SSI OFFICES
“What do we want to call this mission?” Wilmont asked the SSI brain trust.
Derringer drummed his fingers in the rudimental patterns of his youth. Lieutenant General Thomas Varlowe, sitting in as an ex-officio, scrawled “USMA ’66” on his notepad.
Omar Mohammed said, “Why not Prometheus?”
Derringer considered himself well read, but ancient mythology was not high on his list. “Well, I suppose so…”
“Consider this,” Mohammed said. “Prometheus was no fool, but he attempted the impossible. He tried to deceive Zeus, who knows all and sees all, by staging a false sacrifice. Then Prometheus stole fire from Zeus and gave it to mortals on earth. Therefore, Zeus did not merely punish Prometheus: he punished the entire world for the offense that Prometheus committed.”
“Well, the comparisons are pretty obvious, considering the Iranian situation. All right, it’s the Prometheus Project.”
George Ferraro had been awaiting the chance to discuss finances. It’s always like this, he mused. The company’s involved in serious business, but most of the directors feel queasy about talking money. He cleared his throat. “Ah, gentlemen, if I may…”
Derringer nodded. “Yes, of course, George.”
“Thank you, Admiral.” He turned his head, looking at each person in the room. “You know, as chief financial officer it’s my responsibility to look after SSI’s cash flow. I realize that we’re all concerned with the national security implications of this … Prometheus … project, but since things happened in Chad we’re looking at serious cost escalation. I mean, something approaching an order of magnitude.”
Wilmont, as chief operating officer, appreciated Ferraro’s background as a leading bean counter with Naval Systems Command. “George, I don’t think anybody here disagrees with you. Certainly I do not. But you must realize that there’s just no time for the usual contractual process.” He grinned at the standing joke: “The U.S. Government buys slow-drying ink that doesn’t blot for 180 days.”
“Yeah, I understand that, Marsh. All I’m saying is that we’ve been focused on getting the job done, and really all we have from State and DoD is barely a handshake commitment to reimburse us for our up-front costs. That doesn’t even begin to address the standard fees for personnel, equipment, and routine things like consultation.”
Derringer leaned forward, fixing the younger man with his gaze. “George, please don’t take this the wrong way. I realize that you’re doing your job, and you’ve always been conscientious about it. But when I started this firm, it was not with the sole intention of making money. I saw things that needed doing because various agencies of our government were not doing them. That’s what SSI is all about. If we have to dip into our reserves to meet expenses for a while, I’m prepared to do that.”
Ferraro bit down the frustration he felt rising inside him. I’ve got the heart of a sailor and the soul of a banker, he told himself. “Admiral, as you say, I’m just doing my job on behalf of the firm. Our reserves are adequate at present—not ample, but adequate. I can juggle some accounts for a while, but unless we get a major transfusion in the next couple of months, we’re going to be looking at red ink in seven digits. I mean, ships cost a hell of a lot of money, even when you lease them!”
Wilmont sought to placate the senior VP. “Mike and I had a face-to-face with O’Connor at State. He anticipated our concern and said flat out that we’ll have everything we need, some of it gratis. His operating group is starting a set of books to show any auditors that whatever goodies we get from the Navy or elsewhere were already written off as surplus.” He tapped the tabletop. “Believe me, George, we’re covered.”
Ferraro grinned sardonically. “Trust me: I’m from the government and I’m here to help.”
“Well, there you go,” Derringer interjected. “The government is by far our largest client. It’s always come through before, but also consider this: Uncle Sugar keeps coming back to SSI because we deliver. If we declined an important contract because some of our accounts receivable were slow, we’d be out of business before long.”
The CFO ceded the argument by raising his hands, palms up. “All right, gentlemen. I understand, that’s the nature of the PMC business. I’d just like somebody to explain why I always seem to read about all these contractors being extravagantly overpaid, but it’s never Strategic Solutions.”