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The Doomsday Conspiracy :: Sheldon Sidney
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And the scientist had been given haven in England.
Dustin Thornton never forgave Robert for disobeying his instructions. From that point on, there was open animosity between the two men. Thornton had discussed the incident with his father-in-law.
“Loose cannons like Bellamy are dangerous,” Willard Stone warned. “They’re a security hazard. Men like that are expendable. Remember that.”
And Thornton had remembered.
Now, walking down the corridor toward Dustin Thornton’s office, Robert could not help thinking about the difference between Thornton and Whittaker. In a job like this, trust was the sine qua non. He did not trust Dustin Thornton.
Thornton was seated behind his desk when Robert walked into his office.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. Sit down, Commander.” Their relationship had never reached the “Robert” phase.
“I’ve been told you’ve been temporarily transferred to the National Security Agency. When you come back, I have a …”
“I’m not coming back. This is my last assignment.”
“What?”
“I’m quitting.”
Thinking about it later, Robert was not sure exactly what reaction he had expected. Some kind of scene. Dustin Thornton could have shown surprise, or he could have argued, or been angry, or relieved. Instead, he had merely looked at Robert and nodded. “That’s it then, isn’t it?”
When Robert returned to his own office, he said to his secretary, “Barbara, I’m going to be away for a while. I’ll be leaving in about an hour.”
“Is there some place where you can be reached?”
Robert remembered General Milliard’s orders. “No.”
“There are some meetings you …”
“Cancel them.” He looked at his watch. It was time to meet Admiral Whittaker.
They had breakfast in the centre yard of the Pentagon at the Ground Zero Cafe, so named because it was once thought that the Pentagon was where the first nuclear bomb attack against the United States would take place. Robert had arranged for a corner table where they would have a degree of privacy. Admiral Whit-taker was punctual, and as Robert watched him approach the table, it seemed to him that the Admiral looked older and smaller, as though semi-retirement had somehow aged and shrunk him. He was still a striking-looking man with strong features, a Roman nose, good cheekbones, and a crown of silvered hair. Robert had served under the Admiral in Vietnam and later in the Office of Naval Intelligence, and he had a high regard for him. More than a high regard, Robert admitted to himself.
And the scientist had been given haven in England.
Dustin Thornton never forgave Robert for disobeying his instructions. From that point on, there was open animosity between the two men. Thornton had discussed the incident with his father-in-law.
“Loose cannons like Bellamy are dangerous,” Willard Stone warned. “They’re a security hazard. Men like that are expendable. Remember that.”
And Thornton had remembered.
Now, walking down the corridor toward Dustin Thornton’s office, Robert could not help thinking about the difference between Thornton and Whittaker. In a job like this, trust was the sine qua non. He did not trust Dustin Thornton.
Thornton was seated behind his desk when Robert walked into his office.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. Sit down, Commander.” Their relationship had never reached the “Robert” phase.
“I’ve been told you’ve been temporarily transferred to the National Security Agency. When you come back, I have a …”
“I’m not coming back. This is my last assignment.”
“What?”
“I’m quitting.”
Thinking about it later, Robert was not sure exactly what reaction he had expected. Some kind of scene. Dustin Thornton could have shown surprise, or he could have argued, or been angry, or relieved. Instead, he had merely looked at Robert and nodded. “That’s it then, isn’t it?”
When Robert returned to his own office, he said to his secretary, “Barbara, I’m going to be away for a while. I’ll be leaving in about an hour.”
“Is there some place where you can be reached?”
Robert remembered General Milliard’s orders. “No.”
“There are some meetings you …”
“Cancel them.” He looked at his watch. It was time to meet Admiral Whittaker.
They had breakfast in the centre yard of the Pentagon at the Ground Zero Cafe, so named because it was once thought that the Pentagon was where the first nuclear bomb attack against the United States would take place. Robert had arranged for a corner table where they would have a degree of privacy. Admiral Whit-taker was punctual, and as Robert watched him approach the table, it seemed to him that the Admiral looked older and smaller, as though semi-retirement had somehow aged and shrunk him. He was still a striking-looking man with strong features, a Roman nose, good cheekbones, and a crown of silvered hair. Robert had served under the Admiral in Vietnam and later in the Office of Naval Intelligence, and he had a high regard for him. More than a high regard, Robert admitted to himself.