"Look Colton, I wont mince words. Just what in hell are you doing with Ayers Aerospace?"
The President, a usually pleasant, polite (when it was called for) , youthful looking middle-aged man was now gazing critically at the Joe Team's commanding officer, in the center of his office, demanding an answer.
"Ayers's Aerospace is being evaluated by us for the next generation of combat vehicles we'll be using in Combat, as well as in more specialized roles." Colton evenly replied. "It's all legal by the Procurement Board, Mr. President."
But the President still wasn't convinced.
"Sir, "Colton continued, "the evaluation itself is—"
"Being handled by General Prestin, yes I know!" irritatedly snapped the President. "But I find it clearly unusual that a good many articles of protocol were ignored on the process."
This astonished Colton, for he knew General Prestin, of the Pentagon's Procurement Board, did everything by the book-- twice. If there were anything out of the ordinary, or unusual, or plainly illegal going on with any part of the evaluation process he'd be the first to yell and yell loudly about it. In fact, Prestin himself went through the evaluation on Ayers and found nothing wrong at all with it. So Colton could do nothing more than stand there in the Oval Office perplexed by what The President just told him.
"There's no way, Sir. None at all." Colton reacted.
"Oh there was." The President retorted, "Oh boy was there. The limitation rule was whole-heartedly ignored, allowing Ayers' to enter into the bidding with no restrictions over the types of vehicles and equipment he can produce.
"For security reasons," The President went on, "those items are broken up amongst contractors. So no one contractor can make everything your Team uses due to the high possibility of sabotage occurring to the Contractor, which would tie up your teams effectiveness in the field."
Colton knew the Contractor process. But it was the Pentagon's Procurement Board, not him, who handled all of the awarding of he work contracts to the winning bidders for the design, construction, and maintenance of the Team's numerous vehicles and equipment they used. The Joes had no real say in what their equipment would turn out to be. Because of that, there were always troubles when the 'tried and tested' equipment turned out to be anything but. There were quite a few things Colton could recall, starting with that multi-million dollar failure called the Low Rider which nearly ended up killing those Joes unfortunate enough to try using it
"Ayers never bothers with the protocols." The President continued. "In the numerous times he's been contracted by us, he always dominates whatever project he's been given and stonewalls any attempts by the GSA inspectors when they attempt to review his work."
That part Colton knew--and understood.
Ayers didn't want any governmental inspectors visiting his aerospace facility on a regular, or worse, surprise inspection with good reason. It would be difficult enough to constantly hide all of the Edrailian spacecraft he refurbished at his largely underground facility, even with a battery of Persuaders clouding the inspector's minds—which Colton knew well.
"And further more, just exactly why are you at Ayer's Aerospace so much lately?" The President accusingly asked. "You have no real business with him—evaluation or not."
General Colton did have some ideal of what would be occurring, but didn't have a firm plan to go by to explain such dealings. But far from being knocked into a submissive stance by the President's forceful demeanor, he kept his head in the face of the Presidents' attack and struck back.
"Sir," he modestly begin, "there are signs that he's softening his stance towards Washington. I feel that he can be made into an important asset if we just give him the respect he deserves."
"And that includes ignoring the rules?" the President frowned.
"Mr. President, I assure you that there is no favoritism occurring with the review process." Colton responded partly from frustration. "If there was any illegality occurring in the process, Prestin would have been yelling at us to stop long before now. And I assure you that I have not received any notification of such occurring at all today, yesterday, last week or since last month."
But the President still looked bitterly at him, as Colton continued, "And further, with Prestin's blessing, Ayers' Aerospace is allowing the Joe Team the use of their aerospace facility while The Rock undergoes repairs—at no charge to your administration or the taxpayer. Which. I shall remind you, has the blessing of the General's Board—"
"It all smacks of favoritism, Joseph." grated the President. "The other contractors are becoming nasty about it—and that I don't need, especially now!"
So that's what it was all about, Colton realized, political favoritism.
The politicians each had their preferred establishments they favored for things, usually in response to the proportion of campaign contributions and various other means of support. Colton rarely dealt with such matters out of personal preference, if he could, and always at arms length. He preferred elevating people by merit than by association with whatever group, or belief, that happened to be favorable at that moment.
Unfortunately, the opposite was true in Washington. The backroom deals had become an essential fact to getting anything done in the Capital. And a goodly portion of that politician's support always depended on it. To ignore those who helped them was suicide.
"I want the matter resolved, understand?" The President directly told Colton.
"Yes, Sir." The General nodded. "It will be."
"He's off his nut!!" Donnie Ayers, Professor of Mechanical and Cybernetic Engineering and owner of Ayers Aerospace, exclaimed from the Teleconference portion of Colton's office computer. " I haven't put in any paperwork for the government's contract bidding process in years!!"
He was bearded like Colton, but it was still a solid brown with no gray hairs visible—or so it seemed with the pseudo-flesh he wore. Gruff looking with sunburned nose and cheeks under that ever present brown fedora with an extra-wide brim, tilted just so, that he always wore, Ayers looked like a character from a 1940's B-feature than a highly rated expert on cybernetic systems.
"I'm thinking it's an assumption on somebody's part. Possibly a clerk or staffer saying something at a inappropriate time." Colton quickly responded, hoping to head off the explosion of temper Ayers was well noted for. "I will be doing some diving into it myself shortly, but I'm going to need your help."
Ayers seemed more surprised and astounded than angry in his small portion of monitor. But Colton knew it wouldn't take too much to touch the powder off, Ayers was always took matters seriously—and with reason. The Edrailian-Mix's real business was in the salvage, repair, and refurbishment of his kind's vehicles. From simple ground, water and aircraft to spaceships that could easily travel through the cosmos, he exacted high standards upon his work with every ship they touched. For the punishments exacted for inadequate work performed on rebuilt vehicles, either unknowingly or willfully, were extremely harsh due to the endangerment of the lives onboard such ships.
"It wouldn't surprise me." Ayers frowned. "I know a few in the business who'd love to keep me out of the bidding process…But, " he added as a afterthought, "I really don't need the Government's money…I already have a comfortable income."
