Free The Minotaur by Stephen Coonts

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fies the echo, mutes it, cancels it out. The plane will then be truly
invisible to the enemy. They’ll never see it on their scope. They’ll
never receive the echo.” He thought about it “It’s the biggest
technological breakthrough since the Manhattan Project. Biggest
by a mile.”
    “I’ve heard speculation about canceling radar signals for years.
The guys who were supposed to know all laughed. Can it be
done?”
    “The party line is no. Impossible. But there’s a crazed genius
who wants to be filthy rich that has done it. That technology is the
living, beating heart of the ATA. Now all we have to do is get an
airplane built and keep them from stealing the secret.”
    Jake whistled. “Can’t we put this on all our ships?”
    “No doubt we will,” Henry said sourly, “and the Russians will
steal it before our first ship gets out of the harbor. For now let’s
just see if we can get it in one airplane without someone stealing it.
That’ll be plenty for you and Roger Dunedin to chew.”
    “Existing aircraft? How about retrofitting them?”
    “Right now, as the technology exists, the best approach is to
design the plane for it. The power output required to hide a
stealthy plane would be very small. The device would be easy
enough to put on a ship, when we get the bugs worked out. As
usual there are bugs. Expensive, though.”
    Admiral Henry glanced at his watch. “Our work’s cut out for
us. The air force will want this technology when they get wind of
it, and right now everything they see winds up in the Kremlin. It’s
not their fault, of course, but that’s the way it is. The manufacturer
of our plane will see it and from there it may end up in the Mi-
notaur’s clutches. Ditto the ship drivers. And the politicians who
have been trick-fucked on the F-117 won’t sit still for more stealth
hocus-pocus; they’re gonna want justification for the four or five
billion dollars the ATA will require just to develop, and there it
goes again. So right now I’m sitting on a volcano that’s about to
erupt and my ass is getting damn warm. You see why I wanted you
on board.”
    “Not really,” Jake said, wondering how far he should push this.
After all, who the hell was Jake Grafton? What could an over-the-
hill attack pilot in glasses with four stripes on his sleeve do for a
three-star admiral? Bomb the Pentagon? “So what’s your plan?
How are you going to do this?”
    Henry was so nervous he couldn’t hold still. “I’m going to hold
the cards real close to my chest and catch peeking
over my shoulder. Or that’s what I’m going to try to do, anyway.”
    “Admiral, with all respect, sir, what does CNO say about all
this?” CNO was the Chief of Naval Operations, the senior uni-
formed naval officer.
    Henry squared off in front of Jake. “I’m not stupid enough to try
to run my own private navy, Captain. CNO knows exactly what
I’m doing. So does SECNAV and SECDEF. But you sure as hell
didn’t get it all in this little conversation.”
    “Admiral, I’ll lay it on the line for you. I’m not going to do
anything illegal or tell even one solitary little lie. I’m not a very
good liar.”
    Admiral Henry grinned. “You just haven’t had the experience it
takes. I’ve been single for ten years, so I’ve done a good bit of it.
Seriously, all I want you to do is play it straight. Do your job for
NAVAIR. Just keep it under your hat that we have an active sys-
tem we’re going to put into this bird. Roger will tell you the same.”
    “How many people know about this active system?”
    “Here in Washington? Eight now - The Secretary of the Navy,
CNO, SECDEF. NAVAIR, OP-50—which is Rear Admiral Cos-
tello—me, you and Helmut Fritsche. And let’s keep it that way for
a while.”
    “Have you tested this system? Does it work?”
    Henry made a face. “Fritsche’s seen it work on a test bench.
Your first job, after you look at the prototypes, is to put part of it
into an A-6 and test it on