The First Team

2

Back in the confines of his small office Hewlitt faced up to the fact that what he had been accepting as a nightmare had been resolved into harsh reality. Up until now he had never really believed the things that had happened; it had always seemed that in some miraculous way everything would be set right in time for a triumphant finish. But there had been no triumph, just as there had been no long-range supersonic bombers, no intensive radar surveillance, no stockpiles of needed materiel.

He drew a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly as he remembered once more to keep his emotions under control. If ever in his life he had need of his self-possession it was now; he had no way of knowing what demands might be made upon it even before the day was out.

He looked at the pile of work he had begun and decided against putting any more effort into it. He could not think of any possible good his notes would be to anyone, including himself. For a moment he felt bitter frustration; he had put in long years of intense work learning a very difficult language to the point where he could read and understand intricate technical manuals and other involved material. All that was by the board now unless, perhaps, this language of the conquerors would become a compulsory means of communication. In that event he would have a long head start, but he could not see how it could possibly do him any good except to spare him some additional labor.

He forced himself to be logical. Because of the peculiar nature of his work and its sensitive environment, he knew much more than had ever appeared in the newspapers or in the television analyses with which the nation had been deluged during the past months. He leaned backJn his chair, deliberately shut his eyes, and began to retrace in his mind some of the things that had made the difference. He did not want to do this, but he felt that he must. He forced his mind to sort out and play back the salient facts that he had stored there, facts which he had tried to ignore because they were unpleasant and because the conclusions toward which they had pointed had been unacceptable.

Unacceptable then, but now reality.

He was not certain where it had all begun, but the Marc Orberg draft case offered a good starting point. That had opened the door to much that had followed.

Marc Orberg had separated himself from the conglomeration of other folk singers by walking stark naked onto the stage of Town Hall in New York to begin his announced concert. He had stood there, holding his twelve-string guitar by his side, until the shock had bounded and rebounded from the walls and the audience had been hushed. Then in his familiar voice he had spoken into the microphone.

All right, you all know me or you wouldn’t have come here to hear me sing — right?”

There had been some response to that, some of the sounds of agreement.

"And you all know that I’m a man, just like all my other fellow-men all around the world — right?”

That had generated a heartier response. “Right.”

“Well I’m not ashamed of it; the time to be ashamed is when you’re not a man — or a woman. So why pretend?”

A small uproar had answered that, and in it there had been many feminine shrieks of approval.

“Now let the cops come in here and arrest me if they dare. They can’t, and you know they can’t.” He had stopped deliberately then and had casually strummed the opening chords of the black rock song that had first made him famous. “A lot of people have stood on this stage, all dressed up to make them look like something they weren’t. Or to hide what they were. Well they’ll all remember the day that Marc Orberg came here because in what I do, and in what I am, and in what I sing. I’ve got nothing to hide.” Then he had gone on with his concert.

It had been an explosive occasion, there had been no denying that, and overnight Orberg recordings had leaped to the head of the charts. An album cover, which had been prepared in advance to show him as he had appeared in the formal old New York recital hall, had been put on sale over the loud protests of many PTA’s, church groups, and so-called citizens’ committees. It had been permitted nevertheless in most of the larger cities. Some dealers had been hesitant to display it, but they all had to carry it, and it set a new record for reaching two million in sales in an almost unbelievably short time.

It was at that point that Marc Orberg’s draft board had reclassified him I-A. They had done so reluctantly because the Army very definitely didn’t want him, but too many voices had been demanding to know why he was escaping service when so many others were being compelled to go. Orberg had been perfectly aware of his position and knew almost without question that he would have been refused on whatever grounds might have been convenient. But he had exactly what he wanted and he capitalized on it with outstanding ingenuity.

On the day that he had formally reported and refused induction, it had taken the police more than three hours to clear the area and make the arrest that could not be avoided. Through his attorneys Orberg had challenged the whole structure of the draft mechanism on the basis that it was discriminatory and forced those who were inducted to enter a world of corruption and expediency. The case had been before the appeals court when a military scandal, small but sharply pointed had erupted on the front pages of all but the farthest right newspapers. That had given new meaning to Orberg's argument, and despite his well-known politics, a few editorial writers had dared to support him.

One of them reversed himself rather dramatically on the day after the decision was handed down:

Because of our precious traditions of full freedom of religion and of conscience we have been moving steadily toward less oppression of unpopular points of view, and a greater constitutional equality for all men.

But in the exercise and protection of our hard-won freedoms, it is possible for us to forget from time to time the discipline which our forefathers imposed upon themselves in order to win for us the things which we enjoy today.

The decision just handed down from the federal bench, that the entire structure of the military draft, as if is now organized, is unconstitutional, must be received by some of us as a blow. It is now no longer a matter of personal liberty, but rather a question of how long and how far we will choose to go in lowering our defenses until, in terms of effective performance, they will cease to exist.

The editorial had been read by some people, but it had passed little noticed in the barrage of reports about celebrations in the streets by young people in every major city. Many of the demonstrations had been relatively orderly, others had gotten far out of hand, and the one in San Francisco, at which Marc Orberg had appeared personally, had been a disaster. The governor had been forced to call in troops and the aftermath of the wild affair had gone on for another three days.