At least he's taking this well, Colton though.
Then, he became curious.
"The people who want to keep you out of the bidding process, who are they?" asked Colton.
Ayers blinked in surprise.
"I'd like to use them for cross-referencing." Colton explained. "They'll definitely trim the list down."
Ayers turned it over in his head for a few moments before responding, "Have a pen and paper handy?"
Acquiring the Contractor's list wasn't too difficult. Colton had the clearance and knew the right keystrokes to bring it all up on his cubical office's computer screen.
Of those eight currently supplying the Joe Team with contracted work; two each were involved with their air, ground, and water transportation, one specifically for all computer systems at The Rock and the last for weaponry. The last two weren't on Ayers' enemies list of some twenty-five companies of various size and not all domestically established, but Colton didn't discard them due to their relationship with the other six vendors since their work was integrated into the others. Definitely a far cry from the days Colton first put on a military uniform, when everything was largely made by one corporation—and always worked right out of the box. Now it was all made by specialized divisions with in larger corporations or small exclusive companies with political connections, usually with different quality standards that always involved a lot of prayer that it even worked properly when it came time to put it together.
And when it came to finding Contractor's, the Pentagon wasn't too picky these days. Who could cut their costs the deepest on the manufacturing of needed equipment was now more important than examining the fact that a good number of these same contractors were related to each other by way of mergers and acquisitions by other corporations.
Three of these contractors, as Colton found, were really subsidiaries of much larger international corporations. One of who was the weaponry supplier that wasn't on Ayers' list, nor had the Pentagon uncovered this fact when reviewing their applications. Not that such was illegal, but it was frowned upon for security reasons.
With the help of the clerks in the Information Office, Colton began dividing the total lists up into 'Foreign' and 'Domestic' companies. Then he added 'Outsourced' as a sub-directory to the 'Domestic' list and checks against those same names when they appeared on the 'Foreign' list. Then checked everything over twice for accuracy.
What Colton had before leaving his tiny, rarely used Pentagon office for lunch was a list of suspect companies nearly balanced between 'Foreign' and 'Domestic' groupings, with the former edging out the latter by two small companies, that he could give General Prestin to investigate further. At that point, it would be a matter of finding where the rumor about Ayers occurred and taking appropriate action against the parties involved. It wouldn't be much, like the chicken salad he had for lunch, but being transferred to a less desirable assignment was a fair enough punishment.
But as he was leaving the cafeteria with his cup of coffee in a sealed container, three MP's approached Colton.
"Will you please come with us, Sir." The ranking MP politely asked.
Politeness was mandatory, due to rank of the person being addressed. But after that, the MP's had all the authority in the world to take whatever action they deemed appropriate to perform their duty. So with his coffee in hand, Colton was lead to their commanding officer—a Major who appeared and sounded so young it was doubtful that he had even began shaving.
But there was no mistaking the direct bearing of his voice, "General Joseph Colton, you are to be held in detention pending the investigation into the grievous assault upon General Walter Prestin."
It took a little more than an hour for them to arrive in Washington DC from California, much to the astonishment of Air Traffic Controllers from there to Maryland.
The dark aircraft, shaped like an inverted 'Y' with stubby tail fins, landed like a helicopter upon arriving at Dulles International Airport where it was soon met by three black sedans full of government agents who in turn were met by Scarlett, her long red hair tied back while wearing a green pants suit with white blouse and handbag over her left shoulder, after she emerged from the plane's side entrance ramp.
"I am here to speak with General Joseph Colton, at the Pentagon." Scarlett announced while presenting her identification.
The Agent-in-Charge knew everything in advance. He was a tall heavy-set man with a perpetual frown, dressed in the same dark suit and sunglasses like the other agents, stepped up to Scarlett asking, "Where is General Abernathy? Our orders are to take him straight to the President."
While this went on, a ramp had silently lowered from the rear of the black plane allowing a customized late model tan sedan to roll out onto the tarmac.
When she heard the sedan being put into gear, she smiled to the agents, "He's coming."
Ayers pulled his car up along the other side the agents' cars, placing them between him and the plane. The left rear window rolled down, and Brigadier General Clayton "Hawk" Abernathy in his standard military uniform, leaned partially out to address Scarlett. "Get to the Pentagon and meet up with Colton." he called out to her from the window. "I don't think you'll have troubles, but do your best."
Once Scarlett acknowledged the order, Hawk turned his attention to the Agents gathering around the car. "I assume you're here for me?" he asked as the Agent-in-Charge stepped forward.
"Our orders are to take you to the President."
"Excellent." Hawk smiled. "Lead the way." And settled back in the rear seat.
"Er, Sir." The Agent-In-Charge began, "we're supposed to drive you there."
Hawk slowly turned to the Agent.
"Excuse me?"
"We were ordered to bring you to the President." The Agent-in-Charge replied with his original bluster returning. "You are to come with us."
"And you still can." Hawk quickly smiled back, "By escorting the Professor and myself to him."
Hawk tapped Ayers on the shoulder, and soon they were racing away from the agents now scrambling back to their cars. But the spikes Scarlett placed before their tires while Hawk had them distracted thwarted their attempts to catch-up, and he smiled while watching her speed away in the opposite direction on her motorcycle in the Maverick's rearview mirror.
"Geeze your mean." Ayers remarked as they passed through a security gate.
"No, just foresightfull." Hawk replied. "And well organized, Professor. Besides, those NSA goons always irritated me."
"I just hope they don't tamper with the Lynx in revenge." Ayers replied, quickly made the traffic lights leaving the airport, and soon were heading towards the city's prestigious center. "They're on loan from Mammell for assessment purposes. She'll kill me if anything happened to them."
"We'll attend to that when we will." Hawk sternly replied. "Right now, we need to get out facts in order."
Ayers nodded, setting aside his worry for the Lynx.
"What can I say?" he began, "The President believes Colton is playing favorites with me, and that has several of your equipment suppliers panicking and taking it out on him. "
"With good reason." Hawk stated, "The payouts to those companies for their services is tremendous, many live or die by them."
"And one of them is worried enough about my presence to nearly commit a murder?" Ayers shook his head, "Amazing."
