“Adam,” he said, standing and extending his hand. He greeted him like he was an old friend. Larry Harper was a tall thin man who looked to be in his early fifties but was in fact going to be sixty-four in July. He had hazel eyes that seemed to see right through to your soul. He had his glasses on top of his head and looked somewhat like an absentminded professor.
“Mr. Harper.”
“Please. Call me Larry. Let’s not be so formal,” he said, taking his glasses off his head and playing with them in his hands.
“Okay Larry. I need some help and frankly I don’t know where else to turn.”
“I see. And you think the White House can be of some assistance in an accounting matter?” he said, with obvious skepticism.
“If you can’t, I’m not sure where to turn next. As you know, the President has directed us to take a look at every military expenditure and to do a complete accounting of where all the money goes. His commitment to leaving no stone unturned involves my office directly,” he said.
“And you have run into a hitch someplace. Someone won’t cooperate.”
“Absolutely refuses is more like it. General Devin is the commanding officer at the Nellis Gunnery Range in Nevada. He also oversees operations at the Skunkworks and all of the other operations within the specified area. This includes Area-51 and contains several different elements. General Devin refuses to turn over the account records for those operations. He has sent me materials on the Nellis Range but refuses to send anything else,” Carter told him.
“Why not go to his superior officer and have him order this Devin fellow to give you what you require?”
“That’s why I’m here. Devin seems to have no one that he directly reports to. So far I can’t get anyone to acknowledge exactly who he reports to.”
“Adam, that simply can’t be. We don’t have generals operating without reporting to a superior in the chain of command,” Harper said.
“That’s what I thought too but after two months of digging, I have run out of avenues to try. I thought maybe your office could help me locate his superior,” Carter said.
Harper laid his glasses down on the desk and scratched his ear. He then rubbed his throat not saying a thing.
After a long silence he said, “Obviously he runs some sort of BlackOps section. I suppose they have a system in place to protect whoever is in charge. Everyone disavows any knowledge of the facility, other than the range. For now, you let the other parts of the investigation go and I’ll check some things out on my end. I can’t promise you I will have an answer you will like, but when we’re dealing with that particular area, it isn’t quite the normal SOP,” he told Carter.
“Sir. The President specifically said no stone unturned,” Adam protested.
“This isn’t a stone. This is a boulder and I’m not sure your office has enough clout to force the issue at this point. You are just going to have to wait until I find out more. That may not be easy, even for me. When it comes to covert operations, it is on a need to know basis only, and I’m not sure even I need to know. Hell, I don’t know if I even want to know.”
“All right Larry. I’m at a dead end anyway. We will continue with the rest of the report and just leave a footnote for the Area-51 complex,” Carter replied.
“Look, I don’t want to tell you your business but you may want to consider leaving them out of the report entirely. Not even a footnote,” Harper said.
“Yes sir, if you think best,” Carter said trying to determine if it was a suggestion or an order.
“I do,” Harper said.
That pretty much cleared it up.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
November in Washington can be exceedingly cold. While the ground was only lightly covered with snow, the wind was a reminder that winter was fast on its way.
Harper pulled his car up to the gate and the Marines on duty, snapped to attention. They looked into his car, noted his pass and waved him through. He pulled around to the south side of the White House and went into a covered parking garage that few knew about.
An attendant opened the door for him and slid into the driver’s seat. He would park the car and turn it over to security personnel who would check for any suspicious devices, including bugs or tracking transmitters. It would then be washed, vacuumed and ready for him when he returned. It was the same for every car that parked in the White House garage.
Harper took the elevator up to the main floor. When he stepped out a Marine checked his credentials and saluted. He walked to his office, greeting people along the way and chatting about various subjects. When he got to his office, his secretary took his coat and hat and went to bring in a pot of coffee.
Still standing, he went through the stack of calls he needed to return and quickly scanned the mail. Ten newspapers were neatly piled on the coffee table, just like they were every morning. He turned on the four television sets, lowered the volume and sat down. The conversation with Adam Carter was still rolling around in his head. A general who answered to no one could be a potential loose cannon.
So who would someone like that answer to? The Secretary of Defense? That is the only other person he could think of with the power to hide secret government projects. It had to be Craig Hollister. He was the newly appointed Secretary of Defense and Harper didn’t think he was the right man for the job.
Already they had crossed swords on two occasions. It wasn’t bad blood yet, but it could certainly turn out that way with a few more confrontations. He hated to call Hollister and ask him if he was over the operations at Area-51 but who else could he ask? Why not ask the President during a private moment? If he didn’t know, no one would.
He decided he would wait until the President was alone after this afternoon’s meeting and ask him. If the President didn’t know who it was, then someone had damn sure better find out and right away.
He continued to work in his office, making notes, reading, and getting ready for the daily noon meeting. This President was different from past ones. He liked to have the morning meetings with others from his staff and have the cabinet members hold their briefing in the afternoon. He felt that by waiting, the members would have a better handle on all situations rather than trying to quickly analyze what went on the night before.
Right or wrong, he was the President so that is what they all did. Harper was uncomfortable with the arrangement at first but it was becoming routine now and he could see some merit in having more time to prepare.
His secretary stuck her head in the door and said, “Five minutes sir,”
He looked up, lost in thought, “What?”
“Five minutes,” she said again.
“Oh yes, five minutes. Thank you,” he said and started gathering up his materials.
As he started down the hall, she handed him a stack of copies he had wanted for the meeting. When he arrived at the oval office the President was already seated at one of the couches talking with the Secretary of Transportation.
“Larry. Right on time as always. I like that,” he said, glancing at his watch. Harper was two minutes early by his watch. He never wanted to be late; it was a thing with him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. President,” he said, taking an overstuffed chair that was so soft it didn’t feel like leather.
Within minutes the room had filled with those who had a standing command performance with the President. Each person gave his or her report and the President would ask questions or give directions as the situation warranted. Harper spent much of his time trying to look interested.