. All they'll see is your van and the safety cones you use to warn people around where you're parked."

"Well, what do you think, Barry? Is this office acceptable to you?" Bret asked.

"Yup. It'll do nicely. Go ahead and take it, on a month to month basis, if you can. It's hard to tell how long we'll need it."

"Okay. Will do, but the leasing rep may insist on at least six months. If he does, we should be all right. And I'll rent some furniture, nothing fancy."

"Good. And how about you, Bert? Can you find a place to set up shop for the monitoring gear?"

"Yeah, for the bird feeder receivers anyway. I'll have to see what the phone circuits and power boxes look like. You want an ISP hookup here too?"

Barry nodded, "Yes. I want Bret and his crew to stay in touch with me by secure email. See what you can do."

"I'm on it."

"Bret, I'll get hold of Billy and tell him to come on over. Then we need a skull session about what to do next."

It took two days, until Thursday, for Bert to get the phone company to activate the lines. There were two of them available at the outside box. "I didn't know what info to give those guys about who we are, so I used the Washington office name, DANCO (Defense Analysis Company). They had to have something."

"Fine. Two lines should do it," Barry responded. Bret says the rental furniture should come today. I'm getting with Bret and Billy here this evening. You're welcome to sit in, if you like."

"Naw. I think I'll go back to my motel room. I've got some thinking to do about those bird feeder gadgets. I've got to pick up some stuff at Radio Shack and see if my antenna design really works."

Bret and Barry grabbed a quick supper at a nearby restaurant and returned to the office at 7:00 PM. Billy arrived shortly there after. They gathered around a folding banquet table, which acted as a conference area.

"Well, guys, it ain't fancy, but I think it will do," Billy observed on entering the second floor suite. "What? No name of the door?"

"Hi ya Billy. Good to see you," Barry exclaimed on seeing his old pal. "No. No name there, but Bert has us with the phone company as DANCO. You might want to make note of the two phone numbers."

"Hello Bret, looks like you're all set here. Is this where you want me to hang my hat?"

"Yeah. We've got some rental desks and chairs in each room. And I've got a couple PC's coming in Monday. Oh, Barry, have we got extra copies of Bert's encryption program for the email?"

"I'm sure he does, but you'll have to ask him. He'll be working out of here too."

Opening a couple beers, the crew gathered around to talk strategy. Barry asked Billy if he had any specific information about where things were located in Building 15, like the offices of key people, conferences rooms and so forth.

Pointing out the window, toward the base, Billy described the layout of the embryonic project office. "Right now they've only got half of the second floor, the first being the one that's partly underground. I'm told that they will soon occupy the lower level completely. And then he explained that the General's office was on the opposite side, facing Building 16. "The good news is that both the contracting officer's window and the conference rooms are on this side, just this side of that entry door."

"I gotta ask now, Billy, if the windows are single or double pane."

"Single, Barry. And I know that's important for your acoustic monitoring. That building is pretty old and they haven't had the money to improve energy efficiency with new windows. Different color money, you know. Program dollars and facilities dollars don't mix. Comes out of different pots."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. But single panes are good news. Bert will be pleased."

Then Barry suggested to Billy how he and Bert might use a van, a tall ladder and appear to be doing maintenance around quitting time one day, after Bert's got the sensors ready.

"Yeah. That should work. I'd even suggest we do it on a Friday. Even fewer folks linger then. They're all anxious to get home for the weekend, or to the Club for happy hour. It'll take less than an hour to place those bugs. And we'd better not forget to buy some bird food, or the secretaries will get upset when their feathered friends don't appear."

Bret paused, rubbed his chin and then asked, "It may be a dumb question, but won't birds actually be a problem? I mean if there are lots of birds chattering about the feeder, won't that interfere with the sensors trying to detect voices from the window pane vibrations?"

"Never thought of that, Bret. No. it's not a dumb question at all. We'll have to check with Bert. We may have to piss off a few secretaries after all by not filling the feeders."

Billy suggested, "Why not at least fill the feeders with bird seed the first time? That way folks won't wonder what those things are. And after they've been cleaned out, we’ll just leave 'em empty."

"Let's get one to other matters, beside birds and feeders. Any more ideas, Billy, about getting our informers in as clerical types in the program office?"

"Yeah. I talked to Dolly Durham. She's willing to help, but she needs about four grand up front, badly."

"Why's that?"

"Her car got hit by a guy with no insurance and she can't afford to get it fixed. If we help her out she'll be loyal, I can guarantee that."

"Sounds like a bargain, Barry," Bret suggested.

"What makes you so sure, Billy, that she will be grateful enough to cooperate? You know we're going to be asking her to pass along documents or other info."

"I've known Dolly for years. She's worked all over the base as a typist, secretary and receptionist. She's not all that bright, but I'd trust her to be willing to do about anything for us if we bail her out of this fix. And besides, we're not asking for anything classified."

"Yeah," Barry mused. "I suppose it's not too much to risk for the possible benefits. Okay, Billy, tell her you'll personally give her a hand. She knows you and not us, so let make her think that you are her benefactor."

"How soon can I give her the money?"

"Tell her that you'll help her out just as soon as she lands an assignment in the CX-109 project office. That ought to motivate her to hustle for it."

"Okay. That'll be cash, right?"

"Of course."

"Whose ear can we whisper into to get the project office to include StratoWest in one of the Phase Zero contracts?" Bret asked.

"That's probably my nickel," Barry replied. "I'm going to get with my golfing friend, General Donneley. I know it's impossible to get him out on the course this time of year, but I know he'd like to joke with me about our last outing. I'll call him and reminded him about the 20 bucks he owes me. That ought to be a way to get in to chat with him, or maybe meet him for lunch at the Club."

"When are you planning on that?" Bret inquired.

"Better do that on this trip. I'm headed back to Washington Sunday night, unless that's when he's available.

Saturday morning Barry called Donneley at his residence on base. He lived in one of the old Army garrison-type three-story brick houses built around the golf course. They were a bit like Tudor-styled structures, featuring a wrap around screen-in porch and well manicured grounds, only you couldn't tell that with the snow cover.

"Good morning, ma'am. Is the general there? This is Barry Benson from Washington. We're old golf friends." It was the main who answered and went to get the general.

"Good morning, Barry. Where are you?"

"I'm in Fairborn, general. I just wanted to say hello and suggest that it might be fun to swap golf stories, or lies as the case may be. Are you busy?"

"Well, why don't you come over to the house. I'll have Felicia put the coffee pot on. I know she just made a batch of fresh muffins. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great, general. See you in 20 minutes. Okay?"

"Fine. See you then."

Barry drove up to the huge place on what some of the younger folks jokingly called menopause circle, where the older and senior officers lived. The big old houses always impressed Barry and he wondered what it would be like living in one of them.

"Come in, sir," greeted Felicia. "The general is in the study. Follow me, please." And Barry walked along behind the maid, down a long wood-floored corridor that squeaked under their feet. It seemed cold in the huge place.

"Come on in, Barry," the general invited. "Good to see you. Here sit over by the fire with me." And then he turned to Felicia and asked for coffee, "and some of those hot muffins that you've been tantalizing we with all morning. Oh that smell permeates the whole house and is a delight," he added."

"Yes, it is pleasant, sir. Thanks, I'd enjoy one."

"One? Hell, I can put away three or four, they are so good."

"How have you been, general? Haven’t seen you since a year ago last summer."

"Good, doing well."

"And Mrs. Donneley?"

"Oh, she's fine. She and my daughter are in Dayton shopping this morning. So, what brings you out here. Surely it's not for golf?"

"No. Not golf, I'm afraid. The last time I was out was several weeks ago, down at Langley. Played a round with General Langtree and some of his troops."

"Louis Langtree? I know of him, but our career paths never crossed. Is he as good a golfer as I am?"

They both laughed, as Felicia brought in the coffee and a huge plate of hot muffins. Barry reached for his coffee, still laughing. "You want my most diplomatic answer to that, sir?"

"Don't bother. We both know that I'm just a duffer."

And then over their coffee and baked treats, Barry told Donneley about the Bingo, Bango, Bungo version of golf that he played in California not long ago. "You ever play that kind of golf, general?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. It's been years and I'd pretty much forgotten about it. Guess I'll have to try that around here with some of my fellow duffers."

"You asked, sir, what brings me out here. Well, I'm doing contract work for StratoWest. Actually, Steve Stockman hired me."

"Steve? Yes, I know him. He's quite a legend in the industry. How is he?"

"He's well, sir, and really enjoys his weekly golf at one of the most beautiful course I've every played. He's a regular at the Solano Beach course, down toward San Diego."

"Yes. I've played it a couple times too. Beautiful setting."

"It was Stockman that introduced me to that variation on the game's scoring and betting. He plays it for five dollars a pop, and that can get expensive, even if you're a scratch player."

"Yes, I vaguely remember that, but in my day we played for a quarter each. Haven't heard much from StratoWest in recent years."

"That's one of the things I wanted to talk with you about, sir, if you don't mind talking shop here at home."

"No, I'm on duty around the clock, as they say. Go ahead."

"Well, sir, scuttlebutt in Washington is that there is a new transport being considered as a replacement for the C-130 Hercules. My sources tell me that allocation of funds for conceptual studies may be in the next fiscal year budget. And that being the case, I'd like to find out how StratoWest might be included in the list of possible bidders for that work."

"You always were one with your ear to the ground, Barry. And I guess the rumor mill in D.C. does work pretty well. Yes, it's official. There will be some Phase Zero contracts coming out soon. I haven't any idea which companies will qualify to do the work, but it's close to a reality."

"Can I get some assurances from you, sir, that StratoWest will be at least eligible to compete? And when will those solicitations be coming out?"

The general finished his second muffin and washed down the last bite with a swig of coffee before answering. "Mmm, boy these are good. You want another?" Barry motioned with his hand that he'd had plenty. "Well, I expect those RFP's to hit the street by mid-summer. We've already started a program office for it, with Brigadier General Douglas in charge. Tell you I'll do. I'll call him Monday and make sure that StratoWest gets a copy of the solicitation. If they are qualified to bid, and I don’t know why they wouldn't be, they'll have the same chance as the others to get a contract."

"Thank you, sir. That's all they want, a chance to compete. Times have been lean for them in recent years."

"That's no surprise, Barry. All of the defense contractors have suffered in the post cold-war era."

"One last question, then, if I may? Is there any chance that the Phase Zero work will be sole-sourced, say to DixieAero? You know they're in Senator Carrington's home state?"

"It's possible, I suppose, but in this day of major contracts being few and far between, I'd doubt if even the Senator would want all the flack that would come of attempting to rig the game. The others in California, Washington and Texas would scream."

"That's reassuring. Do you mind if I tell Stockman that it'll be an open ball game, not wired from the inside for just one favored contractor?"

"No problem. And tell Steve I said hello. But couch your remarks with caveats that when politics raises its ugly head, I have no more idea than you do what'll happen."

"Ain't it the truth."

Barry stood up, shook his old friend's hand and thanked him for the visit and the freshly baked muffins. The general escorted him to the door. Felicia stood nearby to hand Barry his coat. Barry thanked her for the tasty treats and then headed out the door. Turning he added, "Please say hello to Mrs. Donneley. I'm sorry to have missed seeing her."

"Will do. Have a pleasant trip back to Washington. And call me next time you're in town. We'll have to try that Bingo, Bango, Bungo routine. I think I could take you at that."

Barry laughed and waved goodbye.

What a difference a few days make, Barry thought on returning to Washington. The snow was almost gone and temperature reached near 50 on Monday as he picked up his car in the Dulles airport parking garage. He wasn't disappointed to be away from frigid Dayton. It was 10:30 AM by the time he got to the brownstone.

The house was empty, all the tenants being at work. He checked his voice mail, discovering that Sid called last Friday inquiring about Bret's disappearance. Bert called too, just this morning while Barry was in the air, to say that the birds are going to be happy soon. Barry knew that meant he'd gotten the system working and installation was close.

Down in the basement room, Barry discovered that the monitoring equipment was still purring away. Using the procedures that Bert taught him, Barry made his own ZIP disk copies of the latest recordings. And then he changed the tape with a blank one, judging that it would be good for the next 72 hours.

Upstairs in his studio apartment, he reviewed the material on the ZIP disk, to find a real gem of information from Senator Carrington's server. A FAX message, on DixieAero letterhead, was almost too good to be true. CEO, Greg Gordon, explained to the senator why it was important for a rapid turnaround of Phase Zero proposals. He suggested that no more than 90 days be allowed for solicitation responses, so that the urgent needs of the military could be met. And then he added the clincher confirming that DixieAero could respond immediately. He iterated the key performance parameters required for such a new airplane, claiming that they had learned from Pentagon and Air Force sources what was essential.

The senator responded with a short message to his old friend and long-time contributor, agreeing with DixieAero's recommendation. "I'll see to it, Greg, personally," he added.

"Not so fast there," Barry muttered, as he reached for the telephone. "We'll just see about that."

"StratoWest. How may I direct your call," said the company operator. And Barry asked to speak with Mr. Stockman. "One moment please, I'll see if he is available." Soon Stockman's secretary put him through.

"Barry? Stockman here. What's up?"

"Great news, sir, potentially explosive if it came out, but definitely useful to StratoWest. But I think I need to deliver it in person. How about if I catch a flight out tomorrow?"

"Better yet. I'll come there in the StratoExec and we can talk on the way back. It's 8:00 AM here. I'll see you at Dulles, say at 5:00 your time this afternoon. You sure it's good news."

"Damn sure. You're gonna love it."

"Okay. Dulles at five. And bring your clubs."

Barry hung up the phone with a broad smile of satisfaction. He then gathered up the key information and printed out a copy of the intercepted FAX messages to bring along. Before leaving for his office, he called Sid to tell him that Bret was in Dayton.

"Dayton? What in the hell is he doing there? I need him here."

"I'll explain when I see you after lunch."

By 11:30 Barry was in the office, to be greeted by Betty who handed him a stack of phone messages. "Your phone has been ringing off the hook, Barry. It never fails when you go out of town. How was Ohio?"

"Cold, snowy and not my favorite place this time of year. See if you can get Bart for me, will you?"

"I got him, Barry. Line two."

"What's up Barry?" Bret inquired, "When did you get back?"

"Got in this morning. Can you meet me for lunch? Say at the café down the street from the brownstone?"

"Yeah, sure. See you there, what 12:30?"

"Yes, 12:30 is fine."

Ben walked into the office just as Barry hung up the receiver. "Hey, welcome back. How'd it go in Dayton?"

"It went well, but I'll explain it all, and some great news when you and I meet Bart for lunch." And he told Ben where they were meeting, adding, "I gotta get packed for a trip to California this afternoon. Tell you all about it at lunch."

Bart and Ben were there when Barry arrived at 12:30. The place was crowded, but Ben being early managed to grab a table before they were all gone.

"Well, guys. We're finally making progress," Barry began in a whisper. "It seems that the RFP for Phase Zero studies is about to come out. The clinker is that they'll only give bidders 90 days to respond."

"Ninety days?" Ben echoed in surprise. "That's gotta mean that the job is wired from the inside. Only a bidder with advance information could possibly respond in that short a time."

"Bingo, my friend, and that's DixieAero. They've got it wired six ways to Sunday. They've been getting inside scoop from the Pentagon and some Air Force sources. And they've got Senator Carrington who'll lean on Air Force procurement to limit response times to that 90 days."

"Isn't that blatantly illegal?" Bart asked.

"Which part?"

"Limiting bidders to 90 days?"

"No, not really. It's DixieAero playing hard ball, but that's not the illegal part," Barry replied. And It would be hard to prove that they got their insider information, illegal as that probably is."

"Is this why you're headed west?"

"Mainly, but I also managed to get General Donneley at Wright-Patterson to press for StratoWest and others to get into the ball game by getting a copy of the Phase Zero solicitation. That's the good news, but this information about DixieAero is explosive." Barry didn't explain how he got the information, or what the specifics were on performance needs.

"What should we be doing now?" Bart asked.

"Yeah, sounds like you've got all you need," Ben commented.

"I need to know how much Carrington can really control this. And I need to know what date the RFP will come out. Since this is more political than just being a procurement matter, you two have to find out who Carrington is courting as allies, who in the Pentagon is going to ramrod the project, and when the announcement can be expected in the Commerce Business Daily for public disclosure."

"Okay, we'll see what we can come up with. How long are you going to be in California?" Said Ben.

"It's important, you two. Get on it this afternoon. I'll be back an less than three days, I hope. I'll call Betty when I know for sure."

"Okay."

"So what's with Sid? Is he really upset by Bret leaving?" Barry asked.

"Yes and no," Bart responded. "He doesn't really need Bret, for he doesn't really have him doing anything specific. It's more of feeling slighted that you didn't smooth his feathers."

"Aw .. too bad. But, I guess I'd better have a talk with him. No need to tell him that I'm meeting with Stockman, yet at least. I'll drop by his office before heading to Dulles."

Sybil greeted Barry at the StratoWest Washington offices. "Good afternoon, Mr. Benson. Mr. Sturgess isn't back from lunch yet. Would you care to wait in his office?"

"No. I have to go out of town this afternoon. Please tell him that I'll call later this afternoon, or tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. I'll tell him.

Barry was relieved that he didn't have to listen to Sid whine about Bret being sent to Dayton.

Just after sunset the StratoExec touched down at Dulles. Barry waited in the corporate lounge, his bag and golf clubs beside his chair. When Stockman walked into the lounge, he greet Barry with a wave and a question. "Which way to the men's' room. I've had to go for the last hour. It was so bumpy up there coming in over the Pennsylvania mountains I couldn't get out of my seat." Barry pointed toward the rest rooms and Stockman rushed away.

The look of relief on Stockman's face was apparent as he soon emerged to join Barry. They sat there a half hour or so while the airplane was refueled. One of the pilots finally came in to get his passengers. "Get ready for a rough ride, my friend. Between here and the Ohio River it'll be like a washboard."

"You got barf bags, sir?"

"Yeah, a whole box of 'em." And then Barry followed Stockman and the pilot to the waiting StratoExec. In 15 minutes they were airborne.

"Boy, you weren't kidding," Barry commented while tightening his seat belt.

"It'll smooth out once we get west of the mountains. It wasn't like this over the Rockies at all. And we'll be climbing to 32,000 feet."

Shortly after the ride got smoother, Stockman asked Barry if he wanted a drink. And as he reached for the flasks and glasses, Stockman asked, "Okay, so what's the big news?"

Barry showed Stockman the copy of DixieAero's FAX to the senator. It really angered Stockman. "That S.O.B.. He's trying to lock out all competitors by pushing for the short response time."

"Yes, sir. But, I think you have enough information now to be ready when you get the RFP. If you get your engineers on it right away, DixieAero's head start won't matter as much."

"You're right, Barry. Good job. I think you just may have given us a chance to play in this ball game after all."

And then Barry told Stockman about his conversations with General Donneley. "I think the general can get you on the short list of companies to receive the RFP, sir. He's a straight shooter and will do all he can to make the process fair."

"Yeah, I hope so, but Donneley doesn't have the clout that Carrington has. That bastard could still rig the ball game in DixieAero's favor."

"Well, look at it this way. Even if WestAero and TexAero receive the RFP's, it's unlikely they will have the data in time to be responsive. Looks to me like it's now between you and DixieAero."

Stockman pondered the information for several moments, no saying a word. Eventually, he look up and spoke, not so much to Barry as thinking out loud. "With this stuff we can be competitive. But we don't know how much else Dixie knows that we need to." And then, turning to face Barry, he added, "We need more of an edge."

"Like what?"

"Like a pipeline into DixieAero. Those guys seem to have a damn good intelligence gathering network."

"That's possible, I think, but let me tell you what else we've got working." And then Barry explained what was happening at Wright-Patterson.

"Bird feeders? You gotta be kidding."

"We'll know soon if then work. And if they do, we just might try 'em in Georgia. Down there the window panes are probably all single pane, since their winters aren't all that severe."

"Bird feeders, eh. Well, I'll be damned. How do they work?"

Barry told Stockman that sensitive acoustic pickup devices can detect the window pane vibrations from people talking inside offices or other places.

"Yeah, but don't they also pick up the clatter of typewriters, doors slamming and people walking?

"Of course. But computer software can sort out what's important from the background stuff. And so can the trained ear of my people, though they will probably get horrendous headaches."

"I can imagine."

"Okay then, if those bird feeders work in Dayton, maybe we can use 'em in Atlanta. Keep me posted. So? What else have you got?"

"Well, as far as those performance numbers, there in the DixieAero Faxes, your people should treat them as guidelines. But if you can beat them in a few places, like payload carrying, takeoff distances or cruise range, that would give you an edge. But remember, this Phase Zero work is to define what a vehicle might look like to meet the general requirements. We don't know yet which numbers are sacred in the eyes of the Air Force."

"Your bird feeders could give us that, don't you think?"

"Perhaps. And we'll be alert for conversations that mention such things, of course. It's just that we won't know what they'll be saying ahead of time."

"Yeah. I know that. But it sure would help."

"How about it if we planted one of our guys in DixieAero's engineering group? It shouldn't be all that difficult, especially of they're on a staff build-up for the new program."

"That would be good. How would you make that happen?"

"Well, let's suppose we get a guy, or gal for that matter, with an aero engineering background to just happen to get his resume in front of Senator Carrington."

"Yeah, and how would you do that?"

"By using somebody I happen to know who's on his staff, I could get it presented as if this was an especially deserving person. Then, when the senator chats with his CEO pal, Gordon, a suggestion is made that the senator would be most appreciative if that person was hired. Haven't you ever been asked to find a job for someone with influential friends?"

"Of course, but I have to tell you most of those people weren't very productive or useful. Most of them either left because they didn't realize what they were getting into, or we had to let them go because they couldn't cut it. But I like the idea of getting the senator to unknowingly get one of our spies hire at DixieAero. Yeah, I like that."

"An engineer would probably be useful to us more quickly, but it could just as well be a clerical type, a bean counter or a draftsman."

"See what you can do along those lines, Barry. And if your candidate just happened to be a woman or other minority member, all the better. That would make the senator's request politically more appealing. Yeah, let's try that."

Soon the StratoExec began its letdown into the Long Beach area. It approach 9:00 PM, west coast time, and Barry was feeling the long day catching up with him. He'd already flown from Dayton to Washington and now to California. "It's been a long day, sir. Would you mind if I headed for my motel as soon as we land. I'm beat."

"Me too. Let's get together in my office tomorrow morning. I want to mull over all that you've told me. We'll talk some more then. How long can you stay this trip. You want to play some golf this Saturday? You wouldn't want to lug those clubs way out here and not use 'em, would you?"

"I'd love to play a round, sir, but I think I ought to head back in a couple days. I don't think I can stay until Saturday. And besides, I want to stop off in Dayton to see if they've gotten the bird feeders installed."

"Yeah, okay. It was just a thought. Well, maybe you can sneak in a round tomorrow or Wednesday before heading back. There are some fine courses close by. You decide tomorrow. I'll have Sally arrange a commercial flight whenever you decide."

"Thank you sir. Let's see how tomorrow looks."

Stockman had his pilot take Barry to the motel after they put the airplane back in the hangar. He also said he'd make arrangements for a company car to be available in the morning. \

Chapter 9

Tuesday morning at around 9:00 Barry showed up at Stockman's office. He practically bumped into Stu Sanders coming out through the door.

"What are you doing here?" Stu asked, obviously surprised to see Barry.

"I'm here for a meeting with Mr. Stockman. Got in last night."

"Oh, so that's why he wasn't around yesterday. He went east to get you. Right?"

"Yup, that's it."

"Well, what's so damned important that our CEO had to go all that way just to get you?"

"Coming to get me was his idea, not mine. I was ready to come out commercial."

"That still doesn't tell me what was so damned important. Aren't you supposed to report to me?"

About that time Stockman emerged from his office. "Calm down Stu. I wanted to see Barry and any time I choose do I don't need your permission. But, if it will smooth your ruffled feathers, come on back in here and we'll talk."

"My feathers aren't ruffled, sir. I just think that if Barry is coming out here I ought to know about it."

"Well, maybe you've got a point," Stockman said, winking at Barry. I'll have him tell you what's been going on. "Shut the door, will you, Barry?"

And for the next hour Barry disclosed the essence of what DixieAero was doing with Senator Carrington, what he'd found out about the upcoming Phase Zero contracts and the system requirements as understood by Dixie.

"So, you see, Stu, this was important enough for me to go get Barry. Don't you think?"

Stu stammered and sputtered a bit about being left out of the information loop, but had to agree that this was indeed important stuff. He then asked Stockman what they were going to do next.

"Well, Stu, first I'm having a meeting with our top engineering folks this afternoon. Gotta get them cracking on their design and analysis work to get us ready to be one of the Phase Zero bidders. With these performance requirements we've got a little bit of a head start on the others, except for Dixie."

"Don't forget to leave design wiggle room, just in case DixieAero's understanding isn't 100% on the mark."

"Yeah, I hear you, but this old airplane driver has some ideas of his own he wants to throw into the mix too."

"Like what, sir?" asked the curious Sanders.

"Like keeping the designs as simple as possible, while still meeting or exceeding the performance parameters. I think the Air Force has had it with airplanes that are too complex and costly to maintain. And furthermore, we ought to give 'em a future growth capability, for things like added mission avionics and countermeasures equipment. I know that these are not listed on the stuff we got from Dixie, but we should show our understanding of future needs and show 'em how we intend to make provisions for growth."

"Won't that drive the costs up and make us less competitive when it comes time for the full-scale development work?" Stu inquired, a look of concern on his face.

"Not if we get the engineers to design for it up front."

Barry listed to the two of them argue various points back and forth. Finally, Stockman turned to Barry and declared, "Your bird feeders better give us the latest word about what the Air Force thinks is really important."

"Bird feeders? What's that?" Stu interrupted.

Barry was sorry that Stockman had even mentioned them, but finally he had to explain to Stu what they were, in general terms. He kept the specifics to himself, and never mentioned that they might be used in Atlanta too. Nor did he mention putting anybody inside DixieAero.

"I guess I've heard everything now," Stu commented. "Using phony bird feeders to eavesdrop on the government is one for the books."

"Well, keep that under your hat, Stu. It doesn't go beyond this room. Understand?" Barked Stockman. "Oh, and Stu, I want you get a proposal team put together to be ready to respond when the Phase Zero RFP comes out. We have to be ready to hit the ground running. Make sure they all understand what the government means by a Phase Zero effort."

"Yes, sir. We'll be ready."

"Make damned sure you are. This one is for all the marbles."

Barry looked out the window, across toward the engineering buildings. What he saw wasn't pleasing. It was beginning to rain. There won't be any golf on this trip, he thought. "Crap," he muttered.

"Is that about it for now, sir?" Stu inquired.

"Yeah. I've got to get my thoughts organized for my meeting with engineering," Stockman allowed. And when he too looked out the window, now knowing why Barry had muttered a second ago. Stu was already in the outer office, waiting for Barry to follow.

"Sir, I think I'll plan on heading back tomorrow. I'll head for Dayton to see how things are going there, before going back to D.C.. And I'll let you know what I come up with on that DixieAero plant. Do you need me here any more?"

"No. You've done a damn good job, and I want you to know I appreciate that. Stay in touch. Okay?"

"Will do, sir."

On leaving Stockman's inner office, Barry paused at Sally's desk. He asked her to see about getting him airline reservations for Dayton early the next morning.

Stu waited for Barry to finish with Sally and then asked him to come over to the marketing offices. As they walked, Stu muttered something about wishing that Stockman wouldn't by-pass him so often. "I have to be in the loop, or I'll not have a clue about what's going on and how I can do my job."

Barry looked at his watch, noting that it was after 11:30. "Why don't we go someplace for a talk, lunch and some quiet away from the office? How about that?"

"Probably a good idea. Just let me tell Sue and we'll go. Seafood okay?"

Not far from where the QUEEN MARY is permanently moored, or even beached, they found a seafood place where Stu said the Captain's platter is a treat. It was raining even harder as they scurried from the parking lot to the blue canvas portico leading to the front door. The place was nearly deserted.

The host greeted Stu like an old friend and laughingly suggested it might be hard to find a table. "Why don't you and your friend pick any on you like? The combination of this rain and a weekday must be keeping our regulars away." Stu picked a window table, where off in the distance they could just see the huge vessel. But out to sea it was just heavy gray clouds and lots of rain.

While they waited for their Captain's platters to come, Stu began, "Sid called me the other day in a snit about you pulling Bret off the Capitol Hill beat."

"I didn't know that he called you, but I do know he was upset about that. We talked yesterday on the phone. I told him that my business partner, Ben Brigham would fill in but that didn't completely satisfy him."

"So why did you move Bret out?"

"He's ram-rodding the efforts at Wright-Patterson for me. It's essential that I have an experienced man there so we can maximize the information-gathering work within the AMC organization. Despite what we think we've learned from DixieAero, about what the new plane should do, it's essential that we get all the details we can directly from the program office."

"I guess I can understand that. But Sid is supposed to be your boss in the D.C. area and you didn't consult with him before making the move. That's what has him upset."

"Boy, you StratoWest guys are sure turf conscious. Does everything have to go up and down the chain of command? Don't you give your people any freedom to react as situations warrant? C'mon now."

"Look, Barry. You're the outsider around here. We don't have enough experience working with you yet to have the kind of confidence to give you a free hand. We don't do that with company people, so why should we with you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I understand, but you have to understand one important thing about my role. I am running an important, sensitive and out of the ordinary kind of operation. It's not your everyday kind of effort. In my business you have to react quickly to changing circumstances. I'm not accustomed to asking permission every time I need to wipe my nose. Understand?"

"You're sure not a company man."

"Ha. That's a laugh. When I was in the CIA I was the consummate company man. That's what they called us, you know?"

Stu looked around the nearly empty restaurant and asked, "We're not surrounded by eaves-droppers here, so tell me, how did you get that DixieAero information for us?"

"You don't want to know. Let's just say we're plugged in to the Senator's information network."

"You bugged his office, a U.S. Senator's office?" Stu asked, almost choking on his meal. "Are you crazy?"

"I told you not to ask." And Barry worked on a slice of abalone before continuing, "Mmmm this is good. Tastes a little like scallops and has much the same texture. Good."

"Have you bugged the Wright Field offices too?"

"Actually no, except for the bird feeders. But there we will have some people on the inside, people who have been there for years and know their way around."

"And they are willing to give you secret information? What have you got on them?"

"No secrets. Don't need anything classified," Barry replied, picking a fish bone out of his teeth. Everything we'll get from people on the inside will be pertinent but unclassified. We don't want to risk anybody getting thrown in jail."

"Thrown out on the street is okay though, right?"

"We didn't twist any arms, break any knee caps or threaten anybody. We are merely paying for services rendered. But don't get so righteous about it. You've got Sid and his folks prowling through the Senate and House office buildings as we speak. They too are there to gather what we need. It's all the same."

"Okay. Okay. I'll not ask any more. So far you've been producing for us, and that's what we hired you to do. How much of the money have you been through so far?"

"About a fourth of it."

"Are you going to stay within the amount allocated by Mr. Stockman?"

"Probably. And I don't plan on asking for more. The plan I gave you detailed what the money was to go for and we're just about where I expected."

"Good. How much longer do you think it'll take?"

"Depends."

"Depends on what?"

"It depends on whether Mr. Stockman wants my help after the Phase Zero work is done. I kinda suspect he will. What he really wants is the full-scale R&D contract and then the production job after that."

"Yeah, you're right. Phase Zero is only the start of the ball game. And are you sure we're going to get that initial contract?"

"That's not up to me. You guys have to submit a credible proposal when the RFP comes out. I have no way of knowing how good that will be. And I have no idea how competitive you will be against the others. Well, that's not entirely true. TexAero and WestAero will probably not bid, if Carrington is able to hold to the 90 days or less bidding time table."

"Did you say less?"

"Yeah. It could well be less. Look, Stu, DixieAero doesn't want anybody else to compete with them. That's why they've spent so much money getting Carrington in their pocket and put so much effort into getting sources developed in the Air Force, something StratoWest should have been doing all along."

"How much less?"

"Could be as little as 60 days, I suppose. DixieAero thinks they have information that nobody else has got. And they don't want others to have enough time to get up to speed. That's why they're using Carrington to lean on DOD to make the response time so short. They know they can't out and out ask for a sole source. Competitors would scream."

"Won't they scream anyway with just 60 to 90 days?"

"I wouldn't be at all surprised, but it would be fruitless because competitive bids would be asked for and it will not be technically a sole-source procurement. I doubt if competitor lawyers could build much of a case. And Carrington will play the hero by saying that he supports a quick buy of what the military desperately needs. You know how that game is played."

"You want an after dinner drink?"

"No, just coffee will be fine, Barry replied. Stu ordered a brandy, but just one.

"When do you think you'll be back in Washington?"

"By the weekend, I expect. And you can tell Sid that."

"How soon do you think the RFP will be out?"

"Hard to tell, but working backward from the new fiscal year and allowing for, say, 90 days for responses and 60 for the Air Force to make it's choice, I'd judge you'll have it by the first of May."

"Hmmm, that's not very far off. I'd better get back to the office and follow Stockman's suggestion that we get a proposal team put together pronto."

"Sounds reasonable to me."

"You coming back to the office, Barry?"

"No, just for the ride with you to get my car. I've got some errands to run and calls to make. I'll be checking out in the morning and taking a 6:00 o'clock flight to Dayton. Oh, thanks for the lunch. This place was a good choice."

On the drive back to StratoWest's headquarters, Stu told Barry that he'd decided to put Stan in charge of the proposal team. "And we'll form an executive review committee with several of the department heads to 'Blue Team' the final product. If is passes that scrutiny it'll probably be the best we can do."

"I'll stay in touch, Stu, and let you know as soon as I can when you can expect to get the RFP. I'll call you direct, okay?"

Stu felt a little better about getting such an assurance from him, and on dropping Barry off at his car he expressed appreciation for spending the lunch hour together.

That afternoon Barry picked up a small bag of bird food to take with him in the morning. He stuffed it into his golf bag.

Stepping off the plane at the Dayton airport around noon, Barry quickly realized that he'd not packed enough warm clothes. When he flew to California with Stockman, he hadn't planned on returning via cold, snowy Dayton. "Dumb, dumb, dumb," he muttered while scurrying into the terminal. His sport coat and light sweater just wasn't going to cut it.

The first stop on the way to nearby Fairborn was to a shopping mall to buy a heavy jacket and some gloves. "This is going on StratoWest's expense sheet."

He checked into the same motel as last time and then drove over to the rented office that Bret and Billy were using. They were startled to see him.

"What in the hell are you doing here? Last I heard you were in California," Bret declared as Barry came into the room.

"It's a long story. So? How's it going here?"

Billy was sitting at a table in front of the window, wearing headphones. "Here, Barry. Put these on and you'll see."

"So you got the bird feeders up. How are they working?"

"Just put on those earphones. You'll soon find out."

Barry smiled, turned to his pals and exclaimed, "This is fantastic. I can hear some guys talking. And it sounds like there's a typewriter or a computer keyboard working in the background. Oh oh, wait a second. These guys are talking about some gal. Yeah, they're talking how they'd like to do some gal named Debby. Wow. This setup works great."

"Yeah. Bert got this going yesterday. He and I did what you said. We rented a plain white van, set out the traffic cones and simply acted like we belonged there. Nobody even asked what we were doing. It was surprisingly simple," Billy explained.

"I kinda figured it would be easy. When you go about your business in a straight-forward way, acting like you should be there, people somehow don't pay much attention, much less challenge what you're up to."

Bret asked, "So Barry? How did it go in California? Did you come away with any more dough?"

"No, and I didn't expect any more money. Stockman was pleased, though, with the stuff we got from Senator Carrington's files. I gave him a pretty thorough update on what we've been doing."

"Now, tell me what good stuff you're getting over the listening device here? And what rooms are you able to monitor?" Barry asked, handing the bag of bird seed to Billy.

"You're too late with this bird feed. We filled the feeder trays as we got 'em put up. And already the birds have cleaned 'em out. And you shoulda heard those secretaries 'oo-ing and ah-ing' the next day while they watched those vultures empty out the feeders. We heard the whole reaction. It was great."

"Tell him, Billy," urged Bret.

"Oh, yeah. We've got the conference room, the general's office, the contracting officer's and the chief engineer's offices bugged with the feeders. Unfortunately, to listen to what the general and his visitors are saying, we have to leave here and park on the north side of the base. From here it's not line of sight. All the other places come through loud and clear."

"C'mon, guys. What have you heard. Anything useful yet?"

"No, Barry. Only routine stuff so far. They did mention that there would be four, no five, RFP's prepared for distribution soon."

"Did they say who'd get 'em?"

"No. No names yet," said Bret, shaking his head.

"Well, with four or five, StratoWest is surely on the list. And what about what's her name, the gal with the car problem? Is she inside yet?"

"Yes, Dolly Durham, and she'll be our friend for life," Billy replied. "Getting her car fixed was all the incentive she needed to get transferred down into the program office. She signed in Monday as secretary in the Configuration Management Office and agrees to get us the info we want when she can."

"Good. I want a copy of the RFP before it goes out officially. Is she in a position to do that?"

"Probably parts of it," Bret declared. "But I doubt if she'll even see the whole thing."

"Well, tell her that we want whatever pieces she can get us. And you let me know what she comes up with. Time is of the essence here."

"Yes, Barry. We know."

"Did you say you can listen to what's going on in the general's office too?"

"Yeah, Bert made a single-channel receiver for us that we can use in the car. It's like a cel phone and has a shorter range than this rig here, but we can hear what's being said from a little knoll in the woods just north of the base. There's a dirt road that you can get up there by. We tested it, but didn't hear much. Just routine stuff."

"How about putting a box up there on that hill with a recorder in it? Then every day or so we could retrieve the tape, or whatever?"

"Bert didn't rig up anything like that, just this hand receiver," Billy explained.

"Well, I'll talk with him when I get back to Washington. I'll stay here until Friday afternoon."

Early Thursday morning, while Billy was playing back one of the recordings from the bird feeder monitor in the contracting officer's area, he heard somebody say that one of the engineers was leaving the Air Force, claiming to be unhappy that women weren't given the opportunities that men were. Air Force Captain Darnelle Davis was expected to be discharged by the end of the month.

When Barry came in around 8:30, Billy told him about the captain's departure. And that got Barry to thinking about how to use this tidbit to StratoWest's advantage. "What if?" he thought, "Captain Davis could be recruited to be a StratoWest engineer, at a California pay level, and become the spy we need down at DixieAero? She just might be the person needed." He thought about it at length and finally asked Billy what would be the best way to meet the young lady.

Billy suggested that the underground cafeteria might be a good place. He'd seen her there many mornings getting a cup of coffee. "There aren't many black female officers around here. She usually sits by herself. I've seldom seen others join her or even strike up a friendly conversation."

"Is she really a loner? Do you think?"

"No. I think she's just lonesome."

"Hmmm, that might be helpful. Tell you what. I'll see if I can meet her tomorrow morning. See what you can find out about her today and let me know by the morning. Okay?"

"Yeah. I'll get right on it," Billy agreed.

"What have you got going around in that devious mind, Barry?" asked Bret.

"I'll tell you more tomorrow, after I've met the lady. But in the meantime, I want to connect with Bert over our secure email link. Does this laptop have the encryption program?"

"Yeah. Help yourself. Dial up through line one."

"Bret," Barry wrote, "meet me at the brownstone Saturday morning. I want to talk about a secure remote recorder. It's for the birds we can't hear. Barry." And then he pushed the send button, hoping that Bert would get it early enough to have some answers ready by Saturday.

Friday morning Barry checked out of the motel. He'd already made a reservation for a 5:00 PM flight to D.C., making sure that it would land at Dulles and not Reagan airport. His car was a the former.

At 9:00 he signed in through the security access gate, identifying himself as a technician with DANCO. The guard merely asked him where he was going, so Barry said Building 15 and was easily admitted. He walked across the street and went right into the main entrance of the building, found his way to the lower level and the tunnel access. There were many folks walking to and from the snack bar, many carrying hot coffee and a bagel, donut or sweet roll back to their offices. A few lingered at the tables in the snack bar area on their morning coffee breaks.

Off to one side, sitting alone sat a black female officer, a captain. As Barry walked past her, he glanced down at her name tag. It read 'DAVIS'. "Excuse me, Captain. Do you mind if I join you? Most of these tables are occupied."

"Not at all, sir. Please help yourself."

"I'm Barry, Captain, er … ah Davis," Barry said pointing to her name tag. "How's it going?"

"Okay, I guess."

"I have to confess something, Captain. I really came over here looking for you."

"Oh? Why would you do that?"

"Well, I heard by the grapevine that you're considering leaving the Air Force. Is that right?"

"It's no secret, sir. Yes, I am leaving at the end of the month."

"Do you have any plans, about what you'll do or where you will go? Have you got a job lined up?"

"Not really. I'm headed home to Georgia, to my family, at least for a while. And no, I don't have a job. Do you need an engineer?"

"Well, as a matter of fact I do. That's why I tracked you down. Can you give me some background information."

"I might, but first I'd like to know who I'm talking to."

"Fair enough. As I said, my name is Barry. I work as a consultant for a Long Beach aerospace company. My employer has asked me to be on the lookout for a special type of person. So? Can you tell me if you're special?"

"Me? I'm not special. I'm just an Air Force Captain with a graduate degree in aerospace engineering from Georgia Tech. I work in the CX Project Office doing little more than paper shuffling for a bunch of chauvinists who don't think a woman can do real engineering."

"You mean in this day and age that's a problem here at the Air Force's premier R&D facility? I thought they wanted talent no matter what gender, color or specialty."

"Yes. That's what I thought and why I asked for this assignment, but around here it's still the 'old boy' network that rules. And, as you can see, I'm not an old boy. There's no future for me here."

"What's waiting for you back in Georgia?" Barry asked, changing the subject.

"My sick mother and a brother, Nestor, who's got medical problems of his own."

"And a boyfriend?"

"No. No boyfriend. I won't have time for one either. I've got to find a job so I can take care of my family."

"And your father?"

"That bum. He bailed out long ago, when he discovered that every dime made would have go to pay medical bills for Nestor. We haven't seen him in six years."

"Oh? What's your brother's problem?"

