The stenciled letters on the translucent glass door read Lieut. (jg) Tom Smith, USN, Missile Security Section. Then, in larger letters, it proudly stated Office of Naval Intelligence.
“I just don’t get it,” Lieutenant Smith said. He sat at his desk in full uniform, scratching his bright red hair.
The phone rang beside him, but he ignored it. He couldn’t afford to be distracted at this crucial moment as he studied the missile plans, trying to fathom how this design was different from the thousand similar plans he had approved for massive funding requests.
Two well-dressed civilian contractors fidgeted in front of him, looking at each other through narrowed eyes, as if afraid Smith might catch them at a prank. Both contractors carried other blueprints tucked under their arms.
“It’s perfe