"That maybe it right there." Hawk pointed out. "This whole affair doesn't strike me as being a Cobra operation. There's nothing here for them to gain by making your life miserable. What is clear is that somebody doesn't want you on this playground."
Due to security precautions, traffic around the White House was strictly limited to certain number of vehicles operated by various governmental agencies—all under the scrutiny of Capital Police. Though Ayers' sedan wasn't outwardly threatening, but the closer it came to the White House the more scrutiny it received from numerous uniformed officers prowling the tree-lined streets.
If any of them even guessed as to what that brown 1975 Ford Maverick could really do, it wouldn't have been allowed to leave the airport. Instead, it would have been slapped onto the nearest flatbed truck and hauled off to who knew where under the escort of a fully armed brigade of Marines, so the 'experts' could study it—as if Ayers was going to allow them to. That was a different, though entertaining matter which Hawk let play with his imagination. Little things that he allowed to keep his mind sharp and active, ever since Cobra Commander crippled him from the waist down.
After dealing with the security barriers that blocked off the roads around the White House to all but allowed traffic, Hawk directed Ayers to the rear of the special building where the wheelchair access ramp existed. There also to greet them was a small squad of Secret Service agents, who escorted them up to the Oval Office and left them alone with the Chief Executive.
"Definitely didn't waste any time getting here." The President remarked to Hawk sourly. "Just two minutes slower than the SR-71 Blackhawk. Where did you get that craft from?"
"Me." Ayers simply replied.
The President glared at him.
"Considering the situation, Mr. President, " Hawk quickly stepped in, "time is of the essence. How's General Prestin doing?"
"Not much better." The President quickly replied, then turned frowning to Ayers. "You certainly get around." He then told Ayers directly.
"As long as it's a emergency." Ayers responded with an unconcerned smile.
"Sometimes I wonder." The President remarked. "Since you're in the middle of
all of this."
Ayers didn't say a thing.
"Excuse me , Mr. President." Hawk quickly stepped in again, before any more hostility could be exchanged. "There are a few facts concerning this matter that I am not too clear about. Could you enlighten me on them?"
With one last hostile glare to Ayers', the President then turned to Hawk.
"Ever since late August, there have been concerns from numerous equipment and service vendors that the Government does exclusive business with over the possibility of Ayers Aerospace underbidding them for the upcoming round of Governmental contracts.
"As you well know, Abernathy, a goodly number of these vendors are small companies who contribute tremendously to their local communities—jobs, schools, social events, scholarships, a lot of things. To have the likes of Ayers here suddenly show up and undercut them would be devastating, and I've been catching all manner of hell over it."
Hawk nodded. It was as he figured, and he filed the fact away in his mind to go over later with Colton and Scarlett at the Pentagon.
But now…
"Now, I am all for volunteerism." The President continued, "But I am taking issue with the fact that Favoritism is obliviously occurring between the Joes and Ayers, and I will not tolerate it one second more, Abernathy. Those contracts are to be; they will be, awarded fairly. There will be no exceptions granted at all."
Of course, if the President knew what Hawk knew about Ayers Aerospace, there would be a whole different attitude coming from the Chief Executive. But now, Hawk quickly worked his mind to counter the accusations.
"Sir, with all due respect, with The Rock being knocked out of action, the Joe Team needs a ready base of operations to—"
"Any military base would suffice." The President countered.
"The Joe Team is highly specialized, Mr. President." Hawk returned. "Secrecy and security are necessary for them to carry out their assigned missions. And considering that most military bases have civilian communities surrounding them, it would be best for their safety not to use such bases."
The President's face flushed red with the realization of this fact, though it gave Hawk no sense of accomplishment to embarrass his commander in chief.
"Certainly a old military base, preferably one far from civilization, could be reactivated." The President now fumed.
But Hawk still shook his head. "A lot of those were torn down. Any still left are in such weathered shape they might as well be torn down as a safety issue."
"And in either case, "Ayers stepped in, "the Taxpayers will be finding out since a lot of their money will be going to pay for it all."
"What's it to you Ayers?" The President hotly demanded. "I've got whole communities worried over the loss of economic support if you—"
"Sounds more like political support for your party going bye-bye." Ayers calmly replied. "Because it's obvious you bombed out of Business School."
That made the President ready to either yell or lunge at Ayers. Knowing Ayers as he did, Hawk believed the latter action would make the Vice-President the President by the end of the day. So he quickly maneuvered himself between the two and loudly barked out to them both, "GENTLEMEN!! Can we get back to the matter at hand?"
Whatever eruption could have occurred was quickly checked at that moment.
The President still glared at Ayers, but did nothing more.
"Now." Hawk continued, straightening himself as best he could. "The matter is that a competing Contractor has started a rumor which has now lead to a General being sent to the E.R."
And he slowly turned his wheelchair towards the President. "Now, I ask…Sir, from where did this rumor originate?"
The President fixed Hawk with a not to pleasant stare, and responded in an unpleasant tone. "That Abernathy…is confidential."
Scarlett had no difficulty in finding the Joe Team Commander; but getting to him caused her to spend a good fifteen minutes while the MP's on duty removed from her person her pistol, small folding knife, and other 'things' from her purse they considered to be 'hazardous'—regardless of the fact that she and others of the Joe Team were very much cleared to enter all levels of the Pentagon fully armed and armored. It was irritating to stand there while the goons rifled through her things, but she was too in control to be baited into a fight. And after collecting her I.D. Badge for the D-Ring, and receipt for the items withheld, she quickly went on her way.
As for where Colton was, he was being 'detained', as the young MP Major so put it, in the MP's Lounge next to his office; a bland, windowless room with vinyl couches and chairs some ten years out of style and a large wall mounted television blaring the news at a moderate level.
And there, he explained the current situation in detail as he experienced it.
"So what it comes down to, Scarlett," Colton explained, "is that I am Suspect by Association."
"That's not a whole lot to pin a case on." Scarlett frowned. "Especially since it's provable that you weren't anywhere near Prestin when he was attacked."
