Free The Gulf by David Poyer Page B

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    â€œSo, what did you want to see?”
    â€œAs much as possible. The aspects of the problem that concern me most are force strength and ally support. I’ll also be talking to some people who can tell me what’s going on inside Iran.”
    â€œI wish I knew that,” said Hart. He’d regained his composure, but she felt distance now. Well, it was better than the patronizing attitude he’d started with. “Sugar? Cream?”
    â€œNo, thank you.… I’ll be going up to Riyadh this evening. There are State people waiting to brief me, and some host-country contacts I want to check out. The Saudis, of course, are the most important from our point of view.”
    â€œI’d say that’s accurate.”
    â€œThen Abu Dhabi, then back here. I’ll want to see, if you’ll pardon the cliché, the Navy in action. Can you arrange that?”
    â€œI hope not in action, but we can fix you up. What kind of units do you want to visit?”
    â€œA sample. Say a frigate, a cruiser—perhaps one of the convoys. Can you arrange that?”
    â€œI’ll put Jack on it. I don’t see any problem, as long as you don’t want to stay overnight.” Hart grinned as if his shoes hurt. “You people have put some restrictions on what I can do with women aboard ship.”
    That wasn’t the way she understood it. At the last hearings, the admirals had fought increasing female recruitment tooth and nail. But she’d argue that with him some other time. “What about the convoy?”
    â€œWe’ll have number four making up in three or four days. If you’re back by then, we’ll fly you out.”
    â€œI’ll be here.”
    â€œOn your travels—they sound extensive—one thing I might suggest.” Hart grimaced. “I’d like to loan you a man. Say, Trudell. Don’t take it wrong, I’m just thinking of the impression you’ll make on Arabs.”
    â€œThank you, but I prefer to travel without a chaperon.”
    Blair gave him a beat, but he didn’t say anything more. So she looked at her watch. “I should be going—”
    â€œLieutenant!”
    â€œSir.”
    â€œTake Ms. Titus to the airport. Use my sedan. Then come right back; I’ll need it later.”
    â€œAye aye, sir.”
    Hart put out his hand. “This has been an interesting meeting for me, Blair.”
    â€œFor me, too.”
    â€œLook, I’m not used to you young, bright Capitol Hill types. Forgive me if I sounded … chauvinistic?”
    â€œI’m used to it. But it’s nice of you to apologize.”
    â€œThere are some great restaurants in town. Maybe when you come back, we can take an evening off.”
    Like hell we will, she thought. But she smiled, shook his hand politely, and followed Trudell out.
    When she was gone, the staff officers in the corridor regarded one another with frank astonishment. “That kike dyke. Who’d she have to blow to get that job?” said one.
    â€œWatch the language, fella,” said Byrne mildly. “She’s on our side. I think.”
    â€œBullshit, Jack! You heard her in there! They want to close us down! Leave the Gulf to the fucking Ayatollah!”
    â€œCaptain Byrne.” Hart, angry, from the next office. “Jack! Get in here, goddamn it.”
    The captain turned away, heading toward the voice, but said quietly over his shoulder, “A lot can happen to change her mind.”
    *   *   *
    Trudell turned the Reliant’s AC on full blast and she leaned back, suddenly freezing and grateful for it. He slowed at the gate, returning the guard’s salute, then accelerated out toward the city.
    She smiled grimly, remembering Hart’s feeble apology. She was sick of dealing with brass. A politician or a businessman learned to deal with all kinds of people. Everyone had power of some type, even if it was only a few