Eventually the draft mechanism had been reestablished, but it had taken time and the watered-down version which had finally been enacted into law provided so many loopholes that only the semi-literate sons of the notably poor had needed to concern themselves that they might be required to serve their country. When the pay and other inducements for military service had been upgraded an increased number of volunteers had appeared, but the Navy had still been forced to report that it had only fifty-two per cent of it's basically required manpower. The Marine Corps had been down to forty-six per cent while the Army had gone on record only as requiring “many more men who are ambitious to learn trade and technical skills.”

The result of all of this had been, in part, to make Orberg a national hero to a good segment of the fifteen-to-twenty-five age bracket. He had stopped singing then except for infrequent recording sessions and had turned instead to becoming one of the heads of the protest movement.

That had been one factor, and whatever the right and justice of it, it had seriously weakened the whole military establishment, both in numbers and in prestige. The very words “military establishment” had become an anathema to many people. After the Orberg decision the antimilitary camp had become intensely active; it had sponsored protest movements, speeches, demonstrations, and appeals. By sheer force of rhetoric it had created the illusion that the great majority of the population was with it until a significant number of congressmen began to believe that it might be true. Shortly thereafter, the armed forces had been substantially cut back. The time had seemed right; there had been loud calls for economy and the Department of Defense had had no visible role to play other than to maintain a posture of readiness. Furthermore, the international situation had been giving every appearance of simmering down during the several preceding months until the unexpected challenge had come with lightning speed and total surprise. Obviously those on the other side had been reading von Clausewitz.

Hewlitt remembered next Senator Solomon Fitzhugh, the Mid-westerner who had successfully parlayed his biblical name and its connotations of great wisdom into four successive terms in the United States Senate and eventually the chairmanship of one of its most powerful committees. The Fitzhugh committee had created a private hell for the State Department through its relentless probing into certain secret commitments which had been entered into with the President’s full knowledge and approval, but which had not been made public for well-established reasons. The senator himself had been vastly irritated that he had not been made privy to all that was going on and he had sought to take revenge through the power of his office. That had been the springboard which had launched some notably heated testimony.

One of the high points of the committee hearings had been the appearance of Admiral Barney Haymarket. The former Chief of Naval Operations had been in retirement for more than two years when he had been summoned once more to come back and be heard on the hill. In the nourishing light of publicity Fitzhugh had pounded away and the admiral had parried him with the expert technique of one who had faced congressional committees many times before. The admiral had maintained that since he was no longer part of the military establishment, the only information he was qualified to give was largely of a historical nature. Fitzhugh had refused to buy that, of course, and the battle had been joined.

“Admiral Haymarket, I’m going to ask you a point-blank question,” Fitzhugh had said when the afternoon had been well advanced. “Isn’t it true that during the time you were in the Navy, while you were occupying a position of very high responsibility, you had knowledge of certain secret international agreements which could, under some circumstances, bear on the posture of our fighting ships at sea?”

“To some degree, yes.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. All right, admiral, now let’s have a closer look at some of these agreements. Do we have any still secret naval commitments, never mind what they are, or what their terms call for, in Southeast Asia? Wait a minute, that’s too broad for what I want to get at. Let me put it this way: have we at present any under-the-table naval agreements with the Republic of China? I mean Taiwan.”

The admiral had taken his time in answering. “There are some very clear mutual commitments which have been approved by the Congress. I have no knowledge of any recent additions, classified or otherwise, which may have been entered into since my retirement.”

“Never mind what may have taken place very recently, I’m asking you about secret agreements which were entered into, or were in force, during the time that you were running the Navy. That’s what we’re interested in, because these secret treaties that were never submitted to or seen by the Congress may still be tying us hand and foot right now. Now I’m asking you again, do we liave, or have we had, any such secret commitments with Formosa?”

“Formosa is not a nation, sir.”

“All right, then, Taiwan. Or the Republic of China. Call it anything you like.”

The admiral had looked him squarely in the eye. “Senator, with your permission, sir, I would prefer not to discuss the subject further.”

Fitzhugh had visibly bristled at that; he had leaned forward and pounded one closed fist endwise against the table before him. “Well you damn well are going to discuss it! You know the penalties for contempt of Congress; I’m warning you that you are skating on very thin ice over that pit right now.”

Haymarket had still kept his self-possession with no sign of his sometimes celebrated temper. “I am perfectly aware of the penalties for contempt of Congress, senator, but if the President has chosen to place any confidences with me, it would be totally impossible for me to violate them.”

“I’m not interested in the President’s confidence, Admiral Haymarket, but I am damn interested in knowing if we are going to have to send American boys to fight and die for the sake of some corrupt, crumbling Asian government. We did that once and it was the greatest mistake that we ever made.”

Haymarket had remained silent.

“Now look here, admiral, let’s quit this horsing around,” Fitzhugh had said. “You know and I know that all of this is going to come out into the open, it’s going to have to, and there’s no point in holding back. So let’s get to it here and now.”