Colton gave her a dubious look. "Never, never, underestimate the power of those who reign over us." He sighed. "Someone is desperate, and they've made a mess of the matter by attacking Prestin. Now, they need to cover themselves. And my current association with Prestin is perfect for them to do this."
"Are you saying that they'll pin this attack on you?" Scarlett couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"It's possible." Colton nodded.
Scarlett started to put her own personal opinion to that, but was cut off by Colton.
"I know it'll be a tough sell, especially if Prestin recovers enough to give proper identification." Colton quickly explained. "But remember, there's a lot of political muscle being flexed over this matter with Ayers. And there is where I believe the solution will be found."
Scarlett gave him a questioning look to which Colton quickly smiled, "Will you have faith in this old horse for a moment? What I was doing before this mess started was cross-referencing the Vendor lists of the Team's suppliers with those Ayers' consider his enemies in the business.
"Quite a few of them have international connections, and some with indirect connections to corporations on Ayers' list. I was almost done with it when I stepped out for lunch and wound up here."
"Somebody with access." Scarlett frowned.
"Access to the Contractor bids for the Joe Team, which due to security are not handled in the regular means." Colton added, while reaching into his shirt for a pen, "But then, this asks a second question."
"Which is? Scarlett wondered.
"Those bids are kept in a locked computer file. Prestin has the only codes to unlock those files, and he trusts nobody in his office with a spare copy beyond himself." Colton explained while searching through his shirt's pockets. "So, how could any Contractor, first, spread the rumor about Ayers Aerospace entering the competition, then, second, managed to attack him in his office without anyone seeing them come and go?"
He went through all of his pockets, but didn't find what he was looking for.
"Er, do you have a pen and notepad handy?" he embarrassedly asked Scarlett.
"Among the few things I still have left in my purse." Scarlett commented, reaching into it. "Security thoroughly rifled through it."
The pad was the standard sized hard-covered note pad. Colton flipped to an unused page and began to write down the list of cross-referenced companies as he remembered them. The original list he left in his office was most likely gone, possibly in the hands of the young MP Commander who wouldn't give them over if asked, or destroyed. Whatever, Colton didn't devote time to wondering about it.
And in minutes, his lists were complete and laid out on the coffee table where Scarlett could see.
"Now." he began, pointing at the first sheet." These are the ten current vendors we have supplying and servicing the Team. The letters next to them indicate that they are Foreign, Domestic, or Subsidiaries of International Corporations. The second sheet consists of Ayers' enemies. The numbers next to these names corresponds to the number of the company on the first list."
Then he pointed to the third sheet. "This is as far as I got with the list of the subsidiaries owners."
Scarlett looked down at the sheets, moving from one to the other in analytical fashion.
"You know, "she began, "I wonder if it's not a past contractor stirring up trouble."
Colton considered. "These current contracts are still good for another two years."
"From before the team was reactivated." Scarlett replied. "We had some problems then."
Scarlett had a point, Colton considered. The problem was that list was locked away in Records, with no real way of reaching it at the current moment.
Unless…
"I don't suppose you have a wireless computer handy?" he asked.
It was an odd request, Scarlett looked through her purse again to be sure. Then brightened as she pulled out her Blackberry. Somehow, the guards at the Security Station had missed the hand-held device.
"Will this do?" she smiled, handing it over to Colton.
Getting into the Pentagon was made even more difficult by the fact that Ayers had no clearance to enter the inner rings of the famous five-sided building. In fact, he wasn't even cleared to enter the building at all.
"You've really must have peeved a lot of people off in your time." Hawk commented to Ayers, as they waited by the D-Ring security gate.
"Not my fault I always tell the truth." Ayers frowned.
The security people were of a different mind, but moved faster than normal due Hawk's insistence and presence. After an hour, Ayers was handed a One-Day badge and told his limits by the sergeant-major in charge of the station.
"You will be under guard at all times when beyond the presence of General Colton, and denied access to all sensitive areas with in the D-Ring." The Major-Major officially told him. "You are allowed in the low-priority meeting rooms and cafeteria."
Before Hawk could stop him, Ayers point blankly asked about bathroom privileges. The Master-Sergeant just looked like he'd been slapped.
"You certainly get your jollies off on being a pain, don't you" Hawk irritatedly growled as they were allowed into the high security area.
"He didn't mention such, so I thought to ask." Ayers defended himself.
Hawk was fuming, but didn't let it last too long.
The whole matter of the Contractor's wasn't right; the accusations that were leveled against Ayers, the attack on Prestin, and the hostility of the President, possibly in part due to Ayers' being in the room, then refusing to speak any more on the matter. It smelled, it all smelled.
He hoped that Scarlett had gotten farther with Colton on the matter. A list was mentioned, perhaps a connection could be found there, he wondered as he wheeled into the MP's Lounge where they were. Scarlett had pulled up one of the chairs next to the couch Colton was still on, seated in it while the Joe Team Commander squinted through he reading glasses while carefully working away on the Blackberry's tiny keyboard.
"How was the meeting with the President, Clayton?" Colton didn't look up from the Blackberry.
Hawk told him in simple terms what occurred. At a few points, Colton glanced up at Ayers, but for the most part just nodded—speaking only when Hawk had finished.
"For some reason, I do not find that at all surprising." He calmly spoke. "Professor Ayers has made a good number of enemies in this town, so there is a understanding to what underlies all of this."
"And presently." Scarlett began, "we are in the process of eliminating those from the list of suspects."
Her motioning to the lists on the coffee table brought Hawk and Ayers over for a look.
"Any on those sheets look familiar to you?" Colton asked them, while looking more critically at the blackberry's screen.
Hawk and Ayers moved to the table and gave the lists a look. "Some of these names are new." He began. "Gareth Industries Ltd., Kessel Electronics, WayForward Technologies II…"
Hawk paused.
"Triton?" he nearly exclaimed. "Boy does that ever bring back bad memories."
Colton finally lowered the Blackberry as Scarlett responded with a quizzical look.
"It was just before you came to the Joes, Shana." Hawk explained to her, and everyone. "Zap, Clutch, Breaker and myself were going over the equipment from them, and in a word it was awful. None of it worked to spec, and when it finally did work it did so in such a way that drove us crazy—even General Flagg. Finally, Breaker rigged up a decent working system that held until better arrived. That was the last we ever dealt with them."