"He's a severe asthmatic. He can't work or even go to school. And his medications are expensive, so I need to get a job in a hurry to help out."

"And your mother's situation?"

"Mostly she's just worn out, getting old and suffering typical problems of having worked too hard over these years to take care of Nestor."

"So, you must have gone through Georgia Tech on a scholarship or something, right?" Barry continued.

"Yes. I got an ROTC scholarship. That's about the only good thing I've gotten from the Air Force, and I really do appreciate that. But I worked my tail off to maintain top grades. Do you know that I finished first in my class? I proved myself in school, but that doesn't get me anything around here."

"I'm impressed. First in your engineering class is quite an accomplishment."

"It wasn't easy."

"I'm sure it wasn't. So tell me, Captain, would you consider sending me a copy of your current resume? I think you might be the special person we're looking for."

"I'm flattered, Mr. Benson, but I can't go way out to California and leave my family. My mother really needs me."

"Well, the position I need to fill is not in California. Would you be interested if it was in Atlanta?"

"Would I, oh, yes sir. That would be perfect. I can get you a copy of my resume in ten minutes, if you'll just wait here for me to go to my office."

"Okay. I'll wait. And please call me Barry. Okay?"

"Yes, sir. Barry, sir. My name is Darnelle." And she shook his hand enthusiastically, a broad smile spreading across her pretty face. "I'll be right back."

Barry waited, sipping on his coffee. He looked around at the people coming and going from that busy snack bar. He had to conclude that the women running around this place were not as attractive or exciting as those he’d seen out at StratoWest’s headquarters. But then it might be the heavier clothes they wore and the winter atmosphere that made things seem bleaker.

He thought about how he would broach the subject of this potential candidate to Stockman. What he wanted StratoWest to do was hire the lady on as a staff engineer, but with special assignment initially as a spy down at DixieAero. He also thought that it would be none of StratoWest’s business what Darnelle might earn on the DixieAero payroll. Getting two salaries should be enough of an incentive for this cash-strapped woman.

Soon Darnelle returned, clutching a few sheets of paper in her hand. "I hope that didn’t take too long, sir."

"No, not at all. I can’t make any promises at this stage, you understand. But I will email this out to our management and get back to you by next week at the latest. Have you got an email address? Or should I just call you at the number cited here on your resume?"

"Yes, I understand. But, can you tell me what kind of work I’ll be considered for? Engineering, I hope?"

"Let me put it this way, Captain. You’ll be doing work on the most advanced aircraft systems the Air Force is acquiring. And, I promise you, you will be generously compensated if you are selected. This will be a very unique assignment."

"Sounds exciting, sir. I really appreciate your looking me up and forwarding my resume to your management. Thank you, and I look forward to hearing from you."

"I’ll get back to you no later than next week. I promise."

The captain left, headed back to her office, but Turning to smile and wave at Barry before she disappeared into the tunnel leading to Building 15. Barry raised his coffee cup in a salute.

Before heading to the airport, Barry returned to the local office and monitoring station. Bret greeted him with the news that he had email from Bert saying he’d meet Barry on Saturday. And Billy revealed that there wasn’t a whole lot of information available on Darnelle, except that she was bright, held a SECRET clearance and was recently moved to the Configuration Management (CM) office. Her duties involved tracking engineering documentation on the XC system.

"Well, I can see why she would be frustrated. She wouldn’t get to do much engineering in a CM position."

"So? How did your meeting with her go?" Bret asked. "And what is it exactly that you want her for?"

"I think she’ll be a key insider for us when I get her hired at DixieAero. She’ll be working for StratoWest with assignment to Atlanta. That’s her home."

"And just how are you going to get her hired down at DixieAero?" Bert asked in amazement at Barry's chutzpah.

"I'm going to bring her to Washington, to the brownstone, for an interview. I'll have Caroline, the young intern in Carrington's office, meet her and she'll pass along Darnelle's resume to the senator. Then the senator will, I fully expect, refer it to his pal Gordon at DixieAero. Simple as that."

"And you actually think that will work?"

"Sure. Caroline will plead her case at my urging and with DixieAero building up their engineering team for the XC-109, she's a shoe-in."

"Well, you can certainly try," Bert agreed, "but I'm note sure it'll go that easily."

"We'll see."

Later that afternoon Barry caught his flight to Dulles. On the way he spent some time reading Darnelle's resume. "The kid is bright," he thought." I just hope she's desperate enough to be complaint to our needs."

It was a little after 8:00 PM by the time Barry got to the brownstone. The whole gang was there, three of them sitting around watching television and munching on microwave popcorn. "Hi there," he greeted. "Mmmm that smells good."

"You want some?" asked Caroline.

"No, thanks. I think I'll pass, but it sure does smell good. So? How come you young folks aren't out on the town? It's Friday night?"

"I'm just relaxing and unwinding from a hectic work week," Phil responded.

"Yes. The same for me," the other two echoed in turn. "We're watching an old movie."

"Well, I'm surprised. I thought folks your age just lived for Friday nights and a chance to party, or even howl a bit. Let me put these things away and I'll get comfortable and join you."

A little after 10:30 everyone except Caroline headed upstairs to their rooms. Barry and his young roomer chatted for a bit, waiting for the 11:00 o'clock news.

"I met an interesting lady from your home state today, Caroline. She's from the Atlanta area too."

"Oh, where was that, Barry?"

"I was in Dayton, Ohio on business and met her at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. She's a captain and an engineer, a Georgia Tech graduate."

"I'm impressed."

"Yes, and she's soon getting out of the Air Force and will be looking for a job. She prefers to return to Atlanta because her mother, who is not well, lives there. And her brother is a severe asthmatic. The young captain will have her work cut out for her trying to support them both."

"Well, Atlanta is growing and there are jobs to be had all around town. With her qualifications she shouldn't have too much trouble."

"I hope not. She seems awfully nice. Here," Barry added, passing Darnelle's resume over for Caroline to see, "why don't you look at this and tell me where you think she might look."

Caroline studied Darnelle's resume for several minutes before speaking. "Wow, top of her class in engineering school. This is terrific. I am sure that DixieAero or some big company like that would grab her in a minute."

"Would it be possible for you to pass a copy of this along to your boss, Senator Carrington, and see if he could get it into the right hands. Captain Davis would be mighty appreciative, and so would I."

"Surely, I'd be pleased to do that for you, and for this impressive woman. I'll bring it into the office on Monday."

"Well, I'll make another copy for you, but I want to keep this one to show a few others." And Barry took the resume back.

After the 11:00 news, they decided to call it a night. Caroline went up to her room and Barry turned out the downstairs lights and checked to be sure the door was locked.

After his Saturday morning jogging run, Barry returned to find Bert waiting for him in the living room of the brownstone. He held something in his lap about the size of a shoebox.

"Well, here it is, Barry?"

"Here what is?"

"Here's the remote recording device you asked for, in your email. Remember?"

"Oh, that. Yeah. Boy, that was quick. Great."

"Well, I was thinking about something like this too, for that one sensor we couldn't receive from the office across from Wright Field."

"Is it automatic? And how long will it record?"

"Yes. It'll run unattended for a week or more on the 12 volt battery, a little less in the cold of winter and perhaps longer when it warms up."

"Great. So what do we have to do to get the data out of it?"

"Simple enough. Just swap the full tape cartridge for a fresh one. It runs at very slow speed and has lots of capacity. But it ain't hi-fi. You wouldn't want it for music or anything like that. And you'd better swap out the battery for a fresh one once a week. It's rechargeable. Oh, and you owe me $300."

"I doubt if our target will do much singing. When is the last time you - Oh, oh. Wait a minute. Someone is coming down the stairs."

"Good morning, Barry. How are you?" asked Phil, the roomer of the third floor rear.

"Hi, Phil. Just fine. You headed out for a morning jog? I see you have on your running gear."

"Well, maybe around the block and as far as the coffee shop. I'm not much of a runner, but this get-up works great for breaking the ice with chicks."

"Yeah. I can imagine. Well, it's a great day for it, whatever you're after." And then Phil disappeared down the front steps.

"C'mon. Let's go down in the basement where we can talk," Barry suggested, urging Bert to follow. As they walked down the steps, Barry pulled out his wallet and counted out three crisp 100 dollar bills, which he handed to Bert at the door to the cinderblock room.

"Thanks," Bert said as he took the money. "You were starting to say upstairs?"

"Yeah. I wanted to know if you'd transferred any more stuff to ZIP disks for me to review. Anything new since I went to California?"

"Yup. Two things," Bert began, handing a couple ZIP disks to Barry. "We now have Phil's password and user ID to get into the Pentagon computers in his area. There's some neat stuff I found."

"Like what?"

"Well, the budget guys have been told to scope out estimates for three one-year buys for the new tactical assault transports. There was a memo from the Secretary of the Air Force's office mentioning 100 planes for each of three years, starting two years out and after the winning bidder is chosen, of course."

"Hmmm," Barry mused, "That means they are planning on cranking up the contract for full-scale development and then production in a hurry. Did the memo say anything about prototypes?"

"Nope. It was only about future procurement of production units."

"Anything else?"

"No," Barry, but I haven't looked since Thursday morning. I've been busy getting you this recorder unit."

"Sure. And I appreciate your getting on this right away. Where's the antenna?"

"That little stub on the side pivots up. It's an omni-directional antenna. It doesn't have any gain, but I figured you'd put this thing not too far away."

"You know what might be neat? Could you repackage this in one of those green upright post things that looks like a telephone connection box, the kind you see in people's yards?"

"Sure. Why is that?"

"If we put this thing on the hill, just across the road from the base and in sight of Building 15, people who might pass by wouldn't get curious if it looked familiar. But, looking like this, with the stub antenna poking up, well, it might look suspicious."

"I see what you mean. Yeah. I can re-package it, but I'll have to think about what kind of antenna to put on it. I know where I can liberate one of those phone company boxes. Does it matter if it says Potomac Bell and not Ohio Bell?"

"Probably not, or you could simply smudge some paint over the name. But make it so we can retrieve the tapes and swap out batteries easily. I don't want folks to get too curious about what we're doing up there on the hillside. We need to get in and out in a few seconds."

"Well, you could simply swap out complete units, covers and all. That'll double your costs."

"Let's see what you can come up with for a single unit that lets us just swap tapes and a battery."

"Okay. I'll get on it. Wait just a few seconds and I'll transfer the stuff since Thursday onto a ZIP for you."

"Make it quick. I heard people walking around upstairs. If somebody is planning on doing laundry today, we'll have visitors down here in a minute."

Bert finished and closed up the cinderblock room, just as the door to the stairs opened. It was Caroline, and she was coming down with a laundry bag and a box of soap.

"Good morning, Barry and Bert," she cheerily greeted. "Wash day for me. Is anybody using the machines?"

"Hi, Caroline. No. Help yourself. They're free."

Bert carried his recorder unit up with him and left the building. Caroline chatted with Barry, while loading her things into the washing machine.

"How did you meet Darnelle Davis, Barry? That Air Force captain getting out soon?"

"Oh, I was at Wright Field on business and ran into her in the coffee shop. All the tables were occupied and she let me join her. We got to talking and that's how I found out about her getting out, and about her family troubles."

"Well, I meant what I said about being pleased to get her resume to the Senator. He'll surely want to help a fellow Georgian."

"Even if she's an African American? I didn't mention that yet."

"What difference does that make? She's a graduate engineer, an Air Force officer and a Georgian. That's all that matters."

"Do you think the senator feels that way too? And did I tell you that she's quite attractive?"

"Whether or not she's pretty doesn't matter. Why is it that you men never look beyond appearances? And yes, I know the senator doesn't care if she's black, green purple or plaid. He's a southern gentleman through and through."

Barry smiled, without evening being tempted to suggest that the good senator was in DixieAero's pocket, a wheeler-dealer and liner of his own political treasure chest.

"Would it help if Captain Davis came here to meet the senator?"

"I don't think that's necessary, sir. But she will probably have to go down to Atlanta for interviews after the senator forwards her resume."

"You're right. And thanks again for helping out the lady. She will appreciate it a whole lot."

"Glad to help."

Barry headed for the stairs, his ZIP disks in hand. And then he remembered that he'd better call Stockman to let him know about Captain Davis.

Caroline was still downstairs doing laundry and there didn't seem to be anybody else around, as Barry dialed Stockman's phone number. No sooner had it started to ring than Barry remembered that this was Saturday and Stockman would probably be on the golf course about now.

"Hello. Stockman residence," came the reply to Barry's call.

"Hello. This is Barry Benson from Washington. Is Mr. Stockman there, please?" The lady who answered asked Barry to wait a moment.

"Hello, Barry. Stockman here. How was Dayton?"

"Good morning sir. Aren't you playing golf this morning?"

"No, damnit. It's rained every day since you were here and it's still coming down."

"Dayton was fine. I wanted to let you know that I think I have found a terrific candidate for our Atlanta project. She's a Georgia Tech engineering grad and pretty sharp. I'll fax you her resume."

"Did you say 'her'?"

"Yes, sir. She's an Air Force captain about to be discharged and looking for work. I've interviewed her once and will again, but I wanted to do so with the firm prospect that you'd be interested. I want you to hire her on as a StratoWest engineer, at just above entry level."

"Yeah, we can do that. What's her specialty?"

"Aeronautical or aerospace engineering, and she was tops in her class at Georgia Tech. She's got a masters degree."

"You really think she'll be useful to us in Atlanta?"

"Yes, I do. Just in hiring her she'll be grateful enough to cooperative, I'm sure. And since she will be working for you, and for the folks in Atlanta, the double income will help her and her family out of a tragic bind. That's what I'm counting on. She'll be just fine."

"Okay. I'll have engineering send out the usual paperwork to you. We'll put her on as a special projects engineer, and on paper she reports to me. But in point of fact, you'll be her boss, at least until this job is done. Any more news on Phase Zero?"

"No. But I heard from a pretty good source that the Air Force wants to buy 300 airplanes, a hundred a year for three years, commencing right after full-scale development."

"Terrific. And how are your birds doing?"

"Chirping away, clear as a bell. And they are dropping things we can use."

"Hey, that's a good one," Stockman responded, laughing heartily. "Dropping things we can use. Okay, you keep on it. And tell your lady engineer friend she's hired. Play it any way you think is best."

"Thank you sir. It'll work out just right. Oh, and I didn't tell you the best part. Our senate friend will be opening the doors for her in Atlanta."

Stockman laughed and laughed. "Barry, you're a corker. Getting the senator to get her in is terrific. Talk to you later."

"Goodbye, sir."

After taking his shower and getting dressed, Barry finally got around to reviewing the material on the ZIP disks. Most of the stuff from the senator's office was routine, though one item got his attention. DixieAero's CEO, Gordon, was sent a reminder of the upcoming elections and Carrington's need for campaign funds. There was no response.

Also on the disks were some of the files that Barry had poked around in over at Phil's Pentagon office. It probably didn't interest Bert, or he would have mentioned it to Barry, but there was one item dealing with the requirement for an Environmental Impact Assessment for the upcoming XC-109 program. Phil's boss was tasked with determining how much, if anything, environmental factors would affect the program costs. And there was mention of using the USAF Plant #42 in Palmdale, California to support final assembly and testing. The Air Force was changing its costing factors for contractor use of the facility.

Barry suspected that DixieAero might not have that information yet. He printed out a copy of both messages and stuffed them into an envelope to FedEx to Stockman on Monday.

He then called Ben at home, suggesting that they meet for lunch to discuss what had occurred in Long Beach and Dayton, just to bring Ben up to speed.

At 12:20, Barry met Ben at Maxie's and the two found a quiet table. After ordering sandwiches and a couple brews, Ben began by asking Barry if he knew about Sid's problems.

"What problems?" And then Barry remembered early on that someone mentioned they had tidbits of information about Sid, but no details were included. "Sid?"

"Yep, it seems that our erstwhile StratoWest Washington office manager is a druggie. And he was picked up by the cops after he had a car accident. They suspected he was zonked and took him in. He's been charged with driving under the influence."

"What's he been using? I never saw any signs."

"Some kind of methamphetamines or such. I don't know exactly. But he's in the police ward at General Hospital. His arraignment is set for next week."

"Do the folks at Long Beach know about this? Sanders? Stockman, or anybody?"

"Yes. Sybil called Sanders when she heard about it."

"Well, I'll be damned. I never suspected."

"So, who's going to run things in their office now?"

"There was mention that Stan would be coming out, temporarily."

"Oh great. That guy may be a good company man and maybe even an administrator, but he'll just get in our way. He's been the one against our work all along."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You and Bart keep on probing around. Pay no heed to Stan or whoever they send out to replace Sid. Boy, I just know that Stockman will go through the roof about this. He'll probably get Sid some medical help, maybe even a lawyer, but Sid's history as far as StratoWest is concerned. What a waste."

Barry then went on to tell Ben about his StratoWest trip and the Dayton operation. He filled Ben in too on Captain Davis, including Stockman's approval.

"We gotta get her in place down there as soon as possible. When DixieAero gets its Phase Zero proposal materials together, we have to know what they say in time for Stockman's people to respond.

And then Barry told Ben about the budget estimate work going on for a buy of 300 airplanes. Ben responded, "That meshes with what I heard over in the House office building. A staffer told me that he'd heard it from some DixieAero people. Nobody seemed all that surprised or concerned, but it was the first time I'd been told how many birds they were going to buy."

"Did you heard anything about prototypes? How many might be bought during the R&D phase?"

"Nothing definitive, just a rumor that four to six might be needed. That information came to the House staffers from an Air Force type. I don't know how official it is."

"We need to find out, because StratoWest's proposals and Phase Zero reports need to address how they would employ whatever prototypes the Air Force anticipated needing. I suspect they'll want one or more for early evaluation by the fellows in the Air Force Operational Testing and Evaluation teams. Stockman needs to know so that he can include the best possible descriptions of anticipated test resources."

"Bart and I will do some more probing to see what we can learn."

"And see what you can find out about the engines the government wants. Are they going to want a brand new engine for the XC-109's, or demand an off-the-shelf model. The bidders will have to accommodate whatever preference the government indicates about engines, especially how it affects the money. Will it be a dual development program, engines and airframes, or just the airframe? That's critical."

"Nobody's even hinted yet that an engine R&D effort is in the wind. But you're right, it could make a helluva difference."

Finally, Barry told Ben about the bird feeders and how well they were working. He said they were being considered for use down at DixieAero, but more information was needed about their physical plant layout and which places should be bugged. "I'm hoping that Davis can give us some insights soon."

"So, when are you going to meet the captain again? And has she any idea what you have in mind for her?"

"I was thinking of setting up a meeting next week, probably in Dayton. Now that I have Stockman's assurance that she'll be hired, I can offer her a real financial incentive to cooperate. And when Carrington gets her an interview with DixieAero, she's almost guaranteed to be hired to work on their XC-109 team. They'll be delighted to have an ex-USAF type aboard who came directly from the XC project office."

Early Sunday morning, while grabbing a bagel and a cup of coffee in the brownstone, Barry realized that he hadn't checked his email. He opened up his laptop and connected the modem cable. A half dozen messages awaited him, a couple encrypted from Bret in Dayton and others of a more routine nature, including two junk mail promotional blurbs. The latter two he deleted before reading.

Most interesting was the second message from Bret. It revealed word passed along by Dolly that the Air Force planned on releasing the RFP's for the Phase Zero work on May first. And, most importantly, StratoWest was on the list to get the document package, if they were interested. That last phrase amused Barry as clearly being the understatement of the year.

Immediately, Barry sent Bret a return encrypted message asking if there were any specifics available about the RFP content. And then he asked if there was any word about new engines to be developed for the transport. He added a phrase directed at Dolly saying, "Well done, gal. Keep up the good work."

No sooner had he sent the first message than he quickly composed a second. "I'm coming over on Wednesday or Thursday. Will bring new monitor box. I plan on interviewing Captain Davis at length. Barry. PS: Sid in jail for drug use and car accident. Damn shame."

Finally, he typed and printed a message to Stockman, to be included with the envelope he was to FedEx tomorrow. He explained about the pending RFP release. As usual the packaged would be sent to Stockman's home.

Around 10:30 the phone rang. It was Bart. "Barry, this will make your day. I just heard that Stan is indeed coming out to run StratoWest's office here, at least on an interim basis."

"I'm not surprised. Stu sure as hell wouldn't do it, and if I know him he'll convince Stan that this is a promotion. Did you hear when he's coming?"

"Yeah, he'll be here by mid-week."

"Then I guess my return to Dayton is scheduled right. I'll see you in the office on Monday. How about passing the word along to Ben?"

"Sure. Will do. Seeya Monday. Bye."

Over his second and third cups of coffee, Barry thought long and hard about how to approach Davis about the job offer and the explanation of the true nature of what he wanted her to do.

"On the one hand," he thought, "she could turn me down flat and run to the Air Force to reveal what I'd asked her to do. That would be the worst case scenario and compromise our whole operation."

He popped another bagel in the toaster and soon spread some cream cheese on the hot bread. Pausing while slowly spreading the cheese, he thought, "yet she might be so attracted by the possibility of a double salary, and perhaps a spirit of adventure in her veins, she'd actually go for it. I have to broach the subject in just the right way or I could blow it."

"Good morning, Barry," came the cheerful voice of Caroline, descending the stairs in her sweats. "You have the copy of Darnelle's resume for me?"

"Wait just a second. I'll turn my copier on and get it for you. You want some coffee and a bagel?"

"Yes, that would be nice. But first I want some orange juice from the fridge. Want some?"

"No thanks. This coffee is all I want. Say, Caroline, I wanted to ask you if you've ever see the other gal on your floor? Is she out of town?"

"I think so. You mean Patricia?"

"Yes. For some reason I can never remember her name, probably because we hardly ever see her. I guess her job at Air Force headquarters keeps her busy."

"Pat did mention something about going down to Langley on a special project. She didn't say what it was all about though."

"And Paula, up in the third floor front? You two ever get together?"

"No. She's got a new boyfriend and I gather he keeps her occupied. I've actually only talked with her once, down at the laundry machines in the basement."

"You and Phil are about the only two I've gotten to know. If it hadn't been for that snowstorm a while ago, none of us would have been together." Barry shut down his little desktop copier and passed the resume to Caroline.

"Thanks. I'll ask Carla to give it to the Senator tomorrow. He's headed down to Atlanta on a campaign fund-raising trip on Tuesday. I expect he'll be visiting DixieAero because he sent them a message last week mentioning his campaign."

Barry knew of that message, but said nothing, except to thank Caroline for her interest in Darnelle. Then he added, "I may run into her next week. I'll let her know about your thoughtfulness. Maybe she can thank you herself one day."

"I think I'll just take this bagel and coffee upstairs." And then, spying the Sunday paper on the sofa, she asked "Mind if I take the funnies up with me?" Barry laughed and smiled at her. "No. help yourself. I really only read the sports section and the news."

Around mid-day, as Barry was getting ready to go out to have lunch, Bert called. "I'll have the Potomac Bell unit ready by Tuesday. When are you headed west again?"

"Great. I'm going out Wednesday. Can you package it so I can take it with me as checked baggage?"

"Yeah sure. And I'll type out a set of instructions for setting it up and how to change the battery and tapes. Billy can get it going for you."

"Fine. And if anything comes up you can alert Ben. I'll check my email when I'm out there. Be back by the weekend, I hope."

"Seeya then."

Over his lunch at a nice place on the edge of Georgetown, Barry thought more about how to handle the situation with Davis. He realized that he just didn't know enough about her yet. "Hmmmm," he mused. "I'd better spent some time with her, perhaps over dinner one evening, to get to know her better before I even mention the deal. But, I'd better not wait too long, because she's sure to get a call from DixieAero shortly after they get her resume."

Monday morning, shortly after getting into the office, Bart called to say that Stan wanted Barry to call him at the Long beach office. "What's he want, Bart?"

"I haven't a clue. He probably just wants to let you know that he's coming out to take Sid's place for a while."

"Okay. I'll call him around noon. That'll be 9:00 his time. I'm heading to Dayton on Wednesday."

"From what the TV weatherman says, don't bother bringing your clubs this time."

"Thanks. You're really making my day," Barry responded with a tone of sarcasm.

"I do my best. Bye."

Betty made the airline arrangements for Barry's trip. She said the travel agent would bring the tickets over to the office around 1:00.

"Thanks, Betty. I've got a problem I need your feminine advice on. Would you join me for lunch and we'll talk it over."

"Sure. If you're buying lunch, I'm all ears. One of your romances go south?" she responded, with a laugh.

"No. It's not that simple."

"Oh my. This does sound serious. Okay, then, we'll do lunch."

The phone rang at 11:30. It was Stan. "Hello, Stan. What's up?" Barry began.

"Did you hear about Sid's problem?"

"Yeah. Too bad. I never suspected that he was having that kind of a problem."

"Neither did any of us. It came as a surprise out of the blue. But the reason I'm calling is that I'll be in Washington on Wednesday. Stu has given me the temporary assignment of filling in for Sid. I want you to be at the company meeting I'm calling for 2:00 Thursday afternoon."

"Sorry. I won't be in town, but Ben and Bart are available. Either one can speak on my behalf."

"Well, cancel your trip. This is important."

"Sorry. What I'm doing is just as important, maybe even more so. I'll have Ben sit in for me. He can fill me in when I get back."

"Look, Barry. When I call a meeting I expect you to be there. Is that clear?"

"Let's get something even clearer, right now. I do not work for you. I report directly to Stockman. Understand?"

"No, I don't understand. Stu told me that you report to him, and as his representative there in Washington, you report to me."

"Sorry. It doesn't work that way. Get used to it. Have a nice flight. Bye."

Barry hung up the phone, shaking his head. "That Stan thinks he's commander-in-chief now," he muttered. "What an idiot. But at least I don't have to call him now."

"Okay, Barry. It's time to go to lunch," Betty declared.

"It's only 11:40. Why so early?"

"Because I want to be back here when the travel agent brings your ticket. That's why."

"Okay, okay. Let's go."

At Casey's, Wes, the bartender, greeted Barry and Sally like long lost family members. They took their usual booth, pleased that they'd gotten there ahead of most of the lunch crowd.

After placing their lunch orders, Barry looked at Betty. "Okay, my friend. Here's the problem. One of the things I have to do in Dayton this week is recruit a gal to be our eyes and ears at DixieAero, down in Atlanta."

"So? What's difficult about that. You've recruited lots of folks into your nefarious project, in and out of the agency. What makes this case so hard?"

"Well, it's probably that the gal is an Air Force captain. She's about to leave the service and seek employment in the Atlanta area. She's bright, smart, attractive and has a graduate engineering degree. Did I mention that she's also black?"

"Big deal. So she's black. What's that got to do with anything."

"I guess I don't know how to approach her about what it is that we need for our client, StratoWest. What I want her to do is work for us as an informant at DixieAero. I can offer her a great deal of money, well a way to get a lot of money. StratoWest is willing to hire her as an engineer, at California wages, and she'll get another salary working as a DixieAero employee."

"You mean she'll be employed by both companies, at the same time? Can you do that?"

"Sure. That's not the problem. What I'm worried about is her turning me down and then running to the Air Force or DixieAero with the whole story. That could blow this project completely out of the water."

"Sounds like a no-brainer to me," Betty observed, with a smug look on her face."

"No brainer how?"

"Look. If you can't trust her, then don't tell her. Find somebody else. Simple."

"Well, in many ways she's just the kind we need. She's got huge financial problems, with a sick mother and an asthmatic brother unable to work. And she works in the XC-109 project office. That makes her a shoe-in to be hired by DixieAero."

"And?"

"And I've already got the wheels rolling to get her hired at DixieAero, though she knows nothing about what I want her to do."

"I think I can get her into a key position to be invaluable to StratoWest. Until StratoWest wins the full-scale development contract and the follow-on production contract for the XC-109 transports, I need her in place inside DixieAero."

"And you don't have anyone else?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, unless you gave something she really needs, I mean really really needs, it will be difficult. My advice is to get to know the lady a whole lot more before even mentioning what you have in mind."

"You're right. I knew I could trust your instincts. Thanks."

"How's your mother these days?"

"She's all right, though as usual demanding of my time. I haven't got time for a love life. For that matter I've not even been out on a date in so long I can't remember."

"You want to go to a show tonight?"

"What have you got in mind?"

"Well, there's an ice show in town. Bart can probably get us tickets. He knows everybody."

"Yes. I'd really like that. What time?"

"I'll pick you up at your place at 7:30. We can grab a late supper afterwards, if you like."

"Well Barry Benson, if I didn't know you better, I'd call this a date."

"Is that what it is? Ah well, I'm just be a softy today. Consider it my appreciation for your advice."

"It's a deal. Now let's get back to the office so I can be there when the travel agent comes."

Bart and Ben were in the office when they returned. "Did you talk with Stan?" Bart asked.

"He called me before I could get back to him. Yes, I talked with him. That jerk tried to order me around like I worked for him. I kinda cut him off."

"So, how do you want us to deal with him?" Ben asked.

"Ignore him as much as you can. Tell him that you work for me and that if he has any beefs to take 'em up with me when I get back. But whatever you do, don't tell him anything that we're doing. Oh, I suppose you can tell him who you're schmoozing on the Hill, but not a word about anything else. Got that?"

"Sure. He won't know anything more than Sid does. Any word on his status?"

"Nope. Not a peep."

"You say you're coming back from Dayton this weekend?"

"Yeah, unless something comes up I'll be back Friday night. I'll stay in touch."

Tuesday evening, around 7:30, Bert brought over the modified recorder unit. He had it boxed and ready to go as checked baggage for Barry's morning flight to Dayton.

"I put the instruction sheets inside, for Billy to do the setup," Bert explained. "He'll have to get a small battery charger. There's a spare battery in the carton, as well as a couple tapes."

"Great. Can they read the tapes with equipment in the office?"

"Yeah, no problem. All they'll have to do is slow down the playback to match the speed on the recorder. If they don't, people will sound like the Chipmunks. Billy can play with the speeds to get the match he wants."

"Thanks, Bert. I appreciate your re-packaging the unit. You sure you don't want to come along and help set it up?"

"Nope. I've seen enough of that area's snow to last me a while. You have a good trip. When are you coming home?"

"I'll be back Friday night. If you come over to check the equipment downstairs, just leave the ZIP disks on the counter inside the cinderblock room."

"Okay, will do. See you later." And Bert headed out the door.

Barry spent a half hour or so packing his suitcase for the morning trip. After finishing the job, he headed for the refrigerator for something to drink. He stood there with the orange juice container in hand, sadly noting that there was barely a swallow left. Just as he was downing the last of it, in walked Caroline. He looked at her, shrugged his shoulders and explained, "Sorry. That's the last of it. Hope juice wasn't on your mind. All that's left are some soft drinks."

"Well, I was headed for some, but I'll take a cola instead. No Problem. I'll pick up a couple juice cartons on my lunch hour."

"You won't have to worry about me beating you to them, because I'm headed out of town in the morning. I'll be in Dayton for a few days."

"Oh? Well, if you see Darnelle, you can tell her that Senator Carrington has agreed to pass her resume along to some of his contacts in Atlanta. And I suspect that DixieAero will be first."

"Thanks, Caroline. I'll tell Darnelle how helpful you've been, if I get a chance to see her," Barry added as Caroline headed toward the stairs with her can of cola. "Goodnight."

Barry was brushing his teeth in preparation for bed when the phone rang. It was Stockman, saying that he got the FedEx package this afternoon and was pleased with Barry's progress and the definite word on the RFP.

"Thank you, sir. I'm off to Dayton in the morning. One of my tasks is to get with Captain Davis. Is everything still okay about bringing her aboard?"

"Yes, sure. The new employee information package should get to your Washington address in a day or two. If you have any questions just give me a call. And, oh yes, you've probably heard about Sid Sturgess by now. Stu Sanders is sending Stan Swain to temporarily fill in."

"Yes, sir. I've already gotten a call from Stan. He wasn't too pleased when I told him that I don't jump through his hoops."

"I'll bet. Well, it's just until we can find somebody to permanently replace Sid. I know that Stan wants no part of it and I won't pressure him."

"Actually, sir, there's not that much happening in the office, with or without Sid or Stan. My guys Ben and Bart are doing more than was done before."

"That brings up another topic I wanted ask you about. Have you any recommendations about a permanent replacement for Sid?"

"No, not really, but you could do a whole lot worse than Bart Bascomb. When our current project is complete he'll be looking for something more permanent. He knows the lobbying game as well as any."

"Well look, why don't you see if he'd be interested and if he is, ask him to send us a resume. I'd have to discuss it with Stu, of course, but I don't think he has anybody else in mind right now."

"Sure. Will do. And on that Davis matter again, I'm going to meet with her in a day or so. She still doesn't know what I have in mind for her. But her resume has been taken by Carrington to DixieAero, so I'll have to move fast or she might get an offer from them before we can get her established with us."

"You do what you have to. We need that insider source urgently. Let me know if I can help."

"Yes, sir. Will do. And before we hang up, I wanted to know if you got the significance of those references to environmental impact statements. Having your ducks lined up in that area could be a key factor in all of this."

"Yeah, yeah. I got the message. Damned Feds sure as hell don't make life easy for business. Those bastards just don't realize how much that stuff increases costs. But I've got a team working on it. We'll be ready."

"Have you got any of Stu's people working the Dayton area?"

"No. Why?"

"Well, you're going to have to have somebody there ready to receive the solicitation package when it comes out. They won't mail it to you. You could lose valuable time if your guys aren't there to jump through the appropriate wickets. May ain't all that far off, you know."

"I'll rattle Stu's cage tomorrow. Would you be willing to act in that capacity?"

"No. Not really. That's not what you hired me to do. And besides, I can't be tied to the Dayton office with all the other things I have to do for you."

"Okay, Understood. It was just a top of the head idea."

"Thanks anyway, but it doesn't fit."

"Okay. Well have a good trip. And call me if you need anything."

"Will do, sir. Good night."

Barry headed for Dulles early on Wednesday morning. Even though he was carrying the package that Bert had for him, it seemed as if he was traveling light without his golf clubs.

The sun was shining, the snow was about gone and this time arriving in the Dayton area wasn't as onerous as last time. In fact, it was pleasant.

Barry headed for the office first thing, finding Billy and Bret there waiting for him. It was a little before lunchtime.

"Hi guys. How's it going?"

"Slow. Not a whole lot new since I sent you that message about the RFP release date."

"Has Dolly been able to get any pieces of the solicitation documents yet?"

"No, but she says some folks are working on it at their terminals. Nobody's been printing out anything yet. What's in the box?"

"It's Bert's latest creation, the remote recorder for that one bird feeder we can't hear. Go ahead and open it up, Billy. Bert put some instructions inside. And he said you need to pick up a 12 volt battery charger."

Bert watched Billy unwrap the package. The feeders are working okay, but there's a problem with the one in the conference room."

"Oh? What's the trouble?" Barry asked.

"Whenever they close the curtains to darken the room, for slide or overhead foil viewing, the signal really drops off. Sometimes we can't make out what the conversations are at all."

"How often do they do that?"

"At least every other time. In fact, most of the meaningful session involved closed curtains. What we do get to hear clearly are lunchtime gatherings by folks eating from takeout or their brown bags."

"Have you gotten anything from those sessions?"

"Not much," Bret acknowledged. "Most of the interesting stuff so far comes from the contracting office."

"Well, let's see what we can get from the new recorder. What do you think of it, Billy?"

"Bert does good work. We'll get this set up and running this afternoon."

"Good. Now I've got to make a phone call. I need to set up a meet with Captain Davis. You fellows want to go to lunch with me?"

"Sure. You buying?" Billy asked.

"Yeah. I'll buy. Just let me make this call."

Barry looked up Darnelle's number from her resume. She listed both her apartment and work numbers. Barry called her office.

"Configuration Management, Captain Davis. May I help you?" came the response.

"Good morning, Captain. This is Barry Benson. I have good news for you."

"Oh? Did you hear from StratoWest?"

"Yes, I did. They're prepared to make you an offer, a pretty generous one."

"As an engineer? Or a paper shuffler?"

"As a very special engineer, reporting to the company CEO. It's a challenging position. I'd like to meet with you to discuss the details. How about meeting me for dinner tonight?"

"Sure, yes, sir. Thank you. What time and where?"

Barry covered the phone with his hand and turned to Bret. "Hey, Bret. What's a good place to take a lady to dinner in this town?"

"There's a nice Italian place downtown, not far from the Wright Memorial. Silviano's."

"Captain? How about Italian tonight? Could you meet me at Silviano's downtown, say at 7:00? And come as a civilian, okay?"

"Yes, sir. Civvies, of course. I know where it is. I'll meet you there at 7:00. And thank you, again."

"See you then, Bye."

Barry hung up the phone, with a look of relief on his face. "She's still interested, or she wouldn't have accepted. That's a good sign," he thought.

"Okay fellows. Let's go to lunch. You want to go to the O. Club? Or someplace else?"

"Let's go to Barney's in Fairborn," Bret suggested. "They have ribs that melt in your mouth."

"Okay. Ribs sound good. I'll drive because I need to check into the motel on the way."

After Barry got his motel room and dropped off his luggage, they headed for Barney's. The place was mobbed and they had to wait for a table. The hostess shunted them off into the bar, telling them that it would be 20 minutes or so. Billy found a corner table, about the size of a dinner plate, with three vacant chairs. They each ordered a beer.

"I guess you both heard that StratoWest's D.C. office manager is in jail on a drug charge."

"Sid Sturgess?" Bret asked.

"Yup. Came as a total surprise to everyone."

"Well, I'll be damned."

"It gets better. Stan Swain is coming out from Long beach to temporarily fill the slot. He's not a happy camper about it. He hates Washington and his wife would never agree to moving there. I talked to Stockman last night and he asked me if I knew anybody who might be interested?"

"And? Do you?"

"I suggested Bart. When this project is over, he'll be looking for something. I think he'd be a good candidate."

"Yeah. He probably would," Bret agreed.

"Oh, and there's another opening with StratoWest. It might interest you two," Barry added.

"Oh? What's that?" Billy urged.

"StratoWest needs a full-time Rep in this area. Stockman told me they didn't have anyone. It would mean setting up a small office and lobbying AMC as well as being the official pint of contact for receiving RFP's and such."

"Hmmm. Sounds like something I could do," Billy remarked. "What's it pay?"

"I have no idea." And while Barry's two pals were pondering the idea, the hostess called out their name for the table. They carried their beers and followed her to a booth.

"Their baby-back ribs are always good, Barry," Billy suggested. And soon all three ordered the same, along with another round of beer.

"So? You're taking Captain Davis to dinner tonight, eh?"

"Yes. I have to get to know her better, much better before I spring the details of what we need her to do. StratoWest has agreed to hire her, so at least I have something firm to offer, if she turns out to be what we need. Hell, they would probably hire her anyway, except she doesn't want to go to Long Beach. And unless she agrees to the Atlanta deal, she won't be hired. I've got to handle this right."

After lunch, which Barry agreed was outstanding, they headed back to the office, pausing briefly along the roadside opposite the place where Billy would set up the new recording device.

"Damned clever of Bert to make it look like a phone junction box. Nobody will pay it any heed. But it'll probably be the only one around here that says 'Potomac Bell'," Billy laughed.

"How long will it take you to set it up?" Barry asked, as they pulled back out onto the roadway.

"Oh, just a few minutes, Five at most, I'd say."

"Where will you park?"

"There's a dirt road at the top of the hill. I'll park up there and climb down to the small ledge below the crest. It'll be line of sight to the bird feeder. No problem."

"Okay. But I'd suggest you do it just before dark. No point in getting folks curious about what you're doing there. Wait until the base workers have gone home."

"That's what I'd planned on."

"Do you need any help?"

"No. It's a simple one-man job."

"Good. Let's get back to the office then."

Billy re-read Bert's instructions again, before finally putting the recorder unit aside. He was confident that he could get it set up that evening.

Bret listened to some of the conversations coming in from the bird feeder monitors. He removed his headset briefly and called to Barry, "Hey, boss. These guys are saying that a new engine development for the XC-1098 is a distinct possibility. And they're talking about something called 'top coat'. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Top coat? Yeah, I read something about that. It's some kind of infrared shielding paint that they tried on the F-22's some time back. What did they say about it?"

"Not much, just some mention that it was being considered for the XC. Sounds like they're reading some specification documents. I can't tell for sure."

"And what about the engines?"

"Oh, that is about the sixth time we've heard folks mention an engine development program, but they haven't said it's definite."

"Keep on it. If they decide to add a new engine R&D effort, that would affect the Phase Zero design studies. It could skew the program costs a lot."

Billy and Bret left the office around 5:30. Bret decided to drive the car for Billy, just in case they had to leave the area atop the hill in haste. Barry headed for his motel room to clean up and get shaved before his dinner meeting with Darnelle.

At 7:00 on the dot, Darnelle appeared in the foyer of the restaurant. Barry was waiting for her. She looked stunning in a simple black dress with a silk scarf tied around her neck and draped across one shoulder. Her leather coat added an touch of elegance to the ensemble, as did her patent black shoes. She greeted Barry with a warm smile.

"Are you sure you're not a model? Engineers don't look as classy as you do tonight, Miss Davis?"

"Please, sir. Call me Darnelle."

"Fair enough, if you'll call me Barry."

"Agreed."

By getting there a few minutes early, Barry was able to reserve a quiet table on the upper level of the two-tiered dining area. They would have privacy, plus a view of everything going on.

Barry ordered a bottle of wine, which they sipped while looking over the menu. "Have you eaten here before, Darnelle?"

"Yes. I came here one time with some of the people from the office. It's a popular place."

"So, then? What do you recommend. What's the specialty of the house?"

"My favorite is the lasagna, but they also make a great salmon stuffed ravioli. And their salads are delicious."

Both ordered the lasagna and a small dinner salad. Barry couldn't take his eyes of this lady, marveling at the transformation of the stern, severe looking military officer whom he first met into this strikingly attractive young black woman.

"You're making me nervous, Barry. Is there anything wrong? Is my hair mussed up? My lipstick smudged?"

"Oh no, there's not a thing wrong. Quite the contrary. But I'm sorry if I appear to be staring. Forgive me, please."

