“Well, he already agreed to the price. What he's asking for is highway robbery.” She rolled her eyes.
The server appeared and asked, “More wine, ma'am?”
The senator was still engrossed in her conversation, so Keri took the initiative. “Yes, please,” she said with a nod toward Kingsley’s glass. Taking the bottle of Chateau Fuisse' Pouilly Fuisse' Les Brules from its tricycle-shaped bottle holder, the waitress filled the glass and then turned to the captain. “Sir?”
“No, thank you.” One glass was Benny's limit when he was conducting business.
From what the captain could ascertain, the senator was having difficult dealings with a landowner over a particular parcel that the Air Force wanted in order to build a new maintenance facility.
“Well tell him that the additional eighty or so jobs this annex is going to provide to his community should make him very well-thought-of by the people there. And if that doesn't work, tell him we can simply take the land. It's his choice.” With that, she closed her phone and turned her attention back to Benny. “Pardon the interruption, Captain. Where were we?” she asked, splitting her attention between him and her crab bisque.
Benny smiled. “Not at all, Senator. I was explaining that the interview with Lieutenant Colonel Jefferson was unproductive. When I mentioned the nature of the program, he declined the invitation.”
“Well, who the fu…” She glanced at the young staffer who had begun taking notes again. “Who's left? I mean, we started out with almost two-and-a-half dozen candidates and now were down to … how many?”
The captain painted on a serious face. “One, Senator.”
“One?” Kingsley dropped her spoon on her bread plate with a loud clang. “How can we be down to the last man?” She was incensed. “I wanted at least three candidates to be at the ready.”
The implications of that last statement hardened the captain’s resolve. So she wanted back-ups just in case, huh?
Kingsley saw the subtle change in his demeanor. She hadn't gotten to where she was today without being able to read people. “To be ready when we bring the program into full production,” she added.
Production? What on earth were they going to produce?
Kingsley dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin as she sat up straight, matching the captain’s posture. She sized the man up before she asked, “Is your heart really in this, sir?”
Benny returned her gaze. “I will continue to perform my duties as ordered, Senator.”
Her eyes narrowed further. “Aren't you even the slightest bit curious about what you've been selecting these men for?”
“A sailor doesn't have the luxury of curiosity, senator. He simply follows orders.”
She took another sip of wine and leaned back. “What about this last man?”
“Commander Robert Tyler,” Benny stated matter-of-factly. “He's a very good man. Out of the original list, he would have been my first choice.”
Was that it? Did the captain want his man to be the one? Was Walsh looking for a feather to put in his cap by having his “first choice” be the one who did the deed, so to speak? She smiled slyly. “Your first choice,” she repeated. “Then why has it taken so long to complete this process? It's been a year-and-a-half.” She placed more emphasis on the latter statement, her annoyance growing.
Benny looked at the staffer whose attention hadn't left her pad. She was patiently recording their words but showed no real interest in the subject itself. “I was not the individual who developed the selection process, Senator. I was simply the man who implemented it. As I understand it, this project”—he shifted his eyes back to Kingsley and smiled—“was of the utmost importance, and only the best-of-the-best candidate would be acceptable. I was giving my assignment its due diligence.”
Kingsley softened a bit. She was still wound up over the conversation on the phone and wasn't giving the captain the respect he deserved. “Of course you are, Captain.” She leaned forward and managed a smile. “May I call you Bernard?”
“Benny. And yes ma'am, you may.” His expression didn’t change. He had to work for politicians. He didn't have to like them.
“So, tell me about this Commander … Tyler, was it?” She forced herself to relax.
“Commander Rob Tyler. Former SEAL. A sniper. He holds a master's degree in nuclear engineering, and he's been an instructor down in Charleston for about nine years now.”
Kingsley’s arched eyebrows betrayed the fact that she was impressed with the man's brief but varied résumé. “Sounds like a smart cookie. And a former SEAL, too?”