Then he looked up at Ayers. "I don't suppose you have a story about them being on your enemies' list?"
"My Father fought with them a lot." Ayers slowly frowned. "I got a significant taste when getting called in to straighten out a emergency call center system they built down in southwest Texas.
"You never saw such a mess." He added, shaking his head. "They had the nerve to sue me over trying to steal their designs, as if I'd take the time and effort to steal garbage."
"Yet," Colton quietly put in while looking at the Blackberry's screen, "they still have political clout to remain in the contract bidding process."
That made him the focus of everyone's attention, even as he stared at the Blackberry's small screen. "With complete approval from both the Pentagon and State Department, no less."
"Hopefully they aren't going to be allowed to bid on any of our equipment." Hawk responded.
"But if they're that bad, why are they even allowed to enter bids?" Scarlett wondered.
"They know people." Ayers calmly answered. "Or have something on enough people."
Colton paused. "As in blackmail?" he asked, with a glance towards Hawk
"I wouldn't be surprised." Ayers directly answered. "It's the best reason why a lot of this crap's allowed to be made and sold in the first place."
"Now who'd doing 'it' to whom." Scarlett began. "The Generals to the Contractors, or the Contractors to the Generals."
"It depends upon who has what over whom." Ayers explained in detail. "A good number of these corporations hire specialists who can either dig up what dirty they can on their competitors. Or, they can arrange for something right nasty to occur to their competitor that they can take advantage of."
Hawk had been listening to what Ayers explained to them while mixing it in with the facts of the current situation. And the more he mixed, the more clearly the realization came to him.
Of course, who else!
When he turned to Colton, the Joe Commander was furiously typing away on the Blackberry.
"The--" Hawk began
"I'm ahead of you, Clayton." He said, punching away at the tiny keyboard. "I should have thought of them before now."
"They'd have access the contracts." Hawk smiled. "And Prestin would have no say in the matter about such intrusions."
"In deed." Colton agreed as Scarlett and Ayers looked wonderingly at them. "We were attacking this from the wrong angle."
The MP who rolled the food tray into the room was a sergeant with five stripes and a no-nonsense bearing that made him perfect for the duty.
But, he didn't notice Colton and Hawk were alone for minutes until after he was finished with the cart and the sorting of its contents.
"I was told there were four people in this room." He puzzled.
Colton and Hawk smiled back.
"Yes." Hawk replied. "Two of them just stepped out for a moment."
The MP just stared at them. When it finally occurred to him, he ran out to the office yelling. Then moments later ran back in, behind four other MP's and the young Major, all with batons drawn.
And the Major was anything but pleasant.
"Where are they!? Where did they go!? And how did they get out of here!?"
His demands were more of a scream, considering how high pitched his voice was.
The Generals just gazed at the obliviously immature youth and smiled.
"I was speaking with General Abernathy about the overall state of morale within the Joe Team." Colton explained, "Then, I turned to ask Miss O'Hara a question—and found that she and Professor Ayers were gone."
"From a locked and guarded room!!" The Major was fit to explode.
"Apparently." Hawk obliviously replied.
"That would make a very interesting tale to hear, Gentlemen."
The new speaker, just entering into the room was a short, barrel shaped man with steel-gray hair, hardened face, and four gold stars on the collar of his uniform who regarded the Joes with a disapproving stare.
Colton and Hawk were in shock.
"Prestin." Colton managed to choke out.
Now I know how Angel felt, Scarlett realized while riding on Ayers back. Definitely freaky.
When the food tray pushing MP came into the Lounge, they, with the help of Ayers' Edrailian Persuader, went right out the door with none of the MP's outside noticing anything—because the Persuader's transmition suppressed those portions of their brains that would have enabled them to notice. Similar to Mindbenders fiendish Brainwave Scanner, but small enough to be concealed in the large-frame wristwatch Ayers wore, the Persuader could easily make one invisible. Or hide a physical notability, like the elvish features of a Edrailian.
Once Psyche-Out was feeling better, Scarlett vowed to ask him about such things. But at the moment, in the outside corridor, heading quickly away, there were more important issues at hand.
"Make a left up here." She whispered into Ayers' ear.
After slipping past a young Captian trying to impress a comely member of the Secretarial Staff in the narrow corridor, Ayers made the turn and they found themselves at a meeting room door. The room was the typical no-frills variety made for function only, rectangular with plain brown paneled walls a single dark oblong table with eight chairs situated around it.
"Fifth panel from the left, along the far wall." Scarlett told him.
Ayers paused, counted, and then proceeded to the one where it met with a sixth, while taking from his leather jacket the key card Hawk gave him. Running its magnetic edge in the crack until a click could be herd, and the panel popped out a little becoming a door to a very narrow corridor lit only by small ceiling lights spaced one yard apart.
"Gloomy." Ayers commented
"Not Goth enough." Scarlett replied. "Start moving straight ahead."
Closing the secret door, he set out at a jog while being careful not to bang his shoulders up against the sides of the narrow corridor. After a minute, they arrived at the closed gate marked with yellow stripes on the gate and the floor before it. Set into the wall on their left was a machine similar to a bank's ATM machine.
"My code should still be useable." Hawk told them back in the Lounge. "Since I'm still active duty and part of the Security Council. And, I never got around to clearing out the system files."
'Security Council' was a odd name for a cabal of Generals all the Joes came to know as 'The Jugglers', a secretive group from all braches of the Military who 'worked' facts and figures in very illicit ways to not only protect themselves but to manipulate, or juggle the facts to their own benefit. The Joes had to deal with their machinations from time to time; especially concerning the amount of power they had over their very existence—powers they used to use the team to their advantage.
Hawk managed to check their power through the very means they used to maintain it; Blackmail. With dogged research through many files and reports, he built up a portfolio of evidence that they knew would destroy them. And keeping that evidence hidden away if anything fatal were to happen to him was Hawk's insurance against harm.
So, the Juggler's made him one of them. And had to deal with it.