"I guess I'm just nervous. You know this is the first interview I've had since I left college. Back at Tech I met with some on-campus recruiters, just to go through the process for experience. I'd already committed to serving in the Air Force, so those interviews were only for practice. But as a college kid, I didn't know what do wear, how to act or what to say. Come to think of it, I feel a little bit that way tonight."

"Well, believe me, young lady. You've come a long way, as they say. You're doing fine, and you look terrific, not at all what the average engineering candidate is expected to look like. You give the profession a touch of class."

Darnelle almost blushed and lowered her gaze to the table and he wine glass. But in a few seconds she regained her composure and asked, "Did I hear you correctly over the phone. You did say that StratoWest is interested in hiring me, right?"

"Your heard me correctly. They are most interested. My job, however, is to get to know you, to understand what your career goals are and what you really want to do. For instance, are you interested only in pursuing a design engineering career, or would you be interested in technical management?"

"I guess I would be interested in both. I would like a few years of practical engineering to gain experience and to see if I could apply the things I've learned in my engineering training. And perhaps, a few years down the road, I would like a shot at a managerial role. I'm pretty good at dealing with people. I have to be in the job I have now."

"So tell me, then. What is it about your job now that you don't like, and why are you leaving so early in your Air Force career?"

"There's a lot that I do like, but here at Wright Field there are so many long-time civil servants on the technical side who don't want a female engineer around, who don't quite know how to deal with a technically competent woman, a black woman, that it's just stifling. I know I wouldn't get the chance I want to show my abilities. They just wouldn't let me be in charge of a project, not even a little one. A man would always get that assignment ahead of me. I'd be forever relegated to shuffling papers. You know I've even had some supervisors send me for coffee and to make copies?"

"Do you suppose that's just because you're still very junior. You are, after all, only a captain and have barely six years of service under your belt. The military is pretty entrenched in the pecking order business, you know?"

"Yes. That's clearly part of it, I'm sure. But there are some men in supervisory positions here, on some really interesting technical projects, who don't have the training or skills that I have. It's really frustrating to know that I could do their jobs better."

"Oh oh, sounds like I struck a nerve. But don't you think you'd run into similar hurdles in industry? And don't you think that you being an African American would be more of an obstacle on the outside than in the military. Our armed forces have led the way in tearing down racial barriers, you know."

"Are you trying to talk me into staying in the Air Force?"

"No. Not at all. I'm just trying to get to know you better and to understand if you've really considered what making this sort of move means. It's a big step. And you would be starting at the bottom, probably at the equivalent of being a lieutenant again."

"Really? At the bottom?"

"Well, not quite at the place of a new graduate, but you don't have any experience in industry. While your military career has given you somewhat of a start, you haven't jumped over the same hurdles as your civilian counterparts have. It is different."

"I suppose so."

"Let's change the subject just a bit. Tell me more about your brother and your Mom. How bad are things for them? And how could you help by going down to Georgia now?"

"Well, if I had a decent job in the Atlanta area, I could help my Mom with those medical expenses that have all but wiped out her meager savings. She's not able to do as much as she used to, with money or in just taking care of my brother physically. I might be able to afford to hire a helper for her, someone to do the cooking, cleaning and caring for my brother during the daytime. I'd be available in the evenings and on weekends."

"It's that important for you to go back home and leave the Air Force?"

"Yes it is. I'm the only one with the means to help out. It's my duty and I'm determined to be there for them, both of them. I'll do whatever it takes to provide for them."

"I understand, and I admire your sense of loyalty and responsibility. There's not enough of that these days."

"What about a boyfriend? Have you got one? And what about your own needs and wants?

"No boyfriend, I'm afraid. There hasn't been time. And at the risk of soundly like a snob, most of the men that I've met are just too shallow. They think only about sports, booze and sex."

"In that order?"

Darnelle laughed, her smile absolutely radiating. "No, probably in the reverse order, as a matter of fact. Forgive me, I don't want to sound so critical, but I don't have much patience with most of the men I've met."

"Does that mean you haven't dated anyone here at Wright-Patterson?"

"Oh, I've dated a few. I went out a couple times with a major. He was a football player in college, real hunk, you might say. But all he wanted to do was take me to bed. He had a college degree, which is prerequisite for getting a commission in the Air Force, but I think it was in physical education and not engineering or the sciences. We just couldn't carry on an intelligent conversation. And then there was a lieutenant. I met him in a mandatory security training program. He hit on me pretty hard, made quite a play for my attentions. That flattered me a bit and I agreed to go our with him. What a disaster that was. His idea of a date was to go to a basketball game and shout his lungs out at the referees. I don't think we spoke ten words together, before or after that game. It's just not my cup of tea."

"Maybe you've just met the wrong gentlemen?"

"Maybe so. But you know, I've already talked more with you than with any of the others, and this isn't even a date. Or is it?"

"No. It's a get acquainted interview. But I must admit I find you fascinating, and wish that perhaps I was 20 years younger."

"You're not that old, sir. In fact, you're in the prime of life, from where I sit."

"Okay, enough blarney. Let's talk about careers. StratoWest, you may or may not know, is an old-line airplane builder. They have a reputation as one of the finest metal benders in the business. They have the latest computer-aided design and manufacturing capabilities in the industry, the result of a forward-looking management and a solid track record producing quality products."

"Yes, I know a bit about your company. They just don't seem to be doing a whole lot right now, though. I did a little research on StratoWest, for as you must know Wright Field maintains pretty food records on industry leaders. My research indicates that they haven't had a major contract in some time. Are they working on something the Air Force doesn't know about? A new airplane? Or some exotic new materials? And why would they be interested in me? And why in Atlanta" Are they buying into DixieAero?"

"Whoa there. You're way ahead of me. Let me tackle those questions one at a time, in reverse order. Okay?"

Darnelle smiled and nodded, waiting for Barry to reply.

"Are they buying DixieAero? Hardly. That outfit is several times the size of StratoWest. And no, they aren't working in exotic aircraft materials. StratoWest is, in fact, quite conservative. They emphasize quality, low risk and airplanes built to last. They know the meaning of 'cost of ownership' for those operating a fleet of their airplanes. And are they working on a new, revolutionary airplane design that the Air Force doesn't know about? Not to my knowledge they aren't."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And why could the possibly be interested in me? You said on the phone something about a special assignment for me. What might that be?"

"I'll get to that in due time. But I want to learn more about you, before I discuss that special assignment. Okay?"

"Of course."

Over the course of the next hour and a half, Barry got Darnelle to tell him about her academic work, her projects as a graduate student, and what she had done in the six years of her Air Force career. Most of that was included on her resume, but Barry wanted to see what topics excited her, what she was most proud of in her academic years and her fledgling military career. Much of what he heard was very impressive.

At 9:45, Barry suggested that it was time to leave. He asked her for another get together, the next evening. And he asked her if there was any place special in the Dayton area that she might like to go to talk further.

"Are you going to keep me in suspense about that special assignment? Can you at least assure me that I won't be starting out at the bottom of the ladder?" she asked in a fervent tone.

"No. I'm not intentionally being obtuse. I talked with the company chairman, Mr. Stockman, about you today, as a matter of fact. He wants me to call him tonight, before I make you a specific offer. I'll be in a better position to explain it all to you tomorrow evening. All right?"

"Yes, sir. Whatever you say. Tomorrow evening then. But you pick the place. After all StratoWest is treating me to dinner out. It would be presumptuous of me to choose where we meet."

"Okay then. How about the Officers Club? Say at 6:30 or 7:00? Would that be all right?"

"Yes, sir. Let's make it 7:00 at the Club. Do you have a phone number where I can reach you, should anything come up, like my having to work late or something?"

And Barry gave her the number at his motel, figuring that would be the logical place for him to be reached as a visitor in town.

"Do you need a ride anywhere tonight?"

"No. Thank you. I have my car. And I want to thank you for a delightful dinner and conversation. As I said earlier, this is the most date-like evening I've had in quite a while. It's been very pleasant, sir."

"Barry, please. Save your 'sirs' for officers and more senior gentlemen."

"Okay then, Barry. Goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow."

Barry watched her cross the street and get into a small silver Chevrolet Camaro. He waved as she drove away.

Thursday morning, at the leisurely hour of 9:30, Barry showed up at the office. Billy soon began an animated description of their experience of yesterday evening in placing the monitor device.

"You shoulda been there, Barry. It was a riot."

"Oh, What happened?"

"Bret and I drove around the back side of that hill, the one opposite Wright Field, where we were going to install Bert's recorder unit. Well, just after we got the thing in place and started to leave, we got stuck in a mud hole on that rutty lane. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn't get the car back onto dry dirt."

Bret added, "We should have walked in that last 100 yards, but it didn't look as bad as it turned out to be."

"So what did you do?"

"Well, as luck would have it, there was a real telephone company truck back out at the paved road, maybe a quarter mile away. We saw him when we turned off. So, I walked back up there and asked the driver if he could give us a tow, explaining to him that we were stuck pretty good."

"And did he?"

"Sure did. Nice guy too. But then, as we started to get into the car to drive out of there, we heard him comment aloud. He noticed the green phone connector box down below the crest."

"So? What did he say, or do?"

"He didn't do anything, but he simply said that that box wasn't there a few days ago. He wondered out loud why he hadn't noticed it. But then he shrugged his shoulders and drove off. We thought for sure he'd at least climb down and check it out, but I guess it wasn't his responsibility. He paid it little heed."

"Doesn't that beat all?" Bret suggested. "We were helped out of our fix by a real phone company man. That's one for the books."

"I agree, you guys, that it was a bit ironic, but what if he mentions it to some of his pals back at the company garage? Somebody else might go out there to check it out. That could result in shutting down our whole operation here, you know."

"You want us to go retrieve the unit?" Billy asked.

"No. we'll leave it for now. But if it comes up missing later, we could have a real problem. You two keep an eye on it. Check it out as you drive by each day, and let me know the moment you discover it's not there."

"Okay. I guess we didn't think about the guy saying anything to anybody. He seemed as if he couldn't care less. That's what he sounded like anyhow," Bill added.

"So, Barry? How did it go with Captain Davis last evening?" Bret asked, changing the subject.

"Pretty well, actually, I'm quite impressed with that young lady. She's got a lot on the ball."

"Well? What did she say when you told her what you wanted her to do? Did she go for it?"

"I didn't get around to that. Our meeting was more of a get-acquainted session, so that I could find out about her interests, financial needs and scruples."

"Does she have scruples?"

"I think she definitely does, which could be a problem. Unless I can get her really beholden to us, she might not be the right one. I have to spend some time with her to learn more. But you know, I did find out one thing."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"When she's dressed up in civilian clothes, she's quite a gorgeous gal. I find it hard to believe she doesn't have a string of guys following her around."

"Maybe it's the uniform. It could turn some guys off, or maybe intimidate them a bit."

"No. I think it's more that she's intellectually head and shoulders above the men she's run into so far. She told me about a couple of guys. They weren't very mature. She's beyond the college sophomore types, way beyond."

"Are you meeting her again tonight?"

"Yes, at the Patterson O. Club."

"Don't you think that's an inappropriate place to recruit somebody to do what we do? That's like going into the lion's den to discuss a change of diet, don't you think?"

"No, not really. The club is as safe as most any place. People don't pay any attention to others' conversations. And Besides, down I the rathskellar the booths pretty much assure privacy. I'm supposed to meet her at 7:00 o'clock."

Soon Bret mentioned that he was planning on meeting Dolly at the tunnel coffee shop on base. "You want to come along, Barry?"

"Yeah sure. I'd like to meet her. When are you going over?"

"About now. Grab your jacket and let's go. We'll take Billy's car, because he has a base sticker on the windshield and they'll wave us right on in. Okay by you, Billy?"

"Sure. Here, catch." And Billy tossed his keys to Bret, adding, "Just don't park anyplace that'll get me a ticket. They're really chicken about who parks where. You'll have to use the big lot at the base of the hill."

"Okay. Gotcha. You want us to bring you anything? Donuts or something?"

"Of course, and a large black coffee."

Bret and Barry soon appeared at the coffee shop. Dolly was already there, seated at a table along the a side wall. "Good morning, Dolly," Bret greeted her. "I want you to meet a friend of mine, Barry Benson."

"Hello Dolly, a pleasure to meet you. Bret told me about your recent car problems. All fixed now?"

"Yes, sir, thanks to Billy and Bret here. I really appreciate their help."

"So, tell me, Dolly. What do you know of the contents of the XC transport RFP? Have you had a chance to read any of it?"

"Only on computer screens. There aren't any printouts that I know of. Are you and Bret here partners or something?"

"Barry's my boss, Dolly. He wanted to meet you."

"But really," Barry continued, "I wanted to thank you for being so helpful. We really appreciate it," and Barry slipped an envelope to her across the table. In it were two crisp new $100 bills. "No, don't open it here. Wait until you're alone. It's just a little token of our appreciation."

"Thank you, sir. You fellas have already done so much. I'm very grateful."

Just then, coming down through the tunnel from Building 15 was Darnelle, in uniform, and headed for the counter at the coffee shop. She looked horrible, as though she'd been crying. Barry excused himself and stepped over to greet her.

"Good morning, Darnelle. Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right. But, I sure am glad to see you. I've got a problem and I don't know how to fix it."

"Have you been crying?"

"Yes. Does it show that much?"

"I'm afraid it does. Here, let's sit down over here. Tell me what's the matter, please." Barry carried her coffee cup, while she reached into her purse for a Kleenex, as they sat opposite each other.

"I don't know what to do. My brother had a severe asthma attack last night. My mother had to call 911 to get an ambulance to take him to the emergency room. She called me at my apartment around 2:00 AM to say that he nearly died. She's frantic and I can't get there to help out."

"Can't you go on emergency leave or something?"

"That's part of the problem. My supervisor won't approve emergency leave until he gets confirmation from the Atlanta Red Cross office that there is a genuine crisis. And that could take 48 hours. I have to get down there, but how? I just don't know what else to do."

"Did you go over you boss's head, to the general? Or anybody?"

"I tried to get in to see the general, but he's not in today, and his secretary says that I'll just have to wait until my supervisor approves my taking leave. I'm trapped."

"Let me make a call. I think I can cut through the red tape. I know someone with enough clout to fix this leave problem. General Donneley is a friend of mine. Let me call him for you."

"You know the AMC commander?"

"Yes. We play golf together now and then."

"Well," Darnelle paused, with a worried look on her face, "that's only part of my problem?"

"What else is wrong?"

"I'm flat broke. I send more than half of my monthly pay to my mother each month and I'm tapped out. I couldn't afford to buy an airline ticket. I'll have to drive and that's 18 hours. I need to get there right away. If my brother dies and I'm not there, I'll never forgive myself."

"Calm down. I can help you. Let me step over to that phone and make my call."

"Thank you, Barry. Thank you so much." Darnelle sniffled, reaching for more Kleenex.

"General Donneley's office, May I help you," came the voice of a pleasant-sounding lady.

"Yes, please. This is Barry Benson from Washington. May I speak with the general please? It's urgent."

Soon Donneley came on the line. "What's the problem, Barry? My secretary said it's urgent."

"I need a big favor, sir, for a friend over at Wright Field with a family emergency."

"What do you need?"

And then Barry explained Captain Davis' dilemma and the bureaucratic obstacles delaying her departure.

"No sweat. You tell the captain that she's covered. Get her on her way. I'll call the XC project office and tell 'em to let her go immediately. Is that it?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you very much."

"And by the way, Barry. This will cost you," the general said with a laugh. "You owe me two Mulligans next time we play."

"All right, sir. You've got 'em. And do you want to use the ladies' tees too?"

Laughing, the general concluded by adding, "Get outta here, you comedian. Tell the captain I wish her well in resolving the crisis. Bye."

"Goodbye, General."

Barry gave Darnelle a thumbs-up sign as he walked back to the table. She smiled, sort of, between a new flow of tears of relief. "Consider yourself on emergency leave right now, young lady. General Donneley assured me that you're covered and he will personally call the XC project office to inform them."

"I guess I'd better go by my apartment and pack some things and get on the road. I can be there by tomorrow afternoon. Thank you, Barry. Thank you, thank you." And she got up and gave Barry a big hug.

"Wait. I haven't made my second phone call. I think I can get you a plane ride to Atlanta and have you there this afternoon."

"Oh, could you do that? I would be forever in your debt. Oh please, yes. But I can't afford a ticket."

"Don't you worry about that. I'll call StratoWest and ask Mr. Stockman to help. You're practically family now, or soon will be."

Barry headed back to the phone and called Stockman. He explained Captain Davis' dilemma and asked if Stockman could help.

"The StratoExec jet is down in Cincinnati right now, Barry. I have a team of engineers there talking with the big jet engine manufacturer. I'll try to contact the pilots and get them to make a quick run down to Atlanta with the captain. You going too?"

"Yeah. That's a good idea. That way I can check out her situation and see how much she needs our help."

"And determine just how loyal she can become?"

"You got it."

"Okay. What number are you at. I'll call you back in a few minutes." And Barry gave Stockman the number.

He motioned for Darnelle to come over to the phone. When she got there he explained," Mr. Stockman is making a call. It seems that the StratoWest jet is down in Cincinnati. He's willing to have his pilots fly you to Atlanta, but first he's got to reach them. It'll just be a few minutes. You wait here by the phone and don't let anybody use it. I'll be right back."

Barry stepped over to the table where Bret and Dolly were just getting ready to leave. Dolly said goodbye and headed for her office. Barry explained to Bret what was going on and asked him to just wait until Stockman called. Bret nodded in agreement and sat down again. Then Barry return to Darnelle and waited for the phone to ring.

"Thank you, Barry. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along. This means so much to me. I can never thank you enough. Did you really call the CEO of StratoWest?"

"Yes. I'm doing some contract work for him. He'll get back with me in a few minutes. You want some more coffee?"

"No. I'm nervous enough already. I'll just sit here with you."

In what seemed an eternity, though it was barely ten minutes, the phone rang. Barry picked up the receiver.

"Oh no. Well, I guess I'll just have to put her on a commercial plane, and me too."

Darnelle heard that and her face turned sad.

"Look," Stockman suggested. "I'll make one more quick call and get right back to you. Executive Jet Service in Columbus is run by an old friend. I'll call him and see what he can do in a hurry. You stay there."

"Okay, sir. We'll be right here. And thanks."

"Now what?" Darnelle asked, her spirits going up and down with each apparent change of plans.

"We wait just a few more minutes. Stockman is calling his friend at Executive Jet. We may just have an immediate flight straight to Atlanta."

At that news, Darnelle's eyes lit up and her emotions once again turned brighter. "Did I hear you say 'me too'? Are you going to Atlanta with me? You really don't have to do that."

"Let's say I've taken on a crusade of getting you home as soon as possible. And to do that, I'm going to escort you personally."

Darnelle smiled, and reached over to kiss Barry's hand. He patted her head and told her to hang in there. "It is going to be all right. You'll see."

The phone rang and Barry grabbed for it. "Yes, yes. Oh, that's terrific. Yes. We'll be at Vandalia, Dayton airport, in a hour. Thank you sir."

"Well? What did he say?"

"You're all set. You go to your place and pack your things. I'll swing by my motel and grab mine and meet you at the executive terminal in an hour. Okay?"

"Okay? That's wonderful. You're the best." And she scurried away toward the Building 15 tunnel. Barry went over to Bret, saying, "Okay. Let's go. I'm off to Atlanta. Stockman came through for her. We're to meet the Executive Jet pilots at the airport in an hour."

"You do good work, my friend. Good work," Bret declared, his arm over Barry's shoulder, as they headed for the parking lot and Billy's car.

Back at the office, Barry explained to Billy that he got sidetracked and they forgot to bring him coffee and a donut. Bret then told Billy what had happened.

"You know something? I got to thinking, when Dolly was telling us about only reading material on her computer screen, that we're missing a bet. There is a way for us to get access to that stuff and we've overlooked it."

"You lost me," Bret commented.

"Digital cameras. That's what we need."

"Huh?"

"What if we managed to use a small digital camera with a tiny fiber optic connection between the lens and the recording device, something like a medical probe?"

"Yeah. So?" Bret skeptically added.

"Well, in this age on super miniature optics and cameras, why can't we create, invent or make a little digital camera that's hidden in plain sight?"

"Wait a minute. Hidden in plain sight?" What does that mean?"

"Just suppose that Dolly was able to take pictures of what she sees on her computer screens with a subminiature camera hidden in her eyeglass frames. The lens could be built into the frame, looking like a mere ornament, a cheap jewel attached to the rim around her glasses lens. And lots of folks wear cords or chains to hold their eyeglasses when they're hanging around their neck. So, why not make a fiber optic-like neck chain that connects to a hidden image recorder? Hell, it could even be placed inside her bra or something."

"Hey. That's a neat idea," Billy responded. "Sorta like a Jane Bond gadget."

"You mean James Bond, don't you," Bret suggested.

"A little play on words, but you know what I meant," responded Billy, in a tone clearly reflecting he was miffed.

"And how would this digital camera be triggered?"

"Simple. What do folks who wear glasses do all the time? They push them up at the bridge, don't they? Well, that's where we'll put a small pressure switch trigger. Every time that Dolly wants to record an image, all she'd do is push up her glasses with her finger and click, we've got the image on a memory stick."

"Neat. So where are you going to get one of these gadgets?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. Maybe Bert could make one. I think I'll ask him. But now I gotta run. I'll send you email from Atlanta. Seeya."

Darnelle pulled into the airport parking lot next to the corporate terminal just as Barry arrived. She reached into her trunk and pulled out a small suitcase, telling Barry, "I called my mother. She says my brother is still on the critical list. But she's delighted that I'm coming. And I told her how you helped and she says she is looking forward to meeting you. She thinks you must be a millionaire."

Soon Barry and Darnelle were seated in a small twin-engine executive jet. It was small, had just five passenger seats and two pilots. But it was fast, for in just seconds following takeoff they were passing 10,000 feet on their way to 30,000. In under two hours they were approaching the Atlanta airport.

"Strap in, folks," advised the pilot. We'll be on the ground in five minutes.

As they deplaned on the ramp in front of the corporate terminal, the pilot asked if they wanted a ride back to Dayton later. "We'll wait if you like."

"No, but thanks. We may be here a few days. Is everything taken care of?"

"Yes, sir. StratoWest chartered this flight, but our company president says 'no charge'. I guess our bosses know each other."

"Thanks fellows. We appreciate the ride," Darnelle added, as she and Barry headed for the terminal.

"Why don't we take a cab to the hospital, Barry? I can afford that, I think."

"No. If I'm going to be here a few days, I'd prefer to get a rental car. I'll drop you off at the hospital and then go get settled. What part of town is your mother's place?"

"No. You'd better find a hotel near the hospital. You wouldn't like what you'd find in her neighborhood."

And during the ride to the hospital, Darnelle gave Barry her mother's phone number. Call me this evening and I'll let you know what's happening. Okay?"

Barry could sense that she was in a hurry to get to the hospital. He followed her instructions and soon they arrived in the parking lot across the street from the main entrance.

"Why don't I come in with you? If your mother is there, I'd like to at least say hello and offer her what I can."

"Oh, Barry. You've already done so much more than I could have ever hoped for. But c'mon, let's find out where my brother is."

Up on the third floor, in the ward where indigents were kept, they found Darnelle's mother, a frail white-haired black woman with deeply wrinkled skin, seated beside her son in a room with three other patients. Curtains on ceiling-mounted tracks provided the only privacy. The clatter of carts being wheeled up and down the corridor made a dreadful noise. "This may be a hospital ward, but it sure isn't conducive to rest or getting well," Barry thought. The hustle and bustle was nerve-wracking.

"Momma," Darnelle greeted. "How is he?"

"Not good, my child. Not good. The doctor says he's still critical. He's asleep now, on some kind of medicine."

"So why have they got him in this general ward? Why isn't he getting critical care treatment?" an obviously upset Darnelle asked.

"I don't know, girl. This is where the doctors put him. We can't afford anything better, or quieter.

"Momma. I want you to meet Mr. Benson, Barry. He's the one who helped me get down here, in a special jet plane."

"Pleased to meet you, sir. I am grateful for your kindness and help in bringing my daughter down here." And then Darnelle's mother pulled her daughter aside and whispered, "He's a whitey, girl. And he helped you?"

"Yes, Momma. Shush. You don't want to offend him, do you?"

"Well, I never. I never expected a whitey to do such a thing for us. Never at all," she said in a quiet whisper, all the time eyeing Barry and smiling at him.

"He's a very nice man. And he's even helping me find a new job."

"A new job? You have a nice job in the government. What do you mean a new job? You ain't quittin' are you?"

"It's a long story, Momma. I'll explain later."

"Is there anything I can do for you two?" Barry asked. "Do you need anything?"

"No, Barry. Thank you. I'm just so grateful that you got me here in time. I'll just stay here a while with my Momma and my brother. Okay?"

"Okay then, I'll go find me a hotel or something. I'll call you at home tonight. Goodbye, Mrs. Davis. I'll see you later."

Darnelle walked him to the doorway and then kissed him politely on the cheek, something which Momma observed closely. Barry left.

"What you doing kissin' that whitey, girl? You aren't taking up with him are you?"

"No, Momma. That was just a 'thank you' kiss on the cheek. He's a very nice man. He's not a boyfriend or anything like that."

Barry stopped by the nurses station on the way out, asking about the condition of Darnelle's brother.

"Are you family?" the nurse asked, without looking up from her clipboards. And when she did look up, she realized the man asking probably wasn't.

"No. I'm the daughter's employer. We just flew down from Ohio. What's the boy's condition?"

"Not good, sir. He will probably have to stay in a hospital for several months. We almost lost him last evening. He might have suffered brain damage due to loss of oxygen resulting from his asthma attack. You should check with Doctor Abbington. He's the resident on duty. All we can do here is try to make him comfortable and stable."

"Has the boy seen a specialist?"

"No sir. The patient came in last night to the emergency room and was then transferred up here to the main ward. I don't think his family can afford a specialist."

Not far from the hospital, Barry found a new all-suites motel and checked in. His first order of business was to call Stockman and thank him for the special jet ride. He explained Darnelle's family situation and the prognosis for her brother. "This may be money well spent, Barry," Stockman suggested. "If we can get her inside DixieAero it'll be a bargain."

"I agree, sir. I'll keep you posted. I expect to be here in Atlanta at least through the weekend. And about that permanent replacement for Sid, I think Bart is a good choice. And, as for the Dayton slot, My old friend Billy Bastrop would be suited for the local Rep's job. He knows his way around the AMC complex."

"Well, get those two to send me their resumes. No, better yet, have 'em sent to Stu. This is marketing and he should decide."

"Will do, sir, and thank you again for your support."

Then Barry connected his laptop computer to the phone jack and dialed up the computer at Bert's place. Using the secure encrypted software, Barry went to great length to describe his concept for the eyeglasses digital camera. "You come up with something that meets this requirement and there's a $10k bonus in it for you. This could be a real breakthrough in the tools of our trade. Think about it."

There was email waiting for Barry when he next checked his server down in the basement of the brownstone. Bret and Billy reported that the new recorder works, though nothing special had been received with the general out of town. Dolly managed to acquire a memorandum from engineering to the contracting office that said they wanted at least four prototypes to be considered in analyses to be done by Phase Zero contractor. They wanted to know exactly how bidders might support both engineering tests and the demands of the operational test mafia. Dolly added a penciled-in comment that the general thought just two prototypes would be better and easier to sell Congress.

Before he logged off, Barry got an email message from Bert. It said only that he liked the idea of the eyeglass camera and could use the $10k, so he'd get on it.

Barry thought about offering to take Darnelle and her mother to dinner, but rejected the idea, feeling that they'd probably prefer to be together without an outsider's presence. He decided instead to go to dinner by himself and perhaps later drive by the DixieAero plant, just to get an idea of its layout.

What Barry could not know, of course, was that Senator Carrington and DixieAero's CEO, Gordon, were at that very moment in a heated discussion about the XC-109 and the RFP for the Phase Zero studies contract. Gordon wanted the Senator to shorten still further the response time allowed for bidders, from 90 to just 60 days. The senator balked, complaining that if he pressured the Pentagon to shorten the response time that much there would surely be industry protests that could hold up the program indefinitely.

Gordon disagreed and tried to leverage his position with the senator by saying that DixieAero would withhold contributions to the senator's re-election campaign if the 60 day period wasn't included. The senator was livid, but he knew he couldn't totally alienate his largest contributor.

In an attempt to change the subject, while tempers cooled off, Carrington pulled Darnelle's resume out of his pocket and put it on the table.

"What's this?" Gordon inquired.

"It's the resume of an engineer in the XC project office who's looking for a job. You want an edge against your competition, well here's a candidate for your team that knows what the Air Force is thinking."

"Hell, I don't need that. I've already got colonels and generals telling me what they want. What can a lowly captain bring us that we don't already have?"

"For one thing, she's seen what the XC project office is putting together in the RFP. Your other sources talk in generalities, at the policy level. This gal knows details. And besides, she's a Tech grad with an outstanding record."

"Hmmm, Well, I'd have to let my engineering folks decide what to do with her. I don't worry myself with folks at that level."

"Okay, tell you what I'll do. I'll agree to press for just 75 days on bidder response times. You put her on your team and I'll do that for you."

"Deal. But you still want our contribution to your campaign. Is this all you can offer?"

"No. There's still the matter of how many new planes the government will buy from you. The Air Force says they want 300, but how many they really get is up to my committee. That's what I can offer."

"Okay, okay. We'll support you this round. You just make sure the game is played in our favor," Gordon agreed. The senator got up and left, hating the hoops he had to jump through to stay in office. Groveling for money is always so demeaning.

Not far from where that conversation was taking place, Barry parked in a lot used by DixieAero employees. Across the huge acreage of asphalt lay a complex of three-story buildings. Some were office buildings with windows. Others were windowless metal sided structures, obviously manufacturing and assembly areas, including sheet metal shops, tire shops, wiring and electrical shops and tooling facilities. A maze of electrical and telephone lines criss-crossed the complex. This was a huge facility, representing hundreds of millions of investment dollars. Many of the buildings were relatively new, but here and there were structures 40 years old, or more, from WWII days. This place had a long history of producing airplanes for the armed forces of this country and its allies.

More than 20,000 people worked in this huge industrial city. In many ways it resembled a whole city, with its work spaces, open spaces and every imaginable kind of service, from security to fire protection and medical infirmary to recreational services, indoors and out. The only thing lacking within its perimeter fences to make it a real city was housing. All those people who worked here daily lived outside the fence.

Barry paid special attention to the large administrative building and an adjacent office structure where thousands of engineers, technicians and clerical support people worked. Even at this early evening hour the lights were on in most of the offices, indicating that work continued well beyond a standard nine to five schedule.

"Yes," Barry told himself. "This is where we need an insider, someone who can keep us abreast of what all this activity and business means. Who's doing what and how are they progressing? What are their faults, weaknesses and perhaps even felonious traits? Or, conversely, where do they really excel and how does this threaten StratoWest?"

After grabbing a fine meal of southern fried chicken, with all the fixings, at a popular restaurant, Barry headed back to his motel room. It was approaching 8:00 PM and he decided to make his promised call to Darnelle.

"Darnelle? Barry here. How's it going?"

"About the same, Barry. Momma and I came home around 4:00 o'clock. We're both worried sick about my brother. He was still asleep when we left, so I haven't talked with him yet."

"Look, Darnelle. We need to talk. We never did get around to our second meeting in Dayton. How about having breakfast with me tomorrow morning? I'm in the Crestwood Suites motel, just down from the hospital. Can you join me at, say, 8:30?"

"Yes. That would be good. Afterwards I'll go by to see my brother. I'm using my Mom's car and I can go back to get her after we talk."

"Would something closer to your mother's place be better?"

"No. I'll meet you at your motel. There's a pancake place nearby. That'll be fine. See you at 8:30 then."

Until about 11:00 Barry watched the television in his room, though his mind was really on how to handle the meeting with Darnelle in the morning. He didn't know why this would be so difficult, for he'd recruited dozens of people back in his CIA days. This was going to be tough.

At 7:00 AM the buzzer of the alarm clock wakened him. He didn't feel very rested. It had been a night of tossing and turning. He showered, shaved and got dressed. By 8:15 he was in the lobby, where he found a coffee pot brewing. He grabbed a cup and was seated in the lobby when Darnelle came in.

"Good morning, Barry. Sleep well?"

"No, not really. And you?"

"Hardly a wink. It was after midnight by the time I got mother off to bed. We spent all evening talking about how we were going to manage the hospital expenses and the future nursing care for my brother. After I finally got into bed my mind kept going over all kinds of things, from Mom's finances, to my brother's situation and even this meeting with you today. It looks hopeless."

"C'mon. You'll feel better with some breakfast under your belt. We can walk to the pancake place."

They took a booth in the non-smoking side of the divided restaurant. Both ordered the same breakfast special and coffee.

"Okay. I'll get right to it. StratoWest is prepared to offer you an immediate position at $65,000 a year to do special work for Mr. Stockman. And with the assignment he has in mind, you can possibly earn that much more as well, right here in Atlanta."

"What? $135,000 a year? For doing what? Do I have to kill somebody? Rob a bank?"

"No, of course not. It's nothing like that. But from what I've seen, you could use the money. Couldn't you?"

"Could I? Yes indeed. With that kind of money I could get my brother the care he needs, and help out my Momma as well. So what is it?"

"StratoWest is in trouble. They have to get a major government contract or they might have to fold. My job, and yours, will be to see that they get one."

"You mean the XC, right?"

"Yes. And that means first getting one of the Phase Zero contracts to stay in the running. Getting them into the game is my job."

"And mine?"

"Your job will be keeping StratoWest fully apprised of what DixieAero is doing. They are StratoWest's principle competitor. In fact, if DixieAero gets its way, there won't be any competitors at all. We know of steps they are taking to make it impossible for competition to face them."

"Do you mean industrial spying?"

"Yes."

"Come on, Barry. Do you know what you're asking?"

"I know precisely what I am asking, and what StratoWest is offering. Stockman will help take care of you and your family in this time of crisis, financially and career-wise."

"What? In my new career as a spy?"

"No. That's just a temporary situation, until StratoWest gets the full-scale development contract and the follow-on production work. When that happens you are assured of a full and rewarding engineering career with StratoWest. You will have earned it."

"Where do you fit in all of this?"

"I'm a contract facilitator for StratoWest. Stockman hired me because of my CIA background. I've been doing this for several years now, for StratoWest and others."

"You mean other companies hire you to do this too?"

"Yes, several. Industrial spying is a world-wide business, simply a sub-set of government to government intelligence operations."

"You seem so coolly detached about all of this. Doesn't it bother you that it's unethical and possibly even illegal?" A now somewhat angry Darnelle argued.

"Not really. It's business. And in your case it'll be my business to get your financial worries resolved and to help your family in exchange for services rendered to StratoWest. It's straight- forward. I scratch your back and you reciprocate."

"You know I could walk out of here right now, make a few phone calls and stop this right away."

"Yes. You could, but I don't think you will. There's too much at stake for you and your family. You need us and we need you. Am I right?"

Darnelle held her head in her hands, elbows on the table. She shook her head slowly left and right. Then she looked at Barry and declared, I thought you were my friend, but you were just using me. Weren't you?"

"I am your friend, and I think this is a way out of your family's financial dilemma. It's a win-win situation. And it really is an opportunity for you to pursue your professional career."

"What, as a prostitute?"

The meals were placed before them and the waitress left. Barry began eating his, but Darnelle pushed the plate away and slumped back in her chair. For several minutes she said nothing, ate nothing and simply looked off into space.

"You'll feel better if you eat something."

"I'm suddenly not hungry any more." She looked at Barry long and hard, and then asked, "Are you serious about this?"

"Yes indeed. I serious about helping you solve your problems and just as serious about helping StratoWest."

"What do you get out of all of this?" a still angry and somewhat disappointed Darnelle blurted.

"A retainer, expenses and a bonus, when and if StratoWest gets its production contract. And, I'll get some satisfaction out of helping you. You know I've really gotten to like you in the short time we've known each other. But this is a business deal, you deliver and you get compensated quite generously."

"You sure you aren't you worried that I'll blow the whistle on you?"

"Yes, some, but I think I have already demonstrated that I am genuinely concerned about you and your family's welfare. Getting you on emergency leave and down here on a chartered jet isn't something I'd do for just anybody. To me and StratoWest you are special and we take care of our people."

"I'll have to think about this. It's something I never thought I would ever do. I don't know if I'm ready to make such a deal with the devil."

"I assure you, Darnelle, I'm not the devil. I'm just a very realistic, pragmatic businessman involved in a highly competitive environment. I perform a service and I get compensated for it. It's nothing evil or inspired by the devil. It's business, and it's nothing that DixieAero and the other aerospace companies aren't doing every day."

"I’ll have to think about this. My first thought is to just get up and leave. But your offer deserves some serious consideration. I’ll think it over and get back to you."

"Fair enough. I’ll be here in town until Sunday evening. Let me know by then, will you?"

"Sunday? All right. One way or the other, I’ll give you my answer by then. You know that this ruins what I’d hoped would be the start of a friendship."

"It doesn’t have to end it. I like and respect you very much. I really want to be your friend, for friends work much better together than adversaries."

"Okay, I’ll call you by Sunday afternoon at your motel. What time are you flying out of here?"

"My flight leaves at 7:00 PM, so you can reach me here as late as 4:30 or so."

Darnelle got up to leave, her meal untouched. She looked at Barry as she walked out, shaking her head. Barry reached across and took two bacon slices from her plate. Then he finished his breakfast.

Barry spent most of that day in and around DixieAero's facility. He even visited their front office, telling the receptionist that he was a prospective investor interested in their stock. That got him a guided tour of the place by one of the public relations staffers. And though he was tempted to inquire about DixieAero's interest in the rumored XC-109 competition, he decided not to push his luck. On leaving, the PR guide gave him the telephone number of a local stock broker who would assist him in his investment plans.

Saturday he managed to get in a round of golf at a public course, using rented clubs which didn't help his game. He barely broke 80 and felt it was almost a waste of time.

Sunday the day seemed to drag by, as he waited for some word from Darnelle. Then at 3:00 PM his phone rang and a surprisingly cheerful Darnelle asked if she could come by the motel to talk before he left to catch his flight. They agreed to meet in the lounge just off the motel lobby.

"Hello, Barry. I've given your proposal a lot of thought. It's not what I would have chosen for a way to start my career in civilian life, but I don't think I have many options. Yes, I'll accept your offer."

"Good. I know it's not the kind of pristine start you might have wished for, but you've made a pragmatic choice under the circumstances."

"I really don't like the idea, but I guess I can get used to it. The money is my only reason for accepting. Can you be a bit more specific about the terms."

"Sure. StratoWest has sent me the paperwork for your employment contract. It's probably in my Washington office as we speak. I'll get it to you whenever you like. How about when you return to Dayton?"

"Yes, that would be fine. I don't recall you telling me that you have a Washington office."

"Oh yes, I have several associates working for me, most are former CIA people like me, ex-field operatives, technicians and so forth."

"Hmmmm. I guess what you do isn't all that unique, if you can actually support a business doing it."

"We're one of a very few firms doing industrial intelligence gathering. Our clients include a number of defense-related businesses around the country, plus we've actually done government work in special situations where politics makes official surveillance difficult."

"So, exactly what will be my situation with DixieAero? Will I be on their payroll?"

"I fully expect so. Senator Carrington's office, maybe even the senator himself, is supposed to introduce your resume to DixieAero's CEO. I am confident that they will be impressed by your Georgia Tech records, as well as the fact that you come from the XC project office at Wright Field."

"So, does that mean that I will be on StratoWest's payroll and DixieAero's at the same time? Is that how you came up with the $135k number you mentioned?"

"Yup. You'll be what they euphemistically call a double-dipper."

"Who will I report to at StratoWest?"

"Me. I'll be your immediate supervisor for as long as this operation continues. Once StratoWest gets the full-scale R&D contract, leading to a production one, your duties here in Atlanta will end. You will be offered an engineering slot within StratoWest at Long Beach, or one of their satellite facilities."

"Well, that's a ways down the road. I'll have to think long and hard about what I want to do after the DixieAero job is done."

"That's your choice, of course, but I think you'll find StratoWest will be a good employer and look out for your interests. I know that Mr. Stockman appreciates and rewards loyalty."

"Okay. I've made my decision and I'll stick by it. I actually don't have any choice."

"Fine. I'll be in touch. And here," Barry added while taking out his wallet, "here is some money for you to buy an airline ticket when you head back to duty. Consider this a token of my confidence in you. It won't be deducted from your pay or anything like that. Call me when you get back. Here is my card."

She took the money and quietly thanked Barry, still unsure of what their future relationship would be. Her original assessment of Barry as a white knight coming to her rescue in this time of need was now quite different. She just didn't know what to expect. Reality came crashing down on her sense of idealism.

It was late Sunday night when Barry got to the brownstone. The place was dark and quiet. He paused on his way to bed only long enough to go downstairs to retrieve the ZIP disks that Bert left on the bench. But after spending the previous night with little sleep, Barry headed for bed tonight exhausted.

At dawn he heard some of his tenants coming down the stairs, grabbing something to eat in the kitchen and eventually heading off to work. It was 8:30 by the time he got up and headed for the shower.

By 9:45 he made it to his office, to find Bert and Betty doing something together in front of her computer screen. "No, Betty, keep your hand away from the side of your glasses when you push on the bridge. Otherwise all we'll get is an image of your hand and not the screen. Just push with your index finger."

Betty seemed a bit impatient with Bert, but she gamely went along as he fiddled with connectors, the switch and the battery unit. She balked, however, when Bert suggested that she put the little electronics box in her bra.

"Oh, good morning, Barry. Slept in late this morning, I see," Betty smiled.

"Yeah. It was late when I got back from Atlanta last night. What are you two doing?"

Bert explained that he managed to put together a crude prototype of the eyeglasses digital camera. He said Betty was not patient enough while he adjusted the system. "But it does work. Here, look at these images." And with a few keystrokes he called up some screen images the two of them had just taken. "Just ignore those with Betty's hand in the way. But it does work."

"Looks like the basic concept works, but you've got a lot more to do to make it ready for actual use. Those safety glassed won't do, and you can't use duct tape. Where did you get the parts?"

