Patrick McLanahan Collection #1 by Dale Brown Page B

use in the region, General?”
    â€œThe Twenty-sixth Marine Expeditionary Unit can be within range in forty-eight hours,” Venti replied. “But flying nine hundred miles across four hostile countries is a long haul for them, and their support is all nonstealthy fixed-wing planes. They would be able to execute the plan within forty-eight hours, but I wouldn’t give them the same chance for success as General McLanahan’s troops.”
    Goff shook his head—but soon relented. “All right, the mission is authorized. But let me be perfectly clear, General McLanahan: That drone is not worth a scratch on one man or woman’s little finger. If it looks too hot, I want your troops out. No downed aircraft, no captured troops, no screw-ups for the president to admit to on the evening news. It gets done perfectly or you don’t do it. Understood?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œGeneral Venti also says you have a project you want me to consider—some new force concept you want to establish out there at Battle Mountain,” Goff said. “Well, first things first. You pull this one off, General, and you’ll have your chance to make your pitch to me and the White House. We’re up against an enormous budget crunch, as you know, but you know what the president and I like: state-of-the-art, cutting-edge stuff. Stretch the limits. Build in lots of redundancy, make it reliable and powerful, make it a definite force multiplier, and—most important—dazzle us. If you can do that, you’ve got a chance.”
    â€œThank you, sir.”
    Goff looked at his watch. “Catch up with me, General. Congratulations for bringing your cripple home, you two.” He headed toward the door, then stopped and turned. “I don’t need to tell you both that you have lots of enemies in the administration and on Capitol Hill,” he said. “Unfortunately, your crash-landing on Diego Garcia will be considered a major screw-up, not a success. Blowing this recovery mission will probably put an end to everything you want to accomplish and everything you’re being considered for. Can you handle that, Patrick?”
    â€œYes, sir,” McLanahan replied with a smile.
    The secretary of defense was definitely not smiling. “Try real hard not to screw this up, General,” Goff said seriously, and he hurried off.
    â€œI’ve got your Air Battle Force proposal,” Richard Venti said, tapping a folder under the crook of an arm. “I want my staff to look it over first—might take a few days. We’ll have to do it by video teleconference when you get back.”
    â€œI’d like to show you what we’ve done, sir,” Patrick said. “Instead of a videoconference, come on out to Battle Mountain and see for yourself.”
    â€œHow much time do you need?”
    â€œOne month, sir.”
    Venti raised Patrick’s briefing folder. “One month—for all this? ”
    â€œI’ve hit the ground running, sir,” Patrick said. “We’ll put on a show for you that you won’t believe. All I need is a few people, and we’ll dazzle you.”
    â€œWhere’s your money coming from?”
    â€œMost of it will come from HAWC, sir,” Patrick replied. HAWC was the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center, Elliott Air Force Base, Nevada, which tested high-tech weapons prior to their becoming operational. “Most of the aircraft and weapons still belong to HAWC. Once I get a real budget, I’d like to find funding for my own unit.”
    â€œWhere’s the rest of it coming from?”
    â€œI thought it would come from the One-eleventh Wing,” Patrick said, turning and looking at Rebecca Furness. “Her unit owns the EB-1C Vampires, and their base up in Battle Mountain has the space to accommodate us.”
    â€œGeneral Furness? Are you in on this plan, too?”
    Rebecca looked at Patrick but managed