The next morning the Investigator was retrieved from the waste basket by an enlisted man whose duties included making a fresh pot of coffee before scheduled briefing. From experience, he knew this to be a thankless task. Once a general had even accused him of serving dishwater, for the brew supposedly tasted like chicken noodle soup. To Private Meadows, a Pepsi addict, all coffee tasted foul, so he merely filled the pot again, plugged it in, and settled back to check the action as predicted by Sheila Casandra.

So engrossed was he by the details of a police raid upon a Los Angeles sex club, that Meadows was astounded when Colonel Drews, after arriving, and calling the room to attention, completely missed the sight of the Investigator laying in plain sight upon the polished conference table, and covered same over with a chart. Later, when the meeting was concluding, Pvt. Meadows had to choke back a snort, for the offending newspaper then disappeared into the Colonel’s briefcase.

If Meadows felt surprised that he had been saved from a thorough reaming-out by this fortunate circumstance, the Colonel would have been just as taken back if he had realized that his slight-of-hand movement had been observed. Later, it took him very few minutes of contemplation over the article about the plane crash to reach a major decision, and reach for a phone.