At his insistence, I sat back in the chair still smoldering.
“Well I had a clearance in the Fogner case. Lived in secrecy for weeks aboard the Trident Tine. What happened to that?”
“That was a low-level Secret clearance, Matt. Remember you’re moving into the big time now with the black ops missions. Greenfield told me you’re required to have a TSCW clearance for this mission.”
“What’s TSCW?”
“It means a Top Secret Code Word clearance specific to this mission.”
“Did he say what the code word or mission was?”
“Only that the mission is called Operation Deep Force nothing more. My clearance doesn’t extend into the black world yet so he couldn’t tell me what the code word is or what you’ll be doing.”
I rubbed my eyes thinking it was too early. I must be dreaming. It was all beyond my comprehension so early in the morning.
“Oh, and he said the contracting company is called the Poseidon Corporation. Still interested?”
Stunned, my mind tried to absorb the information it heard. Usually bigger money meant a greater risk and mystery and there was that word again: Poseidon. The word slammed my thoughts back to my Navy days at Point Mugu dodging Poseidon’s Palace in the ocean depths talking around it rather than about it as if it didn’t exist. Could it possibly be the same entity? It had been over ten years since I last heard that name and it still sent chills up my spine.
Before I could answer, the towering eucalyptus trees out his office window began to blow wildly in a whirlwind like pompoms in a cheerleader’s hand. Gradually a low rumble vibrated the room softly at first and then more violently as the landing gear and fuselage of a VTOL aircraft appeared through the window descending drifting down to the open field outside.
“That will be our contract,” he said calmly. Turning to watch its props wind down he frowned.
“They sent another tilt-rotor craft just like the one that brought you back from the Trident Tine. Gotta repair that damn ball field again.”
I had moved to the window and was standing beside him when I noticed a familiar sight. Carlos was right. It was an Osprey tilt-rotor aircraft like the one from before. Then I realized the tail number was the same: N0099. On further examination, I saw a familiar face staring out from the cockpit. It was Lt. Bill Harper the Navy pilot from that trip.
Recognizing him I exclaimed, “My God that’s Harper! It is the same plane and pilot as before. From the Tine. Wonder if he’s still flying out from there.”
Carlos stood and walked out into the hallway.
“Let’s go find out. Follow me,” he said.
Having to double step to keep up I wound several paces behind him through the halls toward the entrance. Ignoring the chain-saw catcalls that came from the offices we passed I knew my friends and coworkers were just razzing me. It was a ritual at MBORC to ruffle the feathers of anyone newly placed in the spotlight so it came as no surprise. I had done the same for most of them when they won or successfully completed contracts. This was my second time in the spotlight and it was growing on me.
Chapter 3. Rendezvous
We met them on the entrance steps before they entered our building. My old friend Bill Harper was the first to approach and extend his hand. I shook with him and noticed the shiny gold oak leaf clusters gracing his shoulders.
“Hey, Bill, good to see you again,” I said. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander, on the promotion.”
Grinning from eye to eye he replied, “Thanks, Matt. Great to see you too. How’ve you been? Obviously busy.”
Even though we were reuniting after only three months, it seemed like years since we together faced imminent death but by the grace of God lived through it. Those terrifying memories were bittersweet and reminded me that my tasks were often life threatening but controllably so. I lived for the excitement of days like that but I could never tell when they were coming. I expected this was one of those days.
“Yeah I guess. Simple jobs but still busy.”
Motioning back, I added, “I was just promoted to Tech VP of MBORC today after all this time. Guess we did good huh? But I’m not really sure if the promotion’s for what I did or what I’m about to do.”
He answered with a wink and chuckle.
“It’s amazing what we have to do for a promotion isn’t —”
Carlos pulled on my sleeve dragging my attention to the two-star naval officer standing behind me.
“Admiral Greenfield, meet Matt Cross.”
He was everything I expected in a high-ranking naval officer: tall, graying hair and beard, meticulous in his appearance and almost a spitting image of Sean Connery. As a commercial once said his dress whites were whiter than white. All that I needed was to hear him speak with a Russian accent completing my image of Captain Marco Ramius, commander of the Red October hunted by the USS Dallas in my favorite book.
“Good morning, sir. My pleasure,” I said, starting to salute. Then I caught myself and redirected my hand toward him for a handshake, trying not to appear too obvious. The Navy routine I had recently endured rushed back to me attempting to change my civilian reflexes. I had a feeling it would become an even greater influence in the upcoming mission back aboard another naval ship or whatever vessel Operation Deep Force involved.
He shifted his briefcase to his left hand, shook my hand, and looked me over.
“Hello, Mr. Cross. So you’re the genius diver that left our Navy and then outplayed us on that pi-day scenario. It’s truly a delight to meet such a naval-minded civilian.”
His comment confused me not knowing if it was a compliment or sarcasm. I did know that I detected a slight northeastern U.S. accent probably from Massachusetts or somewhere nearby and his was the voice on the phone from my early morning call.
Carlos laughed trying to break the awkward silence.
“Well, Admiral, we have him now and I just promoted him within our organization. He’s now a VP.”
Frowning, the Admiral darted his attention to him.
“Now, Mr. Montoya, does that mean that he can no longer get his hands dirty with our work?”
“Oh of course not, Admiral. It means he now has to get every part of his body dirty,” he scoffed.
Greenfield lifted his mood showing a sly smile.
“Good that’s what I want to hear.” Then looking back my way he said, “Well then, let’s get down to business. Carlos, lead the way.”
Standing with us Harper begged off the meeting excusing himself for some time on the beach.
“Gonna catch some rays and maybe a few seashells gentlemen. When you need me Admiral just buzz.”
Greenfield nodded his consent as Harper saluted and walked away.
Meandering up the stairs and down the hall toward the conference room, I kept thinking Why is the Admiral here now? He was supposed to call me at noon on the secure phone. My lack of filtering reared its ugly head again but I couldn’t help it.
“Admiral, you said on the phone this morning that you would call me at noon. Has something changed since then? I mean you’re here in California now and you were in Florida when you called right?”
He stopped and turned to me. With fiery eyes, he growled back.
“Now, mister, do you think I just flew over two-thousand miles across country in the back seat of a goddamned F-4 Phantom fighter jet at twice the speed of sound then suffered another hour on that damn vibrating whirly-bird out there just to save a phone call? Hell yes things have changed!”
Obviously, I had touched a nerve. I could almost see steam coming from his ears so I retreated hoping this was not a harbinger of things to come.