Whiplash

15

“Ten minutes until your meeting with the admiral, Ms. Stockard.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bennett.”

Breanna Stockard tapped the interphone button and went back to reviewing the Excel file on her computer. The rows of numbers — some bold, some highlighted, some in different colors — purported to show the cost effectiveness of a new shipboard cannon the Navy was angling for. But the numbers couldn’t demonstrate the real need for the weapon or, even more important, whether it would truly function as designed — and how long it would take to become operational. Those were the real questions when it came to new technology. The answers were almost always guesses — sometimes very good ones, but still guesses. Breanna’s office wasn’t developing the gun itself — a private contractor had been working on it for several years — but she had to give a report that would either help the admiral’s quest to win more funding or help kill the project. Her staff was divided, as were many of the people in the Navy.

As important as the issue was, Breanna couldn’t seem to focus on it, even with the admiral on his way over. She kept thinking about Danny and Whiplash in Africa.

Danny checked in twice a day, either by secure satellite phone or text message. She could have gone over to Room 4 at Langley, plug into the MY-PID network, and find out what was going on, but she resisted. It wasn’t her job to watch over every little decision Danny made, or to ride on the team’s shoulder as it went in battle. That was the whole point of MY-PID — it was a tool to help the people in the field, not to shepherd them.

She didn’t want to tell them how to do their job. But she was worried about them, even though she knew she shouldn’t be. She found it difficult to remove her emotions from the op, separate herself from the people.

The intercom buzzed.

“Ms. Stockard, the admiral has arrived early,” said Ms. Bennett with the slightest hint of annoyance.

Breanna glanced quickly at the small mirror she kept under the computer monitor, checking her makeup.

“Please send him in,” she said, rising to greet him.