Fallout by James W. Huston Page A

even mentioning his wife. “Thank you. That was considerate. But why didn’t you write or send me an e-mail? You left me with the impression in D.C. that you didn’t have any interest in me at all.”
    “I’m afraid we didn’t treat you as we should have, and frankly, I didn’t give your proposal the consideration it deserved. But since you left, I have.” The Undersecretary looked around, pleased with the surprise he had occasioned and the image he had pulled off. It was the kind of thing he loved to do—show up when not expected and imitate a government official who actually knew what the hell he was doing. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
    “This is fine right here,” Luke replied. “I don’t want to wake my pregnant wife.”
    “Right,” Merewether replied. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the drive. “We looked at the PowerPoint presentation you left for us in hard copy, and the written report you did. I would like to discuss it with you further.”
    Luke’s heart jumped, then quickly returned to normal as reality reasserted itself. “Go ahead.”
    “I think the idea of starting a new, civilian-run TOPGUN school is frankly rather brilliant. It would give the United States government several options and outlets, as well as employ the assets we’ve purchased that are currently sitting idle, in addition to keeping Tonopah active, which is to the benefit of the airfield. Airfields are meant to be used, not sit and gather dust.”
    “What do you have in mind?” Luke asked cautiously.
    “The United States government would like to accept your proposal.”
    Luke’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be.
    “On two conditions.”
    “What?”
    “First, that you allow the United States to send through your school certain . . . foreign students who have been clamoring to get into our TOPGUN or Red Flag for a long time. This would be a means for us to encourage and . . . um, reward our allies who do not have the same training opportunities that U.S. pilots have. Sort of a diplomatic plum.”
    “What foreign students?” Luke asked, searching for future problems.
    “I don’t really have any in mind right now. It could be any number of them with whom we currently have defense treaties or to whom we sell arms; but they would have to be capable of accomplishing the rigorous training conducted at the school.”
    “Who would decide who comes?”
    The Undersecretary looked into Luke’s eyes. “I would.”
    “What about clearances?”
    “That would all be in my area of responsibility. They would all be preapproved. You would simply need to give me the quotas I request, and I would then tell you who would be coming. The countries would pay you directly, and you could charge whatever you want. Perhaps an amount substantially over your actual cost, so that you can make a profit. The U.S. students could be charged at cost, which would include your amortized expenses of the airplane leases, the airfield, and the like. In fact, we could even reserve certain quotas for American students that would equal the amount attributable to the lease value of the MiGs and the air base. You could charge the foreign students whatever you want and get whatever you can from them. That’s where you would get your profit.”
    Luke was amazed. “You’ve actually thought this through. I’d never even thought of that approach.”
    “There are many possible scenarios.”
    Luke looked around to see if anyone was nearby. The road was silent, and the sky was growing lighter by the minute. “You said there were two conditions.”
    “Yes. The second will be acceptable to you. I promise.”
    “What is it?”
    Merewether took a long time to remove a cigarette from a pack and light it with a gold lighter that looked very expensive. He inhaled deeply and looked at Luke again as he slipped the lighter into his coat pocket. “As you probably know, when we purchased the MiG-29s from Moldova, we also purchased five hundred Russian