Free SpaceCorp by Ejner Fulsang Page B

“You had intel on that?”
    “Yep.”
    “You didn’t tell me?”
    “Nope.”
    “Bastard.”
    Adams smiled, “I believe my proper title is ‘Mr. Secretary.’”
    “‘Sorry, Mr. Secretary... You’re still a bastard.”
    The first of the reporters strode up to the Secretary. “Mr. Secretary, do you have a moment for a statement?”
    A guard was about to escort him away, but the secretary stopped him. “It’s okay, I know this one.” The guard nodded and backed away to a discreet distance.
    “Thank you, Mr. Secretary. What can you tell us about what went on in there?”
    “Well, Bill, we find it absurd that after the Iranians shoot down our space station, they choose to initiate the meeting with a list of demands, especially the one about the apology.”
    “What was he referring to by 1953?”
    The secretary shrugged. “Who knows? Whatever it was I should think the statute of limitations has run out. I mean 1953 ? That’s over a century ago!”
    “Perhaps so, Mr. Secretary, but history shows the United States was implicated in the overthrow of a legitimate democracy of Iran back then. Can you comment on that, sir?”
    The secretary glowered imperceptibly at the reporter, then smiled affably as he spoke. “ Democracy? Since when is communism to be equated with democracy? Better review your history books, Bill. America would never overthrow a legitimate democracy.” The secretary looked at the guard and nodded as he strode away.
    The reporter ran after him. “But, Mr. Secretary, what about Operation Ajax? The CIA was quite active in regime change back then…”
    The guard intercepted the reporter and blocked his way as the secretary and his entourage walked outside to their waiting limos.
     Air Force Five, Atlantic Ocean, 200 Nautical Miles West of Bordeaux, France
    The flight got off the ground early thanks to the walkout at the meeting with the Iranians. Within two hours, everyone had settled in to comfortable first class seats in the airliner and was either nursing a Scotch or reading email.
    “Roger, Harry, how about joining me under the cone of confusion to brief the old man.”
    The three of them repaired to a special compartment on the plane equipped for secure video-conferencing. It had an elongated table large enough for six and a large monitor at one end.
    “Good evening, Mr. President, we’re on our way home,” Adams said.
    “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, how’d it go?”
    “Predictable. They barged in an hour late and started reading a list of demands,” Adams said. “We followed our planned protocol and got up and left.”
    “And our source?” the president asked.
    “Very reliable. Only minor deviations from the version they read.”
    “Were they surprised? When you left, I mean?” the president asked.
    “You were the last man out, Harry. Were they surprised?”
    “I’d say more like smug, like they landed a punch. Except the cleric. He was going to get up and yell or something, but this big burly guy pushed him back down.”
    “Are you sure our little demonstration didn’t tip them off?” the president asked.
    “You mean that we were on to them? No, sir, I don’t think so. I tried to look like I was forcing passivity onto my expression. And I sat there a full minute acting like I was trying to figure out what to do. The business of everyone following me out is just standard procedure.”
    “We were all looking at the Secretary,” Miller said.
    “Well, I hope you’re right. We have so few sources over there. I’d hate to think we put this one in jeopardy. Well, have a safe flight.”
    “Thank you, Sir. And you have a good night.”
    After the president rang off, the Secretary looked over at Harry. “You going to advise your people about the source’s little faux pas?”
    Harry was a CIA liaison who worked at the State Department. “You mean the reference to ‘the’ Senate instead of ‘your’ Senate?”
    “It’s minor, I know, but that’s the kind of