GRANT'S PET SHOP
by
Ron S. Nolan, Ph.D.
© 2008
Chapter 9
The General drummed his pen sharply against his desk
as he waited for
Cummings. One of Houston's mysterious idiosyncrasies was that he
always arrived a half hour early for every meeting. No one in the
Pentagon ever really knew what time to show up for an appointment
with the General. It was a trick that he had learned while
negotiating with an accountant from Science Applications, Inc. The
rule was that no matter the prearranged time for a designated
meeting, always be there first. The next person to arrive will think
that either his watch was wrong or that his secretary screwed up
again. In any event, the apparent latecomer will be thrown into a
quandary at the outset—an advantage that the General savored.
But Cummings was clued in by now. As he seated himself
in front of
the General's massive oak desk, whose polished surface held scattered
files with a variety of secrecy ratings and instructions, he
announced, "Good morning General, it's zero eight hundred
precisely."
Checking his Rolex and frowning, the General replied,
"Go ahead
Commander, what do you have on the latest security checks?"
Cummings handed over a file folder opened to the
executive summary. It
was entitled, "Lawrence Livermore Laboratory Security Review
by Special Order of the Office of Technology." He summarized
its contents, "All personnel check out as previously cleared
with the exception of Carl Eiger, who has been positively identified
as consorting with a homosexual male in the Bay Area a guy named Matt
McPherson."
The General clapped his hands in excitement and
shouted, "Damn. I
should have guessed that Eiger was a fag when he turned crimson at
that meeting on Friday. I wondered at the time, now I've got that
little weenie by the balls. Ha! Ha!, I bet he'd like that too, that
little queer. Commander let's toast to our great fortune!"
Cummings gently protested that it was just slightly
after eight in
the morning, but to no avail. The General handed him a copper rimmed
bourbon glass filled to the brim with Glenfelten. As Houston puffed
on a slick green cigar, already his second of the day, he toasted,
"Now I really do have that randy Professor in my pocket...and
boy was Mary great to me last weekend. Salud to ANX and Mary and
here's to Eiger's boyfriend, Matt." "By the way...is
Eiger's surprise on the way?"
"Yes sir. Stacy Powers will arrive at 0800 Pacific
Time, a
little less than three hours from now, General, with all of your
instructions ready for implementation."
"Good job, Commander. How is your cute little wife
doing? Here's to you
and her."
Cummings wife was named Diane. She was indeed very
nicely packaged
with a tight, sexy figure, nice breasts, and long brown hair that
matched her almond eyes. As a poorly paid bank teller with extreme
sybaritic tendencies, she longed for a way out and a way up. What
she needed was a man to make her fantasies come true. Not picky
either, any gent with money would do. Even Cummings, whom she had
met in a DC singles bar would do just fine...and did. An officer
working for a general on his way up to the top must make out real
well, she had coldly calculated. They were married two weeks
later. Now she did live and do exactly as she pleased. That
is except for the once a week mauling she forced herself to endure
from her slob of a husband—if he had been a good boy that is. She was
sly enough to put sex on a privileged, not mandatory, basis. Now she
could have anything she wanted—she just loved her new
BMW and their town house in Alexandria. Lately she had been enjoying
afternoon interludes with one of her old lovers while Bob was at the
office. That made things even better.
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Janet Williams had been Professor Eiger's personal
secretary and
administrative assistant since his arrival at LLL. During those five
years, nearly to the day, she had never been reprimanded, or had
taken sick leave, or had ever been late for work. On Monday morning
at eight thirty she arrived as usual at Livermore's South Gate to
receive the shock of her life; security would not admit her into the
complex. The guard matter of factly stated that her security
clearance was invalid and confiscated her badge. Using a pay phone
at a nearby Chevron station, she furiously rang up Professor Eiger
who sounded as perplexed as she.
Eiger painfully explained that matters were out of his
hands. For
some reason unknown to him, she had lost her Top Secret rating. He
kept restating that the situation was beyond his control. He did not
know why, but he was sorry. He pleaded with her to understand that
it was not his doing. She had never before heard real passion in his
voice during their long and cordial relationship. As an attempt at
consolation, Eiger informed her that a severance check was waiting
with a box containing her belongings at the Main Gate. She found a
letter of recommendation and a check for three months pay—both
signed by General Pratt Houston.
Janet was outraged, but managed somehow to retain her
composure. She
was confident in her skills and performance record. There were
plenty of jobs open to a woman with her experience, and she hated the
second rate tract housing and sleazy beer bars that dominated the hot
dusty town of Livermore, California. But she wondered what was going
on. How could the Professor...or the General have accomplished my
dismissal so quickly? Everything seemed normal on Friday. Now on
Monday I'm out of here. My God something big must be up. All the
doings of that General Houston too, if you ask me. And now that
it was finally over, Janet breathed a sigh of relief. Things had
been getting very tense—even more tense than usual, around
Eiger's lab lately. The Professor was obviously under a great deal
of great pressure—he perspired so even in the freezing CM lab.
Probing the depth of her anger, she thought, Five
years of helping
bullshit the administrators at UC Berkeley and what thanks do I get? A
check and a "Sorry mam, we don't need you any more." I'm
glad I'm gone. Star Wars? Professor Eiger and General Houston,
they’re all yours...you...you jerks!
Eiger was simultaneously steaming mad and filled with
trepidation. Not
only had the General neglected to inform him that Janet would be
replaced, but in the office next to his, Janet's office until this
morning he remembered, sat a young and very attractive brunette with
icy blue eyes and a very slim figure wrapped snugly in a purple
business suit complete with a black string tie. The dark hose and
heels that complimented the well shaped legs so amply revealed
revealed by her thigh riding skirt were not enough of a distraction
to prevent Eiger from concluding the obvious—his new secretary
was undoubtedly a plant—a spy for the General.
Her name was Stacy Powers. She had no security badge,
or at least
didn't bother to wear it. She had arrived through the General's new
gate and had packed Ms. Janet's belongings in a small, white
cardboard box brought along expressly for the purpose. The box had
contained the letter from Houston and the check.
Several times during the day, Eiger was on the verge
of calling the
General to complain. But in the end he did nothing at all—except
worry...and sweat even more than usual. The air-conditioning
recycled the light scent of Stacy's Chanel.
After five, when Stacy had gone for the day,
Eiger phoned Matt. At least the
General doesn't know about him. I have to be careful that Houston
doesn't find out. I don't have much to live for except Matt.
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