“SEAL Team Six, before their designation changed to DEVGRU. As I said, Senator, he was always my first choice. But I didn't want to create an air of favoritism in the selection process,” he lied. If Benny had been on board with the genetic experiment he would have presented Rob first, and been done with it.
Kingsley bought it. “Don't be silly, Captain. Everyone I've talked to has confirmed what I have always suspected. That you are a professional.” She took a sip of her Pouilly Fuisse'. “No one would have suspected you of anything inappropriate,” she lied. “But I do appreciate your attention to detail and sense of fair play.”
“Thank you, Senator.”
“Now, about Tyler. How old a man is he?”
“Forty-six.”
Kingsley's eyes widened. “That's kind of pushing the outside of the envelope, isn't it Ben?”
The captain didn’t miss a beat. “Benny,” he corrected. “And I'd put Rob Tyler up against any ten men half his age. In addition, he has the operational experience that was required for candidacy, and more.”
The senator thought about protesting more but refrained. What was the point of putting the captain in charge of the selection process if I don't trust the man's judgment? “Have you met with him?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“And?”
“I've given him until Friday to decide.”
Kingsley finished her wine and waved the empty glass toward Keri, who immediately began scanning the room for the waitress. The senator sat back, again suppressing her frustration. This one candidate was her only hope of not having to go through the entire process again. And they would have to choose from among lesser men if he didn't come on board. “How did he react?”
“I'm hopeful, Senator.” It was no lie. Benny was hopeful that Rob would decline and the program would shrivel up and die.
The server arrived and poured more wine for Kingsley. “No, thank you,” Benny said again as she held the bottle over his glass.
“Did you tell him about the promotion?” The senator leaned in after taking a sip. “At forty-six, he must be close to retirement. I'm sure he wouldn't mind the prestige of becoming a captain first. Not to mention the little bump in his paycheck to carry over with him.”
The idea of giving an officer—any officer—an unwarranted promotion was detestable to Benny. “I'm sorry, Senator. I don't dangle carrots in front of my men to get them to do their duty. Even if it is voluntary. If he chooses to participate, well that will be the icing on the cake.”
Kingsley had to take a moment and a deep breath. She was unused to her subordinates not going above and beyond for her. But Benny was different. He was close to retirement himself and had nothing to lose. He had served his country with distinction and deserved everything he had earned. She did have to admit that she liked him. Not that she would ever let him know it. She turned toward her assistant. “Keri, honey, would you give the captain and me a few minutes? Go and get yourself a cup of coffee or something.”
Without hesitation, the young woman rose from the table. “Yes ma'am,” she answered, and walked toward the bar.
When she was out of earshot, Kingsley turned back to the captain. “Benny, I think that it's time for you to get enlightened.”
“Ma'am?”
The senator took another sip of wine before she continued. “You see, this project is very important to me. And
not just to me, but to the American people.” Her expression turned to one of thoughtfulness. “To tell you the truth, it's going to be my gift to this country that has been so good to me and my family.”
Benny studied the woman intently.
“Imagine a world where no more of America's sons and daughters need to be put into harm’s way. A world where our enemies would fight a foe that they could never destroy. A world where there would be no more fatherless or motherless children because their parents had made the ultimate sacrifice in the defense of their country.”
Benny suspected where she was going.
“Well, I intend to give the United States just that sort of world.” She smiled brightly. “And, you are going to help me.”
“Ma'am?”
“Well, you”—she leaned in close—“but more importantly, your Commander Tyler. With his help … or to be more specific, his genes or DNA or whatever it is that they use, Tyler will be the father of a whole army of men ready to fight and die for us. We will never again feel the pain of our fallen soldiers.”
From the moment he was brought into the program, Benny had played out several possible scenarios in his head. Without saying the actual words, Kingsley had just confirmed his worst fears. “You intend to clone Commander Tyler.”