The admiral had the reputation for being an outspoken man with considerable eloquence at his disposal whenever he needed it. But he still remained silent.

“You haven’t said anything,” Fitzhugh had stated.

“You haven’t asked me anything, sir.”

“All right, I’ll ask you something. Are you going to tell us whether or not we have any secret agreements which might affect the Navy with the Republic of China?”

“In answer to your question, sir, no.”

Fitzhugh had lost his temper then and it had been seen on a million or more television screens from coast to coast. “Dammit, let me get one thing across to you: were not staging a puppet show here! I’m going to get the answers to these questions, and do whatever else is best for the good of the country. Is that plain enough?”

That was when Haymarket had given him his famous answer. “If that is your splendid purpose, sir, have you thought of cutting your throat?”

Two things had saved the admiral after that — the four stars that he had earned and the favorable editorial response to his remarks that had tidal-waved across the country. Fitzhugh was sensitive to publicity and for him to have taken revenge on a near national hero would have been inadvisable.

Hewlitt decided not to think any more about Fitzhugh despite the fact that at the most recent election he had been returned by a narrow majority to his seat in the Senate and to the privileges of his seniority. One good thing at least, Hewlitt thought, was that instead of six more years of Fitzhugh, he was probably all washed up and done with right now. As things stood, a current seat in the United States Congress had very little real meaning.

“Busy?”

The question startled Hewlitt. He looked toward the door of his office and then relaxed. “Come in, Bob,” he said.

The young Air Force major who responded gave Hewlitt a moment of satisfaction. His uniform was sharply creased, his grooming was immaculate, and the neat rows of ribbons testified to his competence. He was at that moment an assurance that not everything had fallen apart.

“You heard about the briefing,” Hewlitt declared.

The major nodded. “Verbatim, I believe.” He put one hand behind his ear and lifted his eyebrows in inquiry.

In response Hewlitt shook his head. “As far as I know,” he added cautiously.

The Air Force officer was satisfied. “I very much doubt that they could have bugged this place as yet,” he said, “though undoubtedly they will.”

I understand that it can be done quite rapidly,” Hewlitt said. Sometimes in just a few minutes.”

“True, but you have to have access to the premises for that length of time. I’ve done some checking and so far the regular security staff has been on the job without interruption. Are you willing to chance it?”

“Go ahead.”

“All right. Pardon my speaking softly, but I don’t want to close I lie door for obvious reasons. We took it on the chin as we never liave before, but it doesn’t have to be the end of the road.”

Hewlitt nodded.

“You are in a particularly strong position with your job and your language capability. Also, if you’ll forgive me, I’ve had a look at the file on you in the Pentagon and, as you must know, it’s damned good.”

“What can I do?” Hewlitt asked.

“For the immediate present, nothing, other than to keep your eyes and ears open. We’re down, but there are still some of us who don’t think that it has to be for the count. Without going into details right now, you must know that there are some secret reserves tucked away here and there.”

“I never doubted it.”

“Good. For now, let’s leave it that the ball game isn’t over yet. The question is, do you want to play?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“No, I’m afraid not. And if the threats we have heard are serious, it could be a dangerous business. There are a lot who have the feeling that somehow it will work out all right, and they don’t want to stick their necks out.”

“Then they couldn’t be much help.”

“Exactly. Then here is the picture as of this moment. I’ll be contacting you — me and no one else, is that clear?”

Hewlitt nodded once more.

“Good. For the time being, no matter what, don’t talk to anyone else. If someone does try to contact you, let me know about it as soon as you can. A lot of people may want to help, but right now we’re going to have to exclude the amateurs. You know why.”

As soon as the major had left Hewlitt renewed his firm resolve to trust no one without first taking every precaution and considering all of the known facts with the utmost care. Impulsive judgments could not be tolerated any longer.

Major Robert Landers was a graduate of the Aerospace Astronaut and Test Pilots School at Edwards Air Force Base. He had top secret and cryptographic clearances; there was a high probability that he had Q clearance also, but there was no safe way to check on that now. He had been selected for White House duty only after intensive screening which eliminated any possibility of conflicts of interest, homosexuality, or anything else that might compromise his usefulness or tempt him to betray extraordinary trust or responsibility. He was, in short, a career officer who had been gung ho Air Force from the first day that he had walked into the Academy and who had repeatedly demonstrated that he had what it took.

Negative evidence: none whatsoever.

Verdict: highly reliable. Probably totally reliable, but that level was reserved in Hewlitt’s mind; he did not propose to award it to anyone until that person had proved himself all over again under the conditions which prevailed now. With the rules all changed, it might mein that it would be necessary to field a whole new first team.

Hewlitt looked at his watch and saw that it was time for lunch. Zalinsky had told him to stand by, but he had not told him that he couldn’t go out to eat. A careful second thought made it very clear that Zalinsky would not be likely to discuss minor points of semantics; he had been told to stand by and it was highly prudent for him to do just that. With that thought fixed in his mind he picked up his phone and ordered his lunch sent in.