"Took apart a low-end digital camera that I picked up at Wal-Mart and borrowed some fiber optic components from an old security system. Don't worry, when I'm done the whole thing will be half this size and have enough memory for hundreds of pictures. These little flash cards don't have any moving parts. The whole system is absolutely quiet. There's no shutter clicking or drive motors at all. There's just one small problem, aside from operator error," he added looking at Betty. And with that she yanked off the whole thing and handed it to Bert brusquely.

"What problem?"

"It's no good in very low light conditions. The losses along the fiber cable and at each connector fitting really hurt performance. It will work on a bright computer screen image or at things in a well-lit room, but that's about all."

"Well, you proved that the concept is feasible. That's a lot. Now, how long will it be before you have an operational system?"

"I'll have one ready to test by the end of the week. But I'll need some money for better components."

"Will $500 do? That's all I've got on me?"

"That's a start, but it'll be twice that or more, if you want a really good one."

"Yeah, I want a good one. In fact, I want two. I want one for a woman to wear and another for a man."

"Okay, but that'll take another few days and at least $1500 more."

Barry handed Bert the $500 and headed for his desk and the laptop computer. While it was booting up, Betty came in to ask, "What are you going to do with that Rube Goldberg gadget that Bert's making?"

Barry explained what he had in mind, and that the idea came from what Dolly said in Dayton. He added that, if it worked, he could see lots of places where the eyeglasses camera would be useful. That seemed to satisfy her, but she still objected to being asked to put things inside her bra. "And where else would you think it should be hidden?"

"I don't know. It's just that it would be uncomfortable in there. How about in a waistband or maybe a necklace with big beads? You won't get me to stuff it down in my bra, so you can forget that. Not me."

Barry then scanned the list of files on the ZIP disk. The ones from Pentagon Phil's office were especially interesting, because apparently Phil had been working in his room several evenings while Barry was in Dayton and then Atlanta. There was a spreadsheet with budget estimates for the next three years. It was for the XC project and included the Air Force planned request to Congress to cover the Phase Zero conceptual definition effort, the Phase One full-scale R&D work, including monies for long lead items, and four prototype aircraft to be used for engineering evaluations and initial operational testing. The total was $1.5 billion. "Now that's worth going after," he mused.

Then he made a print-out of the file and stuffed it in an envelope to be later FedEx'd to Stockman. He then typed a memo explaining how things went in Atlanta, ending with the good news that Darnelle Davis agreed to join the team. As a postscript he added a mention of the last bird feeder now being on-line in Dayton.

He looked at his watch and decided that the Dayton folks were probably in the office by then. He called and Bret answered.

"So?, Barry, how did it go in Atlanta?"

"Just fine. She's on the team. I think Stockman's sending the charter jet made a big difference. She's supposed to call me when she gets back up there."

"Not much new on this end. Are you coming back this way soon?"

"Not until I hear from Davis. But I have to tell you that Bert's made great progress. The eyeglasses will be fixed soon."

Bret laughed. "I'll tell Billy. He and I were talking about that and we said we'd believe it when and if we ever saw it."

"Yeah, well that may be sooner than you think. I saw a demo this morning and it's coming along. Oh, by the way, if Billy is really interested in going on StratoWest's payroll as the local Rep, tell him to send me a copy of his updated resume and I'll get it to them as soon as I can. I've also mentioned to Bart that he should do the same if he wants to be considered for the Washington office as Sid's replacement. The sooner the better I say, so we can ship Stan back to Long Beach."

"Okay, I'll tell him. And how long do you think you'll be needing me here in Dayton? This ain't exactly my idea of a terrific assignment."

"Hang in there at least until we get StratoWest in the ball game as a Phase Zero contractor. I'd say that you could leave the operation there by the end of the year at least, maybe sooner."

"Okay. I'll hang tight. Maybe when summer comes I'll like it better around here."

"I'll let you know when I'm coming out again. Bye."

Then Barry resumed his review of the ZIP disk files. He found one in the traffic from Carrington's office that grabbed his attention. It was from the senator's Atlanta office to his staff in Washington. It said that they were to start pressuring the Pentagon and the Air Force to make the Phase Zero bidding period just 75 days. And there were words about justifying that shortened solicitation time in order to meet the demands of military needs. Barry printed that out for inclusion in Stockman's packet.

He soon placed another call, to Bart over at the StratoWest office. After a few minutes listening to him complain about Stan playing a little Caesar role and local commander-in-chief of StratoWest operations, Barry suggested that he could end all of that by getting a resume in to Stu right away. "You mean that I could get rid of him that easily?"

"Yes. Stan doesn't really want to be out here in the first place. He's just taking out his displeasure on you guys. Be patent and soon you could be Sid's replacement and send Stan packing."

"I'm on it. I'll have my resume in Stu's hands by tomorrow via FedEx."

"Go for it. I'll drop by this afternoon."

No sooner had Barry hung up the phone than Betty came into his office. "It's Bret on line two. Sounds urgent."

"Yeah, Bret. What's up?" Barry inquired.

"Check your email. Can't talk over this line, but the details are in a message I just sent you."

"Okay. I'll check it now and get back to you. Bye."

Barry connected with the server and found the message. That morning when Billy was checking out the several bird feeder channels one was not working. It was the one from the conference room. On looking toward Building 15 through his binoculars, Billy discovered that the one feeder was mission. What did Barry want done about it?

Immediately, Barry sent back his own secure message, suggesting that the feeder may have simply fallen down and could be lying on the ground beneath the window. "Why don't you have Billy go over and see what he can find. If the feeder is down there, have him pick it up and bring it back to the office so you can figure out what might have happened. But, if the feeder is not there at all, we may have a problem. Let me know ASAP. Barry."

Bret responded immediately, saying that Billy was on his way and that he, Bret, would watch through the binoculars. What do you want us to do if he can't find it?" Barry then sent a reply saying just sit tight. This may or may not be a serious problem.

The mailman came and put several envelopes and a package in the downstairs hall box used by DANCO, Barry's business name. When Betty went down to retrieve the mail, she found it included a large envelope from StratoWest. She handed it and some other items to Barry. He immediately opened up the package and found it contained the employment material for Darnelle. A letter to her from the VP of Engineering was a pro forma welcoming message, affirming her hiring date of the end of the month and stating that her salary would be $69,500 per year, plus benefits. A second letter of welcome was signed by Stockman. It told her that Barry was to be her immediate supervisor until further notice. Barry smiled. He was pleased that StratoWest was so generous to his new associate.

Soon another email message came in from Dayton. Bret reported that he observed Billy on the lawn just outside Building 15. He was holding what looked like the bird feeder in his hand and soon walked around toward the parking lot. Apparently he retrieved the device which had simply fallen off the window.

A few minutes later Betty told Barry that Bret was on the line. "Did you get it?" Barry asked.

"Yes. We've got it here in the office now. I think the suction cups simply let loose. You want us to put it back?"

"No. We'll manage without it. I don't want to draw undue attention to them. What did Billy decide about sending his resume in for the Dayton Rep position?"

"He's got an envelop ready to mail off to you today?"

"Good. I'll be on the lookout for it. And I think Bart is ready to send his in too. I'll get back to you later. Bye."

Barry told Betty that after lunch he was going over to the StratoWest office. But before he left he called Darnelle in Atlanta.

"Good morning, Darnelle. How is your brother doing?"

"About the same. He did wake up briefly and I talked to him, but I don't think he understands. The nurse told us that the doctor suspected some brain damage due to lack of oxygen when he had that attack."

"I'm so sorry. How's your mother holding up?"

"Not well. This hit her pretty hard and she's scared, maybe more than I am. But that's not why you called, is it?"

"Yes and no. I really did want to see how it's going down there. But I also wanted to pass along some good news. Today's mail brought the StratoWest employment package for you. You're on the payroll as of the end of this month, and you're salary is $69.5K. I hope that helps."

"Yes, that is better than you told me. I am pleased that I will be employed without a break following my departure from the Air Force. I guess I never realized that I could be without a paycheck for some period. It is a relief."

"Any idea when you're going back to Dayton?"

"Yes. I'll be there by the weekend. I've explained to my Mom that I'll be working in the Atlanta area, but that I have to close up my apartment and take care of close-out matters with the Air Force. She doesn't have any idea what I'll be doing and I plan to keep it that way. I think she'll be all right until I get back down here the first part of next month. Have you heard anything from DixieAero?"

"No. I expect they'll be contacting you directly, since they don't know we're connected and that's the way we have to keep it. Call me when you get here. You have some papers to sign for StratoWest. And hang in there. Your brother will get better."

"Thank you for calling, Barry. Bye."

Barry handed Betty the package to be FedEx'd to Stockman, as he headed out the door for the StratoWest office. "I think I'll go over and referee for a while. I'll grab my lunch on the way."

Stan was near the doorway at the StratoWest office when Barry walked in. "Where have you been? I've been trying to talk with you ever since I came here to fill in for Sid."

"Busy. I was out of town until last night. What's the matter?"

"You and your people work for me. I won't put up with this insubordination. From now on you check in and out with me before you go anywhere. You got that?"

"Yeah I got it, and you know where you can stuff it. We were hired to perform specific services for StratoWest and not to be your personal lackeys. If you're unhappy with me or my crew, take it up with Stu or Stockman. But understand this, as soon as you accept the reality of this situation, the better we can get along and cooperate to get the job done." Barry was calm and trying not to antagonize Stan, though he really wanted to punch the guy out.

About that time Bart came out of an office down the hall. He waved at Barry, but did not interfere or get involved in any conversation with Stan. Barry waved back and said "I'll be with you in a minute Bart."

Stan calmed down a little, so Barry offered him a bone, a tidbit of information that this StratoWest fellow should be interested in. He told Stan about the shortened response time likely to be imposed on Phase Zero bidders.

"Where did you hear that?" Stan demanded.

"Can't tell you that, but it is very likely accurate considering my source in the Senate office building."

"Does Stu know about this?"

"No. Why don't you give him a call?"

"Yeah. I'd better do that. Just 75 days? Boy, that's going to be tough."

Barry left Stan in the hallway, still pondering the implications of Barry's news.

"So, Bart? Have you sent in your resume yet?"

"Yeah. I decided not to wait until tomorrow."

"Billy is sending his in too, but for the Dayton area Rep's job. I'm beginning to think my guys are jumping ship on me."

"Hey. You were the one who mentioned it."

"Oh, I guess I was. Guess that just proves how well I take care of you guys."

"And that's how you get us off your payroll burden too, right?"

"You caught me. It's far better to use OPM, other people's money. What's the latest word on Sid?"

"He was arraigned and is out on bail now. His court date is sometime next month. Stan told me that he was in initial rehab treatment somewhere in Maryland."

"Too bad he blew his career, but at least he's getting help."

"Yeah. His departure didn't help things around here."

Bart gave Barry a brief update on his visits in and around the House and Senate office buildings. The joint military Transportation Command has been lobbying for the new XC transport, but the real push has come from the Army. They are really concerned about theater airlift capabilities, for both combat assault teams and resupply.

"Have you seen any of the Air Combat Command folks prowling the halls?"

"No. Not really. It's been mostly Pentagon types and Air Transport Command staffers. They come over with briefing slides and posters to convince key committee folks of their needs."

"Sure wish I had some golfing buddies out at Scott AFB in Illinois," Barry explained. "Those guys are closer to the operational requirements than these Washington folks."

"You're right, but I don't have any contacts there now either. The guys that I used to know at Scott are now in the Pentagon."

The rest of the week went quietly. There wasn't much of significance from either the bird feeders in Dayton or the computers at the Pentagon or Senator Carrington's office. Yet somehow Barry had a feeling that things were happening. He just didn't know what.

Saturday afternoon he got a call from Darnelle, now back in Dayton. She told Barry that she got in around noon to find an employment information package from DixieAero. And even without having an interview, she had a job offer in their engineering department, with initial assignment to the DixieAero proposal team. There was a letter from the V-P of Engineering and also one from the Personnel Manager offering her a position at Level 3. That meant she would receive a salary of $59k, plus benefits. And the benefits package was better than StratoWest's.

"When do they want you to report?" Barry asked.

"The letter says I have 30 days to report, but just ten days to accept or decline their offer."

"So? Are you going to take it?"

"Yes. That is the plan, isn't it? And besides, they're willing to pay for relocation and an allowance to find a place to live."

"That's the plan. Are you going to find your own place or live at home with your mother?"

"Oh, definitely get my own place. An apartment or townhouse is all I need, but I have to have my own space. After the past six years since graduating, I've gotten used to having my own place. I'll spent a lot of time at home, but there are times I just have to get away."

"I know the feeling. So? Would it be all right with you if I came over this week, or next weekend. I could even give you a hand packing your stuff, if you like. We need to talk about how you will operate under this project. And I'll bring the StratoWest package."

"Sure, next week is good. How about coming over on Thursday and maybe staying until Sunday."

"That's good. You sound a little more upbeat than last time we talked."

"Yes, Barry. I think I've accepted the whole thing now, especially when I consider what it means to my family. You and Mr. Stockman have really been generous to me. I know why, of course, but I also know that I need your help."

"Well, as I said earlier, Stockman appreciates loyalty and so do I. And you just could find what we do is interesting and at times exciting. I'll call you Thursday when I get in. Or better yet, why don't we plan on dinner someplace that evening."

"Sounds good. I'll wait for your call. Bye now."

Thursday morning Barry headed for Dulles once again to catch a flight to Dayton. It was the 25^th of the month and soon Darnelle would be discharged from the Air Force. He decided it was time to give her the details of how she was expected to perform her new duties as Miss Davis, StratoWest employee and no longer Captain Davis, Air Force officer. This could only be done face to face.

By mid-day Barry checked into his motel and then drove over to the office where Bret and Billy monitored what was going on across the field at Building 15. This aspect of the operation he had no intention of explaining to Darnelle.

"Welcome back, stranger," greeted Bret, as Barry came into the office. "You noticed, I suppose, that the snow is just about gone. Spring can't be far off now."

"Yeah, I noticed, but it's still too wet to play golf. How's it going?"

"Pretty good. We got some useful stuff off the tape from the general's office bird feeder. Some folks from the engine manufacturer are trying to convince him that a brand new engine is required for the XC transport. The general read them the riot act and said a new engine would blow the budget and possibly even the whole program. He told them to cool it and quit lobbying the Air Force and Congress about a new engine."

"Hmmmm. In this case I have to agree with the good general. They can re-engine the birds later, if necessary, but they don't need the costs and complications of a dual R&D effort. You didn't happen to catch anything about who they were lobbying in Congress, did you?"

"Yeah. Senator O'Banyon's name was mentioned as being keenly interested in a new engine program. But that's no surprise since he's an Ohio senator looking for pork opportunities with which to garner votes. The engine guys mentioned something about the senator's keen interest in the project."

"What else?"

"Well, Dolly gave Billy a copy of the outline for the Phase Zero solicitation. It's shorter than usual. She says that the contracting officer insisted that bidders should not have to send in as much information because of the shortened time for submittals. They even left out the preliminary environmental impact statement requirement. That's to be deferred to the Phase One proposal packages later on."

"Makes sense, but that makes me wonder if TexAero and WestAero might not jump in now. Better get this information off to Long Beach so they can be ready. Is Dolly sure that this is the latest word?"

"Yes. She told Billy that the general signed off on it and it's been cleared with the Pentagon too."

"Okay then, I want you to make a copy of it for us and another to send off to Stockman." And Barry wrote down Stockman's home address, telling Bret to get this FedEx'd today."

"Sure. Will do."

"Now, what did you decide was the problem with that bird feeder that fell down from the conference room window?"

Billy came over to Barry with the feeder in hand. "It was just the suction cups letting go. Might have been a bad set or the window surface was too dirty. I checked it out and the unit still works fine. For two bucks we can put new suction cups on it."

"I'll take it back to Washington when I leave on Sunday or Monday. We just might use it someplace else," Barry said while thinking over the possibility of using it down in Atlanta.

"You staying until Monday?" Bret asked.

"Maybe. I've got to spend some time with Darnelle to brief her on her duties down at DixieAero. I volunteered to help her pack her stuff. She'll be headed south in just a week."

"So she accepted StratoWest's offer, eh?"

"Yes. And she told me over the phone that she got an employment package from DixieAero too. I hope to have her down there and in position to feed us information within ten days."

"All right. I'll bet Stockman will be happy."

"Yes, and speaking of Stockman, where's your resume Billy?"

"I sent it to you yesterday, but I have an extra copy here if you need it."

"Yes. Why don't we include it with a note in the FedEx package that Bret is sending off today?"

"Fine with me," Billy responded. "You have any idea what their local Rep job pays?"

"Nope, but I suspect it'll be at least $50k."

"I could live with that," Billy smiled, returning to his monitoring headsets.

Barry checked his email before heading out to lunch at the O. Club. There was one message, from Bert. He explained that the eyeglasses were running behind schedule. He was getting a friend to grind special lens buttons with a focal length appropriate to computer screens. It might take another week. All other parts were in hand. Barry replied saying that he wanted to test the units just as soon as they were ready.

Over at the O. Club Barry discovered that there was a party in one of the small banquet rooms. It was a farewell lunch being given by Darnelle's friends. There were a dozen or so folks in uniform gathered around the table. He paused only briefly outside the room, buy long enough for Darnelle to see him. He waved and smiled at her. She motioned for him to come on in.

"Hello, Barry. Would you care to join us?" she asked. "There's always room for one more."

"Ah, no thanks. I don't want to interfere. I'll just meet you at your place, say, around 7:00. Okay?"

"Sure. Do you know how to get there?"

"Not really, but I'll find it." And then Darnelle drew a little map on a napkin and slipped it to him. Barry nodded and quietly left the room.

Down in the rathskellar, Barry found a vacant seat at the bar and ordered a sandwich and a draft. All around him were gathered military and civilians engaged in lively conversations.

As he sat there eating his lunch, he happened to overhear two young majors talking. One said that the XC project office would soon issue the RFP for conceptual studies and that five bidders were expected. The other inquired about who the five were. StratoWest was mentioned as one of the likely recipients. And then the first major added that the likely winner would be DixieAero because they were getting the most insider information.

Barry didn't say anything, but wondered just who the major was. He leaned over, ostensibly to reach for the ketchup on the bar counter, and looked at the major's name tag. It read 'Dixon' and the other fellow's name was 'Douglas'. Barry made a mental note to get Billy to find out whether these two were part of the XC office.

At 6:45 Barry pulled up in front of Darnelle's apartment building and parked out front. He walked over to the main entry door, just as a couple was coming out. The door hadn't latched by the time Barry walked in and found the mailboxes along one wall of the corridor. Darnelle's apartment was not listed. He reached for the napkin in his pocket, to discover that she was in the other building, a few yards away. So by the time he made it over there, the time was exactly 7:00 PM.

He buzzed her apartment from the main floor lobby, only to look up to see her coming toward him down the stairs. She was dressed in civilian clothes again, a delightful cotton dress and bright red sweater.

"Hello Barry. You found me."

"Yes, but not before going to the wrong building. I'm parked over in front of the other one."

"No problem. I'm driving. Since you didn't mention which restaurant we'd go to, I picked one. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Where are we going?"

"There's a nice place in an old home near downtown. It's called the Heritage House. You can't get near the place on weekends, but Thursdays probably won't be too bad. C'mon, my car is out back."

"Did you enjoy your farewell luncheon at the Club?"

"Yes. Those are nice people. I'll miss 'em."

"Well, life goes on and you have a whole new career and life ahead of you. I hope you haven't told any of them what's on your agenda."

"No, Barry. I didn't. All I said was that I was headed for Atlanta and my family. But, a couple of the guys did suggest that I should look into opportunities at DixieAero. Ironic, isn't it?"

"Not really," Barry said on sliding into the front passenger seat of Darnelle's Camaro. "Hey, this is a nice car. What year is it?"

"It's six years old."

"Wow, you keep it like new. Did you buy it as a brand new second lieutenant?"

"Yup. Practically every one of graduating then bought cars. It's no joke that many new officers spend their initial uniform allowance on car down payments. Me too."

Darnelle drove aggressively across town on the surface streets. She didn't exactly run through red lights or miss stop signs, but she weaved and zoomed around other traffic like an Indy driver. Barry held onto the seat tightly.

"Here it is," she declared as she zipped into the parking lot and abruptly stopped in a spot off to one side of the entrance.

"Do you always drive like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're possessed."

"I guess so. Why? Does it bother you?"

"As a matter of fact, it does. I wasn't sure what you were doing when we jumped from the left lane across two others to swerve into the driveway here."

"Oh, that."

"We got here sooner than I expected. I haven't been here in a year and forgot exactly where this place is. Sorry 'bout that. It's nothing personal."

"I'm glad of that. Don't you ever get traffic tickets?"

"Nope. Never had one."

"Boy, are you lucky."

The host seated them in a room off to the left of the foyer. There was a fireplace with gas logs glowing. Antique furnishings and glass chandeliers gave the place the ambience of the 1890's. They were the only ones seated in the room with two other tables. Soon a waitress, dressed in a long full skirt, Harvey Girl style, with white bib apron, brought menus. Then she left to get water glasses.

"What's the house specialty?" Barry asked.

"Last time I was here the prime rib was terrific."

"Okay. I'll have that. You want a glass of wine or a cocktail?"

"Whatever you like. It's my treat tonight," Darnelle replied, totally surprising Barry.

"Your treat? How's come?"

"It's my apology for being so brusque with you when we parted in Atlanta, and a thank you for getting me a job that lets me take care of my brother and Mom."

"Well, thank you. In that case, I'll have a glass of wine with my prime rib."

After the meal came, Barry asked "Have you come to grips with what you'll be doing for StratoWest?"

"I think so. It's not an ideal situation, but a necessary one for me. Just don't get me into trouble with the FBI or the Georgia police."

"Well, you have a couple of things going for you on that score. Firstly, I don't want you to ever mess with classified information, not on my behalf or even on your own. There is more than enough useful information that's unclassified. That way you won't get cross-wise of Federal security regulations. I tell all my people to be careful on that score."

"How's you dinner?" Darnelle asked.

"Mmmm, very good. This was a good choice. I'll have to remember this place."

Since there was still no one else in the room, Barry continued. "I will see to it that you have a secure way of sending me reports. My associate has developed a program we can load on your home PC. You do have one, don't you?"

"Yes. I have a Pentium laptop. It's not as big as a huge desktop and doesn't take up much table space."

"I know what you mean, I use one too. If it's all right with you, I'd like to borrow yours and take with me to Washington after this weekend. I will bring it down to you as soon as you get settled in your Atlanta apartment."

"Sure that would be fine, but you'll have to show me how to use the program."

"Yeas, sure. That won't take long. My associate, a fellow named Bert, will install the software, check out your unit and verify that it connects to our system properly. The only time you will even notice that it's there is when you send material to my email account. All other email you sent to others will be unencrypted."

"Fine."

"Okay then, when you get on board with DixieAero, I want you to let me know precisely where you work, what building and what room. I'll need a list of your phone numbers and a roster of your XC project team, with their numbers as well."

"That shouldn't be too hard. Then what?"

"Then I want to know everything about what they are doing on the XC project, especially the Phase Zero studies, their plans, schedules, budgets, design features and specific responses to RFP requirements. I want copies of all reports they send to the government during the conceptual design effort."

"Wow. You don't want much, do you. But there will probably be some of that that I never get to see."

"Yes, and I appreciate that. I don't expect you to have access to everything, but you are being hired to become a member of their XC proposal team. That means you'll get to see inputs from practically all departments, from engineering to configuration management to budgets and cost estimates. We need it all."

"I'll do what I can, but so far I haven't a clue about where things are, who does what, or even where the ladies' rooms are."

"We also need to know how much of what they develop gets put onto computers. Do they have an internal email system, for instance, where engineering reports circulate from one specialty to another? Does configuration management serve as the physical paper archive for specifications, reports and drawings, or is it all on computers? And if it is on computers, we'll need access codes, passwords and the like."

Sounds like you'll be tapping into their systems. Do you do that everywhere?"

"Where we have to and can, of course."

"And you send everything on to StratoWest, right?"

"No. I filter out the extraneous and send only the relevant stuff."

"Do you do that by computer?"

"So far, no. StratoWest isn't all that computerized yet. I have been sending most things as hard copies. Darn shame, isn't it? Here computers were supposed to lead to a paperless world and there's more paper used now than before."

"If I manage to get printouts of XC related stuff, how do you want me to get it to you?"

"Depends. If it is especially important or time-sensitive in terms of what StratoWest needs, I'll come get it. Otherwise, simply FedEx it to me."

"Will I have your FedEx account number for those charges?"

"Yes. My company is called DANCO and we have a FedEx account as well as private email servers. We even have our own ISP capabilities, though it'll be a toll call from Atlanta for you to log on. I'll reimburse you for those costs."

"You better give me your phone numbers too, at your home and at work," Darnelle suggested.

"You already have my card. The numbers are there. You need another?"

"Yes. I'll keep one in my wallet and another at home."

"One last thing. As far as your mother and brother are concerned, you are working only at DixieAero, if you want to tell them anything at all about where you work. Don't mention to them or anybody that you work for StratoWest. Clear?"

"Of course. What about my vacation time? I'll probably earn vacation and sick leave time at DixieAero. So will I also at StratoWest?"

"I don't see why not. And you'll probably be paid for unused vacation time that you don't take with StratoWest. I don't see how you could take both?"

"That might apply to the medical benefits packages too."

"Yes. I haven't see the DixieAero packages, but StratoWest will cover you and any legal dependents. Is your brother your dependent? Or your mother?"

"I don't think so, legally or in IRS terms. I'll have to check on that. Boy, it would be great if I could get them covered on my work insurance plans, either StratoWest's or DixieAero's."

"You will receive regular pay checks from StratoWest, and from DixieAero too. I suggest you open separate bank accounts to keep your finances separate. You should consider using the DixieAero employees credit union, and maybe a regular bank account for the other. And I urge you to participate as much as you can in both company's pension plans, savings plans and the like. If you work this right you should be able to built yourself a nest egg in short order."

"I'm stuffed. That was a big meal. I'm passing on dessert, but you can have some if you like. Remember, I'm buying."

"Thanks anyway, but I'll just have some coffee."

"Me too."

"So? What about your packing and getting ready to move? How can I help?"

"I have to call the number listed in the employment package to arrange for the movers. They should do most of it and I really don't have all that much. But it would be helpful if you would get me some boxes and packing materials for the things Ill take in my care with me."

"Sure. Why don't I come around Saturday morning around 10:00 and you can show me what you need."

"10:00 o'clock? The day will be half gone by 10:00. How about 9:00?"

"Okay, 9:00 it is. It's just that I jog in the morning and by the time I get cleaned up and some breakfast much of the morning is shot."

"Well, make it 9:00 at my place and I'll make breakfast. How's that?"

"Sounds like a plan. Guess we'd better go now. Thanks for dinner. This was a fine meal and I enjoyed talking with you and getting to know you better. We are going to become really good friends I hope."

"Me too. And you're welcome. But I have a question."

"Yes, what's that?"

"What makes you so sure that DixieAero will put me into the XC group?"

"I don't know for certain, but the odds clearly favor that choice, especially with you coming out of the project office. I'd bet that your chances are better than 80% of such an assignment. And even if you are for some reason shunted off onto another project, you could always volunteer to move over to the XC."

"Guess you're right."

"Do me a favor, will you?"

"What?"

"Drive a little slower and less aggressively on the way back to your place. I want to keep my dinner down."

Darnelle scowled at Barry, and then started to laugh. "Okay, I'll drive more gently. You sound like an old man."

"Maybe, maybe so."

Over the weekend Barry help Darnelle pack up some of the things she either wanted to carry with her in the car or which she didn't trust the movers to pack. By Sunday afternoon the living room was stacked with cartons taped and labeled. She said she'd probably leave the Dayton area on Wednesday or Thursday and would head for her mother's place. She'd stay there a few days while looking for an apartment. She wasn't due to report at DixieAero until the 5^th of the month, a Monday.

Barry met Bret for a quick supper Sunday night, before heading to the airport for his return flight to Washington. It would be 10:00 PM before he returned to the brownstone.

Monday morning, after the tenants were gone for work, Barry called Bert to tell him that he brought the one bird feeder back with him from Dayton.

"What do you want me to do with it?" Bert asked.

"Check it out and when you're satisfied that it still works, make a single channel receiver for it like the Potomac Bell one."

"Yeah, sure I can do that, but which do you want first, the eyeglasses camera or the bird feeder system? I can't do both at once."

"I know that. The eyeglasses come first, but I want to use the feeder at another location in a couple weeks."

"Okay, I'll get to it. Where are you?"

"I'm at the brownstone. Why?"

"Well, there are some new ZIP disks for you downstairs. I put 'em there Friday afternoon. You might want to see what's there."

"Will do, and thanks. Are you out of pocket on the eyeglasses project yet?"

"Yes. I'm out $800 bucks."

"I thought so. You sound a little testy this morning, and knowing you it has to be money."

"You got that right."

"All right. Come by this evening and I'll have some money for you."

"Fine. See you around 8:30."

"Wait. When you come over tonight, I want you to load the secure software package onto a laptop that I brought from Dayton. It shouldn't take long."

"Okay. Seeya." Click.

Barry headed down to the basement to retrieve the ZIP disks. While in the cinderblock room he heard the recording device activate. It stopped after a while and then he transferred the data to another ZIP disk.

Back upstairs in his room, Barry reviewed the files, beginning with the last one just recorded. It turned out to be an exchange between the Senator's office and Gordon, down at DixieAero. Gordon was upset to discover that the Air Force was abbreviating the proposal requirements because of the reduced submittal time. The reply message, obviously from the senator himself, told Gordon he had no control over how the Defense Department structured its detailed solicitation documents. Gordon was livid, saying this could unravel the whole plan by allowing others to get in on the Phase One contracts. Then Gordon suggested that the funding level be cut for Phase One, to preclude several contractors being funded for the work. Finally, Gordon told Carrington to fix it, or else.

Barry was amazed at DixieAero's rapid response intelligence network. He printed out the files, deciding that Stockman had to see this stuff. Then he began reviewing the older files. Nothing else was as significant as that exchange between Gordon and Carrington.

At 10:30 Barry headed downtown to his office. He called Bart and asked him to come over. "We've got a problem and need to talk. Priorities have shifted and I need you to do something special." Bart said he'd be right there.

Around noon, just as Barry was stuffing the latest material in a FedEx envelope for Stockman, Bart came in. Barry handed it to Bart, saying "Here read this."

"Wow. Where did you get this stuff?"

"Where I got it isn't nearly as important as how we solve the problem it poses. We have to find out in a hurry what the new budget number is. Will there be enough money for more than one contract? How much will the senator force the Air Force to cut Phase Zero effort?"

"I'll get on it. Probably the best place is over at the House. Carrington will have to lean on the Georgia Congressman in the House Appropriations Sub-Committee."

"Okay. See what you can find out and in the meantime I'll check on some of the Pentagon sources. And if you hear of any DixieAero guys nosing around, let me know."

"Okay. I'm there. See you later."

"Call me, either here or at my place."

"Will do, Oh, I almost forgot. Stu Sanders invited me to come out to Long Beach for a talk, an employment interview. Their corporate jet is up in Connecticut this week and they want me to fly back on it this Friday. Okay with you?"

"Sure. But in the meantime get on this problem."

"Right. I'll call you."

Barry logged onto his server to find email waiting for him from Bret. "You asked about majors Dixon and Douglas. Here's what I found out. Dixon is a loser, a really shaky character who's been passed over for promotion twice because of his drinking and financial troubles. He's a golfer and likes to impress his pals with his antics. He's a show-off and a goof-off.. He drives a BMW and likes to party. Douglas is a regular guy, nothing special and no record of difficulties. He's a relatively new major who progressed along with his peers. Both work in the XC project office. Dixon is an electronic countermeasures specialist. Douglas is a logistics planner. Hope this helps. Bret."

"Very interesting," Barry mused. The wheels began to turn in Barry's devious mind. Dixon might be the guy we need as a source of Air Force insider information, especially for Phase One. "Looks like I'll be spending more time in Dayton than I expected, but at least golf season is fast approaching.

Two weeks went by before Barry heard from Darnelle. He didn't know that DixieAero brought her on board as a crew station design engineer (the term 'cockpit' has been deemed politically incorrect) with special assignment to the XC proposal team. Her job became one of overseeing descriptions of how the XC crew station would be designed. She would shift back and forth between the design teams and the people putting together the Phase Zero proposal package. Though she would not actually perform design analyses, she would be on top of the design work done by others.

Finally, on the 15^th of March, Barry received a telephone call from her. She told him about her work assignment, the small apartment she rented just ten minutes from the DixieAero plant, and the condition of her brother.

"How soon do you have to move your brother into the nursing home?" Barry asked.

"We moved him today. It's a very nice place and he'll get the care he needs, but boy is it expensive. With the doctor's fees and the facility costs the monthly bill comes to $5,000. It's more than I ever imagined."

"Yes, but if he's getting what he needs, it's worth it. How's your mother doing?"

"Better. She is so relieved that my brother is in a place where he'll get proper care. She just can't believe that DixieAero is paying me enough to cover those expenses. I'll just let her think that."

"By the way, where are you calling from?"

"My new apartment. I'll give you the address and my phone number, if you like. You ready to copy?" And when Barry indicated he was ready she gave him the information.

"Have you arranged for an ISP yet?"

"No. You still have my laptop, remember?"

"Right you are. Yes I do, and it's been upgraded. I'll get it down to you by FedEx right away. Let's see, this is Tuesday. You should have it by Thursday."

"Thanks. I've missed not having it. How will I learn to use the upgrade?"

"Simple. Whenever you send me email, the system automatically engages the software and the link is secure. It's triggered by my address. Everybody else's messages will be normal, and what you see on the screen will be what you're used to."

"Okay."

"Are you coming down here any time soon?"

"No. I think you need some time to get settled in and accustomed to working at DixieAero. And besides, I have to go to Dayton next week. I'll be in touch. Thanks for letting me know where you are."

"No problem. I'll be on the lookout for the package. If it comes while I'm at work the apartment manager will sign for it. I'll let him know a package is coming."

"As soon as you get connected with an ISP, send me some email and I'll respond to test our connection. Good luck, my friend. And keep your eyes open."

"Will do, Barry. Bye now."

Bart got a job offer from Stu to be Sid's replacement as office manager. He accepted with a hire date of April 1^st. Billy, however, did not get the Dayton Rep's job, much to his disappointment. Stu decided to wait until after StratoWest got the Phase Zero contract. Billy was invited to re-apply sometime in June.

Friday night Barry headed for Dayton, hoping to play some golf and a chance to meet Major Dixon. It was 8:00 PM when he checked into his motel room, not too late to call his friend General Donneley to see if a Saturday round of golf would be possible.

"Sorry, Barry," the general responded, "I have to go to Florida for a commanders' conference. If you're still here next Tuesday, perhaps we could get a round in late that afternoon. Call me, okay?"

"Yes, sir. I'll get back with you. I think I'll still be here. In the meantime, I'll find some others who want to part with their money."

Saturday morning Barry appeared at the pro shop of the on-base course at Patterson. There were several foursomes playing, though it wasn't as crowded as he expected it would be. They were even letting twosomes go out.

About 10:30 he spotted a fellow who looked like the major, though he wasn't sure. So Barry walked over and introduced himself.

"Major Dixon? Are you the fellow from the XC project office?"

"Yes, sir. I am. Do I know you?"

"We've met, a few weeks ago in the rathskellar, but you probably don't remember me. You and Major Douglas were at the bar next to me."

"You know Doug?"

"No, not really. I was just wondering if you have a golf partner for this morning. I'm alone and don't have anybody to team with. You want to play a round together?"

"Yeah, sure. Are you any good?"

"I manage."

"Okay then, let's make it interesting, say a dollar a hole?"

"Sure. I think I can stand it if I lose $18.00," Barry responded with a smile.

In a few minutes an opening came up for a twosome and they headed for the first tee.

"No Mulligans, right?" Barry asked.

"Well, this is my first round for the season, but if you insist. Okay. No Mulligans. Go ahead. You're up."

Barry stepped up on the tee and with a solid click from his titanium driver he managed a straight shot of 275 yards.

"Not too shabby. Let's see how I do," Dixon commented. Then he hit a straight shot 280 yards down the par four fairway.

Barry let him win the first four holes, though he really had to hold back. He intentionally hit into a couple sand traps so it wouldn't be so obvious that he was toying with the major.

As the major's confidence grew, he suggested to Barry that maybe they should up the bet to, say, five dollars a hole. Barry hesitated, but admitted that maybe he could recover the losses from the first four holes by winning five on the next one. Dixon thought he had a real sucker for a partner.

On the fifth hole Barry got a birdie. Dixon made par. "Okay," Barry declared, feigning a sudden bit of good luck. "I'm a dollar up on you."

"Must be those nifty titanium clubs. They look expensive," Dixon observed.

"They're not cheap. That's for sure. You want to try my driver on the next hole?"

"Yes, sir. I really would. Here you take my wooden driver and I'll try yours." And Dixon hit a beautiful shot over 300 yards, with a slight slice into the shallow rough. Barry held back a little and smacked his 250 yards, right down the center of the fairway.

"Boy," Dixon excitedly declared. "This club is a beauty. That felt great."

"Maybe you ought to try some of the fairway woods too. Looks like a 3-wood shot from here. Try mine."

Dixon had a fairly decent lie, even in the rough, and managed to reach the edge of the green. "Oh boy, what a difference. I'd still be 25 yards short with my own club."

Barry used a 2-wood and dropped his ball right onto the green. Before the round was over, Barry took all but those first four holes, winning $70.00 and losing $4. Barry had a score of 76 and Dixon shot 90, but Dixon didn't seem to mind. All he talked about was that he just had to get his own titanium clubs.

After the game, the two headed for the bar to talk golf and titanium clubs. Barry decided that he ought to buy lunch, since he won the round.

"How much did you say those clubs cost you?" Dixon asked.

"I didn't, but they're about $700 for a set of four woods, if you buy 'em in a pro shop. I can get 'em for half of that."

"You can?" Dixon excitedly replied. "Where?"

"Oh, I have my source. Why, are you interested?"

"You bet. Could you get me a set?"

"Perhaps. Can you pay cash?"

"Ah, no. I was hoping to use my credit card."

"Sorry. My supplier doesn't mess with credit cards. He doesn't like paying the 5% they charge for transactions. Cash only." Barry already knew from checking Dixon's credit that he cards were all max'd out. He had no credit at all.

After lunch of sandwiches and beer, Dixon asked Barry if they could go over to the driving range so he could try the titanium clubs on a bucket of balls.

"Sure, if you like."

Dixon was thrilled with the improved performance of Barry's metal clubs. "I just gotta get me some of these," he declared. But soon a sad look came over his face. "But the fact is, I just haven't got the money."

"What if I could convince my source to take your credit card. Would that help?" Barry offered in his most solicitous tone.

"That wouldn't help either. I'm tapped out. My credit card company wouldn't let me."

"Hmmm. Sounds like you've got troubles. Let's go back into the bar and talk about it." Barry put his clubs back into the trunk of his car and then they headed for the 19^th hole bar.

"You know, I think it was those clubs that beat me today. If I had a set, you'd have had a harder time."

"Probably so. My score improved eight strokes after I bought 'em," Barry explained. It wasn't true, of course, but Dixon was convinced.

At the bar, Dixon asked Barry who he worked for. "And have you played this course before?"

"Oh yes. I've played several rounds with General Donneley. We were supposed to play today, as a matter of fact, but the general had to go out of town. I'll probably play with him on Tuesday."

"Who is it you work for?"

"Oh. I'm with StratoWest Aircraft Company. We're out in Long Beach."

"I know StratoWest. Damned good company."

"I think so."

"Tell me, Barry. Do you think I could cut eight strokes if I bought some of those clubs?"

"Hell, I don't know. You would improve some, I suspect, but just how many strokes, I can't say. What balls do you use?"

Dixon though a minute. "I use White Crests. Why?"

"Well, maybe a cheaper solution would be some of those new high performance Hi-Boy balls. That would set you back only $50 a dozen."

"Yeah. But maybe I should get both, clubs like yours and the new balls."

"Whoa there. I thought you were tapped out."

"Yes, damnit. I guess I am. Shit."

"Well look. You were kind enough to let me play a round with you today. Tell you what. Let me give you three or four of the Hi-Boys and you try 'em out. I can probably get you a deal on a dozen, if you decide you want some."

"Well, thank you Barry. You're a real gentleman. I'd appreciate that."

"Done. After we finish our beers, walk me to my car and I'll give you some. I was beginning to wonder if I'd even get out on the course today, not having a partner after the general cancelled out. You came along at the right time."

"I guess I did, didn't I?"

"You bet you did. And I appreciate that."

Barry handed Dixon four brand new Hi-Boys. Dixon took them with a broad grin across his face. "All right. Thank you, Barry."

"No problem."

Dixon looked at the balls, turning them over while carefully checking them out. "Thanks, Barry."

"Look Major, I'm just in town for a few days and staying at the motel in Fairborn. Are you free to join me for dinner this evening. It would save me having to eat alone?"

"That would be nice, sir. Yes. I don't have anything on for tonight."

"Have you any suggestions of where we can get a good steak?" Barry inquired.

"Sure. There's a terrific place in downtown Dayton, the Flying Cross Steak House is my favorite."

"Look, I'm at the Travelers Rest in Fairborn. How about picking me up around 7:00 and we'll go out for steaks. If we talk shop for a few minutes, I can put our dinners on the expense account."

"Yes, sir. I'll see you there at 7:00."

Barry watched the major walk away. He knew that this fellow would be easy to recruit as an inside source. This would be easy indeed. "Show me a fellow with a champagne appetite and a beer pocket book, and he's mine," Barry thought. "Works every time."

Barry called Billy from his motel room before going to dinner with Dixon. "Hello, Billy. Sorry to hear about your job situation with StratoWest."

"No sweat, Barry. I'm confident that it's come through when and if they get the Phase Zero contract. Stu Sanders was pretty nice about it all. He called me to explain their situation and things are tight financially with them now."

"That's an understatement. On of the things I wanted to talk to you about is Major Dixon. What do you know about his family? Has he got a wife, kids or elderly parents?"