Now they were gone, destroyed by another group's plans to turn the world into a place of chaos and destruction. But like civilizations of old, their relics remained hidden away within the very building they worked in—behind walls that many assumed to be solid. There, Colton and Hawk figured, was the key to solving the current delima, in rooms so secret the Pentagon would never admit actually existed.
Ayers slipped the card into the wall machine and typed out the code on the number pad as Scarlett held her breath.
A mistake on their part would flood the room with gas, Hawk warned. Ayers with his cybernetics had a better chance of surviving such an attack than she did. But then, there would be the guard detail that would hunt them down with help from the ring's security department.
How well the Persuader would work under those conditions was an open guess, one they'd find out soon enough.
Ayers pushed the ENTER key on the pad.
There was a gentle metallic 'click' from the gate, and it opened before them revealing a short corridor that ended at an elevator door.
At Scarlett's direction, Ayers walked up and pressed the call button. The doors opened to a standard elevator car controlled by two simple buttons. And here, Ayers let Scarlett climb off his back.
"Pretty elaborate." Ayers commented, as the car took them downward. "I wonder how they pulled it off."
"Preferred Contractors, of course." Scarlett stated the oblivious. "And being high ranking Generals in charge, it would be easy for them to hide all of this."
"Nice use of my taxes." Ayers added.
After several downward seconds, the elevator came to a slow stop. Then it's doors opened to what Hawk called ' the Pentagon's Bureau of Blackmail'.
It wasn't much of an room; small, circular in design with the same brown panels and overhead florescent lighting favored in every Pentagon meeting room, and a old-fashioned computer mainframe system situated in the center with access terminal and chair.
Scarlett went straight to the terminal with Hawk's key-codes. And soon was searching through what a small fraternity of Generals painstakingly and illegally collected.
Always knowing how easily they could be made scapegoats by Congress seeking to quickly appease an angry public, The Jugglers compiled its own files on Congressional members—going farther than any legal background search could. Legally, the information, as damming as it was, could easily destroy the careers of many currently in Government. But it couldn't be used by the Pentagon to protect itself initially without embarrassing questions of how these certain facts were found out being raised.
As Hawk explained to them, what the Jugglers would do was to let the targeted politician know that certain facts had been uncovered which they were quite willing to disclose to them in good faith.
"As well as a means of finding out whether or not what they found was legitimate," Hawk continued, "it was also how they were able to trap the politician--so preventing them from conducting any serious investigations into those affairs The Juggler's wanted to remain safe.
"And if the Politician called their bluff, the news media would have one whale of a story to print the following day at the politician's expense."
And so by maintaining integrity thru corruption, The Jugglers became an untouchable elite that none dared attack without suffering devastating political backlash. "Any luck?" Ayers asked while viewing the room.
With a few more commands, Scarlett was finally where she wanted to be.
"Just there." She told him. "Sorry, but this thing's slow."
Ayers frowned, looking at the system.
"No wonder." He replied. "It's a SCSI that dates back to the early eighties."
"You're telling me." Scarlett muttered while entering a few more commands.
And what finally came up on the monitor perplexed her completely.
"None of this is making any sense." She finally announced. "There isn't a single political link from the corporations to the President."
As Ayers moved behind her to watch over her shoulder, Scarlett tried several more angles that brought up many more files that were then cross-referenced against any presidential connection.
And still, nothing.
"Try going backwards, starting with the President." Ayers suggested, and Scarlett did.
"Nothing." She reacted with a puzzled frown towards the screen. "Absolutely nothing. There are no connections anywhere between the President and the Contractors that are remotely direct. Several politicians, yes—but none that could really put any sort of pressure concerning who gets to bid on what."
While Scarlett was speaking, Ayers moved behind the terminal while pulling a wallet-sized case from his jacket.
"I want to try something." He said, opening the case.
It wasn't until she noticed him taking the small cable and the SCSI plug from the case that she realized what he was going to do.
"You're going to try diving into this?" Scarlett asked, pointing at the mainframe. Ayers shook his head.
"Information retrieval." He explained, while attaching the wire to the plug. "I'm betting Hawk didn't have complete access to all of the Juggler info, as he believed. So, I'm going to yank it all out."
As Scarlett watched, Ayers first put the free end of the wire into a hidden port just behind his left ear—then plugged himself into the terminal. But what he supposed did give Scarlett reason to think. Knowing how the Jugglers worked, it was most probable that they only strung Hawk along by giving him information that really didn't matter in the long run. Probably to set him up for a fall, she concluded, when they found his proof against them.
Or, they could neutralize it.
Glancing at the monitor showed multiple rapid downloading from several areas of the database. When one was finished, Ayers would hunt up another Juggler file and drain it dry like a cyber-vampire.
It was both fascinating and unnerving to watch…
Then suddenly the wall panels around them exploded open, and in rushed twelve heavily armed masked commandos dressed in black from head to toe.
"Freeze!!!" one shouted, as they encircled them while aiming their weapons with murderous intent.
Even if she were armed, Scarlett knew she didn't stand a chance…
Then something hit her left shoulder, and the Commandos suddenly became very perplexed.
"Hey!" One of them shouted, "Where did they go?"
Scarlett looked at her left shoulder and found Ayers, leaning precariously over the terminal, gripping it.
"Call it in!!" one Commando yelled.
"You call it in!" another quickly responded. "They'd think you've lost it."
It was comical to watch, twelve highly trained, and heavily armed Commandos mystified by the sudden disappearance of two people right before them. Even more so when they tried searching the room for the very means that was used to elude them, none of them even came close to the computer terminal.
Scarlett turned and smiled at Ayers. "Thanks." She mouthed to him.
Ayers held up a finger of his free hand to motion her to wait. Then, he appeared to fall asleep stretched across the terminal while holding on to Scarlett's shoulder with a grip that after a few minutes was making her whole left arm feel like it was falling off.
And the monitor showed files being removed in seconds.
Ten minutes later, Ayers pulled his plug from the back of the computer then worked his hand down Scarlett's left arm to her wrist while slowly righting himself off of the terminal. And after that, they slipped past the Commandos' and out of the room.
