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security rigmarole without ever knowing who you're doing it for?"
    Lieutenant Frankel sighed with annoyance. "That's it, yes."
    "What the hell is this?" Hammond barked. "You're like Pavlov's dog! They ring a bell and you salivate on cue!"
    She got defensive. "That's the procedure," she said, then went into a lengthy explanation of how the Navy computers have routings that crisscross the country, how computerization has become the most secure method of setting up notification procedures. Hammond ignored her: he was trying to figure out what had happened. He had sent through the same request on Fletcher as before, only "this time, the second time, it hadn't gone through smoothly.
    Maybe because it was the second time.
    He interrupted Lieutenant Frankel, thanked her for the information, thanked Ensign Cokeland, and left. Stepping into the elevator, he was conscious of the most obvious fact of all:
    Somebody had to have programmed the damned thing.
     
    Hammond was back in his office before 0930, checking with Ensign Just-Ducky to see if the admiral had been through yet. "No, sir," she said, "but he wants to meet with you and your special team at lunch today."
    Avoice sang out from the aisles, "Okinawa is calling me-hee-hee-hee! I hear Okinawa calling meeeee!"
    Lee Miller posed in Hammond's doorway. "Never been there, Nicky. Is it anything like Fire Island?"
    "I don't remember requesting you," growled Hammond.
    "Good Lord, you mean I don't have to go?" Miller dropped his pose and looked relieved.
    "Well, we shouldn't let your enthusiasm go to waste—"
    "Let it! Let it, my boy. I would rather push my pencil."
    "Where are the other guys?"
    "Waiting for you to call a meeting."
    "Tell them lunch with the admiral. And listen, Miller—I would appreciate it if you would take over filing the usual papers with NAVINTCOM."
    "Sure—"
    "And Hold mine aside. Write them up, but don't send them through."
    "You're not going?"
    "I'm not sure." Hammond picked up the phone and gave him a steady look. Miller took the hint and left. Hammond called Admiral Gault and waited patiently until the secretary got him to the phone.
    "Hullo, Nick. Got your boys together?"
    "Yes, sir, but I have a problem."
    "Don't we all. Make it swift."
    "Sir, do you recall I spoke to you about a man who was having a problem with his service records—?"
    "Jan" Hoyle's husband."
    "Yes, sir. Well, I met with them and he gave me a wild story about some nightmare he's been having for twenty years in which he—well, some of the details are a bit much—but it's led him to believe there are discrepancies in his Naval records. So I did some checking and I've uncovered a few irregularities." Gault was silent, so Hammond continued: "He believes he was discharged in 1955, but the record shows he's still on inactive reserve. The forms he's carrying differ from the forms on file. I think there's been some altering. And in the file I came across this flag...a red card bearing a code of some sort. Maybe you'll recognize it, sir. Nine-eight-zero-five- C-G-N-dash-one-six-six."
    "No. Means nothing to me."
    "Yes, sir. Well, I thought maybe it was just a single isolated incident, but then I stumbled over another file with the same card in it—"
    "All right, Hammond—"
    "And the second man has a similar military record. Same years of service, and he's also carried on inactive reserve."
    Gault made some inarticulate remark, then was silent a long moment. "Well, it does sound strange. A lot of cloak-and-dagger shit. The Navy doesn't usually operate that way. But, Nicky, why are you spending NIS time on this? It's not really our business."
    Hammond was taken aback. "I think it has far-reaching implications."                     
    "Maybe it does and maybe it doesn't. So far, it involves two men who have been out of the Navy for more than twenty years. If they're in the Reserves and don't know it, I think there's little chance they'll ever be called up. To get the Correction