"No wife and no kids. I don't know about parents. He's originally from Illinois, somewhere west of Chicago. The guys is smart in some ways and really dumb in others. I've met him and he's personable enough, I suppose. But he's got an over-inflated view of himself. Why? Are you planning on using him or something?"

"Could be. I'm having dinner with him tonight."

"Good luck."

"Yeah. We'll see how it goes. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. I'll see you in the office Monday. Bye."

At five after seven, Dixon knocked on Barry's door. "You ready to try one of this town's best steaks?"

"Yes, that sounds good. Let me grab a jacket and we can go."

Down in the driveway, smack in front of the motel's portico, sat Dixon's silver and black BMW sportster." Jump in, Barry. We'll be there in ten minutes."

"Nice car. Is it new?"

"I got it last year. She's a beauty, isn't she?"

"I'll say. You can afford this on a major's pay?"

"Well, I don't have any kids to feed or a wife that runs up department store bills, so I figured I could splurge a bit. Hang on."

After the wild ride to downtown and the restaurant, Barry was beginning to think that Darnelle's driving was downright tame.

"She really grips the road. Handles like a dream," Dixon exclaimed.

"Sure does. I couldn't take corners in my car like this does. Sure is nimble."

They had cocktails in the lounge and then headed for a table in the dining room. Dixon suggested the rib-eye or the New York strip steaks. "And their twice-baked potatoes with cheese are fantastic. Add those and some butter sautéed mushrooms and you have a meal fit for a king."

"Sounds good. I'll have the rib-eye."

"So, Barry, you said we have to talk shop so that this is a legal expense account charge?"

"Yep. That's the rule."

"Well, you said that you were with StratoWest. What brings you to Dayton?"

"I'm doing some information gathering on what I hear is going to be a new transport. You know anything about that, I mean if it's unclassified, of course."

"That's what I work on, the so-called XC-109."

"Really? Who's got the contract to build them?"

"Nobody yet. The conceptual design studies have to come first, and then somebody will get the job of designing and building some test birds. After that a production contract will be let and soon the Air Force will have a replacement for the venerable C-130's."

"So what exactly do you do on this airplane that hasn't been designed yet?"

"I'm one of the team that's trying to define requirement, translating general system requirements that the using commands, like Combat Command and Transport Command, tell us are their needs."

"Translating how?"

"Our office, the XC program office, writes specifications and systems requirements documents to be included in the solicitations to industry, your industry, so you can bid for the business. The first step is to get some contractors to do original thinking about what kind of airplane would accomplish what the using commands want."

"Sounds like a fascinating job. Do you like what you do?"

"Yes and no. I can't get the brass to listen to my arguments that the XC has got to have the same sophisticated defensive systems as our fighters and bombers do. Assault transports are often sent into high threat areas too, just like the bomb droppers and fighters. So they need to be able to defend themselves against guns, missiles and fighters."

"What are you saying? Do you mean that you're going to put a tail gun on the XC?"

"No. Hell no. Talk guns don't have the range in this day of stand-off surface to air or air-to-air missiles. I mean electronic countermeasures gear, including infrared protection systems."

"That makes sense. What about stealth technologies?"

"That would be nice, of course, but greatly increases costs, both initial costs and life-cycle costs. No. We're not expecting that stuff on a cargo hauler."

"Well, I guess we've filled that square. We actually talked business, so I can legitimately claim this as a business dinner. I won't make you talk shop any more, unless that is you want to."

"Does that also authorize another drink?"

"I suppose so. We'll say it was a salad or an appetizer."

"I like your style, Barry. Yes I do."

Their steaks arrived and the meal was everything Dixon said it would be. Superb. Barry ordered black coffee instead of a dessert, after they finished the main course. Dixon took the hint and did likewise.

Barry asked for and received Dixon's home phone number, as well as the one in his office. He even got Dixon's email address at work.

"You have to have an authentication code or be on a controlled access list to get through to me by the Internet," Dixon explained. "They keep the circuits strictly for official business."

"Does that mean you never send or receive personal email?"

"Oh, sure we do. You just have to add the proper access code numbers to get past the monitoring filters. Outsiders who try to send mail get screened out."

"I didn't know that. But you made it sound as if some outsiders are given the codes at times. Right?"

"Yeah. If you wanted to send me mail, for example, all you've do is preface my name with the code number."

"And that would be?"

"Simply XC109-09. The '09' is my office code, and you recognize the other part as the project office code. That's it."

"You mean that is all it takes to keep your mail secure?"

"Oh. It's not secure, not at all. We don't send anything classified unless it's encrypted. The access code is simply to get by the message filters, so we don't get bombarded with junk email or folks cluttering up the system with stuff that's not related to business."

"Sure. That's makes sense to encrypt the classified stuff. I suppose your XC-109 is highly sensitive."

"Not really. Probably 90 percent of the material is unclassified. I mean this is a cargo hauler, you know, not a nuclear bomber."

"Yes, but you did say you wanted countermeasures capabilities. Surely that would include classified material. Wouldn't it?"

"I suppose. But nobody listens to me."

"Oh, I'll bet they do. Otherwise, why would they have a countermeasures specialist on the project team?"

"Window dressing, pure and simple. Transport Command doesn't want to spend the money for ECM systems. They want a simple, reliable low-cost trash hauler, something a little better than the C-130's, only newer. They even want a simpler bird than the C-130 is."

"Well, what about Combat Command?"

"Yeah, there are some ACC guys who recognize the importance of ECM and IRCM gear, but so far Transport Command is in the driver's seat."

"Okay, so let's say the first production birds aren't equipped with ECM or IRCM gear. Surely you are requiring that provision be made for later addition of that stuff. Aren't you?"

"If I had my way we would. But like I said, I'm just blowing in the wind."

"Well, if the contract was to be let today to build some of the XC-109's, who do you think would get it?"

"DixieAero."

"Why do you say that? There are several others, including my own company that could build a great assault transport for you."

"I agree with you, but the brass is in bed with DixieAero."

"You're not serious."

"Hell yes, I'm serious. DixieAero guys are in and out of the headquarters all the time. They've even been in to visit my boss."

"And the others? Aren't they in the loop?"

"Not really. You're the first non-DixieAero guy I've every met."

"Do you think that's fair?"

"Of course not. I'd love to see you guys or anybody besides DixieAero get the job."

"Why is that?"

"Because if DixieAero gets the contract the Air Force will not get the airplane it really needs. It'll get a gold-plated system that'll cost a fortune in the out years."

"That's a shocker."

"Perhaps, but it's true. You wait and see. DixieAero will sell the Air Force a bill of goods and the taxpayer will get screwed."

"Sounds to me as though you're really a loyal blue suiter who wants the best for the buck, not a technology showcase the taxpayer cannot afford. But I've talked shop with you much too much already. I don't want you to tell me anything you aren't tell the other contractor people. It wouldn't be fair."

"Okay then, let's talk golf."

"Good idea."

For the remainder of the evening they talked golf. They talked golf equipment, techniques and about their favorite courses. Barry bid goodnight to Dixon, back at his motel after 11:00 o'clock, convinced that he had developed a solid rapport with Dixon.

Sunday morning, after a late breakfast, Barry went over to their office across from Wright Field, primarily for the computer connection to check his email. There was nobody else around.

He discovered an email message from Darnelle. "Just wanted to let you know the laptop arrived okay. Thanks. I've signed up with a local ISP. Sure do miss having free government access. Started work and it looks like an interesting assignment. I'm helping with the crew station layout designs. Looks like these guys favor a two-man cockpit, no navigator or flight engineer. With a senior loadmaster in the back and two assistants, that makes a five-man crew. They've got ideas about a fully digital instrument panel. Very high tech. Of course it's just preliminary. Where are you?"

Barry typed a return message explaining that he was in Dayton. The header on Darnelle's message told him whom she'd signed up with. "Played golf yesterday with Major Dixon of your old outfit. Do you know him? Will be back in D.C. by mid-week. Barry."

Next he scanned some messages from Bert. One mentioned that he'd received the new lens for the eyeglass device. Hope to get two pair ready for you when you get back. When is that? Bert."

Another message, also from Bert, said that he got the single channel receiver unit for the bird feeder ready. "Works just like the last one I made for Dayton. It even says Potomac Bell. Ha Ha. Bert."

Lastly, he read a message from Bret. Encrypted, like all the others, it read, "Dolly says the project office got the word late Friday that funding would be cut to $12 million for each of two contracts for Phase Zero. Somebody in Washington told the Pentagon that's the way it had to be. They're still planning on five RFP packages, but only two bids will qualify."

Barry decided that was important news. Playing it safe, he closed up the office and headed for a telephone booth at a nearby shopping center to call Stockman. It was 9:00 AM, California time, by the time he reached the StratoWest CEO.

"Good morning, sir. Barry here. Just found out about a funding change for the program."

"Good news or bad?"

"Not good, but you still have a chance. Funding for Phase Zero studies is limited to $12 million for each of just two contractors. This is clearly DixieAero's doing, with Carrington's participation. The issue date for the RFP still looks like May 1^st. Did you get the package I sent last week?"

"Yes. We sure could use an advanced look at that RFP though. Any chance of latching onto a copy?"

"Maybe so. It'll cost you a set of golf clubs though."

"For you?"

"No. For a new source I'm developing in the project office. The guy's in a position to get me a close-to-final draft copy."

"What are they? Gold plated clubs?"

"No. The guy wants some like mine, the titanium woods."

"Hell. Give 'em to him if you think it'll work."

"I'll get back to you. There's a chance I'll be playing a round with General Donneley on Tuesday. I may learn more then."

"Keep me posted."

"Yes, sir. Will do. Bye."

Barry decided to go over to the base driving range and hit a bucket of balls, just to be sure he was ready for his Tuesday game. The place wasn’t crowded at all.

On finishing the first bucket, he decided to try a second, primarily to sharpen his skills with his irons. He was doing pretty well with the 7-iron and reaching for a longer 2-iron when Dixon came by.

"Hi Barry. Looks like you’re in good form today."

"Practice, my boy. Practice. It’s been a long winter and I’m feeling kinda rusty."

"Well, you don’t look it."

"Thanks. Are you going to hit some?"

"I thought about it. Would you mind letting me hit a few with your titanium woods?"

"You like those, eh?"

"Yes, sir," smiled Dixon.

Barry pulled out the four metal woods and told Dixon to give ‘em a try. Soon Dixon was swinging away and doing quite well. He turned to Barry, now finished with his second bucket full, "Oh boy. These are great. And we are about the same height, so the shaft lengths fit to a ‘T’."

Barry watched as Dixon hit a few more, trying each of the four woods. His shots were straight and true. With the driver he hit 330 yards several times.

"Yes, sir. I gotta get me some of these. $700 dollars, you said?"

"Yup. They’re not cheap."

"Yes, but they sure are worth it."

Barry leaned over close to Dixon and whispered, "I could get a set for you, for free. Interested?"

"For free. You gotta be kidding. What do I have to do, shoot the general?"

Barry laughed. "No, nothing that drastic, but if you help me, I’ll help you."

"Really? What kind of help?"

Still in a near whisper, Barry reminded Dixon that he was interested in helping StratoWest get into the Phase Zero game. "It’s very important for us. I mean VERY important, if you get my drift?"

"Well, I’d like to help you, Barry, for two reasons, but what can I do?"

"What reasons?"

"First of all, I don’t want DixieAero to win any part of the XC project. And secondly, I sure would like a set of these titanium clubs. So what do you want from me that’s worth a set of these?"

"I’d like an advance look at the RFP before it goes out. Is that possible?"

Dixon looked at Barry, and then took a swing with one of the clubs. "Yes. I could get you a copy of the RFP. Is that all?"

"Yup. That’s all. You get me a copy at least ten days before it’s made public and you’ve got yourself a set of these clubs. And I’ll throw in a dozen of those balls too. You want the same size clubs as these?"

"Yes. These are just right. You have got yourself a deal. Where do you want the document delivered?"

"I’ll tell you where and when, just as soon as you tell me you've got the package. Now I mean the whole thing."

"Yeah. I understand. And you actually think that ten days head start will help StratoWest gain the edge on DixieAero?"

"It sure as hell couldn’t hurt, now could it?"

"I suppose you’re right. Yes. I’ll get it for you. You want hard copy or on floppy disks?"

"Disks would be fine, so long as they are in standard format."

"Sure. They’ll be standard 3.5" floppies you can read on any IBM or compatible PC. We use the common word processor formats. I think it’ll all fit on just two high density diskettes."

"Then let’s make it easy and use floppies."

"Consider it done. You mind if I hit another bucket full?"

"Help yourself." And Barry watched as the enthralled Dixon hit ball after ball, thoroughly convinced that he was knocking strokes of his game with every swing.

Barry left the driving range in mid-afternoon when the winds came up and a shower threatened. He headed back to his motel room, pleased that he found a way of getting the solicitation package sooner than the competition.

Monday morning he met his colleagues over at the office. Billy had a tape retrieved from the hillside recording unit that he picked up Sunday afternoon.

"Good morning, Barry. There's something here you should listen to. Over the weekend there was a meeting in the general's office."

"Yeah? What's the subject?"

"Apparently the general just found out about the cutback in the Phase Zero money. He's pretty ticked off."

"I heard about that. Down to $12 million for each of just two contractors, right?"

"Yup. And the meeting was all about what that'll do to the overall program. You'd better have a listen." Then Billy gave Barry the headphones so he could hear the tape.

It sounded as if there were three or four people in the general's office. One guy said that the change in funding was a total surprise. Another, unidentified voice, said he wasn't surprised. It sounded like game playing by DixieAero in collaboration with Senator Carrington. The gist of the remaining discussion told Barry that it was a good thing he stuck up that deal with Dixon. Time will be critical and StratoWest needed every edge it could get. He was surprised to learn that there would be no bidders' briefing attendant to the RFP's release. That was unusual, for such a briefing would be an important opportunity for prospective bidders to get clarification on the major elements of the solicitation package. Bidders would be allowed to submit written questions and get Project Office answers, though all bidders would get copies of all the queries and responses.

"Yeah, this is important stuff, and your bird feeder seems to coming in clear as a bell," Barry exclaimed on handing the earphones back to Billy.

Then he told his companions about getting word from Darnelle in Atlanta and his deal with Major Dixon for a copy of the RFP. Bret was impressed, saying that Barry really made progress this month.

"I'm hoping to get in a round of golf with General Donneley on Tuesday. Maybe I'll learn more of use then."

Billy asked if Bert ever did anything with the bird feeder that had fallen off the window. "Yes," Barry replied, "it's working just fine and he made another single-channel receiver unit for it like the one out there getting the general's office conversations."

"Where are going to use it?"

"Probably down at DixieAero. I'll have to chat with Darnelle about the best place to put it. I'm inclined to suggest the engineering conference room or their XC project management information center, where they hold design review meetings. We'll have to see."

"Did you get my email about Dolly's latest report?" Bert asked.

"Yes. I sure did. That gal is on the ball. She had the cut-back info pretty quickly. That's good. Give her a pat on the back for me, will you?"

"Sure, but slipping her a fifty would probably be appreciate more."

Barry reached into his wallet and pulled out $50 and handed it to Bert, who in turn handed it to Billy, saying, "Here Billy. You can slip it to her at lunchtime."

Late Monday afternoon Barry called General Donneley's office to inquire about the Tuesday game. The general's secretary surprised Barry by saying that the game was off. The general's trip was extended a few days and he wouldn't be back until the weekend. Barry asked he to pass the message the he would be unavailable then. "Tell the general that I'll catch him on my next trip."

He turned to Bret and said, "Well, the golf game is off. I guess I'll head back to D.C. The trip was still a success though, especially if Dixon really comes through. You fellows keep listening to see if there are any changes in the schedule for releasing the RFP."

"Sure will, but you know from where I sit it's beginning to look like the likely tow competitors will be approaching the design from broadly different angles. DixieAero apparently favors a highly advanced high tech and costly airplane, while StratoWest will offer up a cheaper, simpler and less exotic design," Bret offered.

"You may be right, and from what Dixon tells me the Transportation Command folks would prefer the latter, while ACC may want the bells and whistles for the assault version. We'll just have to wait and see whose wish list really influences the RFP and the Phase One reports," Barry added.

Barry called the airlines and changed his return flight to Washington so that he could head back there right away and not stay over longer. He told Billy and Bret that he'd probably not return until he had to deliver the new golf clubs to Dixon.

The flight back to Dulles went smoothly, getting him there shortly after dinnertime. He got to the brownstone just at dusk. There were several voice mail messages waiting for him. He briefly scanned the tape and decided whatever there was could wait until after his own supper. He found a frozen pizza in the fridge and decided that would do, along with some salad makings that didn't appear too wilted or brown.

Around 9:45 Barry was seated in the living room with his pizza, salad and a beer. He was watching the television when Caroline came down from her room, headed for the refrigerator.

"Hello, Barry. I didn't know you were back."

"Yes. I got in this evening. How's it going?"

"Fine. I was just headed for a little snack before bed. I see you've got yours. Oh my, that salad looks like it's seen better days. Are you sure you're actually going to eat that?"

"Oh sure. I've got the basic food groups here, a pizza that's getting cold, a brown salad and a beer. Who could want anything more?" he said with a laugh.

Caroline sat down next to him with a bottle of fruit juice. "What are you watching?"

"A dumb movie. I'm just waiting for the news to come on at 10:00. Oh, I have something to tell you from our mutual friend, the ex-Air Force captain. She is now a DixieAero engineer, thanks to you."

"Wonderful. Oh, I'm so glad that she found something so quickly."

"Well, you did it. She really appreciated your passing along her resume and for the senator's help. She just started last week."

"What's she doing at DixieAero?"

"They put her into the crew station design group, something to do with a new transport airplane. She loves it."

"I'll bet it's that XC-109 I've been reading about at the office. The senator is really interested in that."

"Oh?" Barry asked, trying to sound uninformed. "What is this XC-109 anyway."

"The senator says that it'll be the most modern and sophisticated military transport every built. He is sound proud that it's going to be built in Georgia."

"How do you know that it'll be built down there?"

"Well, it just has to be. We need the jobs. And the senator says that if he has his way that's where it'll be built. That's all. And you know how powerful and influential he is."

"Yes indeed. He's quite a fellow."

Shortly after the first ten minutes of the news, Caroline excused herself, saying "I've got to get my beauty sleep. Can't be late for work, you know."

"Goodnight, Caroline. It was nice having you join me. Sleep well."

"Ben? Barry here. How's it going?"

"Pretty good, I guess. And you?"

"Well, I've got some news that you ought to know about. What say we do lunch today? Maxies?"

"Yeah, sure. This is Monday, Right? I'm free at noon."

"Okay, See you then."

Barry felt it appropriate to share with his long-time friend and associate how things were going. He also felt it was time to get Ben to do some of the traveling.

Maxie's was crowded, as usual, when Barry walked in. He was delighted to see that Ben was already there and had claimed a booth. "Hi, Ben. Good planning, your getting here early." Ben stood up and shook Barry's hand.

"So? What news have you?"

"I guess you heard about the proposal response time being cut?"

"Yeah, down to 75 days."

"Yup, and they are cutting the funding for Phase Zero work. Looks like DixieAero has been twisting arms."

Barry briefed his colleague on what he'd learned about the maneuvering by DixieAero. And then he explained how Darnelle was in place and ready to provide information on what StratoWest's competitor was doing.

"Yes, but the best part is that I have a source at Wright-Pat now who can get us a copy of the RFP ahead of its official release."

"How in the hell did you manage that?"

Barry explained about Major Dixon and the golf clubs. Ben laughed and declared, "You've still got the touch, my friend. Yes indeed."

"Well, that brings up something we need to talk about. I need you to travel a bit now. I can't be effective in six places at once, so I'd like you to become the principal interface with Darnelle. Would you fly down to Atlanta with me next week so I can get you two to know each other?"

"Yeah. I suppose so. And where else do you want me to go?"

"That's it. If you'd cover the Atlanta end, I'll work with the fellows in Dayton and hit Langley from time to time as well."

"Okay. I can do that."

"Oh, and there are some new toys we've developed, Bert and I, that might be useful." And Barry explained about the bird feeder and the eyeglass camera gadget, as yet unproven."

"Sounds like James Bond, Barry."

"Yeah, James Bond on a shoestring. We don't have MI-5 behind us."

"The bird feeder devices have been very effective at Wright Field. Bret and Billy are keeping tabs on what's happening in the XC project office. And we've got a gal, Dolly, on the inside. She's a clerical type but in the right place to gather important info. She was the first, in fact, to find out about the funding cutback."

"You say we'll be going to Atlanta next week? So what specifically do you want me to do with the gal inside DixieAero?"

Barry explained more about Darnelle's family problems, her brother Nestor, her mother and the medical costs that she could only cover by being on the two payrolls. "I want you," Barry explained, "to keep her spirits up, keep her focused on what we're trying to do, and become her main point of contact for information exchanges. You'll need to keep in touch regularly by our secure email system. But you'll also have to go down there whenever she has anything special to pass our way."

"Sure. Can do. What day are we going down next week?"

"Let's shoot for Thursday, just an overnight trip. We can be back here Friday night. I'll call her and tell her we're coming. Her apartment might be a good place to meet."

"Yeah. Fine. You want me to get Betty to make our flight reservations?"

"Please do. We'll go down early, spend that day getting the lay of the land at DixieAero and meet her in the evening."

"Okay. Now I have some news for you."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Well, my sources over in the Pentagon tell me that there's a real fight brewing between the advocates for the XC at ACC and the guys in Transportation Command."

"I've heard a little about their disagreements. What specifically have you picked up?"

"It seems the guys at Langley favor a pretty exotic design, which I gather they have been promoting down at DixieAero. They want a full Category One landing system, a whole suite of electronic warfare gear and a full night vision system. But the catch is that right now Transportation Command is in charge of the requirements definition work. They favor a simple, low-cost of ownership cargo hauler that is capable of carrying 75,000 pounds of men or equipment half way around the world without aerial refueling."

"Sounds like they each want different airplanes," Barry offered.

"That's the problem. There will only be one and there is no reconciling their differences. There have been some heated arguments in the Pentagon between advocates on both sides. The ACC demands could well sink the whole show and blow the entire budget. But if Transportation gets their way, ACC may decline to accept any of the birds."

"What about the Army? Surely they get a voice here since it'll be ground troops or paratroopers who get hauled around."

"The Army badly wants a new airplane. They support the Transportation guys and say let's just get on with it. They know the C-130's are old and getting older. And with rapid deployments the name of the game now, they favor a long range troop carrier that can get the job done reliably and quickly. They know that sophisticated airplanes are expensive, need lots of maintenance and carry so much equipment that payloads often suffer."

"So? Who do you think will win out?"

"Unfortunately, I think DixieAero will. They've got allies down at Langley and Senator Carrington beating the drum for them."

"What would you do if you were given a vote?"

"Me? Hell, it's a no-brainer from where I sit. I'd go with the cheaper and simpler airplane and worry about upgrades later. I'd tell whoever is designing the airplane to make provisions for growth, like space, power and cooling for added avionics, expendable countermeasures systems and the bells and whistles that they can later justify in view of threats. I mean real threats, not worst case nightmare threats."

"How much do you think the ACC wish would add to the weight and costs of the XC?"

"My view is that it'll double the costs and lower payload capabilities, as well as range, by a quarter."

"You mean acquisition costs?"

"No. I mean both, acquisition and life-cycle costs. All that fancy gear requires skilled trained technicians or contractor support, forever. And it'll probably call for at least one added crewmember to operate and control the equipment. Those costs add up over the life of the airplane. Give me simplicity, reliability and lower costs."

"Amen to that, but there may be a compromise. I fully expect that something will come out of the Phase Zero effort that could lead to some kind of compromise."

"You really believe that? Not me. I see positions hardening on both sides," Ben suggested. "I see a real fight that could either delay the program a few years or kill it entirely. Those C-130's will be like the B-52's. They'll have to go on and on while the in-fighting holds things up."

"You could be right. And if that happens, StratoWest will be long gone. This is do or die for them and time is not their ally."

"What about the Marines and even the Coast Guard. They use C-130's too. Where do they come down on this argument?"

"Good question. I haven't a clue. Oh, on another matter, our finances. How are we doing? Have we spent all the funds that StratoWest allocated for this project?"

"No. I think we've barely spent a third. Why? Do you know something I don't?"

"Well, Stan was giving Bart and me a hard time about our spending too much. He knows you've got some folks in Dayton drawing paychecks, and there's the DANCO office here, with you, me and Betty. And don't forget Bert. He doesn't know about Darnelle."

"Ah hell, don't worry about Stan. With luck he'll be gone by the first of the month and Bart will be the new StratoWest office manager. I'll get with Betty today and go over the books. Don't worry about it."

"Okay, if you say so."

That night, in the brownstone, Barry picked up a couple new ZIP disk records from Bert. They included message traffic from both Carrington's office and exchanges between Phil and his Pentagon computer. It was around 8:00 PM when Bert dropped by, carrying a small box about the size of a shoebox.

"What's in there, my friend?"

"This you gotta see, Barry. Come on down in the basement where we can try this out undisturbed."

"Okay. Lead on."

Bert opened the cinderbock room door and motioned for Barry to follow him inside. "Close the door. I don't want anybody else to see this," he urged. "Look at these. Here are your digital camera eyeglasses."

"Hey, those look great. Do they work?"

"Do they work? Do roosters crow? Of course they work. Here, try on the man's pair."

And soon Barry was wearing the ordinary looking horn-rimmed glasses, with a small black cable connecting the two ear pieces and an extension cable connected to a little box the size of a cigarette case.

"It's all there, Barry. You've got your basic eyeglasses, no prescription in the lenses, a specially ground camera lens on the right side, with a matching dummy lense on the left, and the connection cable to the electronics box. The gold-colored metal band at the bridge is actually the shutter switch."

"Hey, this is lightweight. So let's see it work. Where's the main on-off switch?"

"That tab on the case, that looks like an opener for a cigarette case, is a push button. Push once and it's on. Push again and it's off. Simple, eh?"

"Where do I carry the box or case part?"

"Put it in your shirt pocket or inside your coat. The fiber cable looks like an eyeglasses chain that folks who don't always wear their glasses use. You've seen people with their glasses suspended on their chest."

"Yeah, but this extended cable that connects to the box isn't normal. Won't it draw attention?"

"Hey. I just made 'em. It's your job to see that they aren't suspicious."

"Okay. Let's try it out. Turn on that screen over there on the counter, next to the server's processor box."

"Wait a second, Barry. Slip the extender cable over your left shoulder and put the case in your pocket. Now push the on-off button."

"Like this?"

"Yes. That's right."

"Now look at the screen. That's it. Stay about 18 inches away, just about normal viewing distance, like you would working on a computer. Okay. Ready?"

"Ready."

"With your left hand, index finger, push the bridge of the glasses while looking at the screen."

"Okay. I did it. There wasn't a sound. No shutter click or anything."

"There isn't supposed to be. Every push on the bridge takes another picture, silently."

"Okay. I took a picture. Now what?"

"When you get back here, all you do is take out the case, open it up and remove the memory stick. It's easy to remove and then you slip it into this other box here," Bert explained taking a small metal box out of the carton.

"That connects to a PC, right?"

"Right on. It uses the very same connection, a Universal Serial Bus (USB) port that any home digital camera would use. Here let me show you."

Bert took the whole rig off Barry, opened the case and extracted the memory stick, a device about the size of a stick of chewing gum, only thicker, and connected another small cable to it. The opposite end he plugged into the USB port of the server computer on the bench.

"I've already installed the software, so in a second we can click on the screen icon and view the image you just captured."

"How about that?" Barry exclaimed, as the screen soon showed the picture that Barry just took a few minutes ago.

"It's a little dark, I know. But the aperture of the lense isn't that great. But with the image enhancing software, we can fix that. Here let me show you." And Bert fiddled with the image, using the special software. "Now then. How's that?"

"It's great, Bert. I can read all the words on the screen that were captured by the camera. It works very good."

"That'll be $1500 please. I do good work, but I ain't cheap. You owe me for the expenses I've incurred. And you did say something about ten grand, when I delivered."

"That I did. You've earned it. But first you have to show me the lady's pair works too."

Bert put on the lady's pair, with rhinestone decorations masking the actual camera lens.

"Oh, that's you. You look adorable."

"Knock it off. It works just like the other one, only a woman would have to stuff the electronics box in her bra or something. And I'm not wearing a bra."

"Not today?" Barry laughed.

"No. Not any day. Cut that out."

And soon Bert showed Barry that a picture just taken with the lady's model would also appear on the read-out screen.

"Okay, Bert. How long will the battery last? How many pictures are stored on a memory stick? And are there any spare memory sticks?"

"About two days, 100 and yes."

"Good. You've earned your ten g's. I'll get you the cash tomorrow. Okay?"

"Great. Cash is good. I'll be by tomorrow evening, same time."

"Okay. Let's close up down here. And let's put these back inside the shoebox. Have you written down any instructions or operating procedures?"

"No. You want some?"

"Yes, please. Bring that by tomorrow night when I pay you. Can you do that?"

"Yeah. Sure. See you tomorrow night. Don't forget. That's the ten g's plus the $1500. Bye."

Wednesday evening Barry called Darnelle, reaching her at her apartment. "Hi gal. How's the job going?"

"It's getting hectic, Barry. They know the RFP is due out on the first of the month and they're doing all they can to be ready. The place is a zoo."

"I can imagine. Have you any ideas about what'll be in the RFP?"

"Not really. DixieAero is trying to second-guess what they expect, and they do have inputs from the folks at ACC Langley, but it's still a crap shoot."

"I was wondering, Darnelle, if you'd be available this Friday evening for a meeting. I'm bringing my key assistant, Ben Brigham, with me. Could we meet at your place?"

"Yes, sure. What time?"

"Oh, how about 7:00 PM?"

"That's fine. I get home from work around 6:00, so 7:00 will be all right."

"Ben and I could pick up a pizza and a salad. Would that interest you?"

"That would be fine. Have 'em put some pepperoni on part of it, maybe just two pieces. I'm not too keen on most of the other stuff they put on them."

"You got it. How about some wine?"

"I've got a few bottles around here. No, don't bother with the wine."

"Okay then, we'll see you Friday. If anything comes up I'll be at the same motel as last time."

"See you Friday. Bye now."

Barry decided to bring the bird feeder and receiver unit along. He didn't know yet where or how they would get it set up, but he was sure that soon it would prove invaluable.

It surprised him that DixieAero didn't seem to have the details of what would be in the RFP. But then, neither did he, yet.

An email message from Billy indicated that Dolly heard the RFP was finished. It was circulating around the AMC headquarters for blessing by the contracts and legal departments. Soon it would be sent to the Pentagon for final approval before release on the first. She still has not seen the whole thing, but she gave Billy a portion dealing with documentation requirements for successful bidders. Billy asked if Barry wanted an email copy of that portion. Since Dolly worked in the Configuration Management office, he was not surprised that she would know of the documentation sections. Barry told Billy to forward whatever he had.

That afternoon, Barry and Betty went over the financials, totaling up what had been spent out of StratoWest's allocation. So far they were close to what Barry estimated, if he didn't count Darnelle's costs. Those would be charged to StratoWest's engineering budget and not this effort.

Just before quitting time, he stopped by the StratoWest office. Stan happened to be near the front door when Barry walked in. Stan was smiling and seemed unusually friendly.

"You look like you just swallowed the canary," Barry greeted.

"Do I? Well this is a happy day for me. I'm getting out of here."

"Going back to La La land?"

"Yes. Stu just hired Bart as the D.C. office manager, so I'm outa here. So what do you want?"

"I just came by to let you know that we've run the numbers and our spending is barely one-third of what Stockman authorized. We're about where we should be."

"Oh that. Don't worry about it. I've already checked with Stu and he confirms your numbers. I just wanted to be sure you didn't blow the budget on my watch here."

Barry scowled and really wanted to have words, but decided that it would serve no purpose. And besides, he realized. This idiot will be gone soon.

"Is Bart here?"

"No. He's over at the House office building with Ben, I think."

"Okay. Just tell him I dropped by."

"Yeah. Okay."

Barry headed for the brownstone. Caroline was in the kitchen when he came in.

"Hi gal. What's up?"

"I decided I wanted a home cooked meal, so I took of an hour early and went to the grocery store. Would you care to join me for some friend chicken, black-eyed peas and some greens?"

"Sure. That would be nice. Can I get anything?"

"Nope. I have it all. Where do you keep the big frying pan?"

"It's in the drawer under the stove."

"Let's see. It's quarter to five now. Supper will be on the table at 6:30, unless I screw it up. If you see smoke, You'll know."

"You have cooked before, haven't you?" an apprehensive Barry asked the suddenly domestic girl.

"Yes, lots. Don't worry. I won't poison you."

"Well, just sing out if you need anything. I'm going to do some reading. 6:30, you say?"

"Yup."

About the time that Caroline had dinner on the table, Phil came in. "Oh boy, something smells good," he exclaimed, pausing before walking up the stairs.

Around the corner of the kitchen, Caroline popped her head out and said, "Why thank you, sir. There's plenty. Care to join Barry and me?"

"I'd love to, but I gotta get back to the office. I just came home to change clothes. Smells like fried chicken."

"It'll be ready at 6:30. Sure you won't join us?"

"Well, I suppose I could stay a little while. Sure. Why not?"

At 6:30 on the dot, Caroline called out, "Supper's ready. Come and get it."

The phone rang and Barry hurried to answer it. "Be right with you, Caroline. I'll just take this call first."

"Hello, Barry here."

"Barry, get those clubs ready. I've got the package for you," explained Major Dixon.

"You have? Terrific."

"Yup. Two diskettes, just as I figured. So when do you want to make the exchange?"

"I have to go out of town on Friday. How about Monday? I'll call you when I get to Dayton. I tell you what. Monday afternoon I'll take you to the best pro shop in your area and we'll pick you up a brand new set. Will that do?"

"Sure will. I'll bring the merchandise and then we can go shopping. Call me Monday, okay?"

"You bet. See you then. And thanks."

Barry hung up the phone, a bit smile across his face. Then he headed back to the kitchen, where Caroline and Phil were already seated.

"Musta been good news," Phil commented. "You've got a happy face."

"Oh yes, very good news. I have to see some people out of town this weekend. In fact, I'll be leaving Thursday."

"That's tomorrow," Caroline reminded.

"Right you are. Guess that means I'll have to pack tonight. I probably won't be back until the middle of next week."

"Where are you going?" Phil inquired.

"Atlanta and then Ohio."

"Atlanta?" Caroline echoed with interest. "I didn't know you traveled down to my home town. Maybe we can meet there sometime and you could come over the house. My folks would like to meet you. I've told them how nice you are."

"Really? Well, we'll just have to arrange that one of these days."

"Phil's got to go back to work tonight. Can you imagine that?" Caroline declared.

"Night work? At the Pentagon?" Barry asked in surprise. "No international crisis, I hope."

"No. Nothing that serious. And besides, I'm not a warrior type. I'm just a bean counter. Remember?"

"Well, what's so bean counting serious these days? The next year's budget is not pressing now, is it?"

"In a way. We're working on rearranging some monies from this year to fund the startup of a new cargo plane program. It's something they call the XC-109."

"I know about that," Caroline interrupted. "My boss, the senator, says that's going to be a big deal for Georgia workers. It's going to be built in Atlanta, he says."

Playing dumb, Barry asked, "What's an XC-109?"

"Oh, Barry. I told you about that. Don't you remember?"

"Hmmmm. I guess maybe you did. You mentioned a new airplane, but I guess I didn't connect the name 'XC-109' with it. So, Phil, how much money are they talking about?"

"I'm not positive on the totals yet, but for the remainder of this year it's under $100 million. Next year though it'll really jump. There's some talk of an accelerated R&D effort leading to new airplanes to be delivered in just two years."

"My goodness," Barry exclaimed, feigning total unawareness of the magnitude of such a program. "What is the urgency?"

"The Army and the Air Force are determined to start replacing the old, worn-out C-130's, they say. I don't know too much about it, but some of the older planes are more than 30 years old. They've got pilots younger than that flying them."

"Sounds almost like the old B-52's. They've been around a long time too."

"That's for sure. I work with a former officer who retired from the Air Force and is now a financial analyst. He flew in some of the B-52's that are still out there. That shows you how old the inventory is. And even some of the fighters, like the F-16's are 25 years old or more."

"The senator told us," Caroline added, "that today's' military doesn't need strategic bombers. What they need are new transports and fighters."

"Well, he's probably not too far off the mark, Caroline," Barry respectfully agreed. "The Cold War is over and priorities have changed."

"That's what I hear from some of the long-time civilians in the Pentagon," Phil commented. "The days when the nuclear Navy and the Strategic Air Command got all the money are gone."

"So tell me, Phil, How many of these new transports, these XC-109's, are they budgeting for?"

"I heard that they want 300 of them, but not all at once. It'll probably be a five-year procurement. It all depends on how much the industry charges for the new planes. If it's like the B-2 bomber, they'll probably only buy two."
"I guess you don't get in on the particulars like how big the planes are supposed to be? How many engines and stuff like that?"

"No. All I deal with is budgets, not design or performance numbers," Phil responded.

After the meal, Barry helped Caroline do the dishes. Phil had long since left for his Pentagon office. At 8:30 the doorbell rang. It was Bert.

"Come on in Bert."

"How domesticated you look, Barry, with that apron, dishtowel and all."

"Yeah, well don't let it get around. I suppose you're here for your money, right?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Come on in to my apartment. I've got it for you."

Caroline heard the voices, though did not make out what was being said. She leaned out of the kitchen doorway. "Sorry, Bert. You just missed some of my special fried chicken."

"Hi, Caroline. That's the story of my life, always late to supper," Bert loudly called back, as she disappeared into the kitchen to finish her chores.

Barry counted out a stack of fresh $100 bills, the $10,000 plus the $1,500. "Okay. Now just don't get mugged on the way home. No replacements available."

"Okay. Gotcha. Are you taking the glasses to Dayton?" Bert quietly inquired.

"Yes. The man's set I'll leave there. The lady's goes to Atlanta, along with the bird feeder and recorder unit."

"Well, I'd appreciate knowing how the glasses really work in the field. We just might have a commercial product there. I figure we could get five g's for a set, man's or woman's."

"You think so? I kinda doubt if it would be a mass market item."

"Yeah. You're probably right. We'll just have to double the price and sell 'em to the government, like hammers and toilet seats, you know."

The flight down to Atlanta from Dulles was uneventful, though somewhat bumpy due to afternoon thunderstorms over the Carolinas. Ben and Barry arrived shortly after 4:00 PM on Thursday. They rented a car and headed for the motel where Barry stayed the last time.

After checking in and finding their rooms, Barry called Darnelle's apartment. Her answering machine took his message that merely said they were in town and would get together Friday at 7:00 PM. Then Barry spent a few minutes demonstrating for Ben how the new eyeglass camera worked.

"Hey. That's neat. Let's try it with your laptop, that you brought along."

Barry hooked up the cable between the glasses frame and the electronics box shaped like a compact. He put on the glasses and looked at Ben.

"Not exactly your style, my friend," Ben commented with a laugh on watching Barry wear the woman's style.

"Well it's not for me. It's for Darnelle. Here, watch while I take some shots of the laptop screen."

Barry booted up his laptop and called up the screen for a card game. Then he turned on the camera power switch and faced the screen. His left index finger pushed up against the bridge of the glasses frame. "There. We've got a shot now, but how about turning on the television. I'll try a shot of that screen too, and perhaps one of the newspaper over by the table lamp."

Soon Barry returned to the laptop and took off the glasses. He removed the compact cable connection and hooked up another between the electronics box (compact) and his laptop. In seconds he called up the images just taken.

"How's that. Pretty good, wouldn't you say?"

"I suppose, but it looks a little on the dark side," complained Ben.

"Well, wait a second and I'll brighten it up with the image enhancing software." And soon the picture turned lighter and finally with improved contrast.

"That looks great."

"Yes it does. Bert did a good job on these. And he tells me that the memory stick will each capture 100 images, all in standard 'JPEG' format."

"You're going to have Darnelle wear this? Does she normally wear glasses?"

"No. But we'll suggest that she can claim she needs these sometimes for extended work on her computer. If she's casual about it, I don't think anybody at DixieAero will make much of it."

After going out to supper, Barry drove Ben to the DixieAero plant. He pointed out the several buildings he'd toured on his last visit, the time he pretended to be an investor and got the PR department to squire him around.

"Over there, the building with the big windows facing the flightline, is the engineering center where Darnelle works. I don't know yet which window is the one for the conference room or their control room. Darnelle will have to show us."

"Well, if it's one of those, how will you ever get the bird feeder set up? And where will you set up the recorder unit. It's a long way to the fence on the opposite side of the field," Ben asked.

"Dunno yet. That may be your problem to solve. But look closely at those windows, especially the middle ones on the second floor. Some of them appear to be the kind that the top part tilts up to open. Maybe the feeder could be installed from the inside onto the fixed lower part, with the suction cups popped in place in just seconds. I just hope that's possible outside the two rooms we need to bug."

"I'll talk it over with Darnelle," Ben replied.

Barry drove around to the other side of the airfield, noting places along the fence where he had a line of sight view back toward the engineering building. A small wooded area next to the fence seemed ideal for hiding the recorder unit, that green metal post marked with a Potomac Bell logo. He pulled off to the side of the perimeter road, up over the curb and parked next to the trees.

"Come over here," Barry requested of Ben. "Look there, next to that little tree where the fence is lifted up a bit. If you could place the recorder on the inside of the fence, there to the left of the hole in the fence, you'd have an unobstructed view of the engineering building."

"Yeah, I suppose so, but it would be inconvenient as hell to get to it for changing the battery and the tape. Why not put it up in that tree, on that branch over your head?"

"Who ever heard of a phone box in a tree? No, that wouldn't do. Anybody seeing it up there would get suspicious. They're less likely to get curious or bother it at ground level. Inconvenient or not, I think that spot just inside the fence is best."

"Okay. I'll give it a try, after I confirm which window Darnelle suggests using. I guess I'll be either staying here an extra few days, or coming back down later. This isn't going to be as easy as you led me to believe. There's more to it than simply holding hands with Darnelle."

"Let's head back to the motel and discuss our options. And we can think about where we might go for a drink."

"I agree."

