"That I don't doubt," Lebasse muttered. "But I'm damned if a decision of this magnitude is going to be based on the say-so of a box of microchips, no matter how 'sophisticated and comprehensive.' " His gaze swiveled in the direction of General Wolfe and Major Madden. "I don't see any reason why Professor Lucas can't be given clearance of DEPARTMENT STORE, do you? He
Madden looked up from the pad on which he was drawing, rather crudely, a naked woman with huge breasts and pneumatic thighs, complete with genitalia. "I'm not completely happy about that, sir--"
"Dammit, man, why not? Do think Gene Lucas is a security risk?"
If the secretary of defense decreed it, then of course it would have to be, Madden knew full well. But it couldn't be allowed to happen. Lucas wasn't in anyone's pocket: He'd give an unbiased and independent evaluation of the Russian threat and the merits of the U.S. project to counter it. Which may, or may not, be in their favor.
They'd have to head this off somehow.
Correction.
"Yes, Mr. Secretary, of course. I'm pretty sure that can be arranged." Madden smiled with his thin lips. "It will have to be processed through Advanced Strategic Projects, under whose auspices DEPARTMENT STORE has been developed, but that's a mere formality."
"How long?"
"Sir?"
"How long will it take to give Professor Lucas security clearance?" asked Lebasse impatiently.
"Forty-eight hours."
"Good. That's fine." Lebasse leaned back, palms pressed together.
"Providing there isn't a conflict of interests."
"What are you talking about?" Lebasse curled his hands into little fists and rested them on the table. "What conflict of interests?" He was watching Major Madden suspiciously and making no attempt to conceal it.
Madden's face didn't betray for an instant how close to the wind he was sailing. Without a moment's hesitation he replied smoothly, "When ASP was set up, six years ago, one of the directives was to the effect that no military or scientific personnel who had spoken out against Agent Orange were to be permitted access to or knowledge of DEPARTMENT STORE in any shape or form. Hence the special security classification."
Yes, that made sense, Lebasse had to admit. Agent Orange was the chemical defoliant used in Vietnam, which years after the war ended was found to have maimed and killed thousands of American combat troops and aircrew, causing cancer, skin diseases, ugly growths on various parts of the body, as well as genetic damage. Many of their children had been born with malformed limbs, blindness, heart defects, duplicate reproductive organs, and internal organs growing outside their body.
Anyone who had voiced disgust or outrage over Agent Orange wouldn't countenance DEPARTMENT STORE in a million years, Lebasse could see that. So what stance had Gene Lucas taken on the issue? Lebasse didn't know.
Neither did he know that Major Madden had two minutes previously invented the ASP directive. None such existed. The deception was risky but necessary under the circumstances. Madden would dig up something on Lucas and Agent Orange, and if he couldn't he'd invent that too.
"Then I'll leave it with you, Major," Lebasse said. "You'll inform my office the minute you have anything."
"Yes, Mr. Secretary." As if he were making a note, Madden drew a bold arrow from the woman's vagina to the name of the secretary of defense heavily ringed in black. "Without delay."
"One question I'd like to ask Major Madden, Tom, before we wind up," said General Stafford.
"Sure, Walt, go ahead."
"Assuming we get presidential approval, how soon before DEPARTMENT STORE is fully operational? I mean combat-ready?"
"Fourteen months." "You sound very sure of that, Major."
"That's because I am very sure, General. We already have the components--chemicals, self-destruct supertankers, standby missiles. What remains is a matter of coordination and implementation. Mere logistics."
Lebasse rubbed a whitish substance from the corner of his mouth and looked at his fingertips. "Assuming you get presidential approval," he said quietly.
8
Chase stood before the tinted window looking out at the serrated mountain peaks etched against the bright blue Colorado sky, incredibly sharp and clear even though twenty miles away.
"Don't you find the view distracting, Bill?"
"Binch," said Bill Inchcape with a smile. "Everybody calls me Binch." He heaved his bulk out of the chair and wandered over to the window. "It is pretty spectacular, I guess, but after twelve years it's just part of the scenery." He caught Chase's eye and chuckled. "I mean, it
"It certainly beats the view from my London flat," Chase remarked enviously. "If I had this to look at I'd never get a thing done."
