Tomahawk by David Poyer Page B

It’ll be close, but we just might do it.”
    â€œAre we going to get the ABLs in time for
New Jersey!”
    He outlined the status, the split buy among the three contractors. “I’m riding herd on them. They’ll deliver the first unit in March.”
    â€œMaybe. My experience has been that when you’re working from redlines, there’s always some woodchuck that pops out and stops the show. How about the other hardware?”
    He described the status of the operator interface display terminals, and the rest of the gear set being built for
New Jersey
—five separate pieces of electronics for the equipment room, four more racks for the control room. Westerhouse said, “Are you telling me they’ll be ready on time?”
    He bit the bullet. “Barring any unforeseen problems, they look on track, sir.”
    â€œOkay, the software?”
    â€œThat’s the long pole in the tent. It’s written in assembly language and it’s a disaster. I’ve got Sakai on it about eighty percent of his time. Got an assist visit scheduled next week. Sparky and I’ll try to find the bottleneck and ream it out.”
    â€œWe’ve got to get it on the rails. You work it at the technical level. I’ll set up a CEO-level meeting.”
    â€œOkay, sir. How’s the missile doing? How’s Convair reacting to Admiral Niles’s cattle prod?”
    â€œLarramore’s got a gold team taking apart their quality problem. About all we can do now is wait for them to get their ducks in ranks. Other hard spots … well, we’ve got the transition-to-flight problem.” Westerhouse said the Canadian tests should show whether the booster changes worked or if they had to go at it from another angle.
    His boss turned over a message blank and sighed. “Okay, new subject. These congressional hearings. The public relations types prepare the testimony, but they’re gonna need technical help. Can you take that on?”
    â€œI’ve never done anything like that, but I’ll try.”
    â€œGo on up and see Carol, get a window set up.”
    â€œAye aye, sir.”
    Westerhouse turned over another page. “You’re going to Cold Lake?”
    Didn’t we cover that? he thought, but he just said, “Yes, sir. Colonel Evans asked me to go up there and keep everybody honest.”
    His boss tapped a pencil. “Is there anything else that if you got it, it could speed things up, make your job easier?”
    â€œJust about six extra months, sir.”
    Westerhouse crinkled his eyes but didn’t smile. He got up, said thanks. Dan said, “Oh, if it’s all right, I’ve been working Saturdays, and Sundays, too, sometimes. Can I get off a little early this afternoon? Personal stuff.”
    â€œI don’t see any problem with that. As long as you’re caught up on the preps for your trip.”

    As the sky grew from a shining blue egg far above him, he wondered why his heart was speeding up, why his heart were digging into the handrail of the escalator He pulled his mind away and watched the walls slide by. At intervals, subterranean leakage stained the new white concrete. Past him as he rose streamed hundreds of federal bureaucrats, the vomitus of the government buildings concentrated here in the center of the District. Glances snagged on his uniform, then returned to weary blankness, He fingered his cap.
    He’d mulled over wearing his blues to meet Miss Mystery. Nobody who’d worn a uniform in the seventies was ever quite comfortable wearing one in public. But the only alternative he had at his office was running gear, and he didn’t think sweats would look too great at what might turn into a dinner date. So finally he’d just pulled his bridge coat on against the chill.
    The blue oval grew larger, and he caught a glimpse of a dome, a statue shining in the sun.
    The escalator bowed like a diving porpoise and