“We intend to clone Commander Tyler,” she repeated with some degree of perverse satisfaction.
“In violation of international law.” He was still speaking in hushed tones, but he was clear. It wasn't a question. It was a statement, an accusation.
Kingsley chuckled. “The United Nations can go to blazes. They are impotent. They have used our troops to do their dirty work for decades. That business is about to be over. It's about time we start looking after our own interests and stop being the world’s police force.”
Benny couldn't argue that point. He, along with many others in the military, had felt this way for years. That maybe it was time to stop looking out for the interests of others in the world who held the U. S. in low regard, including some who identified as friends, and start looking after our own affairs and those of our true allies.
But a word stuck in his mind. Army. An army of clones. It was like something out of science fiction. Benny doubted it would be possible. A dream that couldn't come true. There had been too many problems with cloning in the past. Animals born with hideous deformities. Even when they weren't apparent, there were internal problems. Abnormal organs and the like. No, God wouldn't allow man to do such a thing. But his mind began to race anyway. If Rob chooses to participate, what would he be in for? He quickly dismissed the idea. No, Rob wouldn't do it. He couldn't. Benny was sure that he hadn't given Rob enough information. There were far too many unanswered questions for him to make a decision one way or the other, and he would therefore decline. Then Benny's mind came to another roadblock. The senator had said he was going to help, as well as Rob. He thought his part of the project would be done after the selection process. Even if Rob chose to decline and the selection process started over again, surely they would find someone else to do the choosing. After all, failure would mean that he had not been able to find even one man either capable or willing to participate in a year-and-a-half. He looked at Kingsley. “You said I was going to help. What did you mean by that?”
Kingsley drained her glass and returned the captain’s stare. “I asked the Defense Department to send an officer to the facility in Georgia to take operational command of the program. They tried to kill two birds with one stone by sending a snot-nosed young Air Force major, a doctor fresh out of medical school, to pull double duty as their medical doctor and command the team. It’s a good thing he wasn’t allowed any further than the supply room. Yeoum Chi would eat him alive.”
Benny didn't know who that was, but he suspected that the wine had loosened Kingsley's tongue. Does she even realize what she’s saying? Benny didn't think so. But he was anticipating what the senator was going to say next.
“No, that dog just ain't gonna hunt.” She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “That's why I'm sending you down there.”
* * * * *
9 July 2010
IT WAS FRIDAY MORNING at eleven hundred hours before Rob could meet with the associate pastor of Summerville Christian Assembly, Doctor Phillip Wallace, at his office on the church campus on Main Street. Phil’s appointment book had been full for the week, but when Carol explained the urgent nature of her husband’s request, he had rearranged his schedule and agreed to meet with Rob.
Brother Phil shook Rob's hand. “It’s great to see ya Rob. Have a seat.”
Rob was uncomfortable. The office was unlike any that he had been in before. There were several bookcases with many statuettes, pictures, trinkets, and books. That wasn't the unusual thing. What was unusual was the spiritual subject matter of most of them. The books had names like The German Church Conflict; Seven Practices Of Effective Ministry; The Holy Spirit: Activating God's Power In Your Life. Rob had been in many book-laden offices in his time, but the theme of them had been quite different. Books Rob was more familiar with had titles like The Book of War: Sun Tzu’s The Art of War; Operation Mincemeat: How a Dead Man And A Bizarre Plan Fooled The Nazis And Assured An Allied Victory; Helmet For My Pillow: From Paris Island To The Pacific. Rob was much more comfortable with titles such as those. There were pictures of Phil with his family, others with church members, still others were of the pastor on mission trips to places that Rob could only guess at. It surprised Rob that entering the office affected him so much. He had come to terms with the spiritual dimension of his life years ago. I'm a Christian. I know what this is all about.
Or so he thought.
