The Hunt for Red October - Tom Clancy [91]
"Admiral, do they have a missile sub at sea, a brand new one?"
Dodge stood very straight. Even so he still had to look up at the younger man. When he spoke, his voice was glacial. "Exactly where did you get that information, Commander?"
Tyler shook his head. "Admiral, I'm sorry, but I can't say. It's compartmented, sir. I think this is something you ought to know, and I'll try to get it to you."
Dodge backed off to try a different tack. "You used to work for me, Skip." The admiral was unhappy. He'd bent a rule to show something to his former subordinate because he knew him well and was sorry that he had not received the command he had worked so hard for. Tyler was technically a civilian, even though his suits were still navy blue. What made it really bad was that he knew something himself. Dodge had given him some information, and Tyler wasn't giving any back.
"Sir, I gave my word," Skip apologized. "I will try to get this to you. That's a promise, sir. May I use a phone?"
"Outer office," Dodge said flatly. There were four telephones within sight.
Tyler went out and sat at a secretary's desk. He took his notebook from a coat pocket and dialed the number on the card Ryan had left him.
"Acres," a female voice answered.
"Could I speak to Dr. Ryan, please?"
"Dr. Ryan is not here at the moment."
"Then . . . give me Admiral Greer, please."
"One moment, please."
"James Greer?" Dodge was behind him. "Is that who you're working for?"
"This is Greer. Your name Skip Tyler?"
"Yes, sir."
"You have that information for me?"
"Yes, sir, I do."
"Where are you?"
"In the Pentagon, sir."
"Okay, I want you to drive right up here. You know how to find the place? The guards at the main gate will be waiting for you. Get moving, son." Greer hung up.
"You're working for the CIA?" Dodge asked.
"Sir—I can't say. If you will excuse me, sir, I have some information to deliver."
"Mine?" the admiral demanded.
"No, sir. I already had it when I came in here. That's the truth, Admiral. And I will try to get this back to you."
"Call me," Dodge ordered. "We'll be here all night."
CIA Headquarters
The drive up the George Washington Parkway was easier than he expected. The decrepit old highway was crowded with shoppers but moved along at a steady crawl. He got off at the right exit and presently found himself at the guard post for the main highway entrance to the CIA. The barrier was down.
"Your name Tyler, Oliver W.?" the guard asked. "ID please." Tyler handed him his Pentagon pass.
"Okay, Commander. Pull your car right to the main entrance. Somebody will be there to meet you."
It was another two minutes to the main entrance through mostly empty parking lots glazed with ice from yesterday's melted snow. The armed guard who was waiting for him tried to help him out of the car. Tyler didn't like to be helped. He shrugged him off. Another man was waiting for him under the canopied main entrance. They were waved right through to the elevator.
He found Admiral Greer sitting in front of his office fireplace, seemingly half asleep. Skip didn't know that the DDI had only returned from England a few hours earlier. The admiral came to and ordered his plain-clothes security officer to withdraw. "You must be Skip Tyler. Come on over and sit down."
"That's quite a fire you have going there, sir."
"I shouldn't bother. Looking at a fire makes me go to sleep. Of course, I could use a little sleep right now. So, what do you have for me?"
"May I ask where Jack is?"
"You may ask. He's away."
"Oh." Tyler unlocked his briefcase and removed the printout. "Sir, I ran the performance model for this Russian sub. May I ask her name?"
Greer chuckled. "Okay, you've earned that much. Her name is Red October. You'll have to excuse me, son. I've had a busy couple of days, and being tired makes me forget my manners. Jack says you're pretty sharp. So does your personnel file. Now, you tell me. What'll she do?"
"Well, Admiral, we have a wide choice