The next day, both men were up and dressed before 8:00 AM. The weather was good and Barry considered sneaking off for a few hours to play golf, but decided spending the time with Ben was more useful. After breakfast they drove to the address Darnelle gave for her new apartment, just to be sure they could find it later.

"Nice digs," Ben declared. "Having two paychecks isn't all bad, is it?"

"She'll earn it."

Then they drove over to the nursing home where Darnelle's brother, Nestor, was a patient. It was in an older part of town, but appeared to be in good shape and not at all run down. It was a large campus-like complex.

"Sure doesn't look like five grand a month, does it?' Barry muttered as they drove through the grounds. "Medical care sure ain't cheap."

"How long will her brother have to stay here?" Ben asked.

"I don't know, but it could be years."

Later they drove into the neighborhood where Darnelle's mother lived, just to give Ben a sense of Darnelle's family situation and the environment she overcame in getting her education and engineering career started.

"I gotta hand it to her. Any kid growing up in this poor section would have had a hard time. I am amazed that she got to go to Georgia Tech, and even more so that from this she became their top grad and then an Air Force officer. She must be an exceptional gal," Ben observed.

"I couldn't agree more, but when you meet her tonight, you'll be as impressed as I was. Spunky lady."

Before lunch they headed for an electronics supply store, where Barry could pick up a spare battery, a charging unit, some spare tapes and some memory sticks. "You'll need these. Darnelle can keep 'em for you at her place."

Over lunch and throughout the afternoon, Ben and Barry talked about how to best utilize Darnelle's talents and her access to DixieAero's XC project group. They agreed that her first order of business had to be collecting data pertaining to the design concepts they would develop during Phase Zero efforts. But Barry suggested that it was just as vital for her to feed them the details of their evolving proposal in response to the RFP. They didn't want any surprises which might catch StratoWest off guard.

At 6:00 PM the two headed for a pizza restaurant. While the take-out order of a large pizza and a salad was being prepared, they sipped coffee in a booth. Barry remembered Darnelle's request for pepperoni only on a third of the pizza. He and Ben ordered the works on the remaining parts.

It was just 7:00 when they arrived at Darnelle's door. She greeted them with a broad smile and welcomed them to her new apartment.

"Darnelle, I want you to meet Ben Brigham, my long time friend and associate," Barry began.

Darnelle extended her hand, which Ben took and shook gently. "Pleased to meet you, Ben. Welcome. Please, gentlemen, come in," she urged.

Ben reluctantly let go of her hand, obviously entranced by the delightful creature before him. "Barry, you told me this lady is bright, talented and charming, but you neglected to mention that she's truly beautiful, a total package."

"You make me blush, sir. But I'd rather not be described as a package. I consider myself a trained professional, an engineer and a former officer."

"Please, Darnelle. No offense intended," a now embarrassed Ben stammered.

Darnelle laughed. "None taken, I assure you. Here, Barry, put the pizza on the kitchen counter. I'll get a bowl for that salad."

The dining room table was already set, even with two tall red candles, not yet lit. A bottle of burgundy rested in a bucket of ice at the corner of the table.

"Ben, would you do the honors of opening the wine. And Barry, you can light the candles, while I put the salad in the bowl and find some dressings."

Darnelle disappeared into the kitchen while Ben and Barry worked at the table. Ben looked at Barry, obviously showing that he was impressed with Darnelle. "She's a real gem," he whispered.

"Yeah, and smart as a whip too. Don't try to fool her. It won't work."

When Darnelle reappeared with the pizza and the salad bowl, she asked what kind of dressing her guests would like. She mentioned three choices. Both men opted for the blue cheese.

"Darnelle?" Barry began right in talking shop, "Did you hear that the RFP has been completed and is now at the Pentagon for final approvals? Looks like it'll sure enough come out on the first."

"No. I hadn't heard that, but I do know that there will be funding for just two Phase Zero contracts. DixieAero is confident they'll be one of 'em."

"Most likely, but our job is to make sure StratoWest is the other."

The three sat down, Ben pouring the wine. Then he raised his glass to toast the newest member of the DANCO team. Darnelle smiled.

"You know, gentlemen, that I never in the world imagined that I would ever be involved in this kind of intrigue or spying. I have to admit that I consider it really a necessary evil, because of my brother's situation and my mother's special needs."

"We appreciate that, Darnelle, but you are a key player in all of this and we are mighty glad to have you aboard," Barry responded, in his most gracious manner. "So, how is your brother doing? Is the nursing home suitable?"

"Oh yes, they are treating him well there. And Momma is much better now that she sees the care he is getting. She just cannot fathom how I can afford to pay for it all. I, of course, haven’t told her how much it costs or where I am getting the much appreciated financial support."

After the three polished off the whole pizza and most of the salad, Darnelle suggested they move into the living room, where the chairs were more comfortable. Ben insisted in helping her clear the table and scrape the dishes before placing them in the dish washer. In just a few minutes the entire dinner mess was cleared away.

"I've got some things in the car, Darnelle, that I wanted to ask you to store here. It's equipment we’ll need for the operation," Barry explained.

"Sure. Bring it in. I've got plenty of room in the closet of the second bedroom. What is it?"

"It's some high tech equipment that will assist you in collecting the information StratoWest needs."

"Spy equipment? Bugs? And that sort?"

"Let me get it and I'll explain." And Barry went out to the car.

"You're staring at me, Ben. Have I got pizza sauce on my face?"

"Oh, sorry. No. I'm just overwhelmed by such a beautiful lady. You are not what I expected, for a whiz of an engineer and an ex-USAF captain."

"No, Ben. I don't wear thick glasses or have my hair in a schoolmarm's bun. I'm just an ordinary woman." She was relieved to have Barry return so quickly. He carried two boxes, each about the size of a breadbox.

"What have you got there, Barry?"

Barry placed the boxes on the living room floor. He proceeded to open one and extracted the lady's eyeglasses. He then put them on and looked at Darnelle. She laughed and asked, "What in the world are those for? And they are too small for you. They make you look dorky."

Barry smiled and then handed them to her, suggesting, "Here. You put them on and I'll explain."

"I don't wear glasses. What would I do with these? Though I do admit they aren't bad looking."

Barry then described what the glasses really were. Darnelle was amazed, impressed and genuinely surprised. "Really? These are for a digital camera. I can't believe it. I've never heard of anything like them."

Barry described how they were made, what each component did and how they operated. He asked her to try them out. And then he explained that he would install the image processing software on her laptop computer.

"Amazing. Absolutely amazing. Where did you ever find them?"

"My associate, Bert, made them. He made a pair for you to use here and another pair we'll take to Dayton."

"So what do you want me to do with them?"

"Simply look at things that might be useful and unobtrusively click away. They are absolutely silent. Nobody will be the wiser. You just have to be sure you are in a well-lit area. The small lens is not very fast and doesn't do well in dimly lit areas. Also, the optics are fixed with optimum distances to subjects around two feet."

"You could take pictures of computer screens, blueprints, parts lists, graphs, charts and so forth," Ben explained further.

"Okay. I guess if I'm going to be in this spy business I have to get used to the special tolls of the trade. These are amazing."

Barry opened the second box and pulled out a bird feeder. Darnelle looked at him with a puzzled expression. "What in the world are you going to do with that? Are you a birder too?"

And then Barry described the special capabilities of what looked like an ordinary bird feeder. Finally, he pulled from the second box the recorder and receiver unit. He explained how these parts all worked together.

"But we need you to figure out how to put the feeder in place and tell Ben which window he should point the receiver at. Once you've got it set up, you can forget all about it."

"You guys never cease to surprise me," she declared with a startled look. "I never realized that you had such a complex and sophisticated operation. Where did this come from? The CIA?"

"Not exactly, but you are close. Ben and I were CIA operatives for years. Now we are in business for ourselves. DANCO is our enterprise." Barry went on to give her a little more information about who they were and what they did for industry, as well as some government clients. "Welcome to a very small niche operations, Darnelle."

"Wow. Is this kind of thing done everywhere?"

"More than you might think. We're just a small outfit. Others in the US are much bigger and the international market is served by some really big organizations. It's not just governments that do spying. Hell, even the toy manufacturers spy on each other."

"I'm overwhelmed," Darnelle admitted.

"Get your laptop and I'll show you what the software does and we'll view some of the images you just captured on this little memory stick."

Darnelle got up and headed for her bedroom. While she was gone, Ben whispered to Barry, "Are you sure you should have told her so much about us and what we do?"

"Don't worry. She's okay, I tell you. I trust her."

"How can you trust a gal that's both so smart and so damned good looking?"

Coming back into the living room, Darnelle exclaimed, "Here it is, Barry. Do you want the power source too, or will it do its thing on the battery alone."

"It should work on the battery, but you might get the power pack so we can check everything out. The first thing I'm going to do is install the imagery management software. Then we can hook up the power stick to the data transfer unit and view the shots you just took."

Soon Darnelle viewed the sample images taken around her apartment. "Those are great. Even the pages of that magazine are readable. Only the one in the kitchen is too dark to be useful, but I see what you mean by it needing brighter light."

Until nearly midnight, Barry and Ben explained to Darnelle what the envisioned as her main tasks on behalf of StratoWest. Ben told her that he would become her primary contact at DANCO and that Barry would become involved only in special situations or if any serious problems arose. Darnelle was a little disappointed, but accepted the explanation of how things had to be. She also indicated she understood how important her work was to StratoWest. She agreed to do her best.

They agreed to get together in the morning. Ben said that he wanted to meet her brother and see how he was doing at the nursing home. He asked to meet her mother too, but didn't press the matter. He didn't want to make things uncomfortable for either of the women.

Barry suggested they meet for breakfast and they agreed to meet at a place Darnelle suggested which was not far from the nursing home.

Saturday morning, after breakfast, Barry drove Ben and Darnelle over to the spot where he thought the bird feeder monitor and recording unit might work. Darnelle said she thought the window with the drawn curtains, second floor middle, was the control room. She suggested that they consider using the bird feeder outside the conference room though, for there were always meetings going on in there and more conversations could be recorded. The control room, she explained, was really only where the progress charts were kept on sliding wall panels. Only when customers visited did they really use that place, primarily to impress them.

"Well, we could start out there and if it doesn't prove productive, we could certainly move it elsewhere. Do you think you could affix the feeder to one of those windows without attracting too much attention?"

"Oh sure. When I get in at 7:30 in the morning there's nobody in there. I could easily open a window, attach the feeder to a fixed pane, and be out of there unnoticed."

"Don't forget, you two, the battery lasts only a week and you'll need to swap it out for a charged one, as well as change the recording tapes from time to time."

Darnelle looked at Barry. "You expect me to climb under that fence and change out the battery and tapes? Every week? No way."

"Somebody's got to do it."

Ben decided that he could come down once a week and take care of that. He could use that opportunity to download whatever digital camera memory sticks that Darnelle had too.

"Okay. I guess that will work. We'll try it and if it's not satisfactory, we'll work something out."

Then they drove over to visit Nestor, Darnelle's brother. He looked somewhat better than the last time Barry saw him. His face was not as puffy and he obviously was well nourished. "Has he awakened at all?" Barry asked.

"We think so. Momma was here one day, holding his hand and talking to him. She claims he squeezed her hand in response to her, indicating that he could hear and understand her. But he hasn't actually spoken since the day he had that seizure."

"Someday I'd like to meet your mother. Is she living alone?"

"Yes, and she prefers it that way. I drop by every day and run errands for her, but she's fiercely independent. I guess it runs in the family."

After spending the morning together, Barry explained that he wanted to fly up to Dayton that afternoon. Ben agreed to drop him off at the airport. Darnelle suggested that there was no reason for Ben to stay either. He might just as well head back up to DC.

After assuring them that she could manage the digital camera equipment and place the bird feeder, Ben agreed to head back north. He said he'd come by next weekend and place the recorder unit and check it out.

The flight from Atlanta to Dayton arrived at 8:30 PM. By the time that Barry picked up a rental car and drove to his Fairborn area motel it was nearly 10:00. But it was only 7:00 on the West Coast, so he placed a call to Stockman at home.

"Good evening, sir. Barry here."

"I can't talk long, Barry. Me and the missus are headed out the door to have dinner with friends."

"I'll keep it short then. Monday I deliver the golf clubs and will catch a flight to LA that afternoon. I will have the RFP in hand."

"Terrific. Come right over to my office first thing Tuesday morning and we'll take a look. I'll have Stu ready to make copies for distribution to engineering and others."

"Will do. See you Tuesday. Enjoy your dinner. Bye."

Sunday, after a leisurely brunch, Barry headed for a golf shop he knew of in the Dayton Mall. It opened up at 11:30 and he was there as the first customer.

"I'll take a set of those," he told the store manager.

"The $700 set. Are you sure?"

"Yep. Just let me check out the shaft length and I'll take 'em."

"Yes, sir. Do you want them gift wrapped?"

"Sure. Why not. And I'll need a dozen of those balls, he said pointing to the new high performance ones."

"Yes, sir. I'll throw those in at no extra charge."

"Good. Pack them in the same box with the clubs. They are a gift for a friend."

"Lucky friend. These are our very best clubs. Will that be cash, credit card or check, sir?"

"Cash."

On leaving the Mall, Barry was tempted to take the clubs to the base golf course and play a round. It was a perfect day to be out there. But he resisted the temptation and decided instead to swing by the DANCO office opposite Wright Field.

Bret's car was parked out front. Barry greeted his old friend, "Hey there, Bret. You working on a Sunday? What's up?"

"Oh, I just decoded to pick up the tape at the hillside recorder. There's nobody around and I figured it would be easier now than in the morning, with all that commuter traffic."

"Sounds reasonable. Let's play the tape and see what we have."

Bret rewound the tape and popped the cassette into the player. Soon they were hearing sounds from the general's office. Much of the tape was quiet, with barely anything at all. They heard doors slam, a phone ring and then a few conversations. Somebody was talking to the general about the RFP review in Washington, saying that it appeared to be sailing through without a hitch.

One voice, obviously the general's asked, "Who are we letting pick up the documents on the first?"

"The second voice, apparently that of the contracts officer, responded, "I'll notify DixieAero, TexAero, WestAero, New England Aircraft and StratoWest. They all meet the minimum qualification requirements."

"Good. Do they all have local Reps to come by for the distribution?"

"All by StratoWest, general. I'll call their home office the week before we make distribution."

"Fine. Just make sure they all get their copies at the same time. We sure as hell don't want a protest by somebody complaining they got theirs late."

"Yes, sir. And You do remember that there will not be a bidders' briefing on this."

"Yeah. I remember you telling me that. But there will have to be one for the Phase One solicitation later on."

"Oh sure. But then we'll only have two bidders to worry about."

Much of the rest of the tape was uninteresting. Bret said he'd go through it in detail later, just to be sure they hadn't missed anything significant.

Barry told Bret, "I got a call from Major Dixon. He's got the complete RFP for me. I'll be picking it up tomorrow and then catching a flight out to StratoWest."

"Great. So how did it go in Atlanta?"

"Just fine, Ben is going to pick up that effort from now on. I went down there with him to make the introductions and find out how Darnelle is doing."

"And?"

"Oh, she's just fine." And then Barry explained how she was going to try out Bert's new digital camera eyeglasses. And he mentioned that they would be putting the other bird feeder in place at DixieAero."

For an hour or so the two men reviewed the status of things, talked about how the pace would pick up with the issuance of the RFP and the coming evaluation of proposals by the Air Force. Then Barry said he was going to call Major Dixon's place. He tried several times, but got now answer. What Barry didn't know was that Dixon was out on the golf course.

"I'll call him tonight from my motel room. I'll probably not come by here tomorrow. Give my best to Billy, okay?"

"Yeah sure. You know it's too bad that StratoWest didn't hire him. He could be their local Rep to receive the RFP package. Wonder why they didn't?"

"Who knows? They may yet do so. I'm going back to my motel. If anything important comes out of the California trip, I'll call you. Take care."

It was 8:30 PM before Barry finally reached Dixon. "Hello Major. Had your supper yet?"

"Hi Barry. Yes. I ate at the O. Club. Are you in town?"

"Yeah. I'm at my motel. Where should we meet tomorrow?"

"Why wait until then. I'll come right over and deliver the diskettes tonight. Okay?"

"Of course. That'll give me a chance to scan them on my laptop here in the room. And I've got something for you too."

"Titanium, I hope."

"Oh that. Oh sure, but something else too." Barry was talking about the man's eyeglass camera, but he chose not to mention it then.

"I'll be over in ten minutes. What room are you in?"

"125, ground floor west side."

"I'm on my way."

Barry got himself a beer from the self-service bar in his room. He flicked on the television and awaited his guest. Soon there came a tap on the door.

Barry opened the door. Dixon stood there in his sweat suit and holding an envelope in his hand. "Here they are?"

"Terrific. You want a brew?"

Dixon nodded yes, and Barry pointed him toward the small refrigerator. Barry got out his laptop computer and booted it up.

"Is this the complete, final version?"

"Yup. As far as I know the local AMC weenies and the Pentagon brass haven't dictated any changes," Dixon replied. That matched with what Barry had just heard on the bird feeder monitoring tape.

"While I scan these, why don't you open up that box there on the bed?"

"All right. You already got them. Great," Dixon blurted, as he headed for the bed and began tearing off the wrapping paper.

Barry loaded the first diskette and began scrolling down the many pages of the official document. He paused in a few places to read the details of sections that particularly caught his attention. Soon he finished the first diskette and slipped in the second. That too he quickly scanned.

"Looks like it's all here. You're sure there isn't any more?"

"Nope. That's it. Qualified companies will be given printouts on the first of the month, but that's the whole enchilada. You're giving StratoWest a valuable head start."

"Yes indeed. And you've got a valuable set of titanium clubs, plus a dozen of those high performance balls. Are you satisfied?"

"Yes, sir," Dixon replied, holding his new driver and pretending to be addressing a ball on the tee. "These are just what I need. Thanks."

Barry let Dixon savor the moment before bringing up the next subject. "Have a seat Major. I have a business proposition for you."

"Oh? What have you got in mind?"

"Well, I mentioned on the phone that I had something else for you."
"Yeah. That you did. What is it?"

Barry took another sip of his beer, looked Dixon straight in the eye and started, "Major. We both want StratoWest to win the XC contracts, don't we?" And Dixon nodded.

"Well, I sure as hell don't want DixieAero to win. But sure, StratoWest would be just fine."

"Not just fine, Major. Absolutely essential, if you get my drift." Again Dixon nodded, a bit unsure of what might be coming next.

"How would you like to earn $10 thousand in cold hard cash over the next four months?"

"Uh yeah, sure. That would be nice. What do I have to do?"

"Wear some special glasses when you work at your computer," Barry responded in a flat monotone.

"That's it? Wear some glasses? But I don't wear glasses. My eyesight is 20/20."

"For $10 thousand are you willing to claim that your eyes need a little help when you work at your computer? Are you willing to be seen around the office wearing computer glasses?"

"Why?"

"For 10 g's, that's why."

"Yeah. Okay, I guess so."

Barry extended his hand and asked, "Let's shake on it then. You agree to wear the glasses and I'll see that you get $10 thousand."

Tentatively, and with some obvious trepidation, Major Dixon shook Barry's hand and agreed, "Okay. I'll wear the glasses. Is that it?"

"Not entirely. You have to wear a few small accessory items," Barry hedged, while reaching into the box containing the man's camera set of glasses.

"What are those?" Dixon asked.

"These are the special glasses I want you to wear. The lenses are non-prescription, just plain glass."

"Then what's the point in my wearing them?"

Barry decided not to protract the explanation any longer. He gave Dixon a complete rundown on what they were and how they worked. Dixon was totally amazed and shocked.

"So what is it you want me to photograph, exactly?"

And then Barry described the kinds of things that he wanted Dixon to record, specifications, drawings, technical data and contract data. He went on to say that if Dixon saw any of the other bidder's material, he should get pictures of whatever he could there too.

"Here. Let's have you put them on and we'll run through a short demonstration of how they work."

Dixon tentatively put them on, and not being accustomed to wearing glasses at all, he fiddled with them to get the fit just right. Barry showed him how to use his left index finger to trip the silent shutter.

"Do you think you could manage these?"

"Yeah. It's not difficult, but show me again how to change out the batteries and the memory sticks."

"Sure." And Barry did that several times, finally letting Dixon do it himself a few times.

"No problem," Dixon finally agreed. "And are you going to pick up the memory sticks with the images?"

"No. I'll have an associate meet with you from time to time at the underground coffee shop. I'll explain later how you are to contact each other. You've got enough sticks and batteries here for 300 pictures. We will furnish you more as needed."

"This is all I have to do for $10 thousand?"

"Yup. And, of course, don't get caught. And there is one final very important guideline here. No, absolutely no classified stuff. There is going to be ample unclassified material to give StratoWest the information they need to beat out DixieAero. We don't mess with any classified. You got that?"

"Okay, okay. I got it. Boy, you're the first industrial spy I ever heard of that didn't go after classified stuff."

"There's a damn good reason for it. I worked in the CIA for years as an agent dealing with foreign embassies. I know the trouble you can get into messing with classified. It isn't worth it. And besides, I can do my job very effectively staying out of that realm. If we get caught, and we won't, there is not risk of a serious Federal charge. Industrial spying is a state matter and not Federal. It makes everything much safer."

"Yeah, I guess that's right. But spying on the XC project office is against Federal rules, isn't it?"

"Perhaps. But it doesn't violate any of the national security or espionage acts."

"Okay. I'm with you. So, when do I get my $10 thousand?"

"You get $2 thousand now and, depending upon what you produce, you get the rest after the RFP is out for the Phase One, full-scale development contract."

Dixon gathered up his new clubs and the box with Barry's eyeglass camera. "Guess I'd better get back to my place. I'll try these out tomorrow in my office. When did you say your associate would contact me?"

"I didn't. His name is Billy and he'll call you at your place one evening."

"Okay. Did you say Billy? That wouldn't be Billy Bastrop would it?"

"Yes. Why? Do you know him?"

"Oh, hell yes. Everybody does. He works for you? Well, I'll be damned. Who'd uh figured that? Okay, I'll wait for Billy to call."

"Good. I'm off to the West Coast tomorrow with these diskettes. You do good work, Dixon. Good work."

"Well, for another 8-g's I'll do even better. Seeya."

Barry opened the door for the well-ladened Dixon, reminding once more, "No classified."

Dixon left, nodding and smiling. "Got it."

After a plane change in Chicago, Barry was soon on his way to Los Angeles. It took almost four hours to get there. By noon, West Coast time, he picked up his rental car and headed for the motel in Long Beach.

Stu answered Barry's phone call, "Hello, Barry. Stockman tells me you have some interesting material for us. Can you tell me what you've got?"

"You mean he didn't explain?"

"No. All he said was be ready to make hard copies of something you were bringing."

"It's the RFP for Phase Zero."

"What? How in the hell did you manage that? We were told it isn't due out until the first."

"That's right, it isn't but I have contacts."

"You sure must. Okay, so when are you coming over to the plant?"

"I'm supposed to brief Stockman first thing tomorrow morning."

"You sure you don't want to let my people get started making the printouts? We could have 'em ready for distribution in-house when you meet the boss."

"It's not my call. You take it up with him. I'll see you in the morning."

Barry hung up the phone and pondered where to hide the diskettes in his motel room. He decided to first make another set, copying the two diskettes to another pair. Then he put the original two in the bag with his laptop. The duplicates he decided to place in the hotel safe. "Maybe I'm being paranoid," he thought, "but these files are too important to risk getting stolen."

He drove to a nearby golf driving range and hit a couple of buckets of balls, just as a way to relax and kill the afternoon. When he got back to his room there was a phone message waiting for him, indicated by the flashing red light on the receiver.

It was from Stu, suggesting they meet for dinner that evening. "He just doesn't give up," Barry mumbled as he dialed the number to return Stu's call.

"Yeah, Barry. I thought we could have a nice meal and conversation in a quiet place I know you'll like," Stu began.

"Where's that?"

"It's down on the waterfront, Captain Ahab's Table. It's new and very popular, trendy the yuppies say. I'll pick you up at your motel around 6:30. Okay?"

"Sure, why not? 6:30 is fine. See you then."

Barry took a shower, changed into casual clothes and was ready a half hour early, so he watched the television news and weather reports. For the next several days the weather was forecast to be ideal, especially for golf. A tap on the door brought him out of his reverie, his dreaming of being on some golf course tomorrow afternoon. It was Stu.

"Welcome back, Barry. Good to see you."

"Hi, Stu. You ready to go?"

"Yeah. My car is out front. Let's go."

"What did Stockman say about getting the RFP to you before the morning?"

"I could find him. His secretary said he was out in the plant, but I looked high and low. I even had him paged, but couldn't locate him."

"Maybe he didn't want to be found."

The two got into Stu's car and headed for the waterfront. "He does that every now and then. It drives the secretaries crazy, because he manages to do that just on days when all kinds of people are trying to get hold of him. So, the answer is no, I didn't get his okay."

It took barely ten minutes to get to Ahab's Table, one of those brand new places made to look old and weathered. A sizeable crowd was waiting near the door when they entered. Stu had reservations, so they were quickly ushered to a table up on what looked like the afterdeck of an ancient sailing ship. It was the only table there. "How's this? A good place for private conversations, wouldn't you say."

"Yeah, and way up above those common folks down below," Barry exclaimed with a laugh. "This is nice."

Both men ordered cocktails and a platter of oysters. The dinner recommended by the waiter was Alaskan salmon. They agreed that would be fine, but don't rush it.

"Can you tell me how you got the RFP, Barry?"

"Yes, sure. An Air Force major gave it to me."

"Just like that?"

"Sort of. It cost you guys a set of golf clubs, not a whole set, just the woods?"

"You gotta be kidding. What kind of character is he?"

"He's a likeable, good-looking spendthrift who lives way beyond his means and is in financial hot water. Though he's got only a beer pocket book, he is addicted to the champagne life style. But on his good side, he doesn't like DixieAero."

"He can't be all bad then, but he sounds like a guy who is a classic candidate for bribes."

"Right on. I'm planning on using him as much as I can, especially during the critical period before the Phase One contract is let. He'll cost a few bucks, but has the potential for keeping you ahead of the competition."

"How much is a few bucks?"

"Probably no more than 25 g's."

"That's a lot of money."

"Yes, but you have to put it in perspective. What's at stake is millions, hundreds of millions?"

"I suppose you're right. And I guess the cost of buying information has gone up like everything else. But all the same, 25 g's is a lot of money."

"You'd be amazed what the government spends on its informers."

"No, I wouldn't. They're not spending their own money, just yours and mine. But come to think of it, what you're spending isn't yours either."

"Guess that comes from my government background. Is Stan back here now?" Barry asked, to change the subject.

"No, but I expect him next week. Your old friend, Bart, is a good guy for the Washington job. Thanks for sending him our way."

"Yeah, I kinda figured he'd be right, what with his lobbying experience and familiarity with the Hill. He'll treat you right."

After a delicious meal, that Barry had to admit was worthy of Stu's recommendation, they had some brandy and talked for a while. Conversation now centered on what it would take to win the Phase Zero contract. "It'll be tougher now that funding limits the government's choices to just two," Stu observed.

"Yes and no, my friend. Your main competition is still DixieAero. They think they've got it locked up. And the others will probably be dissuaded from even bidding, since the dollars are down and the time is reduced to respond. I think it's really just a two horse race."

"I sure as hope you're right, but still we need to put our very best into this effort. Our past complacency has cost us dearly and we can't afford to miss this one."

"Never fear, Stu. With the help of some insider information at both Wright Field and down in Atlanta, you should be at least competitive."

"You have somebody inside at DixieAero? I didn't know that. Is he any good and in the right place to feed us helpful information?"

"It's she, and yes, she's very good."

"It never hurts to have a secretary working in the right places to furnish the information you want, eh?"

"She's not a secretary. And she's on your payroll, as well as DixieAero's. She's a crackerjack engineer and a former Air Force captain who came right out of the XC project office."

"She already works for us?"

"Yup. Stockman hired her and put her on your rolls last month. Right now she's working in DixieAero's XC proposal group, as well as being assigned to their crew station design engineering effort. I just spent a couple days with her."

"What's her name?"

"I can't tell you. That's up to Stockman to release. He authorized the hire and agreed to us putting her on the inside down in Atlanta."

"Well, Ill be damned. You are good, Barry. I gotta hand it to you."

"I'll continue to produce, so long as you keep Stan out of my face."

"Oh, Stan. Well, yeah, he is kinda different, but his heart is in the right place, and he's damn loyal to the company and Mr. Stockman."

"Look, Stu. I've got to get some shut-eye. I'm still operating on East Coast time. What say we call it a night. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll drive you back to your motel."

Next morning at 8:00 AM, Barry pulled into the parking space in front of the StratoWest corporate headquarters. He headed straight for Stockman's office.

Stockman's secretary was away from her desk when he walked into the front office suite. The door to Stockman's private inner office was ajar, so Barry knocked and called out, "Mr. Stockman? Barry here?"

A voice coming from behind him startled Barry. "Good morning, young man. C'mon in. I was just getting some coffee from down the hall. My secretary called in sick this morning and I have to steal somebody else's. Come on in."

"Good morning, sir. Here is the Phase Zero RFP you've been waiting for. It's in standard format that any of your people can print out." Barry held out the two diskettes.

Stockman turned to the table behind his desk and flipped on his own computer. While it was booting up, stockman asked for the latest from Atlanta, Washington and Dayton. Barry filled him in completely, covering all of the details, except the brownstone activities. He didn't know why, but he was reluctant to share the details of his Georgetown operation.

Stockman scanned several pages of the RFP on the screen, pausing now and then to read in detail the specific required deliverables. "This is more general than I expected. I thought they would be more explicit about what they expect. It gives us quite a bit of latitude. I can sure see the implicit message though. They want a fairly exotic high tech design, don't they?"

"Not really, sir. What you sense there are the words from Air Combat Command. But it's the Transportation Command that has the real clout, and they want something much more straight forward. The fellow who gave me these disks explained in great detail the politics and power struggle between the two commands."

"You mean the guy with the new golf clubs?"

"Yes sir, that's the one."

"And you think he's got the straight scoop? This RFP indicates they want a pretty fancy airplane with the ability to counter numerous threats in the combat zones."

"That's all coming from DixieAero and their collusion with some of the generals and colonels at Langley. And Senator Carrington is fairly salivating at the prospect of his constituents producing the most sophisticated transport ever."

"Well, I tend to support Transportation Command's preference for a solid, reliable troop and cargo hauler. It makes more sense. But you could read this RFP as calling for another damn B-2 bomber instead of a cargo hauler."

"You could, sir, if you didn't understand who the really players are. The Army backs transportation Command's concept of a basic airplane capable of getting their men and equipment to trouble spots all around the world. They don't expect a transport to be a combatant, just something to get them there and satisfy their rapid reaction capability demands."

"Well, if price is going to be the important factor, as well as a solid dependable design, I know we can beat the socks off anything DixieAero comes up with."

A tap on the door interrupted their conversation. "Yes, what is it?" Stockman barked.

"It's Mrs. Stevens, sir. I've been asked to fill in for your secretary today. I just wanted you to know I'm here."

"Oh good, Sophie. Come on in. I have a priority job for you."

"Yes, sir. What can I do for you?"

"Make a print-out from the files on these diskettes. Then make half a dozen copies and bring them back to me. How long will that take?"

"About an hour, sir."

"Good. Then call my V-P of engineering, Stu Sanders from Marketing, Sam what's his name from Contracting, and Singleton from manufacturing. Tell 'em to be here at, say, 10:00. Oh, and by the way, those documents are confidential. Keep careful records on how many copies are made. Got that?"

"Yes, sir," Sophie responded, slipping back out of the office.

"Barry. The ball is starting to roll. Boy, this feels good. Like the old days when things were humming around here. And doing battle with DixieAero really gets my juices flowing."

Activity over the next few weeks throughout StratoWest was greater than anyone remembered in years. The engineering people gathered in small groups to brainstorm ideas about how to best accommodate the design-to requirements described in the RFP. Though they were not yet charged with detailed design work, each group busily pursued generalized approaches.

Unbeknown to DixieAero and StratoWest were decisions by WestAero, TexAero and New England Aircraft not to participate in the competition. Phase Zero proposals would come from just two competitors.

The Air Force requirement for an aircraft carrying 75,000 pounds of payload halfway around the world at speeds in excess of Mach 0.80 concerned both the aerodynamics and propulsion engineers. Structural engineers addressed the loading and unloading demands of a cargo and troop carrier. Electrical and avionics engineers considered the diverse topics from instrumentation to navigation equipment, as well as systems integration and monitoring. Human factors engineers proposed cockpit configurations, crew accommodations and passenger amenities. Before long there were 200 engineers and technicians busily creating a variety of basic designs, all of which had to be reviewed for interdiscipline compatibility's and manufacturing producibility. Even the cost analysts got involved to estimate what it would take to acquire, fabricate and install every material, component and purchased subsystem, as well as the cost-of-ownership implications over the expected life of the airplanes.

Red Team members assisted by monitoring how each effort adhered to the RFP's specific requirements. Soon a series of design integration meetings began to occur, whereby the various disciplines argued for their special approaches and attempted to resolve conflicts. The group concerned with aircraft weight and balance compared their estimates of how the evolving conceptual designs met or violated the requirements. It became obvious to some that the initial wing design was not adequate to carry the loads, which forced the structural people to revise their approaches, and so forth and so on. Getting the various design teams to accommodate one another's preferences and even demands became a daunting task for management.

In a matter of three weeks the teams had two basic configurations designed to a level of detail necessary to create computer models. Each was thoroughly evaluated to affirm the suitability to meet overall requirements. One group of designers favored what the ACC people were shooting for. Another pushed for simplicity and more conventional approaches, in everything from structural designs to systems configurations. As a result, StratoWest soon had sufficient definition and trade-off information to prepare the first of the three required position papers and reports to be submitted to the Air Force.

Stockman held a meeting one day to hear arguments from two disparate groups, each pressing hard for their distinct approaches and design philosophies. It was a heated meeting, lasting half a day, in which Stockman patiently listened to what each group advocated. He heard from the Red Team manager, who agreed that each approach recommended would comply with the letter of the RFP. It came down to the financial analysts recommendation that one design approach would cost a third more than the other. That alone convinced Stockman which way StratoWest would go. Simplicity, lower cost and conventional design approaches won out over the more exotic, complex and costlier approach. Stockman did, however, agree that both approaches should be presented to the Air Force in the same level of detail. He felt that by doing so StratoWest could demonstrate to the Air Force that it fully understood the ramifications of going one way or the other.

StratoWest contemplated something that DixieAero wasn't. They were looking hard at a design which would eliminate the requirement for aerial refueling to achieve the cargo delivery range the Air Force wanted. They would propose such an alternative to the Air Force.

While all of that was going on, Ben and Darnelle were becoming familiar with what DixieAero was doing. Darnelle became quite adept at using the eyeglasses camera and brought Ben dozens of images describing in considerable detail what designs were to be proposed to the Air Force.

The bird feeder monitoring device proved to be almost useless, largely because of interference between the window and the receiver unit across the airfield. A variety of vehicles parked under the window were left with engines running. Air traffic throughout the day caused excessive interference, and even a pigeon, which chose to build a nest in the feeder, created noises by cooing all day long. Ben decided to remove the receiver unit and ignore the window-mounted feeder for the time being.

Ben and Barry reviewed the images from Darnelle in great detail. Most of them were forwarded to Stockman for assessment. StratoWest's engineers were impressed by the innovations reflected in DixieAero's work, but felt the technical risks and higher costs would work against them. Despite the esoteric designs, StratoWest chose not adopt most of what Darnelle gathered. In one area, however, they did agree that DixieAero's approach was superior and they hastened to copy elements of it. That area was crew station layout and passenger accommodations. DixieAero had maximized the lessons learned from a series of past transport designs. StratoWest was not nearly as experienced in long range transports and did not have the in-house expertise, but they were perceptive enough to adapt their designs to include much of what DixieAero was proposing.

The unusual nature of the RFP called for incremental submittals of the bidder proposals. This was deemed necessary by the Air Force to allow evaluations to commence earlier. Technical proposals would come first, followed by management and cost proposals. All elements were due by the end of the 75-day bidding period. Since the other three prospective bidders declined to participate, though they had not declared their intentions, DixieAero and StratoWest would, by default, become the winners. The Air Force would soon issue two separate contracts for the Phase Zero effort.

Barry was aware of that possibility, but did not discuss it with Stockman. It was his intention to proclaim that DANCO's work contributed to StratoWest's garnering of the contract. Barry did not care to mention that they would win in any case. He was prepared, however, to demonstrate that his intelligence gathering efforts at Wright Field, Atlanta and Langley would lead to StratoWest's eventual winning of the more important Phase One contract, beating out DixieAero.

It was day 40 of the proposal period that Barry got an urgent email message from Bret. Dolly was caught making copies of sensitive, albeit unclassified, documents and attempting to leave the XC project area. He boss threatened to fire her.

"Bret?" began the immediate phone call. "What gives? Has our operation been compromised?"

"I don't think so, not completely. Dolly was attempting to get Billy some parts of DixieAero's report to the project office. She was caught flat-footed stuffing pages into her blouse."

"What did she say when they nabbed her."

"She claimed that she was putting the papers there because her hands were full. She said she wasn't going anywhere with it, except back to her office."

"Did they buy that?"

"Hell no. They didn't know why she was doing it, but they were convinced she was up to no good, which in their eyes was sufficient."

"Did she mention us or StratoWest in any way?"

"No. She says she didn't and I am inclined to take her word. But she's really upset about being fired. If they seriously interrogate her, promising she can keep her job if she talks, that could be a new ball game."

"Let's not take that chance. Tell her to leave and maybe that'll be the end of it, especially since security is not an issue."

"Yeah, and then what? She needs a job and would still have one if she weren't doing things for us."

"That's true enough, Bret. But she wouldn't have this job at all if we hadn't helped her. Yet, we should help her out. See what you can do to get her hired with somebody else in the area."

"How about bringing her here into our office. I could use her."

"No. No way. We don't want any links between us and her. Get her hired someplace else. Offer to pay her fees with an employment agency or whatever."

"Okay. That might work. I'll get on it."

"So? What else is new. Is Dixon passing along any images to Billy that we can use?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, he brought some memory sticks to Billy just yesterday. He's got some good material there, dealing with a meeting that ACC and Transportation Command recently held to resolve XC requirements disagreements."

"And the bottom line is?"

"Transportation Command agrees to incorporating provisions for future systems add-ons, but not including them initially. It's a fair compromise. That way they get a transport sooner and ACC sets the precedent for future capabilities, which Transportation Command will support in out-year budgets."

"Sounds as if DixieAero wins and so does StratoWest, Bret. Yet I wonder if DixieAero will back down. They've huffed and puffed about a highly advanced bird."

"Who knows? I'll keep you posted."

"Yeah, and send me the material that Dixon furnished. I want to get it to Stockman ASAP."

"Will do."

That night, at the brownstone, Barry got a call from Stockman, quite unexpectedly. "Barry, Stockman here. I was looking over some of the material that your lady-friend, Darnelle, has been sending. I want to meet that young lady. Can you manage to get her out here for a short visit. I think it would be worth her while."

"All I can do is ask, sir. It'll greatly depend upon how busy she is down at DixieAero. Would a weekend be acceptable to you?"

"Yeah sure. This weekend would be good. What I want to do is assure her that she has a future here with us after this business is over. We need someone of her caliber in our crew station design group. And to induce her I'm prepared to have our health insurance cover her brother and her mother right now. Please don't tell her that though, as I'd like to make the presentation myself."

"Of course, sir. That's a very generous gesture. I'm sure she'll be delighted. I'll get with her tonight and see what she can do about flying out to Los Angeles. You want me or my associate, Ben Brigham, to come with her?"

"That might be a good idea for you to come. I don't know your associate."

"All right, sir. I'll call you tomorrow with what I find out."

"Good. And thanks, Barry."

No sooner had he hung up than the phone rang again. This time it was Bert. "Hi Barry. I've got some improvements to the eyeglasses. Ya interested?"

"Sure, Bert."

"Okay. I'll be right over. It's 8:30 now. Would 9:00 be too late?"

"No. That's fine. See you then."

Barry was sitting on the couch, drinking a beer and waiting for Bert when the doorbell rang. "Hello, Bert. C'mon in. You want a beer or something?"

"Ah, no. Not really. Can we talk in here? Or should we go down in the basement?"

"Here's all right. All the tenants are out this evening. What have you got?"

"Well, I've been doing some research into light enhancing circuitry. You know, that low light level TV and stuff."

"Yes. So?"

"Well, I've figured out how to make those glasses more effective in poor lighting conditions, so you wouldn't have to adjust the brightness and contrast before viewing images. And you could take pictures in dim lights. It'll cost just a few dollars to modify the electronics packages."

"How few?"

"About $260 per pair. I've made another prototype and tested 'em. They work great."

"I suppose that would be worth trying, but you know what would be appreciated just as much, maybe even more?"

"No."

"Making the electronics package smaller and lighter weight. That would be just as important. So have you any sample images from the prototype?"

"I just happen to have some with me, here on this memory stick. Where's your laptop?"

Barry got up and headed into his living quarters, returning in seconds with his laptop. "Here you go. Let's see what you've got."

Bert soon connected the memory stick and booted up the computer. He called up the images and showed Barry what he had. It was impressive.

"This first image was taken outside my apartment at dusk. You can see the shadows are dark, but the scene near that streetlight is crisp and clear."

"Very good. Any more?"

"Yeah, this second shot is in my living room, taken this afternoon with the curtains drawn. You can clearly see the whole room."

"Yup, sure can. I see your clothes draped over all of the furniture. Not much of a neat freak, are you?"

"Forget the stuff in my room. Look at the quality of the image. We couldn't take shots like that with the other eyeglass cameras. And here's the best one."

Bert called up an image of the daily newspaper, taken from several feet away. Barry could read the print and see the photos and ad copy clearly.

"That was taken by the light from my refrigerator, with the door open and the paper on the floor."

"Impressive, my friend. You've made significant progress. But can you include this performance in a smaller unit?"

"Yes, but it'll be expensive. I have a friend who makes special circuit boards. He can re-package the guts of the digital cameras that I used and make everything fit on a card half the size of a book of matches. And now that we can use the camera in low light, we can reduce the size of the lens to the size of a split pea. That'll make the lenses unobtrusive and easy to incorporate into the eyeglass frames.