"I'd like a explanation." Colton coolly asked the President. "If it's not too much trouble."
It was now late evening of a day that had started none too well, starting in the very room that he, Hawk, General Prestin, and the President were in, the Oval Office of the White House. The curtains behind the President where closed, preventing the glare of the sunset from being too distracting…
But right now, neither Colton or Hawk could have cared.
"You know, Joseph," The President, leaning back in his brown leather high backed chair behind his desk, said to him, "judging from that tone of voice, I gather that you are not overly fond of me at the moment."
The bitterness from being deceitfully lead around and lied to by those they trusted creeped across both Colton's and Hawk's face as they stared at their Commander-in-Chief. If they said anything in response to the President's remarks, anything at all at that moment, it would have been a curse riddled assault that would have blistered the paint right off the walls.
"It's truthfully regretful, gentlemen. I know—" Prestin sincerely began, but stopped when Hawk glared at him.
"I know how you both feel about all this." Prestin managed to work out. "But the deception was deemed nessicarry due to what was being handled."
The President though wasn't bothered by the two angry Generals before him, and took a very light-hearted attitude towards them.
"Gentlemen, I extend my apologizes to you both for the deception. But you must understand that it was necessary to use you to get the Juggler files. Lord knows how much trouble would have been caused if they fell into the wrong hands."
"In such cases, Sir," Hawk knowingly said through gritted teeth, "such blackmail is well deserved."
The President regarded him with a sour look, "There are others who'd think differently." He pointed out to Hawk, "Many of them hold your purse strings. So I'd dump that attitude right now."
"Not that I mourn their passing in any way. " The President continued on, "But to go as far as they did to preserve their station, the Jugglers were criminals in every sense of the word."
"As is allowing those certain Politicians' to remain in power by using us to get that information for you." Colton restrainedly replied.
The President coolly regarded them both for a few quiet moments.
"It was necessary." Prestin finally spoke up. "There was no way to avoid it, because anyone could have eventually found those materials."
And the steel-haired General looked up at the Joes. "What exactly were you both going to do with that information? Blackmail your way to getting what you want?
"Granted, The Joe Team does the free world much good. But for God's sakes man, must you stoop to their level so to justify what you do?"
And the President smiled.
"Beggin' your pardon, Rolf." Colton directly addressed Prestin, "But it's not always as clear as you think it is. There are politicians that would gladly sell the Joes short just to serve another term, just as there are Generals at the Pentagon who'd do the same to appease a angry public."
"There are times when we must fight for survival." Hawk added. "Especially after what Cobra Commander did to this current administration, while posing as the personal advisor to the President—"
"That cannot be proved." The President quickly broke in, "And I'd like it very much if that never travels beyond this room. We're people of integrity here."
Then, the telephone on his desk began beeping for his attention. "There will be no blackmailing on my watch." The President added while reaching for the telephone.
Colton glanced back at Prestin, who stood there miserably. He knew what it all was worth, and would be the first to agree with Colton about what he'd said. But Prestin had been brought into this because Colton and Hawk trusted him; a good soldier who followed orders, and so loyal that he'd never would question them at all. Now, what would have been decisive leverage for the Joes was gone. Leaving Colton and Hawk to wonder what would happen next.
They got their answer sooner than they ever expected.
"WHAT ARE YOU TELLING ME!!" the President suddenly exploded into his telephone, making even Prestin jump. The look of surprise, disbelief, and shock that all came together on his face was quite astonishing to watch. "That makes no sense at all! Keep looking for them!!"
Then, he froze…
"What..?"
The President glanced upwardly at Colton and Hawk…
And the realization occurred to him.
"I'll call you back." The President quickly said, and just as the phone was back in its receiver he demanded, "What have you two done?"
"Excuse me? Hawk wondered.
"WHAT DID YOU TELL THEM TO DO!!" the President violently exploded at them. "ESPECIALLY WITH THE JUGGLER FILES!!"
The President looked ready to commit murder without too much prodding. But being a brave man, Colton casually put his hands behind his back and unperturbedly addressed the President, "They were only sent to cross-reference the corporations and their political allies back to you."
The President just gaped at them with bulging eyes and a very red face. Prestin just looked on in silent wonder.
"You see," Hawk stepped in, "after going over what names we had, we became stuck by the fact that everyone of those Contractors that are under contract to the Joes will still be for another two years…"
"Which, "Colton picked up, "is way too soon to be applying any sort of pressure on you about those contracts. So, we began to check on the politicians who have ties to the Contractors that are servicing the Joes against those who are on Ayers' enemies list—just to see if they came back to you."
Prestin turned a wondering gaze at the President, who just sat there with an increasingly dark look upon his face while slowly trembling.
"But to piece it all together, we needed to access the Juggler files." Hawk directly continued to the President. " Which apparently is what you wanted us to do just to get your hands on them."
The President sat at his desk, hands on it's polished mahogany surface balling up into fists.
"Well…the information…is gone." The President got out in fitful spurts. "Wiped clean from the database it was once in…and your people…vanished...right in front of a special security team…"
And looking up at the Joes, the President's face became ugly with rage. "HOW??"
"What's your security clearance, Mr. President?" Scarlett asked from the other side of the Office.
Colton and Hawk were only partially surprised. They knew about Edrailian Persuaders in full detail. But the Juggler files gone? That had them wondering as well what Scarlett and Ayers did down there.
Now there was Scarlett, sitting casually in the matching couch across from the one Prestin was rooted to in shock, casually holding one of Ayers' custom Colt .45 automatics, while the Professor himself was packing his smoking pipe with tobacco from a well traveled pouch.
"I assume you have a explanation for this?" Colton casually asked.
The President and Prestin just gaped.
Hawk was grinning.
"Yes, Sir, we are reporting out findings on the data search in the Juggler Mainframe." Scarlett notably responded.
"Proceed then." Colton nodded.
Ayers lit his pipe.
"The cross-reference check turned up no viable connections." Scarlett stated. "There were no politician that could muster the amount of pressure on the President, as so described."
"Thank you, Scarlett." Colton nodded while smiling.
