The chief took the radio call in his cellar, a bottle of wine on hand to celebrate. The news could not possibly have been better, not even if it had come gift-wrapped in the project's blueprint. He smiled grimly when the mission was reported complete. Those spec-ops pilots had been expensive, but worth it; they knew their job, and they'd done it, quickly and efficiently. There was even some rumor that they had shot Tiger, but it was probably no more than that. Just a rumor. Oh well, some things were too good to be hoped for. But rumor or no, they had the information, and the chief was patient: he could wait as long as necessary to see his plans come to fruition.
But in the meantime, there was work to be done. He called for his secretary, a small, silent, wizened little creature rather like a resuscitated mummy, and began to dictate.
My dear Baron,
Upon the successful completion of our first mission, I must thank you for the efficiency and skill with which you planned the whole affair. My hearty congratulations! Believe me, they are not given lightly.
I trust that you will pass on the good news to our operatives in the government, discreetly of course. It would not do to lose our funding at this point, nor to stir up controversy in the midst of an election year; there are, however, certain persons who could be pressured to see our point of view, and this initial success would be a useful tool in convincing them. I must ask you to use your influence and your not insignificant persuasive powers in this endeavor; we are at a crucial stage in this project, and more funding is needed.
As we move forward to the next step in our plans, I would like you to extend a personal invitation to our old friend the colonel to take part. I believe you know where he may be found. He is to be told nothing, I repeat, nothing of this project until he commits fully to our cause. There is, I believe, what the novelists term 'history' between him and Tiger, and his talents could be of use to us. I must, however, warn you not to underestimate him. He is a man of considerable talent and, at one time, extraordinary influence on certain European powers. Do your best to recruit him, my dear Baron, and you will have helped our cause greatly.
I remain, very sincerely, yours, etc. etc.
The resuscitated mummy typed the last few words, his sharp little fingers pecking and poking the keys like so many kitchen knives. The chief smiled again, satisfaction spreading slowly across his face. All the planning, scheming, and fundraising was finally beginning to pay off, and he was never one to waste his time on fruitless projects.
A/N: While this story will not deviate from the original in terms of plot, my intention is that it will portray some of the unseen events that underlie the action of Destination Moon and possibly Explorers on the Moon. If you should happen to find inconsistencies or plotholes, please do point them out to me. As of yet, this story is very much a work in progress, and even I don't fully know what direction it may take.