"What do you think?"

"I said I am impressed. I truly am, but I need to know what all this will cost. Get me some hard numbers. And how many of these are you planning on making?"

"Well, I'd say we ought to make a half dozen or so, after I get all the re-engineering done. I'll get you some really firm numbers, but off the top of my head I'd say you can have six pair for, oh, $15 thousand."

"How much are you making off this?"

"Not a dime, I swear. I won't make anything, or that is we won't make anything until we start selling some. If we could make, say 100 pairs, I think we could get the cost down to $1000 a pair. And if we sell 'em for $5000, that'll show a nice profit."

The two were interrupted by the sound of a key in the front door. Hastily, Bert shut down the laptop and stuck the memory stick and the cables in his pocket. It was Caroline and Phil, returning from the movies.

"Hello, Barry. Hi Bert. How are you doing?"

"Hello, Caroline. We're okay. Bert and I were just talking computers. How was your evening?"

"Look, Barry, I have to run. It's getting late," Bert interrupted. "I'll get those numbers for you tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure. Goodnight Bert." And Bert headed out the door, just as Caroline and Phil came into the living room.

"We just had to see the movie at the Regent tonight, Barry," explained Phil. "Caroline got some free passes from the senator's office and this is a really important flick."

"Oh, what was it?"

Caroline answered, "It's a remake of 'The Wizard of Oz' and in wide screen with surround sound. Really cool."

Phil added, "It was something else. I didn't think I'd like it, because the original is such a classic. But this was awesome."

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Maybe I'll have to go see it," Barry responded somewhat less than enthusiastically. "I'm not really much of a movie buff, but if it impressed you two that much, I may have to reconsider."

"If you really want to go, I'm sure I can get tickets for you, Barry," Caroline offered.

"Thank you. I'll let you know."

After his two tenants left, Barry's thoughts returned to Darnelle and what Stockman suggested. Even though it was now approaching 10:30, he decided to call her.

"Hello, Darnelle. Barry here. How are you?"

"Hello, Barry. Tired. It's been a long hard day. I was just headed to bed. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I wanted to ask you if you'd be available to fly out to California this Friday. Mr. Stockman wants to meet you and he has a surprise for you. We could fly out of Atlanta around 6:30 and get you back Sunday afternoon. Can you make it?"

"Surprise? What kind of surprise?"

"I can't tell you. If I did it wouldn't be a surprise and Stockman swore me to secrecy, but I know you'll really like it."

"Sure. I can get away this weekend. I'll meet you at the airport at 5:30. Which airline?"

"We'll go out on United, a non-stop flight getting us into LA around 9:00 PM, California time. I'll take care of the tickets and the hotel reservations. See you Friday then. Good night. Oh, and bring some of your latest memory sticks. Okay?"

"Sure. Will do. See you then. Good night, Barry."

At 9:30 Saturday morning, Barry knocked on Darnelle's motel room door. "C'mon, sleepy head. Rise and shine. We've got a luncheon date with Stockman."

All he got for a response was a low groan and mumbled words, "Go away. I'm not awake yet."

"Up and at 'em, gal. I'll be in the coffee shop. See you in 20 minutes. Move it."

After his third cup of coffee and nearly finishing the morning paper, Barry looked up to see Darnelle walking toward him. She was dressed in a dark green silk suit, with white blouse and a patterned red and black scarf draped over her left shoulder. She looked like a successful businesswoman.

"How did you do that? Twenty minutes ago you were barely awake and now you look like you stepped out of a fashion magazine. You look terrific. Want some coffee?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said sitting down across from Barry and turning her coffee cup upright. Barry poured hot black coffee for her. She held the cup in both hands, holding it up where the full aroma filled her nostrils. "Aaahhh. I needed that."

"Darnelle, we've got a noon luncheon with Stockman at the marina restaurant. I don't know if there will be anybody else there. It's supposed to be an informal get-acquainted session, but knowing Stockman, he'll soon get around to talking shop."

"What kind of a guy is Mr. Stockman? Friendly? Tough? What?"

"All of the above, but definitely a gentleman. Folks in the company admire and respect him greatly. If the conversation gets awkward, there's always golf to get his attention. Do you play?"

"Not since college. I took golf as an option in my P.E. class. I just couldn't afford to play."

"Well, he's pretty much of a duffer, but he really enjoys being out on the course and going a round with his pals."

"If he asks us to play a round, should we?"

"That's up to you. I'm game any time. More coffee?"

They sat there chatting for nearly and hour. Barry looked at his watch and said, "Time to go. He said he'd look for us in the foyer of the yacht club."

True to his word, Stockman was waiting for them as they walked up the steps. "Hello, Barry. And is this lovely creature that engineering whiz you've been telling me about?" Stockman held out both hands and held Darnelle's. He looked her up and down, smiling broadly. "It's so good to finally meet you, Miss Davis. Thank you for coming out here to see an old man."

"I told you he was a charmer," Barry said, winking at the slightly embarrassed Darnelle.

"There has been a change of plans. We're not having lunch here after all. Come on. Follow me." And Stockman led the two away, toward the docks, holding Darnelle's hand like he would his grand daughter's."

"Where are we going, sir?" she asked.

"Out there, to the Contessa. Isn't she a beauty?"

About that time Barry and Darnelle caught sight of the name "Contessa" on the stern of a 60 foot yacht tied to the pier.

"Is this yours?" A surprised Darnelle inquired, following her escort's lead.

"No. It belongs to an old friend, but he told me we could use it for our luncheon meeting. The marina restaurant is bringing out our meal."

"Are we going out for a cruise or having lunch dock side?" Barry asked.

"We'll stay right here. The weather is a bit too rough outside the jetties. And besides, I get seasick. We'll just enjoy the view from the boat. Okay?"

"Sounds delightful," Darnelle replied. "This is a surprise."

They stepped aboard and entered the main salon. A table was set and waiting, complete with china bearing a nautical flag pattern. White linens looked clean a crisp. A bouquet of flowers commanded the center of the long table. Off to one side stood a steward, waiting to assist.

"How about some of California's finest?" Stockman suggested, gesturing toward several bottles of wine at one corner of a side table. "We're having seafood, of that affects your wine choice?"

Stockman held Darnelle's chair and soon the three were seated. The steward poured the Chardonnay that Darnelle selected. Stockman and Barry had the same.

No sooner had Stockman offered a small toast of greeting to his guests, really for Darnelle with Barry looking on, than he began asking, "How is your brother doing? Nestor, right?"

Darnelle explains his situation and said that he was a little better, thanks to the nursing home care.

"And your mother?"

"Oh, she's a great deal better, relieved that Nestor is getting proper care. She doesn't understand how Barry and I managed to get my brother into the home, but it has helped her immensely."

"Good. I'm glad we could help. And that's partly why I asked you to come out here. The main reason, of course, was to welcome you to the StratoWest team and to get to know you a bit, but I have another purpose."

"What might that be, sir?"

"I wanted to tell you, that as a member of the StratoWest family, we are including your mother and your brother in our comprehensive medical plan. I don't know what DixieAero is offering you, but I'll guarantee you our plan is better."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Stockman. That's wonderful and most generous of you."

Barry commented, "That's more than I get, Darnelle. He doesn't offer me anything like that?"

"You're damned right. You're a contractor, not a full-fledged member of the company," Stockman replied, laughing. You get your rewards in other ways."

Barry raised his wine glass in salute to that notion, agreeing, Right you are, sir."

Soon the salad appeared and Stockman explained, " I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of ordering the meal. If you don't like seafood, our steward can quickly order something else from the restaurant."

"Oh, seafood is fine. Thank you. I'm sure your choice will be just right," Darnelle replied, sipping her wine.

After the meal of grilled tuna steaks and a variety of side dishes, topped off with a fancy chocolate and caramel dessert, Stockman waited until the steward cleared the table and urged him to leave the three alone.

"Let's sit over there, at those more comfortable chairs. There's coffee available, if you like."

They moved over to the lounge chairs, Barry pouring himself and Stockman some coffee. Darnelle decided she's had enough.

"Okay then. Let's get down to business. You know from Barry, I'm sure, that winning this XC development and production contract is absolutely crucial to the future of the company. We need this badly, otherwise it's going to force us to go after the crumbs, making parts for the other guys. That's not what we built this company to do."

Darnelle nodded, "I understand sir."

"Good. Well then, I can't tell you how much we appreciate your helping us out. I've personally reviewed some of the materials you've provided. They are excellent and truly essential. You must know that DixieAero is not my favorite competitor. In fact, those scoundrels have given us nothing but fits ever since the Korean War ended. Maybe it's a little jealousy or maybe it's that I can't stomach the way they play the political games to win contracts, but losing out to them on this XC project would more than I could stomach."

"Yes, sir. They do have political clout, for sure," Darnelle agreed.

"More than that," Barry added. "They've got Senator Carrington in their pocket, and he's in just the right place to send contracts their way. StratoWest isn't that fortunate."

Stockman glowered, the thought of Carrington being at the beck and call of DixieAero angered him visibly.

"I understand, young lady, that you are working in their crew station design group. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir. It's fascinating, but mostly they've got me coordinating between engineering and the design groups on the proposal effort. I've not had much chance to actually do any engineering yet. They put me there because of what they think I can offer from my CX project office experience at Wright Field."

"Well, when this competition is over, and StratoWest gets the R&D contract, how would you like to come out here and work in our crew station section?"

"I'm flattered, sir," Darnelle earnestly replied, "but I can't leave my brother and my Momma. I could never do that."

"Of course not. I understand. But if we get the contract, with your help and Barry's, I'd like to bring your family out here to Long Beach. We'll get your brother in a first rate nursing home with the best doctors. We'll even set you and your mother up in a nice place, a house or a condo or whatever you like. How'd that be?"

"More than generous, sir. But I have no idea whether or not my mother would ever consider leaving Atlanta. She's lived there all her life."

"Well, I'd say it's time to broader her horizons. She needs to see more of the world and California has a lot to offer. It might do her good."

"I can't give you a definite answer today, sir. I'd have to talk with Momma about this. It's a big step for her."

"Well, there's no rush. I just wanted to let you know that you have a career here with StratoWest. We need bright young engineers like you, and we're prepared to pay you generously, both with salary and benefits. You help us win this contract, and you can practically write your own ticket, within reason, of course."

"Thank you, sir. That's very flattering and generous of you. I'll do what I can to help. I'm already indebted to you, both of you, for the help you've already provided, truly I am."

"So tell, me. Do you play golf?"

"Not since my days at Georgia Tech, and I wasn't all that good then," Darnelle replied, casting a glance at Barry, who knowingly shrugged.

"Well this scoundrel next to you does. I know that for sure. Would you be interested in nine or eighteen holes either this afternoon, or tomorrow morning perhaps?"

"Watch this guy," Barry warned, with a laugh. "He plays a mean version called Bingo, Bango, Bungo?"

"What is the world is that?"

Stockman explained what Barry was talking about. Darnelle listened intently and with surprise. "They sure didn't teach us that in my P.E. golf classes. Never heard of it before."

"How about tomorrow morning, Mr. Stockman," Barry suggested. "We've got a 2:00 PM flight. If we were on a local course around 8:00, we could get in nine holes, maybe more."

"Fine. What say you, Miss Davis?"

"Call me Darnelle, please. Yes. That's sound like fun. I'm game for nine holes at least."

"Good. I'll get us a tee time at the Long Beach club. Barry knows where it is. We'll give it a go then. Now, you two are welcome to stay here a while and talk or have a drink, or whatever. I have another meeting at 3:00. Excuse me, will you?"

"Thank you sir, for a delightful and nautical luncheon. It was a pleasure meeting you," Darnelle answered.

Stockman motioned for Barry to follow him to the dock, waving goodbye to Darnelle as they walked. "Work on her, Barry. We need her best efforts at DixieAero and I really think she'd be an asset here with us afterwards. Okay?"

Barry shook Stockman's hand, agreeing to do what he could. Then he returned to the salon and Darnelle.

"Well, what do you think of him?" Barry asked.

"Like you said earlier, he's a gentleman. What's not to like?"

"He asked me, just now out on the dock, to try to convince you to accept his offer of coming out here after they get the XC contract. It's up to you, of course, but it could be the career you've trained for."

"Yes, I know. And I am grateful, but it's my Momma. I really don't know how she's going to take the idea of leaving Atlanta."

"You'll never know until you ask her. And your financial future, and theirs, are pretty well set with this opportunity."

"Yeah. I know. It's what I dreamed of back in engineering school. But I sure never expected it to develop the way it has. Me, an industrial spy and my future depending upon how I do at that. I never would have guessed in a thousand years that things would turn out this way."

Chapter 27

Barry and Darnelle sat together on the flight from Los Angeles to Atlanta. The huge four-engine airliner was barely half full, so they had an empty seat between them, Darnelle at the window and Barry on the aisle. Shortly after level-off at 35,000, Barry turned to her, exclaiming, "You know that Stockman lost badly to you at Bingo, Bango, Bungo. I think you took him for 20 bucks. Not very diplomatic of you."

"I thought he was letting me win."

"Not on your tin type. He's too aggressive for that. You beat him fair and square."

"Yes, but you had the lowest score. You shot a 78, didn't you?"

"I guess I did and even with rental clubs. That unusual for me, but that course was pretty easy, fairly flat and few really long holes."

"Not for me it wasn't. I had a score of 110. That's pitiful."

"Yeah, but Stockman's 100 wasn't all that great either, yet you still came out the winner."

"It was fun. I enjoyed it," Darnelle smiled, "but I'll never get used to that crazy version of the game he plays."

"What did you think of him?"

"Oh, I like him a lot. He is a real gentleman."

"That he is."

"So it's all the more difficult for me to understand why he has us doing what we are. I mean it seems so unlike his personality."

"Just remember, he's fighting to save the company. A cornered badger is nothing to mess with and he's fighting with all he's got, including you and me."

"I suppose so. I'll just be glad when this is all over."

"You may or may not have realized it, but StratoWest is a guaranteed winner for the Phase Zero contract."

"How so?"

"The Air Force is choosing only two companies and the other guys aren't bidding, probably judging that DixieAero has the inside track. By default StratoWest and DixieAero are it."

"Then why are we doing this, this spy game?"

"Because the real prize isn't Phase Zero. It's Phase One and what follows. You know it wouldn't surprise me if the Air Force curtails or drastically shortens the Phase Zero effort and presses on shortly with Phase One."

"Why would they do that?"

"Well, think about it. They will soon have conceptual definitions from the two competitors. One advocates a super deluxe, high tech design. The other, StratoWest, clearly favors a more straight-forward, lower-cost airplane. Somewhere in between is the airplane the Air Force will choose. Even the ACC and Transportation Command folks are moving toward a compromise, so it figures that the direction that Phase One will take is already known, more or less."

"Yeah, I suppose so. That seems logical. So which will it be, a scaled-down DixieAero approach or StratoWest's? And how much do you think they'll shorten the Phase Zero effort?"

"My guess is they'll approach both companies after perhaps 45 days and get them to agree to bid on Phase One, the full-scale development of an Air Force defined compromise design. By that time the Air Force will be in a position to develop specifications and contractual documents to define what they really want or are willing to go with initially. I'd be surprised if either company would object, certainly not DixieAero. They think they've got a lock on the project."

"They've certainly be working on it for some time. You're right there. But wouldn't that put StratoWest at a big disadvantage?"

"Some, for sure. But you and I are able to mitigate some of that disadvantage, at least enough to give Stockman and his folks a decent shot at the prize."

"Are you staying over in Atlanta?"

"No. I've got to get back to Washington. One of my key people was just hired away from me by StratoWest. I've got to find somebody else."

"Have I met him?"

"No. It's Bart Bascomb. He's now the Washington office manager for StratoWest, replacing a fellow who got into a mess with drugs and the District cops. A sad case, because I knew the guy and kinda liked him." Barry then explained the situation and why Stockman didn't want him to continue representing the company.

"I gather that Ben is your right hand man. Is that correct?"

"Oh yes. Ben and I go way back to our days with the agency. He's not only my principal business associate, he's my close friend."

"Well, he seems nice."

"That he is. Did you know that he's a might smitten with you? I've never seen him so taken with any of our female colleagues."

"Is that what you call me? A colleague?"

"Sure. Is that all right? What's wrong with being a colleague?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. I just never considered myself a colleague, more of an employee or hired gun, I guess."

Barry laughed. He reached over an patted her hand, saying, "Well, then. Consider yourself a full-fledged colleague and right now one of our most valuable. We're counting on you to help make the difference in all of this."

Darnelle smiled back. "Okay. I can live with colleague." And they both leaned back to catch a few moments of shut eye on the long flight to Atlanta.

It was well after midnight by the time Barry switched to his connecting flight and arrived back in Washington. He was much too tired to bother checking his email messages, much less what might be on the latest batch of ZIP disks which Bert might have set aside.

Monday morning, shortly after 8:00, the phone rang. A still bleary-eyed Barry grabbed for the phone, mostly to stop that incessant ringing. "Yeah, who is it?" he mumbled.

"It's Bret. Did I get you out of bed?"

"Yes. What time is it?"

"It's 8:00 o'clock. Look, I've got some news for you. The Air Force just found out that three of those who picked up the Phase Zero RFP's aren't going to bid."

"I knew that. So?"

"You did? Well, anyway, the general and the contracts people are considering what to do now. The contract people are suggesting that they just skip the proposal evaluations and simply sign up DixieAero and StratoWest to contracts and tell 'em to get started doing the conceptual studies. No formal source selection process, just put them on contract right away."

"Interesting," Barry replied, now fully awake and sitting up on the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes. "Does the general go along with that?"

"Yup. The Pentagon goes along with this so I expect letters to go out today telling the two companies what the plan is."

"Okay. Keep me posted. Oh, by the way, what are you doing about Dolly?" Or more importantly, what is the Air Force doing about her?"

"They let her go, effective last Friday. That's all, but she probably won't use anybody on the base as a reference."

"Duh, that figures."

"I've got her connected with an employment agency. She's going for interviews this week in Dayton."

"How's she taking it?"

"Surprisingly well. She doesn't seem all that upset."

"You think she'll keep her mouth shut about us?"

"Yes, I do. She's okay."

"Good."

"So? How did it go in California?"

"Fine. Just fine. Stockman was quite taken with Darnelle."

"Good. Well, I'll talk at you later. Bye."

"Yeah. Goodbye."

By 9:30 Barry was down at his office. Betty greeted him with a stack of papers to be checked, plus numerous bills for him to review so she could send out checks.

"How did it go in California, Barry?" she asked.

"Quite well. I think it worthwhile, but you know it wasn't until I got here that I found out the Air Force is awarding the Phase Zero contracts to DixieAero and StratoWest without waiting for the fully allowed bidding time or even messing with a source selection process."

"That explains the email I got Friday from Bret. Did he get hold of you?"

"Yeah, that's how I found out."

"So what happens now?"

"Now we've really got to get the goods on DixieAero and keep our ears tuned to what the Air Force is going to ask for in the R&D phase, Phase One. Those guys in Atlanta are way ahead of StratoWest and could grab the prize, if we don't come up with a way to change the balance. One way to do that is find out from the Wright Field folks what the specifications look like, as early as possible."

"Oh, I guess you heard that Bart is now in charge of the StratoWest offices here in town. That Stan fellow is gone."

"Yeah, I heard. Guess I'd better go over and give him a complete run-down on what's been happening. You heard anything from Ben or Bert?"

"Sure have. One of those bills in that stack if from Bert. He ordered some parts for your eyeglasses project. Did you authorize that?"

"No. All I told him was to get me the details and prices. You mean he went out and bought stuff already?"

"I don't know. You look at it," Betty urged, sorting through the stack of papers to retrieve Bert's invoice.

"No. It's not a bill or invoice. It's a quote from his supplier. My god, $6500 worth of parts. This stuff ain't cheap." And then Barry figured out that it was for six sets.

"Are you going to pay it?"

"Not before I talk to Bert. Call him, will you, and ask him to come by this afternoon. In the meantime I'm headed over to the StratoWest office and see Bart. This other stuff looks okay. You can go ahead and send out the checks. I'll be back at noon. You wanna go out for lunch?"

Betty nodded, smiled and headed back to her desk. Barry grabbed his cost and soon left for his session with Bart.

After lunch with Betty, they returned to the office around 1:15 to find Bert cooling his heels outside the locked office. "Hello, Bert. C'mon in," Barry invited. "We've got to talk about your materials list."

Bert followed them inside, pausing briefly at Betty's desk to grab a handful of candy from her ever-present bowl of goodies. "Did you look at the stuff on those ZIP disks I left for you downstairs?"

"No. I haven't gotten to it yet. Anything important?"

"Looks like it. The folks over at the Pentagon, according to the stuff from Phil's files, are changing the numbers all around for the XC project. They've decided to cut short the Phase Zero solicitation phase and award two contracts right away. Looks like StratoWest is a winner, along with DixieAero."

"Yeah, I know that. Anything else?"

"Yes. The bean counters are moving money around to get ready for Phase one. Looks like they are going to ask for bids by August. The budget for the next fiscal year is $500 million, enough to get the R&D effort cranked up and work toward four prototypes, with added money the next year. The three-year R&D effort is budgeted for over $2.0 billion, but that includes some long-lead items for initial production, including engines."

"You got all that from Phil's stuff?"

"Yup. And there's more that I haven't read yet. You really ought to see what's there."

"Okay. I'll get to it tonight. In the meantime, what's this quote for $6500 here."

"Well, you told me to get firm numbers. Those guys, Argos Electronics Warehouse, have the best components. To make six pairs of the eyeglasses, three male and three female types, requires the $6500 shown there," Bert explained, pointing over Barry's shoulder. "That doesn't include the costs of the frames or clear lenses, but includes all the rest."

"And what about your friend, the circuit board maker? Are his costs included?"

"Oh, no. That's extra too."

"So what are six pairs, fully made and ready to go going to cost?"

"The total comes to $11,500, tops."

"That's roughly $2000 a pair. Pretty damned fancy glasses, I'd say."

"Yeah, but these are the new, low light level models and repackaged to be smaller, like you said."

"Okay, okay. Go ahead and get them. But not a penny more. Got that?"

"Got it. You'll be impressed and they should be ready in two weeks, three tops."

"Okay. Thanks Bert. This quote gave us a bit of a scare, because Betty thought it was a bill."

"No. You asked for numbers first, and that's what I gave you."

"That I did, and you played by the rules. I appreciate that. Now get out of here and let me make some calls. Okay?"

"Sure. Bye. And don't forget to check out those ZIP's," Bert added as he left, with another brief stop by the candy dish.

Barry composed a secure message to email to Bret and Billy, advising them of the urgency to learn what the Wright Field folks were doing about specifying the design of the XC, now that the schedule was being compressed. He asked Bret to see if he could confirm the new budget numbers from sources in Ohio. And he asked Billy to press Dixon for more details, including whatever he might see being submitted by DixieAero. He added short postcript to inquire whether or not Dolly had a new job yet.

Barry headed for the brownstone 45 minute before he expected any of the tenants to come home from work. He found the ZIP disks that Bert set aside and took them into his room room view them on his laptop. Just as Bert said, there was the material from Phil's Pentagon files. But just as interesting was traffic obtained from Senator Carrington's server. DixieAero congratrulated itself and Carrington for getting them the guaranteed Phase Zero contract, adding a few terse comments about that other company from Long beach that was probably allowed to participate to placate the California delegation.

DixieAero's messages to Carrington urged him to expedite the startup of Phase One, essentially saying that theirs was the only serious design and no significant competitors could change that. They knew what ACC wanted and were prepared to give it to them. The Senator said he would see what he could do, particularly with his friends in the House Appropriations committee. Some shuffling of funds authorization was in order.

Someone in the Senator's office, probably at Caroline's instigation, asked how former Captain Davis was doing. CEO Gordon, or one of his underlings, sent a response saying that Darnelle Davis was a real fine and how they appreciated the senator's referral. The message was polite, but not of the same tenor as Gordon's usual mail.

Just before the front door opened, Barry checked his email and found another message from Bert. It was in response to the on Barry sent from his office. All it said was Dixon had not seen anything yet from DixieAero and the letters from the general to the two remaining bidders went out.

Barry closed his laptop and sat back in his chair, just as Caroline came into the front hallway. She waved and then approached him.

"I just though you'd like to know that your friend, former Captain Davis, is doing well down in Atlanta."

"Thanks. That's good news. What else is new?"

"Oh, I'm so pleased for the Senator. Today he found out that DixieAero, where Darnelle works, is getting the preliminary studies contract with the air Force. It's good new for Georgia today."

"I agree. That ought to assure Darnelle of her job."

"Oh yes, and some other folks who need the work will also."

"Are you eating in tonight, or going out for supper?"

"Phil is supposed to take me out to dinner tonight, if he gets away from the Pentagon before too late. He's been awfully busy lately."

"well, you two have a good time. I'm meeting a friend too."

"A lady friend?"

"No. I'm getting together with my business partner."

"Oh, that's nice. Enjoy your dinner too. Okay?"

"Thanks, Caroline. We will. Bye." And she scampered up the stairs.

"Hi, Ben. Glad you could make it," greeted Barry in the rear booth at Maxie's restaurant.

"What was so urgent that you even volunteered to buy dinner tonight?"

Barry then brought his colleague up to date on all that he had learned from Dayton, Long Beach, Carrington's office and Phil's Pentagon files.

"Sounds like a brand new ball game," Ben commented.

"Yes, one that brings us new challenges, if we are to serve StratoWest and get them in the running. DixieAero has a steamroller in high gear and could run off with all the marbles unless we prevent it."

"So, what have you in mind?"

"That's it. All I can suggest is more of the same. We've got to keep Darnelle on top of things and feeding us useful stuff we can pass along to Stockman. But we also have to probe deeper into what's going on at Wright Field. I'm afraid that DixieAero is so far ahead of StratoWest that without some advanced warning of what's coming in the Phase One RFP, they'll never catch up."

"Yeah, I understand. Well, Darnelle is getting pretty good with those eyeglasses. Her memory sticks have contained some valuable data, especially DixieAero's design layouts and plans for systems integration. You know their design depends heavily on embedded computers networked with sophisticated software. All those bells and whistles have to play together to make their aircraft effective, but if it works as advertised they've really got something."

"Oh, that brings up something related. Bert has designed a better digital eyeglass camera. He claims it will work in low light conditions and have a much smaller, lighter electronics package. I think it will be the size of a pack of chewing gum. It's a fixed focus design that has everything from 18" to infinity sharp and crisp, sort of a wide-angle lens. But he sure as hell letting costs get out of hand. The estimate has doubled. He must think this is a government project."

"That improved design should help. Will the frames look about the same as what Darnelle is wearing now? If it's a drastic change somebody might get curious, or at least force her to have to explain the change."

"I really don't know."

"It's something to think about. And you know that bird feeder thing down at DixieAero is not much use. We can't get a quiet path between the feeder and our pickup unit. I have the receiver at home, if you want to use it someplace else."

"No. I don't have any ideas right now. The ones at Wright Field are working great, and with Dolly gone they are even more useful. I did tell you about Major Dixon, didn't I?"

"Yup. He's the one who got the golf clubs, right?"

"Yes, and so far they were the best way to get him on the hook. He's been furnishing some useful data, though much of it is moot now that Phase Zero is less important."

"It's not all that unimportant. The two companies still have to submit their conceptual designs. Air Force assessment of what they receive is still vital. That will drive the specifications they put out for the full-scale R&D models. You need Dixon more than ever."

"I suppose you're right."

"Yes, and remember it was Dixon's info about the flap between ACC and Transportation Command that put some perspective on the likely configuration requirements."

Barry thought for several minutes, finishing his steak dinner. "Dixon and the bird feeders are all we've got in Dayton. Any ideas about what else we should do?"

"Can you come up with another Dolly?"

"Don't know. I haven't anybody in mind right now."

"Why don't you ask Dixon? He might have some ideas. Or ask Billy."

"Yeah. You're probably right."

"You know, Barry, that getting Bart his job with StratoWest was just what he needed. He's got benefits and is working at what he does best, lobbying."

"It did turn out well, didn't it? Especially after Stan left. I just hope StratoWest doesn't fold out from under him."

"Have you given any thought to talking with your golfing friend down at Langley again, the general? Maybe he could give you some insight into how much ACC is willing to back off on some of their design demands. You might also find out which future add-ons they got Transportation Command to agree to support in the out years. If you could come up with a list, it just might help StratoWest accommodate their design to future growth."

"I'll give him a call. I could drive down there this Friday night and maybe get in a couple rounds, with the general or some of his staffers. I met two of 'em on my last trip. Yeah, I'll do that. I'll call General Langtree tomorrow."

"One other thought, Barry. You might call Ike Irwin out in Illinois. You remember him from our agency days, don't you?"

"Yes, he was cryptologist, and the avid tennis player, as I remember."

"That's the guy. He's retired now but working on a second career as an accountant at Transportation Command's headquarters at Scott Field. Maybe you need to check with him and see if he can offer any help."

"Hmmm. That's an idea. I'll try to contact him tomorrow too. Good thinking, my friend."

"The last topic I wanted to discuss with you, Ben, was a DANCO replacement for Bart. You got anybody in mind who might be interested in joining us?"

"No, not really. Do we really need to replace him? You know that Bret wants to come back here when you can spare him in Dayton."

"Yes, I know that and I promised him that by the end of the year he could get out of there. Maybe you're right. When Bret comes back that will be all we need. Let's not rush into replacing Bart then."

"I agree."

By 9:30 PM the two decided to call it a night. They'd enjoyed a fine meal, covered a whole lot of material and agreed of where they would go next.

As they headed for the restaurant exit, Ben asked Barry how the costs were being covered. "Have all our expenses been covered by StratoWest so far? Are we making or losing money?"

"We're doing just fine. Have Betty go over the books with you sometime. We're making a decent profit and have spent under half of what Stockman budgeted for us."

"Good. I was just wondering. A bonus would be nice if we get them the Phase One job."

"You can count on it."

Barry returned to the brownstone by 10:00 PM. From the lights in the upstairs windows it appeared that all the tenants were home. He smiled, realizing that this facility was just about breaking even. Rents covered the lease and most of the other costs. Getting the place was one of his better ideas, he smugly mused.

He opened the front door and found Phil coming out of the kitchen, a bottle of pop in one hand and a box of crackers in the other.

"You still hungry? I thought you and Caroline went out to dinner."

"We did, but I've got some late night oil to burn. I'll probably be up until 1:00 AM or 2:00."

"Oh? What's so high a priority?"

"They've changed the funding allocations for the XC-109 project. I have to figure out how we can start the R&D effort sooner. I heard today that they curtailed the Phase Zero work, well at least the solicitation part. Now they want to expedite the development work. I don't know where the funds are going to come from. That decision is above my pay grade."

"So, what happens next?"

"I don't really know. Senator Carrington is pushing DOD hard to move out on the development of that transport. It wouldn't surprise me if he demanded that we sole source it to DixieAero."

"He can't really do that, can he?"

"No. He's not that powerful, but he can make the Pentagon miserable if he doesn't get his way. He wields enough clout to get their attention."

"Is he coming up with the funds to start the R&D work?"

"I don't know, but he's beating the Congressional bushes and leaning on the right committee chairmen to make something happen."

"Will they cut other programs to get money for the XC?"

"Sure. That's the way the game is played. And that's what I'll be working on tonight, figuring out where we can rob Peter to pay Paul."

"I don't envy you. Good luck."

"Thanks, Barry. Good night."

The next morning, after all the tenants were gone, Barry went down to the basement to see what files were picked up between Phil, upstairs, and the Pentagon computer. He copied several from the tape drive to the ZIP disks to read on his laptop.

Before leaving the brownstone for the office, he decided to call Ike Irwin. He logged onto the internet and found Ike's listing on one of the people-finder search sites. He placed the call at 8:00 AM, Illinois time.

"Hello."

"Ike, Ike Erwin? This is Barry Benson in Washington. How are you doing?"

"My god, Barry. It's been a long time. Good to hear from you. What's up?"

"You're working out at Scott Field, aren't you? Ben Brigham said I should give you a call to see if you know anything about the new transport program the Air Force is cranking up."

"Ben. That's a name from our dark and distant past, isn't it. How is he?"

"He's doing fine. We're both in business together, doing some work for defense contractors and the government. Right now we're doing some work for StratoWest."

"The airplane builder from Long Beach?"

"Yup, that's the one."

"Well, that explains your interest in the new transport. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if I could fly out your way and discuss and business proposition with you."

"What kind of business, agency type?"

"Not officially."

"Yeah, sure. Come on out. When did you plan on making the trip?"

"How about Wednesday? I could fly into St. Louis and drive over."
"Okay. Why don't you stay here at the house with Irene and me. The kids have flown the nest and we have plenty of room."

"That sounds great. It'll just be for one night. I have to get on over to Dayton by Friday."

Ike gave Barry the particulars about address, phone numbers and driving directions. Barry copied down the information and concluded, "Okay. Got it. I'll be at your place by 6:00 PM Wednesday. Oh, have you got an email address too?" Ike said he did and relayed the information.

"Look forward to seeing you. You bringing your golf clubs?"

"Of course."

Ike laughed. "Somehow I thought you would. See you."

Barry decided not to head down to Langley this weekend. He wanted to swing by Dayton and have a talk with his boys there, a pep talk. And he wanted to do the same with Major Dixon. For now the key to success on the StratoWest effort rested squarely on what they could learn from the XC Project Office. He's postpone a Langley trip at least a week or so.

Later, from his office Barry called Bret in Dayton to say he'd be over there on the weekend. He wanted to meet with Billy too, to discuss ways to be more effective in providing information to StratoWest. They agreed to have a Saturday luncheon meeting.

Wednesday morning Barry caught a flight to St. Louis. He drove his rental car the 60 miles across the Mississippi and then down to southern Illinois and Scott Air Force Base. Ike's directions were very easy to follow. Soon Barry was in the area and scouting the region. He managed to get onto the base with a simple visitor's pass and headed for the Officers Club. In the foyer, near the cashier's counter he found a copy of the base telephone book. He brazenly asked the cashier if he could use their copy machine. She pointed to the business office across the hall and said to help himself. He proceeded to copy much of the book, especially the parts containing headquarters personnel and their office designators and phone numbers.

After grabbing a cup of coffee he headed for the Base Operations building. Walking in like he belonged there, he asked the dispatch clerk where the mission planning room was. Down the hall he found it, and several transient aircrews working on their mission folders. He walked over to a young looking lieutenant colonel in a flight suit, his patches indicating he was a C-130 pilot.

"Good morning, colonel. I'm Barry Benson. I'm with StratoWest aircraft company and I'd like to ask you some questions, if I may."

"Yes, sir. What can I do for you, the polite colonel replied.

"I hear that there is a replacement airplane in the works to replace your C-130's. Have you heard that?"

"Yes, Mr. Benson, I have."

"Well, I was wondering what you would want to see in such an airplane. Would you prefer to stay with turboprops or opt for pure jets? And do you believe there remains a need for a navigator's station, what with the Global Positioning Satellite (GPS) technology and all?"

"Out surveying what the working troops want, are you? That's a refreshing change."

"StratoWest wants to be competitive, if we get a chance. Being up against DixieAero means we have to try harder, sir."

The colonel laughed, a knowing kind of laugh. "Well, sir. I think I'd opt for a fan jet design. It gets good fuel economy and lets us cruise at higher speeds. That's not so important in the combat zones, where we'll be maneuvering low in rough terrain, but for the hauls across the ocean, I'd prefer the speed."

"I can appreciate that, sir. What about the navigator station?"

"Definitely keep it. Even with modern systems like GPS and inertial platforms, it's nice to have a trained set of eyeballs working the radar scope. And when all the modern systems go kaput, which they are known to do once in a while, I'd like one of these bubble chasers doing the navigation the old fashioned way. Maybe I'm showing my age, but more than once I've had a navigator save the day. Let's not replace them with black boxes just yet."

"Would you say your opinions are shared by others?"

"Pretty much so," responded the colonel, who turned to another pilot across the room. "Hey, Tony. You got a minute? We have a representative from an aircraft company here who'd like your opinions on a new transport."

Tony turned out to be another C-130 pilot, also planning his next flight. He was returning from Scott Field to his home base, Eglin Field in the Florida panhandle. The colonel introduced him to Barry, who in turn asked the same questions.

"Yeah. I think an all-jet design would be better, especially if it was a high by-pass turbofan design. I'd want four of 'em for a bird of our size. And as for the navigator, well I'd agree with the colonel. Keep 'em on the crew. They make our lives easier. Yeah, I know the Washington bean counters want to save money by cutting back on personnel, but those idiots never had to locate a tough target in the weather. Give me a skilled navigator and radar operator."

Later, Barry headed to the Base Operations snack bar to grab a light lunch. He repeated the informal interviews with several other pilots and two navigators. He got the impression that they liked many of the bells and whistles they'd read about, but when hard choices had to be made, they wanted a new airplane designed to give the crew more options, when things didn't work as advertised. One navigator jokingly said that Murphy wears a uniform too.

Those casual interviews went so smoothly that Barry wondered if any of the aircraft manufacturers ever bothered to get down in the trenches with the working troops, or did they get all their guidance and advice from the headquarters colonels and generals. He suspected the latter. What did surprise him was how friendly and open the air crewmen with a guy in civilian clothes, slacks and a sport shirt, like he'd just come from the golf course. Nobody challenged his being there and were not at all nervous about talking with a stranger who simply claimed to be representing an airplane company.

Barry drove south of the air base to the little community of Mascouta, following Ike's directions to their small country home. He found the farm house, with its red painted barns and out-buildings. Ike and Irene always wanted a place to raise horses, at least the two they bought for their girls. This is a delightful place, Barry thought as he paused out by the mailbox.

At 6:00 o'clock on the dot, Barry pulled up the drive to find Ike sitting on the front porch. Ike got up and came to greet his old agency colleague. He carried with him a tall glass of iced tea.

"Hello, my old friend," Barry greeted. "Boy, that iced tea looks good. You got any more?" The two men embraced and slapped each other warmly on the back. Barry noted how much Ike had changed. He was now much thinner, white-haired and quite tanned. He even wore bib overalls and a checkered shirt, though there was no corn cob pipe.

"Come on over an sit a spell, as the farmers say." Ike poured a glass of tea from a pitcher resting on a wicker table behind him and handed it to Barry.

"Well, you did it, didn't you?" Barry began. "You got the place you always talked about. Looks like being a gentleman farmer agrees with you."

"It sure does," exclaimed Irene, coming out onto the porch to greet their guest. "This place is all we hoped for. And it was ideal for the girls too. You remember Ida and Isabel."

"I remember them when they were in grade school."

"Well, they're both off to college now. They loved it here as kids, but now it's off to bigger and better things. Ida's going to be a veterinarian and Isabel graduates this year with a degree in computer science."

"That's terrific," Barry responded. "You must be very proud of them."

"We are," Ike agreed, "but I sure miss having them running around here. They seldom get home any more."

"They have their own lives to live, Ike. That's the way it is," Irene declared.

"So tell me, Barry. What are you and Ben Brigham up to these days? You did say on the phone you were in business together, didn't you?"

Before Barry could begin to tell the story, Irene excused herself, claiming that supper needed her attention. "Hope you like roast beef, carrots and potatoes, Barry. That's what's on the menu tonight."

"That'll be great, Irene."

Then Barry explained about DANCO and their teaming up to do information gathering for industry and, on occasion, even the government. He described what they were asked to do to help StratoWest, pausing briefly to ask Ike to keep the confidentiality of what was being said. Ike agreed.

After Barry explained what DixieAero was doing and how they were in cahoots with Senator Carrington, it came as a surprise to have Ike observe that StratoWest might owe Carrington and DixieAero a debt of gratitude.

"How do you figure that, Ike?"

"Well, consider this, if the efforts of DixieAero to limit the competition and shorten the Phase Zero effort hadn't occurred, the default award of that contract to StratoWest, along with DixieAero itself, might not have happened. So one could argue that it turned out for the best."

"That's a stretch of logic, my friend. But you may have a point. You'll forgive us, though, if we don't send DixieAero a bouquet of flowers or the senator a box of candy," Barry replied.

"So what is it about your client's interests that brings you down here?"

Barry explained the conflict between Transportation Command (TC) and Air Combat Command on the requirements for the XC transport. He said that it seemed logical to come down here and see what he could learn about the TC perspectives, so he could advise StratoWest. "But I don't have any inside contacts here. I'd like to meet with some of their plans and requirements people, their operations staff or other folks who have a say about what they want in a replacement for the C-130 transports."

"Well, you sure didn't find one in me, old boy. I'm just an accountant these days, keeping track of the TC budgets and counting the beans."

"I know that, Ike. I was hoping that you might point me in the right direction, perhaps introduce me to one of the staff experts." And then Barry described his interesting afternoon at Base Operations, meeting with pilots and crewmen.

"You always did have a way of meeting people. You honed those skills when you worked embassy row in DC. I tell you what I can do for you. Tomorrow we'll have lunch at the Officers Club. As a GS-15 civil servant I have membership privileges, so you can come as my guest. I'll introduce you to a few folks and you take it from there. Okay?"

"Sounds terrific. Thanks, Ike."

"Supper's ready, you boys. Bring your iced teas and come to the table," Irene called through the screen door.

During the meal, conversation dealt with some of their mutual friends from the old days with the agency, of their lives since Ike retired and how he traded cryptography for bean counting by getting his degree in management and accounting. For two years he not only took care of the farm, he commuted to a nearby college in Carlinville to get his degree. Irene was active in their community, even joining the local Grange and working with the kids in 4-H, while they were in school.

Irene summed up her feelings by declaring, "I don't miss the Washington rat race one bit. We live like normal people out here, not the artificial lifestyle inside the Beltway. And besides, this is a much better place to raise kids," she said, pointing to pictures of the girls on the mantelpiece.

"Different strokes for different folks, Irene. I'd probably go nuts in such a quiet place. I live for the action, the travel and the different golf courses around the country," Barry quietly offered.

