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〃How dare you talk to me like this！〃 When Dodgers got it out； it came out loud。
Jake lowered his voice still more。 〃I'm the officer responsible。 That's it as far as you're concerned。 You do your work and keep your personal opinions to yourself； and you and I will get along。〃
The scientist spluttered。 〃I don't want to get along with you； you。。。〃 He couldn't find the word。
〃You'd better reconcile yourself to it if you want this project to go anywhere。〃
〃。。。sinner。 Agent of Satan。〃
〃You want money for your church； right？ I'm the man。〃 With that Jake turned his back on Samuel Dodgers。
The little neighborhood bar was fairly well lit and not very fancy； with cheap furniture and oilcloth table covers。 A television high in one corner was tuned to a ball game； one of the NCAA tournament semifinals。 Smoke Judy slid into an empty booth and ordered a draft。 The waitress flirted for a moment when she brought it； then skipped away。
Smoke sipped his beer and watched the body posture of the men leaning against the bar and sitting on the stools。 Some were absorbed in the game； some were talking to a buddy。 Most of them were doing a little of both。
This was Smoke Judy's favorite weekend beer spot； only a mile from his place。 He knew the bartender casually and they often exchanged pleasantries on slow days。 There were a lot worse ways to make a living； Smoke decided； than running a neighborhood bar where the guys could stop in after work or take a break from lawn mowing and garage cleaning。 The crowd was nice and the work pleasant； although the money wouldn't be great。
Maybe he would get a place like this when he retired next year。 He had dropped a hint to the bartender…who also owned the place…few weeks back； trying to find out if he had ever thought of selling； but the man didn't get his drift； or pretended he didn't。
He was going to retire next year； with twenty…two years in。 By law； as a mander he could stay in the navy until be had pleted twenty…six years of service； but he wasn't going to endure the hassle of staff Job after staff job with no chance of promotion。
The end of the line had been a tour in mand of a training squadron in Texas。 Four of those damn kids had crashed； three fatally。 Hard to believe。 He had worked hard and flown hard and done it by the book； and still those goddamned kids just kept smashing themselves into the ground like suicidal rats。 The accident investigators had never said or even implied he was at fault； Yet every crash had felt like God whacking him on the head； pressing another two vertebrae。 He had gotten punchy toward the end； a screamer in the cockpit； afraid to certify any student safe for anything。 He left that for the lieutenants。
The admiral had been sympathetic； of course； but he had no choice。 He said。 He had to rate Judy the lowest of all his squadron manders。 After all； four accidents？ Nine million dollars' worth of airplanes and three lives？ That had been God's final whack。 Judy would never be promoted or given another mand。 All that remained was a decision on when to retire。
He had seen it ing； like something from a Greek tragedy； after that second kid augered in on a night instrument solo。 A fucking Canoe U。 grad no less！ Then the third one； that kid punched out of a perfectly good airplane on a solo aero hop after be flew into the only cloud for fifty miles in any direction for ten whole seconds and got the plane into a high…speed spiral and panicked。 But he stood there in the CO's office afterwards and said he was sorry！ The fourth one； that shithead…Judy had personally given him a down once already…one clear； cloudless day that spastic bastard failed to get the nose up to the horizon on a pullout from a simulated strafing run and panicked in； smearing himself and his airplane across a half mile of cow pasture。 The manding officer is always responsible。 And so it had been； like a judgment from the Doomsday book。
Next year。 With twenty…two in。 That would give him 55 percent of his base pay； and if one or two of these little deals he was working with hungry contractors came through； he would do all right。 Not rich； but okay。 He paid for the beer and left two quarters for a tip。 His car was parked just fifty feet down the street； but as he walked toward it； the car in front backed right into it！
〃A。。〃
The driver got out and walked back to examine the damage。
〃Awww； shit！〃 Smoke Judy exclaimed when he saw the broken grille； the smashed headlight and the bowed…out fender。 〃Get your goddamn driver's license yesterday？〃
〃Jesus； mister； I am sorry！ My foot just slipped off the brake。 Don't know how it happened。〃
〃Awww； damn。 The second time this year somebody has smacked it when it was parked。 Look at this fender； will'ya？ Those Japs must make these things out of recycled beer cans。 Look how this thing's sprung！ And this headlight socket！〃
The other driver turned from examining his own bent fender and smashed taillight and surveyed Judy's damage。 He was chunky； fifty or so； flecks of gray in his hair。 〃Don't worry。 I got insurance。 They'll fix it good as new。 But honest； I am really sorry。〃
〃I suppose。〃 Smoke Judy shook his head。
〃Maybe we'd better exchange information。〃
〃Yeah。〃 Judy unlocked his car and fished the registration and insurance certificate from the glove box while the other driver rooted in his。
〃Maybe we should go inside and do this；〃 the chunky man suggested。 〃Can I buy you a beer？〃
〃Why not。〃 Smoke turned and led the way back into the bar he had just e out of。 〃My name's Judy。 Smoke Judy。〃
〃Sorry we had to meet like this。 I'm Harlan Albright。〃
Dodgers kept his opinions to himself at dinner Sunday evening； partially because he was too busy with his food to waste effort on small talk； and partially because he could not have gotten a word in edgewise against Caplinger's verbal flow。 There were just the four of them around a table in an empty dining room…empty because the officers' club was usually closed on Sunday evening and Secretary Caplinger declined to go off…base to eat…Dodgers； Caplinger； Senator Duquesne； and Jake Grafton。 Caplinger discussed the budget deficit。 Third World debt； global pollution； and the illegal drug industry with a depth of knowledge and insight that amazed Jake and even quieted the senator； who was the only person at the table who tried to participate in the conversation。 It was obvious that Royce Caplinger not only had read widely but had thought deeply about all these issues。 Less obvious but equally impressive was the way he wove the strands of these mega…issues into one whole cloth。
After the steward placed a coffeepot in the center of the table and departed； closing the door behind him； Caplinger eyed Jake speculatively。 〃Well； Captain； it seems to me that now would be a good time to sound you out。〃
〃I'm just an 0…6； Mr。 Secretary。 All I see are the elephant's feet。〃
Caplinger poured himself a cup of coffee and used a spoon to stir in cream。 He surveyed Samuel Dodgers as if seeing him this evening for the first time。 〃Good of you to share your Sabbath with us； Doctor。 We're looking forward to seeing your handiwork tomorrow。〃
Dodgers wiped his mouth and tosse