“Wait,” Wexler ordered. “I recognize the car.”
“Who is it?” The guard demanded, his gun still in his hand pointed at the front windshield.
Wexler shook her head. “I’m not going to tell you. If they’re approaching me like this, then they don’t want anyone to know they’re here. Go on, leave. I’ll be fine. Either wait inside or get back in and drive off. Either way, I need you to clear the area now.”
“But Madame Ambassador, I really don’t think—”
She cut him off. “I don’t care what you think. Now move.” She put a bark into the last words.
When she saw that they were inside her townhouse, she walked back to the car behind her. She approached the back seat, not even bothering with the front. As she came close, the window rolled down. She leaned forward and poked her head into the car. “Good evening, Mister Ambassador,” she said.
“Good evening to you, madam. I apologize for approaching you in this manner.”
She nodded. “These are difficult times for us all. I understand your caution. I would invite you in for a nightcap or a cup of tea, but under the circumstances, I suspect you might wish to decline.”
The ambassador from Japan inclined his head ever so slightly. “As pleasant as that would be, I’m afraid you are right. However, there are things that we must discuss.”
“And my office is…?” she prompted.
He didn’t answer for moment, and said, “You have many new friends. What I have to say is for your ears alone.”
A cold shiver ran through her. Did he know about the bug? Or was he just referring to the visits by Captain Hemingway?
“Perhaps we could take a drive?” she suggested.
The door lock clicked, the Japanese ambassador opened it. “Yes. That would be acceptable.”
By the time the USS United States was in blue water operations and out of unrefueled flying range, Lab Rat had all of his staff and material onboard. In fact, as he gazed at the mass of boxes and steel security containers stacked ceiling-high in most of his spaces, he suspected he had a good deal more than his own gear. It was entirely possible that the U.S.’s shore detachment at North Island had taken the opportunity of a few more COD flights to pack in some extra ship’s company gear. Not that that bothered him, no. But untangling the ship’s practical and decidedly unclassified gear from his own top secret and higher material was going to take up more of his time. And time was the one thing that Lab Rat and his people didn’t have.
“More classified material to be signed for, sir,” Chief Brady said as he passed a clipboard to Lab Rat. “I think that’s the last of it, though.”
“You did an inventory?” Lab Rat asked.
“Of course, sir. That’s my signature on the bottom line.”
Over the last eighteen hours, COD flights had been pouring in with more material for the newly-staffed CVIC. Senior Chief Brady had been running ragged trying to keep up with it all.
“Sir? There’s a Captain Ganner asking for admission, sir. Is he cleared?” a petty officer asked.
“Of course. He’s the chief of staff — have we got the people and clearances sorted out yet?” Lab Rat asked, turning to the senior chief.
The senior chief maintained a determinedly neutral expression. “Without the pictures, yes, sir, but it’s going to take few days for all the watchstanders to learn all the faces.”
“Yes, of course. Let him in. Unlimited access,” Lab Rat said.
A few moments later, Captain Ganner sauntered in to the most sensitive area of the intelligence center. He took a look around, noted the open boxes, gear on every flat surface, and bustle of technicians. The area was in complete chaos.
“How long before you people are going to be open for business?” Ganner asked. “Because I got to tell you, it looks like the war will be over before you can get all those boxes put away.”
“We’re ready now, sir. It’s not as disorganized as it looks,” Lab Rat lied. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. I need five sailors to help on the flight deck. And since most of the boxes clobbering the deck are your gear, I figured you’d be eager to help out. Oh, and by the way — you’ll be standing watches in TFCC. Under instruction, of course. You have the midwatch tonight.” Ganner’s face was bland, but Lab Rat had the sense that he was watching carefully for a reaction.
“Sir, could we speak privately?” Lab Rat asked.
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Ganner said. “I believe you have your orders.”
A hush fell across the intelligence center. Ganner jutted his jaw out and waited for a reaction.
Lab Rat tried again. “Sir, if I could just have a few moments—”
“See you on the midwatch, Mr. Busby.” Ganner turned and stalked out of CVIC.
Senior Chief Brady waited until he’d left the intelligence center and said quietly, “Man, who did you piss off, sir?”
“I don’t know exactly, Senior Chief. But I stepped on it somewhere. Listen, is there any way we can cut loose five people to help on the flight deck?”
The Senior Chief sighed. “I can, but it’s going to slow us down in here, sir. And every minute that we’re not fully operational, well…”
He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Every day that the intelligence center was not fully operational could spell disaster for the battle group. Sure, they were performing the basic functions now, but there was no time for the sort of in depth analysis and projections that Lab Rat preferred to be able to develop.
“Five men,” Lab Rat said quietly. “We’ll go along with this for now. A midwatch more or less won’t hurt me, either. Won’t be the first time I’ve run short of sleep, and it certainly won’t be the last time, will it?”
“I guess not, sir,” Brady said. “But, this is one of those things, sir — you give them an inch, the surface sailors take a mile.”
“I’m not ready to draw lines in the sand yet,” Lab Rat said. “We’ll do what we can to be team players for now, but if it starts affecting operations, I’ll go to the admiral.”
The petty officer guarding the entrance stuck his head back in the compartment. “Sir? That captain, just before he left — he told me to tell you that he’s going to do a zone inspection on our spaces tomorrow. And he told me to get a swab and get started on the deck. He said our spaces look like a disaster, and that they’d better look better by tomorrow.”
Lab Rat heard Senior Chief Brady swear quietly beside him.
“Such an interesting part of town,” the ambassador from Japan murmured as they drove through Greenwich Village. “We have nothing like it in Japan, of course.”
She bit back a reply. She suspected there was indeed a Greenwich Village somewhere in Japan, if not quite as visible or as flagrant as Greenwich Village was here. Instead, she said, “I know the area quite well. Perhaps I can give you a tour someday.”
“That would be very kind of you,” he said. She noticed a frown of disapproval on his aide’s face.
“Then sir, I must ask you… the hour is somewhat late, and you have gone to a great deal of trouble to talk to me privately. May I ask what this is about?”
“China.” The Japanese ambassador spat out the word as though it tasted bad. “And Taiwan. Our position — perhaps I will not give you exact answers. It is difficult… the interest in that region… our own position…” He spread his hands as though helpless.