"Oh, that's right. You did mention bringing your clubs along. We have some interesting courses around here. Let's see, there's one in a little town just east of here that lets the cows graze on the fairways. It's a nine hole course and you have to be careful what kinds of divots you take. And right here in Mascouta we have an 18-hole course. That's where some of the military people play when they get tired of the one on base. So, you see we do have some of the good life that you enjoy in Washington."

After supper Barry offered to help with the dishes, but Irene chased the two men out of her kitchen, suggesting they go back out on the porch and catch up on old times.

"Do you like your work at the base, Ike?"

"Most of the time. I never realized that the military was so cost-conscious. They keep track of everything and they have so many ways of categorizing things. There are separate accounts for every conceivable type of thing, from people and their costs, to building upkeep, to aircraft operations and maintenance, and you name it. Right now I'm working on an audit of the TC headquarters facilities, furnishings and equipment. I can even tell you how much they paid for copy machine use the last quarter."

"Well then, you might be able to give me some ballpark estimates of where they could save money on operating Hercules replacement transports."

"I'd have to do some thinking on that, but a few areas do pop into my mind. This command spends tens of millions on aircraft tires and the C-130's eat up a bunch of 'em. Maybe you could tell StratoWest to figure out how to have their new plane use fewer tires," Ike laughed.

"Are you serious?"

"You damned straight I am. And there are so many subsystems on those planes that require warehouses full of spare parts. You tell StratoWest to build a plane that doesn't need so many. And lastly, tell 'em to build a plane that doesn't need so many different kinds of test equipment. You've be amazed how much it costs to keep all that gear up, running and calibrated."

"Those are interesting things to think about. See, I knew it would be worth my while to come down here. Has anybody documented these kinds of concerns?"

"Hell yes. There have been dozens of white papers written on the subject, but they just seem to disappear with nothing much ever changing."

"Can you get me some recent copies, especially any that deal with C-130's?" Barry pressed.

"I'll nose around tomorrow and see what I can come up with. You say you're leaving here Friday? That won't give me much time."

"I'll be back. I have to go to Dayton on Friday to give a pep talk to some of my people. Do you folks have connections to the internet out here?"

"Oh sure. We may look like country folk, but we have computers and internet service. We have the old computers that the girls left. They got new ones when they went off to college, fancy laptops required by the university."

"Are you connected with email service here at the house?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, perhaps you could email me some material from time to time. It would be a big help, and I'd gladly help you out if you need a scanner or a better modem and such."

"Hmmm. I suppose I could. Yes, that wouldn't be much trouble at all. My modem is 14.4 kilobaud. Is that good enough?"

"Not hardly. Perhaps you could show me your computer setup and I can assess whether or not you need anything. You furnish me some information and I'll see that you have at least the minimum hardware and software to talk to me. One thing that I tell others who work with me, don't mess with anything classified. It's not worth the risk or the hassle."

"My office is on distribution for all kinds of stuff that never gets read. Some of it does deal with planning for the C-130 replacements, I'm almost sure of it. I do know that there was a study about where to base the new transports. It only pertains to TC though. Would that help?"

"Sure would. Now you're thinking like an old agency man. You know what I'm trying to do for StratoWest, so you decide what might be useful. I know I can trust your judgement. And if you come across anything you're unsure about, just ask and I'll let you know it it's relevant."

"Sounds good. Okay, I'm in."

Just as the two got up to head into the house and look at the computer setup in one of the girls' rooms, Irene called out, "Ike, you show Barry which room is his and where the towels are. Will you?"

Ike opened the door to Isabel's room. "You can bunk in here, Barry. This room isn't as cluttered as the other one, where the computer stuff is." Barry looked around and though it was full of girl stuff, he knew it would be just fine for one night.

"In here, Barry. Here's our computer area." Along one wall, on a desk made from a door supported atop two small filing cabinets, rested an old IBM compatible PC. There was a printer and an external modem box along side the processor unit. The 12" screen was, according to Ike, a monochrome monitor.

"Well, this is a real old timer, Ike. It's time we got you upgraded. I'm going to have Bert send you out a new system. He can get a really good deal."

"I don't know, Barry. Money's tight with the girls in school. How much will it cost?"

"Can you live with free?"

"I can't let you do that. How could we repay you?"

"Tell you what. You help me find out what TC really wants in that new transport and we'll call it even."

"Okay. I guess that's a fair deal, especially if you say Bert can get it cheap."

"Where's the phone jack for the modem connection?"

Ike pulled the table away from the wall and showed Barry a jumbled nest of wires, one set of which terminated at a telephone box. "It's hardwired, Barry. This house was built long before modular phone jacks were invented. Ida's boyfriend rigged it up for us."

"Well, it'll have to do. We'll manage. Okay then. I'll have Bert ship you a complete system. It won't be brand new, but it'll be a heck of a lot newer than what you've got here. Are you familiar with Windows?"

"No, and neither is Irene. This computer isn't graphics capable. It's all text, but we can send email back and forth with the girls."

"You'll have a more modern setup when we get through, my friend. You'll have a color monitor, a laser printer and a scanner, as well as a built-in modem for connecting to the internet and email. Have you ever used a graphical system?"

"Oh yes, we have all that at work. We're even on a local network as well as connected to the internet. I think we'll be able to use the new setup without much trouble. I'll have to teach Irene, but she's a fast learner."

Barry grabbed a pencil from the jar on the desk and wrote down his email address in Washington, handing the note to Ike. Then he asked Ike for his, which he wrote on a separate piece of paper and stuck it in his wallet. "How often do you check for mail," Barry asked.

"Oh, at least once a week. We typically get mail from the kids on Fridays. That's when we check it."

"Do you remember your cryptology, Ike?"

"Yes, some of it, but it's been years. Why?"

"Well. I'm going to have Bert install a version of our in-house encryption program, so you can send me reports about the TC plans for the new transport without people eaves dropping."

"Sure fine. I understand. Can you teach me how to use it on your next visit?"

"No problem. We'll spend a couple hours getting you completely checked out on the system."

"Why don't we go down to your car and get your luggage?" Ike suggested. "It's getting late and I have to turn in. I leave the house at 7:15 and that means getting up around 6:00."

Back downstairs they passed Irene sitting in the living room. "Barry's going to fix us up with a newer computer, Hon. He thinks what we have is kinda ancient."

"Ike, we can't afford to go buy new computer stuff. We have tuition payments, you know."

"Don't worry, Irene. I have a friend who can get some government surplus computer gear really cheap," Barry explained. "I'll have it sent out here. No charge for my old pals."

"That's awfully nice of you, Barry. Does that mean I have to learn how to use the thing all over again?"

"Yes, but it's not difficult. And you'll really like the graphical color display. You'll have faster, newer software for sending email to the girls too. You can even send and receive pictures, if you like."

"Barry's even including a scanner, so we can send all kinds of stuff to the kids. You'll like it." But the look on Irene'e face was less than enthusiastic. She seemed to dread having to learn all over again how to just send email.

Barry and Ike returned from the front yard, carrying Barry's two small suitcases. They went upstairs and put his things in Isabel's room. Irene had already put fresh towels on the bed. "You'll have the upstairs bath all to yourself, Barry. Our room and bath is downstairs."

Once again they went downstairs. Ike explained how to find his office, right behind the TC headquarters building. "I'll meet you there at 11:45 and we can go for lunch at the Club."

Irene asked Barry what time he wanted breakfast. She explained that she didn't usually get up when Ike did. He usually feeds himself and leaves for work early.

"No need to fix me anything, Irene. I'll grab something on the base. I'll probably be out of here before 8:00."

"Well, you can at least have a cup of coffee before you go. Ike makes a pot full. You'll find cups in the cupboard to the left of the sink. I don't usually get moving until 9:00 or so."

"That'll be fine. And I want to thank you again for putting me up and feeding me such a delicious meal. Home cooking is a real treat for me."

Labor Day fast approached, following a hectic summer for Barry. He bounced back and forth between Dayton, Scott Field, Langley and Washington, traveling almost weekly. Two trips to Long Beach occupied a pair of extended weekends, but he managed to get in several rounds of golf, including one with Stockman down at Solano.

The Phase Zero reports by both DixieAero and StratoWest further solidified their different conceptual design approaches for the XC-109. By Labor Day weekend the Air Force was ready to issue its RFP's for the all-important Phase One contract. DixieAero appeared to be the solid favorite, especially with the folks down at ACC. But Stockman and his StratoWest team remained resolute that what TC wanted was what really mattered.

The Friday before Labor Day Barry got a call from Bret. "We got it, Barry. We've got the complete RFP for Phase One, thanks to Dixon. Not only have we got the whole thing on a set of six diskettes, we've managed to keep Stockman's people on the right track after all."

"Wait a minute. Slow down, Bret," Barry cautioned. "This isn't a secure line, you know."

"Oh shit. I got so excited I forgot. Tell you what, I'll send you an email with all the details I know. You'd better get out here ASAP and hustle these diskettes to StratoWest."

"Okay. Okay. You send me the email and I'll decide how best to get the diskettes to Stockman. I'll get back to you within the hour, but by email. Okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry, Barry."

"No sweat. Probably no harm done. You calling from the office or home?"

"The office."

"Standby and I'll be with you as soon as I can. Bye."

Within a few minutes Barry got a secure email message from Bret, ten pages long. It confirmed the receipt from Major Dixon of the complete RFP, plus a few key excerpts from the specifications section. Stockman had guessed right. The Air Force wanted a much simpler airplane than everything DixieAero had been pushing. And there would be no new engine development, at least for the first prototypes. Barry smiled as he read the full text of Bret's message. Yes indeed, this was good news. Bidders for this solicitation would be given 90 days to respond

Quickly, Barry sent Bret a reply email message. In it he told Bret to FedEx by priority next day air the set of diskettes to Stockman's home, but only after making two duplicate sets. He got a quick response from Bret, acknowledging the shipping instructions and confirming that duplicates were already made.

Deciding not to call Stockman from his office, Barry headed for a phone booth in a local convenience store. It was just after noon, West Coast time, so he called Stockman at his office.

"Yes, Barry. What's up?"

"We got it, sir. The complete package and you're going to love it. I'm flying out tonight and will see you in the morning. As a backup, I'm having the stuff FedEx'd to you at home as well."

"Good work. I'll pick you up at your usual motel in the morning. How about breakfast at 0900?"

"Sounds fine, sir. I'll call you at home if there are any airline snafu's. See you tomorrow."

Quickly, Betty arranged for Barry to fly out to California on the 8:00 PM non-stop flight. But because of the holiday weekend crowds, she could only get him a seat in First Class.

"No sweat, Betty. I think Stockman will willingly spring for this $1500 ticket. We're coming toward the home stretch and StratoWest is neck and neck with DixieAero now. Damn, this is great," he finished with a gleeful shout.

Darnelle and her DixieAero colleagues fully expected the RFP to come out right after the weekend. Their inside information from Carrington's office and Langley convinced them that the Phase One package would be in close agreement with what they'd planned all along. They had no idea that Barry was at least a week ahead of them.

There was still time before Barry's flight to meet with Ben and fill him in on what was happening. Both men agreed that it was time for Barry to ask Stockman for another progress payment. Several folks had earned their bonuses and shouldn't have to wait longer.

It was 10:30 Pacific time when Barry checked in to his motel in Long Beach. It had been an exciting, but definitely a long day. Barry hit the sack within minutes of his arrival.

Morning broke Saturday to a clear blue sky. A hint of light fog drifted in from the water, but it was a great day to play golf. Yet this was not to be a golfing day. At 9:00 AM sharp Barry got a call from the front desk. It was Stockman. Seconds later Barry was in the lobby to be greeted by a smiling, casually dressed and most excited CEO.

"Isn't this a beautiful day, Barry? Let's have breakfast down on the waterfront. It'll be quiet and an ideal place to talk. Do you have the diskettes?"

Patting his sport coat pocket, Barry affirmed, "Right here sir."

"Good. We'll swing by the office on the way. I've got Stu and some of his people anxiously waiting your delivery. We'll get back to them after we eat. I've scheduled an 11:00 AM get together for all the key people. I want you there too."

Barry followed Stockman to his car, waiting at the front portico. Soon they were parked in front of StratoWest headquarters. Stu Sanders met them at the front door and took the diskettes. Then the two headed for the marina restaurant and a late breakfast.

Over their first cups of coffee, while waiting for breakfast to be served, the two men talked about the success of Barry's team at Wright Field.

"Yes, sir, Major Dixon came through again. We're damn lucky he was so set against DixieAero winning the race. You'll have a week's head start in developing your response to the RFP, but the real advantage is your decision not to be swayed by DixieAero's moves to gold plate the airplane. Keeping to basics while allowing for possible future growth will give you the clear edge when the Air Force finishes the Source Selection process."

"I think so. But we'll beat the socks off those guys on price too. My people have been most impressed by the material you've forwarded, especially the images from those clever eyeglass cameras. We know down to every rivet what DixieAero proposed. We just don't happen to agree with them."

"I didn't tell you about a special feature we added to the new glasses, one that let us record voices as well as images. Our people have been able to listen at meetings, informal discussions and even some real arguments, in addition to getting pictures of technical material."

"That's good news. Will your people have similar access inside the evaluation team during proposal reviews?"

"I don't know yet. There's a chance that Dixon will be assigned to the team, since he's their in-house electronic warfare engineer. If nothing else he'll be asked to evaluate provisions for future EW add-ons, since there won't be any on the first airplanes. He'll probably participate at some level, but perhaps only part time."

"Can you use your bird feeder monitoring devices in the area that proposals will be evaluated?"

"No. The special building used for Source Selection doesn't have any windows. It's an old storage facility. We might hear whatever mention of the process occurs in the general's office. And I suspect very little from there because he'll want to protect the security of the evaluation process. If any bidder suspects outside influence on the scoring process, that could be grounds for a protest which could delay the contract award for months. The general won't risk even a hint of that."

"Well, I guess it's up to Dixon to keep you informed."

"Before we head back to your office, sir, I want to ask you about the next increment of payment for our services. My people have worked hard for you and produced well. Don't you agree?"

"Yes. I'll get you a check today. Tell your people that I'm most grateful for their good work. You're headed back on Monday, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, I plane to catch the early morning flight."

"Well, I've eaten more than I should have. If you're about through with your breakfast, we should get back. Ready?"

Senior staff people from engineering, manufacturing, marketing, finance, contracts and administration were waiting Stockman's arrival for the meeting. It wa a large group, so they met in the Board Room. Barry was invited to sit next to Stu.

Everyone seemed excited and delighted to receive their copies of the RFP, as Stockman explained that the official copies would be picked up by Bart Bascomb, who had been dispatched from the Washington office to Dayton to await issuance. "Treat these as confidential, folks.

"I realize that we've only gained a week on the competition, but every bit helps. You will be pleased to discover on reading the specifications that so far we've been pretty much on the right track. My consultant, Barry here, has learned that DixieAero's approach has been quite different. But let me caution you that they can shift gears pretty fast. We shouldn't under-estimate their ability to give us a run for the money.

"And just as we did on Phase Zero, we're setting up a Red Team and Blue Team proposal review process. We'll be checking for every crossed 'T' and dotted 'I'. There is no way I want us to miss being 100% responsive to the RFP, in letter or spirit."

The turning to Stu, Stockman said that he wanted a detailed proposal outline review by next Saturday. He added that until the proposal is submitted there will be few weekends off. "But believe me, people. It'll be worth every bit of the blood, sweat and tears. Our future and your jobs depend on it."

Stockman and his long-time pal and VP of manufacturing, Simon Sullivan, got into a side discussion, while the others started to leave the room. "Steve, we might want to consider teaming with WestAero for parts of the work. I suggest that we approach those guys to see if they'd be interested. That would give us a measure of strength and credibility our competition doesn't have."

"What makes you think we need those guys, Sully, or that they'd even consider taking a subcontractor position with us?"

"They bring us instant credibility in the transport business, for one thing, Steve. We haven't actually built a transport since the Korean conflict. That's got to go into the mix when the Air Force looks at our track record. And I happen to know that WestAero has unused excess manufacturing capacity at its Iowa facility. It would sure help us to tap that resource."

"Hmmm. That's something I hadn't considered. I'll call Walt Williams at WestAero and see what he thinks. What specific parts of the XC would you think we should look at for subcontracting?"

"Well, they have a significant capability for making wing sections. And I know that their avionics group uses them for radome development. We should too. My people don't know radomes. And consider this too, spreading the work and jobs around won't hurt a bit in the political world."

Barry overheard that discussion but chose not to say anything at the moment. He agreed with the arguments Sullivan presented. DixieAero had an edge over StratoWest in that department, especially politically.

The room cleared out, except for Stockman, Stu and Barry. Stu approached Barry, asking, "What do you think our chances are now, Barry?"

"Fifty-fifty, Stu. No better than that, but it's a helluva lot better than when this all started."

Stockman overheard Barry's remark. "What do you mean only 50-50? Are you serious?"

"I have to say it, sir. Like your Manufacturing VP just said, you guys haven't actually built a transport in years. Fighters yes, and attack bombers yes, but transports, no."

"Do you agree with the idea of teaming with WestAero?"

"Most definitely. You do that and your odds rise to 60-40 right away. And you gain a political ally, maybe two considering Iowa."

"Do you agree with that, Stu?"

"From a marketing perspective, Steve, absolutely. I know you want the whole enchilada, but it's time to realistically look at what we're facing here. Why don't you give Williams a call and explore the option? Just don't tell 'em that we have the RFP already."

Stockman called Williams right after the meeting broke up. The receptionist at WestAero transferred the call to Williams' home.

"Walt? Steve Stockman here. How are you?"

"Well, you old son of a gun. It's been a long time since we talked. I'm fine and so is the missus. And you?"

"Doing great, Walt. Listen, I wanted to bounce an idea off you. You've probably heard that we're in the running for the new XC transport job."

"Yeah, I've heard that you're interested, but the way I heard it DixieAero has the inside track."

"It may appear that way Walt, but I think we have an edge. What my sources tell me is that they've gold-plated their design and can't be cost-competitive with us. We've take an much more conservative approach and the people down at Transportation Command say that's what they want."

"So what can I do for you, Steve?"

"Would you be interested in taking on some work down at your Iowa plant, say on a sub-contract basis?"

"We're always interested in new business. What do you have in mind?"

Stockman went on to explain his thoughts, actually Sullivan's thoughts, about wing sections and radomes. Williams listened patiently and then replied, "That's it? Just bending metal and molding fiberglass? Is that all you want us to do? We'll want more action than that, Steve. I have engineers to keep busy too, you know. It ain't just manufacturing that I worry about."

"What else would you be interested in, Walt?"

"We'd want more than a subcontractor role. We would prefer something on the order an associate contractor's role, where we have some say in the design and production. You're not dealing with a job shop, Steve."

Stockman sensed that Walt was feeling confident that StratoWest needed WestAero more than the other way around. He was holding out for a bigger piece of the pie. He knew what was a stake.

"I'll call you Monday, Walt. We hadn't considered that kind of an arrangement."

"You do that, Steve. I'll not talk to anybody else, meaning DixieAero, until we've thrashed this out some. I can tell you now that I'd also be interested in having my avionics people involved."

Stockman was having second thoughts on the wisdom of making the call. He asked himself if Sullivan had been right. WestAero would clearly want a major role in the XC program. Mention of an associate contractor relationship scared Stockman, yet he fully realized that bringing that big company aboard would have major pluses, as well as minuses.

Barry and Stu, in the meantime, discussed having dinner together that evening. Just about the time that they'd agreed to do so, Stockman called Stu's office. He wanted to discuss the idea of teaming with WestAero. Stu suggested that he join them at dinner. Stockman agreed, but insisted it be at his place. They could talk freely there and be more relaxed sitting on the patio. He'd have his wife arrange for delivery of a complete meal.

Mrs. Stockman joined the three men for dinner, Chinese take-out from a favorite restaurant. Afterwards, she excused herself, saying she was reading a book and preferred doing that to listening to the men talk shop.

Over brandy and coffee, the three discussed the many ramifications of tying in with WestAero, as well as the pros and cons of going it alone. They finally concluded that they had a much stronger hand with WestAero as an ally. They didn't really think that Williams seriously entertained teaming with DixieAero, for Gordon and Williams were not at all friends.

"I guess that settles it, fellows. We team with WestAero. Now we have to decide how much of the store to give away."

Stu argued that giving WestAero associate contractor status was not all bad, if and only if they clearly delineated what areas WestAero would share. StratoWest must retain prime contractor status, since they would be signing on the dotted line. WestAero had to accept that or no deal.

Barry suggested that having AeroWest integrate the basic avionics package, plus assist in planning for future growth in that area would be useful. Their commercial planes gave WestAero a solid background in avionics integration with the flight control systems. And there was no denying that WestAero had a superior radome design and fabrication group.

"Stu. I want you and our contracts people to thrash out some options for both an associate contract relationship and a sub-contractor relationship between our companies. Make sure the lawyers are involved too. I think Monday I'll suggest to Williams that we come up there to talk turkey."

"Barry, I may have a job for you too. Let me think about it some more. I'll call you when you get back to Washington, say toward the end of the week, after I've chatted with Williams and his folks."

Instinctively, Barry sensed what Stockman intended. If StratoWest was going to enter into a major relationship with AeroWest, they'd sure as hell want information on what their partner was up to, really up to. The old adage, trust but verify, came to mind. Regardless of what any written agreements might be developed, StratoWest would need to know inside details.

"Ben? Barry here. I'm back in the brownstone."

"So? How was California?"

"No time for golf, but it was pretty good. And I brought back some bonus money for the troops. I'd like to get with you to parcel out some generous chunks. Will you be in the office this afternoon?"

"I can be. I'm leaving for Atlanta tonight to work with Darnelle."

"Okay. I'll see you in the office around 3:00 PM. One of the packets is for her. I'm going to stay around here a day or so and then head for Dayton." Barry concluded.

He'd already cashed the check that he brought back from Stockman, half of which he put into his personal account. Only the remaining half would be distributed as cash bonuses. He planned on handing out $4k to $10k bonuses on a selective basis.

Before leaving the house, he decided to check down in the basement for messages Bert might have transferred to ZIP disks. There were two, plus a handwritten note mentioning a new feature added to the eyeglass cameras. Bert added audio recording features, also using the memory sticks. Barry smiled and wondered how much this would cost.

Curiosity got the best of him, so Barry paused in his room to see what might be of interest on the ZIP. There was a message from DixieAero to Carrington, complaining about the RFP and the Air Force's decision not to incorporate the sophisticated features described in their Phase Zero submittals. CEO Gordon wanted the senator to strongly urge the Air Force to amend the RFP to require those features. But Carrington's response indicated he couldn't do that.

Phil's message traffic with his Pentagon computer indicated the bean counters were juggling money to allow for four XC-109 prototypes. The #1 aircraft would be used for flying qualities evaluations. #2 would be used for structural loads testing, even to destruction if needed. The #3 aircraft would be used to support Air Force Test and Evaluation tasks, including crew training. And finally, the #4 would be used for avionics testing and as a test spare, should anything happen to the earlier airplanes. Mention of long-lead procurements to support production tooling and materials buys for initial production appeared in a memorandum, urging Phil's boss to research those needs.

Meanwhile, out West, Stockman and his Manufacturing V-P, Sullivan, made plans to meet with their WestAero counterparts. Stu would have gone along, except he was busy ramrodding the effort on the Phase One proposal. The notion of teaming with this long-time rival was an anathema to Stockman on one level and an essential reality on another. Not only did WestAero have important resources, which StratoWest didn't, it brought to the mix a counterbalance to DixieAero's dominance in military transports.

Williams knew well that Stockman needed a stronger position in the XC-109 bidding but he was loath to take a secondary role as a subcontractor. He didn't agree with his advisors urgings to pass on the XC-109 for themselves, but WestAero's Board of Directors felt strongly that they could not win against DixieAero either, with its political clout. And besides, WestAero was still completing another major military contract. The Board felt the XC-109 was out of turn, so to speak. The Pentagon would surely not give them another plum so soon. Getting a piece of the action, in concert with StratoWest was all they could expect. But in the battle of corporate egos, they wanted more than subcontractor status.

Three days of posturing and trade-offs finally resulted in an agreement that both CEO's felt was as close to a win-win outcome as they could expect. StratoWest kept its role of prime contractor, but WestAero garnered a loftier position as Associate rather than that of merely sub-contractor or parts supplier. WestAero would produce the wings, all radomes for navigation and electronic warfare systems, and participate as lead in the avionics integration, which included all the computer software. It was crucial to StratoWest to be the prime, because all interfaces with the Air Force would now be through them and not directly to WestAero. That was a matter of pride for Stockman, and an important factor in profit sharing and control. It also meant that DixieAero until would not know WestAero’s participation after contract award to the winning competitor.

Stockman and Sullivan returned to Long Beach, feeling especially good at having struck a deal with WestAero, yet were a little chagrinned that it was necessary to divide the pie.

Ben's visit to Atlanta included delivery of the newly modified eyeglasses camera to Darnelle. He explained to her that the memory sticks could record up to five hours of audio material. She would be able to gather voices at important meetings, discussions with fellow engineers and even record her own comments about what appeared on her computer screens, even as she captured the images.

Darnelle mentioned Stockman's offer to move her and her family to Long Beach, should StratoWest win the XC contract. She was still unsure how to broach the subject at home, when the time came. Though her mother was likely to welcome the important care for Nestor, leaving her life-long home would not be easy. Ben did his best to allay her apprehensions, reminding her that Stockman's offer was a once in a lifetime opportunity, for all of the family and not just her career.

Then Ben gave Darnelle her bonus money, $5000 in cash, saying, "Stockman wanted to show his appreciation for a job well done."

"Oh my. Thank you, Ben. This will go a long way to replenishing my mother's depleted savings. She spent about all she had to provide doctors for my brother. Thank you, and thanks to Mr. Stockman and Barry."

Ben reminded Darnelle that her job was far from done. She needed to gather all she could on DixieAero's Phase One proposal content.

Stockman knew he must not be surprised by what his future associate contract partner was doing. That prompted him to call Barry one evening from home.

"Hello Barry. I hope I'm not calling you too late. It's 9:00 PM out here, so you're probably headed for bed by now."

"I had one foot under the blanket, sir. But I'm not asleep yet. What can I do for you?" Barry replied with a chuckle.

"Sullivan and I just got back from negotiating with WestAero. We managed to come to terms and I think it's an important plus for our bid."

"That's terrific. I agree it gives you a stronger position vis-a-vis DixieAero. What kind of deal did you strike?"

Stockman explained the new arrangement and told Barry that he was comfortable with the deal. "But, my friend, I don't want to ever be surprised by what WestAero is doing. I need someone in your type of work keeping me independently informed about what they are doing, not doing and so forth. You get my drift?"

"Perfectly, sir. I can understand your position. WestAero is and always has been your competitor, even though they are now teaming with you. They have their own agendas and you need to know how that affects StratoWest. Right?"

"That's it. So what do you suggest?"

"Give me a few days to think about it, sir. I'll get with my partner, Ben Brigham. We'll put something together for your consideration. Fortunately, you have time. When, and you'll note I say when and not if, you win the Phase One contract, we can implement whatever plan you agree to. Okay?"

"You're right. It's tomorrow's problem. Getting our proposal in is first priority, but now we'll have some help on that score from WestAero too. I'm convinced we've got a fighting chance."

"Me too, sir. I'll get back to you in a week or so. Is that all right?"

"Yes, fine. Goodnight Barry. And thank you."

"Goodnight, sir."

Barry hung up the telephone and slid down into his bed. His mind was racing a mile a minute, thinking about the implications and possibilities of Stockman's request. Sleep did not come quickly.

"Good morning, Barry," greeted Betty. "Oh my, this is unusual. You’re here before 9:30. What gives?"

"Just for your information, young lady, I happen to do a lot of work before I come into the office."

"Okay, okay. I was just kidding."

Barry handed her an envelope. It contained a stack of $100 bills, 4k’s worth. "Here. It’s your promised bonus, and don’t spend it all in one place."

Betty spread out the bills and gasped, "What did you do? Rob a bank?"

"No. Stockman came through with a progress payment. He’s delighted to have the Phase One RFP."

"Gee. He could have waited until this week and saved himself a lot of money. Who else is getting bonuses? You, of course?"

"Most everybody gets one, except Bart. He’s now on Stockman’s payroll anyway. Would you get me a flight to Dayton on Thursday? I’ll go out there to give Billy and Bret theirs. I’ll come back Sunday afternoon."

"Sure thing, boss. And will you be playing some golf too?"

"Naturally. Oh, and Ben already has his and took Darnelle’s down to her. That’s about everybody."

"What about Ike?"

"He’s gotten his in the form of a brand new computer with accessories."

Barry called Bret to let him know he’d be coming out. He mentioned bringing some bonus money, but didn’t reveal how much. "How about calling Major Dixon and seeing if he’d like to play golf on Saturday. I’d prefer morning, but any tee time he can get will be fine. And did you ever find out if Dolly got a job?"

"Yes, Barry. She’s happy as a clam with her new position. She’s working for NCR now and is full time."

"Well good. But I’ll bet she could still use a bonus. Tell her where I’ll be staying and ask her to call me Thursday evening. I’ll arrange a rendezvous with here then."

"Sure. Will do, Barry. I guess you know the RFP his the street today, officially."

"No, I didn’t know for sure. We manage to foul up the schedules so much I lose track of what’s official and what’s not. Anyway, I’ll see you in the office on Friday. Bye."

"See you."

Thursday evening, while Barry was relaxing in the living room, Caroline came in with Phil. They had been out to dinner.

"Hello Barry. It’s good to see you around."

"You too Caroline, and Hi Phil. Where did you go to eat tonight?"

"I took Phil to the Senate employees’ cafeteria. He said he’d heard about it but never been there," Caroline replied.

"It wasn’t bad, Barry," Phil explained. "Actually it’s a pretty nice place to eat."

"Oh Barry. Did you hear that the RFP is out for the development of the new transport? DixieAero sent my boss a notice that they picked their copy up in Dayton today. The Senator is excited about it, but he’s a bit angry too."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"He said that the Air Force is much too timid about having DixieAero produce the most modern transport ever built. The Pentagon directed bidders to take a very conservative approach. No high tech stuff and all."

"That’s bad?"

"According to the senator it is. A Georgia company could put the Air Force decades ahead, but now they can’t. It’s a shame."

"I suppose so."

After Barry's trip to Dayton, which included two rounds of golf, he returned to Washington. There was a call on his answering machine from Darnelle. She thanked him profusely for the bonus and then said she had news. "Please call me at my apartment."

"Yes, Darnelle? What's up?" Barry asked on phoning her back Tuesday evening.

"I'm going to send you some email over our secure link. I think you'll be quite interested, and so will Mr. Stockman."

"Okay. I'll be on the lookout. How's it going down there?"

"It's hectic. The proposal team is working overtime. We're supposed to be running the first draft by the in-house review committee next week. I'm beginning to believe that this company is run by idiots. There's a whole lot of running around without much sense of direction. Some guys are creative though."

"Things are jumping out west too. That's the way this is played. I'll get back to you by email soon. Take care."

"Will do. I'm headed for bed early tonight. These long days are getting to me. Check your email in about an hour."

"Sure thing. Bye."

It was 9:00 PM when the message came across. It was indeed interesting, for it described a new design wrinkle that DixieAero was proposing. In order to reduce the empty weight of the airplane, their engineers were proposing a radical design change to the landing gear system. Rather than use the traditional retractable gear design, with its heavy structure and complex hydraulic systems, DixieAero was planning on a fixed gear. Traditional fixed landing gear had to contend with struts and wheels hanging out in the wind with attendant drag penalties, but DixieAero came up with a unique way of moving lightweight swing-away fairings. For cruise the fairings of light sheet metal and fiberglass enclose the wheels in a streamlined manner. For landing and ground operations the fairing lifted up and pivoted clear of the wheels. The approach had been tested in a wind tunnel and proved to be satisfactory, aerodynamically. The design was stronger and lighter than traditional gear retraction systems. DixieAero claimed to save one-third on the weight of a retracting gear system, resulting in increased useful payload and/or fuel for long distance flights.

Further, DixieAero proposed an airplane with dual aerial refueling capabilities. It could be refueled using the standard boom and receptacle system as well as the probe and drogue system with minimal conversion. Kits would be installable at field level.

Most surprising, according to Darnelle, was DixieAero's determination to use a only two-man cockpit crew, no navigator or flight engineer, and even no provision for an instructor pilot's jump seat. They proposed a fully automated cockpit and instrument panel, depending solely upon the Global Positioning System (GPS) for all enroute and terminal navigation. They did not include even a weather radar.

Barry read Darnelle's message with interest and some skepticism. He knew that the dual refueling capability was not a difficult feature to add, but he couldn't comprehend the fixed landing gear's advantage. He printed out the text and decided to FedEx it to Stockman in the morning.

Just before shutting his computer down, he got another message. It was from Bret and encrypted like Darnelle's. Bret explained that Major Dixon just heard that he was being discharged from the Air Force within the month. He failed to make promotion for Lieutenant Colonel for the third time, and the policy in effect meant that he would be summarily discharged. He would receive a severance package, amounting to about $40k, but not qualify for retirement benefits. Bret concluded his report with a question about whether or not DANCO would be interested in hiring Dixon.

"I wonder why he never mentioned it last week, when I was in Dayton," Barry mused. He'd played golf with Dixon and even shared a couple of beers, but he never hinted that a discharge was imminent. And then Barry wondered why this news was so sensitive that it had to be sent encoded. "Maybe it's because Bret made reference to DANCO and Dixon. The linkage might be potentially compromising. "Ah well. Better safe than sorry," he concluded.

Dixon's upcoming availability on the civilian job market got Barry to thinking. He wondered if Dixon might be hired on by WestAero, or if such a hire could be arranged. "If I could get Dixon hired by those guys, I might be able to use him in a manner similar to Darnelle," he thought.

But the more he mulled the idea over, the less attractive it became. "Dixon is not nearly as smart or capable as Darnelle. All he really offers WestAero is XC Project Office experience. And he wouldn't have the urgent need for Stockman's financial support, the way Darnelle does. That means we wouldn't have the same degree of control. No. I don't like the idea, and I sure as hell don't trust him as much as I do Darnelle." Barry weighed the pros and cons of the idea again and again. Each time he reached the same conclusion. Gender aside, he is no Darnelle and wouldn't be nearly as attractive to WestAero, he concluded. "I have to come up with somebody else as Stockman's eyes and ears inside WestAero. But who?"

Barry prepared for bed and while brushing his teeth, he thought of considering Sid for the WestAero job. Even though Sid had that drug problem and a driving under the influence charge, he was reported to be recovering and cleaning up his act. Sid offered some experience that might prove useful. He was familiar with marketing and the process of promoting the 'party line' of a large aerospace company. He could offer WestAero valuable expertise. And he was savvy enough to know what to watch for inside one of StratoWest's biggest competitors. Yet two big questions remained. Was Sid hungry enough to take on such a role? And what would Stockman think of the idea? Barry resolved to meet with Sid just to see how he's doing. But before exploring the notion with Sid, it would be useful to talk this over with Ben first. And then, only if they were agreed would Barry approach Sid and Stockman.

Wednesday Barry and Ben met in the DANCO office. Barry briefed his partner on Darnelle's message. "She sent me a copy of that too, Barry. And I just got a couple of memory sticks that you should see. They include images of that landing gear design. It's unique and clever, I think, and just might give Stockman's guys something to consider."

Barry took the memory sticks from Ben. After a few more minutes discussing Darnelle's news, the subject changed to Sid as a possible StratoWest insider at WestAero. Ben agreed with Barry's concerns, but added, "The guy's got another problem, Barry. He's widely known as a StratoWest guy, and no matter what word may or may not be out there about his having been canned for the drug matter, folks will always view him as a WestAero type. I know I sure as hell would, if I was a WestAero manager."

"Okay then, who else could we propose?"

"What about Bret?"

"Hell, I don't think he'd go for it at all. He keeps telling me he wants to come back to DC. No, I don't think he'd consider it for a moment."

"What about Darnelle? You know that when StratoWest gets the XC contract she'll not be needed at DixieAero. And they are sure to be cutting back down there. With her lack of seniority she's ripe for being laid off."

"I hadn't even considered her. She'd be a great choice, and certainly highly qualified for WestAero to be interested." He paused to think, and added, "No, she doesn't want to leave Atlanta."

"Don't be so sure," Ben countered. "If she can continue to draw double salaries, StratoWest's and WestAero's, she just might go for it. It couldn't hurt to ask her. I'm headed back down there next week. I could ask her for you."

"Well, if you even get a hint that she'd consider it, let me know and I might get Stockman to sweeten the pot enough to make it happen. Hmmmm. You know this has another benefit."

"How's that?"

"WestAero will know that she's a former DixieAero employee and there is no obvious connection to StratoWest, not even a hint. With DixieAero out of the XC business, there would be little reason for WestAero to think of her as anything more than a junior engineer who got caught in a layoff and became available to them. Yeah, that has multiple pluses. Yes, my friend, do it. Ask her if she would be interested, and then start talking about the good lifestyle available in Oregon. And you know Stockman really likes her, so this just might work."

Bert was the last one to receive a bonus payment. Barry wanted to give him a bit of a hard time because of the jump in costs for the modifications to the eyeglass camera devices. But he had to admit that Bert consistently came through when his talents were needed. He deserved a bonus as much as any of the others on the team.

Thursday night Bert came by the brownstone to deliver some additional ZIP disks. He and Barry sat in the living room chatting about this and that, when casually and without fanfare Barry handed him an envelope, saying " Oh. I almost forgot. This is for you."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Well, open it."

Bert's jaw dropped in surprised and amazement when out fell a stack of fresh new $100 bills. There was $5000 there.

"All right, my man. This is terrific, but what's it for?"

"Whatever you want to use it for, Bert. You've earned it. Stockman and I wanted to say thank you. You've come through for us when we needed your expertise. Consider it your bonus."

"Thanks, Barry. And please pass along my thanks to Mr. Stockman too."

"So? What are you going to do with all that money?"

"Buy computer stuff. What else?"

"Why am I not surprised. Why don't you put it in the bank or invest it in a mutual fund, so it can grow? Spending it on computer toys is a losing proposition, you know. Computer gear becomes obsolete and drops in value within a few months. But if you invest it, you could double you money in five to seven years."

"Yeah. I know. But there are some new things I really want to buy. Hell, I might to even be alive in seven years. I could get killed just crossing the street, you know."

"Okay, okay. It's your to do with as you like. Enjoy."

Over the course of the next two weeks things got pretty quiet. Barry stayed in town, played several rounds of golf and monitored the material coming in through the downstairs computer taps. Ben went to Atlanta and returned on a Friday. The deadline for bids on the XC-109 development work approached.

"Good morning, Barry," Ben greeted on entering the office at the late hour of 10:30.

"How was your trip?"

"Quite useful. I've got more information on DixieAero's proposal. And I talked with Darnelle about Oregon."

"Well? Don't keep it a secret. What did she say?"

"She didn't summarily reject the idea. She'd been considering Stockman's suggestion of going out to Long Beach after the contract is awarded, so the idea of going up to Portland wasn't too different."

"Do you think the dual paychecks would be enough to make the difference?"

"Yes. That and the fact that there are some first class facilities up there to care for her brother and mother. She knew more about the Portland area than I did. But what did surprise me is that I think she actually gets a charge out of this cloak and dagger stuff. Not only does it pay well, it's got an element of danger and intrigue to it that she'd never experienced before. So long as she thinks she's working for the good guys, I think she'll stick with this game."

"I'm not surprised. I had a hunch that she was beginning to like it, and not just for the money. Do you think it's time to approach Stockman with this?"

"No question about it. And from what you've said, he wants somebody at WestAero that he can count on. My only concern is that her engineering expertise is not in the areas that WestAero will be applying to the associate contractor work with StratoWest."

"Yes, if you consider the aerodynamics and the manufacture of the wings and radomes alone. But, if she gets assigned to the avionics integration work and the software development and testing, that'll be of direct interest to Stockman. StratoWest is not all that strong along those lines."

"I agree, but is she?"

"She's sharp enough to be a quick learner, and she does know crew station design. The avionics people will need someone who knows where to put those controls and displays, as well as how folks on the flight deck have to interface with the on-board computers. It's just a matter of getting her sold properly to WestAero."

"Yes, but you can't use Stockman as a reference."

"Of course not, but what about Senator Carrington?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not really. I'll bet I could get Caroline to write a letter for Carrington's signature that would at least get Darnelle an interview. And once they meet her face to face and listen to her, she's a shoe in."

"Well, that would be ironic, having Carrington place Stockman's spy at WestAero," Ben smiled.

Barry grinned and laughed aloud, "And Stockman would really get a chuckle."

"So how soon do you think we should get things in motion here?"

"We'll have to wait until DixieAero loses and the dust settled a bit. After the loss of the project down in Atlanta sinks in, that's when I'll approach Caroline. And besides, Darnelle is in no rush."

"Won't Stockman want somebody sooner?"

"Sure he will, but when Darnelle's name is suggested, he'll be willing to hold off."

Barry held up the memory sticks that Ben handed to him, "And what's one these that's so interesting?"

"Design details, mostly. But there's also an internal memorandum that poses an interesting choice for the Air Force. DixieAero is considering the idea of including a lease option, rather than an outright buy, for the XC airplanes."

"Why would they do that?"

"It's explained in the memo, but basically they say that if the Air Force will accept the full-up, gold-plated design that ACC wants, the lease deal means they can get all the goodies for less front money. And DixieAero will sell them a service policy that warrants routine maintenance and inspections on all airplanes located in the states. They haven't described how to handle deployed airplanes."

"Boy, those guys just don't give up. And they don't get it either. Transportation Command wants simplicity and reliability. That's what the RFP clearly states."

"Well they could fully comply with the RFP and then offer their plan as an alternative. That way they remain fully responsive to the solicitation, but still get to mention what ACC wants."

"Well," Barry mumbled, turning toward his office with the memory stocks. "I'll take a look and get back with you. Some how, I don't think this makes that much difference, except to dilute what DixieAero should be concentrating on, and that's good new for StratoWest." Then Barry turned to add, "Oh, I suppose you realize that with Dixon gone, all we have working for us inside the XC project office now are those bird feeders. If you have any suggestions, I'd like to hear 'em."

"None, off hand, Barry. But I'll think about it."