The Minotaur Read Online Free PDF Page B

staircase with a ninety-degree bend in
it and at the top turned right. They were atill on the A-Ring, but
on the fourth level. After another fifty feet she veered left down a
corridor, then right onto another corridor that zagged away at an
angle. “Now we’re walking back toward the outside of the build-
ing,” she said. “There are five concentric rings in the Pentagon.
The inner is the A-Ring, and next is B, and so forth, with the outer
being E. They are connected by ten radial corridors like the spokes
of a wagon wheel. It’s supposed to be efficient but it does confuse
newcomers.” She grinned.
    This corridor had little to commend it. It was lit by fluorescent
lights, and over half the tubes were dark. The walls were bare. Not
a picture or a poster. Dusty, tied-down furniture was stacked along
one wall. It looked as if it had been there since the Elsenhower
administration. Catching Jake’s glance, the guide said, “It’s been
there for three months. Some of the offices got new furniture. This
is the old stuff.” The piles were composed of sofas and chairs and
scarred and battered gumnetal-gray desks. “These places on the
ceiling where the plywood is?” Jake looked. The plaster was fall-
ing off from water seepage from the roof and asbestos was being
released.
    At the end of the corridor stood a magnificent large painting of
Admiral Dewey’s flagship, Olympia, entering Manila Bay. Spots
illuminated it The guide turned right and Jake followed. The over-
head blue mantel proclaimed: “Naval Aviation.” Here the hallway
was well lit, painted a yellowish pastel and decorated with pictures
of past and present naval and marine aircraft. This straight stretch
was long, a third as long as the outside, of the building. Almost at
the end, his guide turned left into a large office. The sign over the
door said: “Assistant, Chief of Naval Operations, Air Warfare.”
Beside the door was a blue sign that read: “OP-05.” This was the
office of the senior U.S. Naval Aviator, Mr. Naval Aviation.
    The room was large and contained numerous windows facing
south across the huge parking lot toward Arlington. Wooden
desks, blue drapes, wainscoting on the walls.
    A commander greeted Jake. “I’m a little early,” Jake said, glanc-
ing at his watch.
    “I’ll see if the admiral’s free.” He was. Jake was escorted in
through a swinging double saloon door.
    Vice Admiral Tyler Henry rose from his chair and came around
his desk wearing a warm smile to greet Jake.
    “Good to see you again, Captain.” The men had met on several
occasions in the past, but Jake was unsure if Henry would remem-
ber. After he pumped Jake’s hand the admiral motioned to a chair.
“Please, be seated. Have any trouble getting here this morning?”
    “I rode the Metro this morning, sir,” Jake said as the admiral
seated himself behind his desk. It was dark wood, perhaps mahog-
any. A matching table extended outward from the main desk,
forming the leg of a T. It was at this table Jake sat.
    “Good idea. Parking places are all for car pools and flag of-
ficers.” He pushed the button on his intercom box. “Chief, did
Commander Gadd sweep the office this morning?”
    “Yessir,” was the tinny reply. •»
    “Are the window buzzers on?”
    “Yessir.”
    “Please close my door. . . . Window buzzers are little security
gizmos to vibrate the glass. Supposed to foil parabolic mikes, but
who knows?” the admiral explained. “The damn things play wait-
ing room music, and I can’t hear noises like that anymore.” Jake
listened hard. He could just hear the beat and a trumpet.
    The admiral leaned back comfortably in his chair as the door to
the office closed behind Jake. “Soundproof,” he muttered, then
smiled. “You look surprised.”
    Jake smiled, his embarrassment showing. “Seems like a lot of
trouble to go to just to talk to the guy who’s going to be designing
the new officer fitness report form.”
    The admiral smiled broadly.