Broadhead, sensing where the line of questioning was headed, replied, “Yes, sir. I’m afraid I did.”
“Not that it excuses you in any way, Colonel,” Souers said icily, “but you’re just one of a great many stupid senior sonsof . . . officers with all the necessary security clearances who think it’s perfectly all right to share anything they know with anyone else who has such clearances. Now do you take my point? Or do I have to order you not to share with anyone anything you’ve seen or heard here today or any assumptions you may make from what you have seen or heard?”
“Sir, I take your point.”
Souers let the exchange sink in for a very long twenty seconds, and then ordered, “Ford, answer the colonel’s question.”
“When Cronley seized the cargo, sir,” Ford said, “he did not have a Geiger counter device.”
“May I ask who Cronley is? And why he didn’t have a radiation detection device?”
Admiral Souers turned to Cronley. “Son, I’m going to give Colonel Broadhead the benefit of the doubt, meaning I am presuming that he has a reason beyond idle curiosity in asking it. Therefore, you may answer those questions.”
“Yes, sir,” Cronley said, then looked at Broadhead. “Sir, I’m Second Lieutenant James D. Cronley Junior. The first Geiger counter I ever saw was the one Commander Ford used on the . . . packages that I took off . . . wherever they were and gave to him.”
“I predict a great military career for this fine young officer,” Admiral Souers said. “I’m sure everyone noticed that he didn’t say ‘submarine’ or ‘U-boat’ or ‘uranium oxide’ even once.”
Souers let that sink in for another ten seconds, and then went on: “Now my curiosity is aroused. Why did you want to know, Broadhead, if the Geiger counter had been used on . . . wherever these packages were when Cronley seized them?”
“Sir, I was hoping that someone looked for radiation that might have leaked from the packages while they were on the sub—” He stopped.
“Now that the cat’s out of the bag, Colonel,” Souers said, “you can say ‘submarine.’ You can even say ‘U-boat’ and ‘uranium oxide.’”
“Yes, sir.”
Souers looked at Cletus Marcus Howell, who was grinning widely.
“Please don’t think this is funny, Mr. Howell,” he said.
“That was a smile of approval, Admiral. From one mean sonofabitch to another.”
“Dad, for God’s sake!” Martha Howell said.
“I will take that as a compliment, Mr. Howell,” Souers said.
“It was intended as one,” the old man said.
Souers turned to Broadhead.
“You think the submarine may be hot, Broadhead?”
“I think it’s possible, sir. The uranium oxide was on the submarine for a couple of months, maybe even longer.”
“Mattingly, get that word to Frade just as soon as we’re finished here,” Souers ordered. “We don’t want to sterilize half the brighter officers of the Armada Argentina, do we?”
“Yes, sir,” Colonel Mattingly said, smiling. “And no, sir, we certainly wouldn’t want to do that.”
Second Lieutenant Cronley chuckled.
“I don’t understand that,” Cletus Marcus Howell said.
“Possibly, Dad,” his daughter-in-law said, “because you’re not supposed to. It’s none of your business.”
“Actually, with apologies to the ladies, I was being crude in order not to have to say ‘suffer radiation poisoning,’” Souers said. “And, ma’am, the President ordered me to answer any questions Mr. Howell might have.”
“I thought I told you, Martha,” the old man said, “that ole Harry and I have the honor to be Thirty-third Degree Masons. We can trust one another.”
“May I ask who ‘Frade’ is?” Broadhead said. “And if he’s qualified to conduct an examination of this kind?”