He began to wonder if he was the thing that was out of place in that room. Until he entered the small office, he felt perfectly comfortable in church. He had denounced his former ways as an abomination before the Lord. He had taken the lives of people without any regard for them or the families who loved them. Many of them were just like he used to be, men who killed. But at the moment he was struggling with the feeling that he was unworthy to even to stand in the presence of a true man of God.
Brother Phil himself, a distinguished-looking gentleman a few years Rob's senior, added to his discomfort. His salt-and-pepper hair was short and neatly trimmed. He wore a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a multicolored plaid short-sleeved shirt and gold, wire rimmed glasses. He sat behind a cherry stained wooden desk with a glass writing surface, cut to match the size of the desktop. There were a number of books on it, the most prominent of which was the New King James Bible sitting just off center.
“Please, have a seat,” Phil repeated, unsure why Rob was still standing.
Slowly, Rob sat. He adjusted his posture, wanting to sit up straight to show respect for the man across the desk. “Thanks very much for seeing me on such short notice, Brother Phil.”
“Not a problem,” Phil said in a friendly, accommodating tone. “I just had to do a bit of juggling. Carol mentioned you had a deadline, and frankly, I was looking forward to getting to know you a little better. You guys joined the church several years back, and, except on Sunday I rarely get a chance to talk to you. Outside of softball practice, I mean.”
Rob shifted in his seat uneasily. “Well, you should join us on our next trip to Russia. There's always plenty of time to talk and get to know one another during the flight and at the cottage where we stay.” He instinctively tried to put the pastor on the defensive by shifting the responsibility for their relationship on to Phil's shoulders. He immediately berated himself for it, closing his eyes tightly for just a moment. You're here for his help, idiot! And then he smiled widely, hoping that the pastor hadn't noticed.
Phil took the comment in stride. “I might just do that. I've wanted to meet and talk with Pastor Yeosef and his family in Kamensk-Uralski in the flesh rather than just through email. Maybe I'll join you next April.”
“So … how's the wife?” Rob asked, unsure how to begin
.
“She’s fine, thank you for asking. She's getting ready for Vacation Bible School next week.” Phil sat back in his chair and laced his fingers on his abdomen. “And Carol? How is she? Oh, and the twins? Will they be coming to VBS?”
The question took Rob off guard. He honestly didn't know if the kids would be at church the next week or not. “I don't know.”
Phil looked at him quizzically.
“About the children,” Rob recovered uncomfortably. “Carol hasn't mentioned it to me. But I intend to find out, believe me.” His head bobbed up and down as he held his eyes unnaturally wide.
Phil frowned.
Don't over do it, stupid. The commander was unused to being nervous. It was an alien feeling for him. He had, ever since he could remember, been completely at ease in any situation no matter how stressful. He didn’t understand why he was feeling the way he was. He was acting clumsily and he needed to calm down.
Seeing his uneasiness, Phil took the initiative. “Do you mind if I open us up in prayer?” he asked.
“Please.” Rob was relieved. He laced his fingers together, bowed his head, and closed his eyes.
Under the circumstances, Phil decided that the Reader’s Digest version would be best. “Father in Heaven, I thank you for this time of fellowship with my brother Rob. I thank you that you have given him the confidence in me to seek out my council and I pray you give me the wisdom to offer your guidance to Rob with this very important decision that he must make today about his job. Most of all, I thank you for your son Jesus and the sacrifice that he made for us. It's in his most precious and holy name that we pray, amen.”
“Amen,” Rob repeated. To his amazement, he felt a bit more at ease upon hearing those words.
“So,” Phil began. “What's on your mind?”
Rob proceeded to explain his dilemma. His past as a SEAL sniper, his coming to the Lord with Carol while he was stationed in Japan, his career change and move to Charleston, the ten months of observation that he and Carol had been under, the cryptic orders given to him by the pair of psychologists that previous Sunday, and the bizarre experience that he’d had with Benny in Washington, all in as much detail as he dared. He even mentioned what he wouldn't to Carol. That the captain had spoken about genetic engineering.