“It’s a setup,” Pullman snapped. The chief was fully aware of how the IG system worked and the way personalities at the command level could predetermine the result of an ORI. “We’ve sure as hell pissed someone off at Ramstein,” he declared as he headed out the door to find Chief Walt Chambers.
“Walt,” Pullman said, catching up with the IG NCO, “why rate the command post’s performance as unsatisfactory?”
Chambers stared at the ground, would not answer.
“A no-win game,” Pullman snapped. “They were meant to bust no matter what they did. You call that integrity? What gives?”
“Look, Pullman, I play with the big boys and I do what I’m told—”
“Yeah, well, you produce evidence that the controller committed a security breach, or change the rating.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you can be sure of three things the next time you see me: in thirty seconds I’ll rip your heart out, kill your dog and rape your wife. Bet on it, sweetheart.”
The next day as the IG team initiated a second mass-casualty exercise, Waters sat in the Command Post monitoring the radios as the exercise went down. Barely controlling his temper, he walked out, asking Gomez and Pullman to join him. Outside, he made sure no inspectors were around, then: “Chief, you’re right. This is a setup. Any ideas why?”
Pullman and Gomez shook their heads.
“Cover for me. I’m going to play their game,” Waters said, and walked off to his staff car.
Colonel Gertino was puzzled by the message requesting he see the RAF post commander and decided to ignore it. An hour later he received a phone call asking when he would be in Sir David’s office. Again, he chose to ignore it. Ten minutes later a British NCO approached him, quietly spoke a few words and escorted Gertino to RAF base commander Childs’ office.
“What’s this crap about arresting me?”
Childs tossed a thin document at the American colonel. “It is obvious that you have not read the Technical Agreement on RAF Stonewood. Please do so now.”
“This doesn’t apply to an IG team—”
“Wrong. Read page twelve.” Gertino found the passage, which stated that all wartime and inspection exercises would be in accordance with British and NATO rules and coordinated through the RAF. “You will conduct the remainder of this exercise under the rules of a NATO Tactical Evaluation and not those of your ORI or I will have you and your entire team declared persona non grata in the United Kingdom.”
“But you and NATO are only concerned with flying and base defense. We measure other items, like munitions safety and use of checklists—”
“I won’t repeat myself. Of course, you may launch all the sorties you wish and you may measure the wing’s reaction to an air attack or intruders as often as you wish.”
“An air attack is planned for this afternoon,” Gertino mumbled.
“And how many aircraft can I expect to overfly my base?”
“None,” the colonel replied. “We simulate it.”
“Interesting, Colonel… no aircraft, no air attack. Well, then, please finish your inspection by Wednesday.” Gertino was dismissed and left. Childs dialed Waters’ number. “Muddy, I think you can expect a rather more fair evaluation now.”
He was wrong…
Actually, Gertino had been in a near panic when he first tried to figure out just what Blevins really wanted. The general had not openly tied the 45th’s failing an ORI to his silence about his girlfriend, still… the colonel cursed himself for ever becoming involved with the girl in the first place. He shook his head, still not able to believe she was only sixteen — or a foreign agent. The girl looked at least twenty and didn’t seem to have a brain. But Blevins had promised him the affair would be handled very discreetly if he “acted responsibly” when he conducted Stonewood’s ORI. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together, especially after Blevins went on openly to knock Waters. The problem, though, was the wing was in good shape. In fact, when the inspection was completed Wednesday, by every measure that NATO used to evaluate exercises, the wing had passed. Gertino solved his problem of needing to fail the wing by directing his team to write two reports, one using NATO’s standards, one using the IG’s.
That night the team put a message on the wires announcing the 45th had failed their ORI and that a full IG report with supporting details would be published in a week. The message did not mention that there was a NATO Tac Eval report with different results.
The “Flash” message reached Stonewood late Thursday night, six minutes after it was given to the Pentagon’s communication center for transmission. The message consisted of one line: Colonel Anthony Waters was to report to Colonel Richard Stevens in the Pentagon no later than 0800 hours local time Saturday.
Sara had wanted to come with him, but Waters told her he had to do this one alone. Friday morning she helped him pack and rode with him in Tom Gomez’s car to Mildenhall. Gomez could not hide his concern. “There’s no way Cunningham is going to buy the IG’s report,” he predicted, “not after he sees the NATO report.”
“He’s got to reconcile two different sets of standards,” Waters said gloomily. “The IG’s and NATO’s.”
“Muddy, the IG was on a damn witch-hunt—”
“Sure, but Cunningham doesn’t know that. And that’s what I’ve got to convince him of… ”
When it was time to board the waiting C-5B, Sara placed her husband’s hand on her stomach and looked seriously at him. “Remember that old one about keeping your priorities straight. This here is numero uno.” She kissed him quickly and walked off, hoping he’d gotten the message.
After takeoff, Waters opened his briefcase and reread the two reports that Pullman had back-doored for him. He tried to look at them from Cunningham’s perspective, gave up and tried to sleep.
Memories kept stirring within him… of his first wife and his daughter Jennifer… hurt and loneliness… More images… He tried to pinpoint when his desire to become a wing commander had crystallized but couldn’t… Other images raced through his consciousness leading him to Sara, and then when he assumed command of the 45th. A new awareness enveloped—this was what he was supposed to be, to do. But he could not do it alone. Sara made it possible, with her love, and understanding. And his allies — Childs, Gomez, Bull, C.J., Pullman… He also had a legacy to leave — Bill Carroll and Jack Locke. Damn it, he would make Cunningham understand. Or literally go down trying.
The old man shuffled slowly through the seminary’s main gate. His two bodyguards followed him, sleepy from being roused before five o’clock in the morning. The streets of Qom, the religious center of the Islamic faith in Iran, were deserted and poorly lit, not like the bustling thoroughfares of Tehran seventy-five miles to the northeast. The two young bodyguards became alert as the old Ayatollah made his way to the central mosque less than a hundred yards from the gate.