The President from all appearances just sat there and listened. But moments after Scarlett and Ayers' appearance in the room, he begun pressing a special call button with his foot to summon the Secret Service agents to the Office. He had everything quickly figured out, especially what to say about everyone in the room. It was a pity about the Joes. But sacrifices needed to be made.
"So what happened to the files?" Hawk asked.
Ayers drew in a deep pull from his pipe, tilted his head back and blew the smoke outward in a long, majestic stream.
"Do you mind?" The President resentfully regarded him.
Ayers ignored him.
"Professor Ayers has them." Scarlett answered.
"I moved them to another storage area." Ayers simply replied to Hawk, putting whiffs of smoke into the air. "Where only I know."
The President still regarded him with disgust, but knew who not to have the Agents deal with harshly…
If only they'd come…"You know." Ayers began, shifting himself around so he'd speak to the President directly. "I mind a lot being used as the principle of a lie, just so a bunch of politicians can cover the asses from the butt-kicking they so richly deserve."
He paused for another deep pull from his pipe before continuing, "And I've got half a mind to get up from this couch, walk on over to you and just womp on your butt until you can't do much with it anymore."
Then Ayers smiled, "But, sitting here smoking as you work that panic button you have under your desk is much more fun."
The color drained from The President's face.
Prestin shifted on the couch, then froze when Scarlett aimed the pistol at him.
"No." he uttered fearfully, "Please, that information must be turned over—"
"It will be, General." Scarlett smiled back, "But we just can't figure out which news media outlet to give it to."
"There's hardly a one that's not liberal in some way." Ayers grumbled as he puffed on his pipe.
"But we cannot—" Prestin managed to bleat out before Scarlett's harsh gaze and the .45 she held made him consider being quiet instead.
The President just looked down upon his desk. His world, his plans, crashing down all around him.
"What do you want?" he managed to croak out.
"Want?" Colton said, regarding him mildly. "We are people of integrity here, there will be no blackmailing."
Prestin seemed to shrink.
The President slowly raised his head.
And Colton frowned angrily at him. "I am a honorable man who carries out the orders given to me by my Superiors. But, when those orders conflict with the laws of the country, which I have sworn to protect, I will do everything with in my power and ability to set matters right.
"Even if it includes toppling the administration and the political parties that form the Government, as well as the military that protects it." he finished, glaring at a man who was now but a shell of what he was before.
"What do you think?" Hawk asked.
In the very Y-shaped craft that rocketed across the country earlier that day, Hawk and Colton sat in swivel seats in the opulent passenger compartment sipping coffee and eating donuts bought before leaving Washington. Colton had been gazing out the small window, watching the land below steadily slip into twilight as they raced through the time-zones.
"Heh?" Colton blinked, surprised by Hawk's question.
He turned to his paraplegic advisor. "What was that again?"
Hawk moved the bit of donut around in his mouth to swallow it before asking Colton again, "What do you think?"
Hawk motioned around him at the craft they were in.
Colton looked the interior in a half-interested way for several silent minutes before quietly answering, "It's…nice…"
There was much more about the craft, the Lynx, as Ayers named it, extraordinary things that Hawk was willing to tell Colton there and then. But, one look at his commanding officer told him that he wasn't interested at the moment.
It was obvious where his mind was.
"Look, " Hawk began, "we're not interested in maintaining power—as the Jugglers were. Our first duty is to the citizens of this Country, to protect them even to the point of giving our lives in the line of duty. Having that information means we can do our duty without interference."
Colton still gazed quietly into his coffee cup. Then after a few moments straightened his sitting posture out.
And turned to Hawk.
"Do you remember the Presidents own words that I quoted back at him? We are people of integrity…There will be no blackmail on my watch…?"
Hawk nodded.
"I've been thinking about them, especially about what they mean." Colton quietly stated. After a few quiet moments began explaining, "Haven't we ourselves become just like the Jugglers, or The President for that matter, because we'll be using that very information to maintain the Joes' existence? Even if it's to protect the team, have we become no more criminal than those who wanted it back in Washington?"
Hawk considered what Colton said as he was saying it, and returned with his own matter of fact answer.
"Having been with those people, I haft to frankly say that what we will be doing with that info is what we must to do with that info."
Colton turned to him with a critical gaze.
"There's no real honest way of dealing with things like this and still maintain either your dignity or integrity." Hawk explained. "The Jugglers would have gutted anyone, anyone, with that info to keep themselves safe. I managed to become one of them by blackmailing them into compliance. It was the only way to beat them."
Then Hawk became ashamed by that very fact.
"I'm not proud of it." He regretfully added, gazing into his coffee "Becoming a backstabber like they were…But, you know," he added slowly raising his head to face Colton, "to defeat your enemy, you must become your enemy. Not to invites your destruction."
Colton nodded. He knew. He knew it back in the jungles of Vietnam while operating far from any ready help to save either him or those with him. To survive in that exotically lethal land, he had to forget most of his Special Forces training and be like the Viet Cong he hunted—and hunted by them. The irony was that it really was no different now. The enemy wasn't armed with AK-47's and Maoist beliefs, but with opinion polls and the strong desire to hold their place, their power, in Government and the Pentagon, for as long as they could at whatever price.
"But when it comes to using that information," Hawk spoke up in serious tones, drawing Colton from those thoughts, " we can set ourselves above the Jugglers and the Politicians by how we use it. Not only to protect ourselves , but America and the Edrailians as well."
"It's just that we'd better not be serving our own self-interests when we use that information." Colton pointed out. "That is my biggest worry."
"It's never easy being a leader." Hawk sighed with a knowing look
"The perfect leader?" Colton shook his head. "No, it's not. All I can do is what I can do."
A smile slowly broke across Hawk's face as he raised his coffee cup towards Colton in salute. "Then to Integrity…May it be our rock to build upon, and trust in."
At first, Colton thought Hawk had gone nuts. But then the facts began to make themselves known; it would be up to them to deal with what they had, honestly and responsibly. If they kept it that way, things were going to be all right for them and everyone.
He certainly couldn't beat that.
Colton grinned, "Hear, hear." touching Hawk's cup with his own.
37