drones, and will pump billions in profits into the corporate treasury, and all that is being hung up by some penny-ante legal opinion from some low-level, no-name Navy lawyer in the Pentagon?â
âIâm sure itâs just a formality, Richardson. Iâm sure the Navy wants this project as bad as we do. I hear an internal war broke out at the Pentagon over whether the Navy or the Air Force would control Operation Blue Jay. The Secretary of Defense decided on the Navy because of the argument that the Navy should be in control of the coastal areas.â
âYes, I know all about that,â Richardson said, âwhich is why I want us to pitch the Air Force for the interior continental United States drone project after we get this one rolling. But all thatâs beside the point. Itâs already been three weeks since we sent our final revision to the contract to Washington. This is taking way too long, Jack.â
âIâm sure itâs going to work itself out. Our firm has handled government contracts for years. Weâve delivered on projects at the Savannah River Plant, at Fort Benning, and at the Kings Bay Naval Station. Weâre the best in the business, remember? Thatâs why you hired us.â He emptied his glass and set it down. âPatience, Richardson, patience. These things take time.â
âI know your record. But this is taking too long. Iâve never been one to sit around and leave matters to chance.â
âWhat are you going to do?â
âWatch me.â He picked up the phone. âIvana?â
âYes, sir.â
âI want you to get Senator Talmadgeâs Washington office on the line. Tell them I want to speak with himânow!â
âYes, sir.â
âYouâre making a mistake, Richardson.â
âWeâll see about that.â
CHAPTER 5
DIRKSEN SENATE OFFICE BUILDING
UNITED STATES CAPITOL
OFFICE OF ROBERT TALMADGE (R-GA)
WASHINGTON, DC
MONDAY AFTERNOON
In the world of politics in the great state of Georgia during the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, only a handful of surnames commanded instant recognition, instant attention, and, in some cases, instant respect.
Any Georgian who knew anything about politics could rattle off the names: Nunn. Carter. Chambliss. Cobb. Lewis.
Anyone who bore names such as these, even if they were not first generation, could always turn heads by the slightest hint of a dalliance into the political world in the Peach State.
One such iconic surname, capable of such political head-turning, even in the early twenty-first century, was Talmadge.
The original bearer of the name had been the late, powerful senator and governor Herman Talmadge, who served as the seventieth governor of Georgia from 1947 to 1955, then went on to serve in the United States Senate from 1957 to 1981.
But Herman Talmadge, whose daddy was the longtime governor of Georgia before the son began his long career of governor and senator, remained too powerful and too ingrained in the consciousness of state politics to yield way to the negative aspects of the iconic senatorâs career, like his censure and his segregationist past.
None of this was lost on former state senator Robert O. âBobbyâ Talmadge, who understood that campaigning with the last name Talmadge in Georgia was like campaigning as a Kennedy in Massachusetts or any of the liberal northeastern states.
Of course, the dirty little secret was that Bobby Talmadge was not related to the long-standing father-son political dynasty that cast a looming shadow over the landscape of the Peach State for the better part of a half century.
When, as a Georgia state senator representing Atlantaâs ultra-wealthy, upscale Buckhead district, Bobby learned through the political grapevine that Georgiaâs long-standing senior U.S. Senator, Mack Coble, was stepping down, he hired a private political pollster to gauge his chances.
The
âIâm sure itâs just a formality, Richardson. Iâm sure the Navy wants this project as bad as we do. I hear an internal war broke out at the Pentagon over whether the Navy or the Air Force would control Operation Blue Jay. The Secretary of Defense decided on the Navy because of the argument that the Navy should be in control of the coastal areas.â
âYes, I know all about that,â Richardson said, âwhich is why I want us to pitch the Air Force for the interior continental United States drone project after we get this one rolling. But all thatâs beside the point. Itâs already been three weeks since we sent our final revision to the contract to Washington. This is taking way too long, Jack.â
âIâm sure itâs going to work itself out. Our firm has handled government contracts for years. Weâve delivered on projects at the Savannah River Plant, at Fort Benning, and at the Kings Bay Naval Station. Weâre the best in the business, remember? Thatâs why you hired us.â He emptied his glass and set it down. âPatience, Richardson, patience. These things take time.â
âI know your record. But this is taking too long. Iâve never been one to sit around and leave matters to chance.â
âWhat are you going to do?â
âWatch me.â He picked up the phone. âIvana?â
âYes, sir.â
âI want you to get Senator Talmadgeâs Washington office on the line. Tell them I want to speak with himânow!â
âYes, sir.â
âYouâre making a mistake, Richardson.â
âWeâll see about that.â
CHAPTER 5
DIRKSEN SENATE OFFICE BUILDING
UNITED STATES CAPITOL
OFFICE OF ROBERT TALMADGE (R-GA)
WASHINGTON, DC
MONDAY AFTERNOON
In the world of politics in the great state of Georgia during the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, only a handful of surnames commanded instant recognition, instant attention, and, in some cases, instant respect.
Any Georgian who knew anything about politics could rattle off the names: Nunn. Carter. Chambliss. Cobb. Lewis.
Anyone who bore names such as these, even if they were not first generation, could always turn heads by the slightest hint of a dalliance into the political world in the Peach State.
One such iconic surname, capable of such political head-turning, even in the early twenty-first century, was Talmadge.
The original bearer of the name had been the late, powerful senator and governor Herman Talmadge, who served as the seventieth governor of Georgia from 1947 to 1955, then went on to serve in the United States Senate from 1957 to 1981.
But Herman Talmadge, whose daddy was the longtime governor of Georgia before the son began his long career of governor and senator, remained too powerful and too ingrained in the consciousness of state politics to yield way to the negative aspects of the iconic senatorâs career, like his censure and his segregationist past.
None of this was lost on former state senator Robert O. âBobbyâ Talmadge, who understood that campaigning with the last name Talmadge in Georgia was like campaigning as a Kennedy in Massachusetts or any of the liberal northeastern states.
Of course, the dirty little secret was that Bobby Talmadge was not related to the long-standing father-son political dynasty that cast a looming shadow over the landscape of the Peach State for the better part of a half century.
When, as a Georgia state senator representing Atlantaâs ultra-wealthy, upscale Buckhead district, Bobby learned through the political grapevine that Georgiaâs long-standing senior U.S. Senator, Mack Coble, was stepping down, he hired a private political pollster to gauge his chances.
The
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