Small World, Eh?

Published 2007

When I started this chapter, I was thinking about what a small World this is. It’s full of ironic coincidence inside bizarre circumstance. At least, that’s my perspective tonight while I write this chapter. Perhaps a quantum theory of strings with all things connected will be proven in the following paragraphs. The oceans may be vast but they are held inside a small World of human connections. Here’s proof:

Years ago, I was working a project alongside a Cold War Hero called Captain Jack and this is his story. Back in the day, the Russians were enemies of the Great America called the United States. Russia and the U S competed mightily to dominate the World with weapons of mass destruction and the Spy communities between the two countries were equally competitive. Just as it is today, the U S had the advantage back then, too. Peace on the Earth was dependent upon the delicate balance of a cat and mouse game. It was called a COLD War even though that “balance” was leveraged against a nuclear arsenal of Fire and Wind. Between the two countries there were enough WMD’s to end all Life upon the planet Earth. The most strategic implement for delivering a WMD to the enemy was a submarine. As technology advanced, the Nuclear Sub was birthed on both sides of the Cold War fence.

Then tragedy struck the Russian Naval fleet when their highest technological achievement sank to the bottom of the ocean floor complete with its store of weapons on board. And as Russian luck would have it, their submarine sank into depths where no vehicle could reach it. At least, the Russians didn’t have a vehicle that could submerge to those depths.

But the CIA did.

The boys who built the CIA deep submerging vehicle believed it was built for the purpose of a “rescue” mission. You understand, if the U S lost one of their own Submarines, they would need a vehicle that was able to rescue the Sailors aboard. So a contract was written and a team of American Nerds were gathered to design a Deep Submerging Rescue Vehicle. The DSRV.

The DSRV had three pressure spheres. The front one was a two person control station, the middle one was situated over the transfer pressure lock and was the way in and out for everyone. The rear sphere was connected to the middle sphere with no closure between them. Seating was designed for thirteen rescued sailors inside each of the rear spheres. Full life support was provided for each, they would have to sit in a circle with their knees together. The transfer lock was a partial sphere, open on the bottom with a docking flange that was made special for mating up to a downed nuclear submarine. After pressure equalization was realized, there was plenty of room to work out of the transfer bell and considerable payload could be managed.

You understand, the DSRV was a “rescue” vehicle.

And it just so happened that the CIA needed to “rescue” some weapons from the disabled Russian Nuclear Submarine. So the CIA chose their Best, their Brightest, their Bravest agent for the mission. They chose my dear friend, Captain Jack. His mission was to drive the DSRV to the downed Russian Sub, get on board, swipe a warhead and take some pictures if he had time.

Captain Jack did much better than that.

It was a dangerous mission for more than the obvious reasons. With their beautiful submarine disabled on the ocean floor, the Russians patrolled the waters above it trying to keep us American bad guys from getting too close of a look at her. When she sunk, she was the Pride and Joy of the Russian fleet. She held the highest achievement of Russian technology and if the Americans got a good look, the Russians stood to lose a lot of secrets.

Captain Jack tactically maneuvered the DSRV by mimicking the swimming pattern of a large fish. Criss-crossing, meandering like, pausing, then meandering slowly again toward the direction of the disabled Russian Submarine. Captain Jack got on board undetected, he grabbed a warhead, and took some great close up pictures of the reactor. It was excellent intel for the day.

Captain Jack was a Cold War Hero.

Years after the mission was accomplished, the Russians signed a post Cold War Peace Treaty and agreed to give stock of their nuclear arsenal. By this time, the Russian Spooks had caught wind of the CIA shenanigans and when the Russians made good on the treaty they admitted to being duped. On their inventory list of weapons was a line item stating how many warheads were on the sunken Sub and the Russians stated….oh, by the way….. the CIA got one of them.

The CIA publicly confirmed that they, indeed, had swiped a warhead off the downed Russian Submarine.

So goes the Story.

But like all Great Stories there was more to it. Captain Jack didn’t just swipe a warhead off that Submarine. He got two. Since the Russians gave credit to the CIA for grabbing only one of them, the CIA admitted to taking only one. And that’s the Whole Story.

But it’s not the end of it.

Back in the Spring of 2001, at the Rodi Plant in Abbeville, Louisiana, I was hanging around the machine shop with the Rodi mechanic Kevin Fox along with the usual cast of characters. Kevin is the jokester out of the bunch and he asked me a wild question. He wanted to know who I would trust if I found myself caught in a Global Conspiracy Scenario and needed help.

I didn’t understand the context, it didn't occur to me that I could be exposing vulnerabilities. Without reservation, I said it’d be Captain Jack.

Soon after that conversation, things at Rodi got real sketchy, really fast. Then Kevin took off for a couple of days. When he returned he wasn’t acting himself. He was cranky with Ruger, the puppy. He was vulgar instead of loud, bossy instead of tricky, dark instead of devious. Kevin started ‘bragging’ and told us all how easy it was to sneak up on a CIAgent and pull the trigger. Every one of us believed he was sharing the edge of a murderous Truth.

My terrified thought, which I kept to myself, was that Kevin took out Captain Jack.

It took a couple of years after that conversation before I knew that Jack was alive and doing very well. So, I started to wonder about Merrill Matlovich.

Merrill, an ex-CIA guy, was a Rodi big investor. I started to wonder if Merrill Matlovich was the CIA guy who got whacked by the Big Mean Kevin Guy. It didn’t make sense that Merrill’s invitation to buy Rodi stock was still posted on the World Wide WEB years after the big Rodi cash out. So, I figured Merrill was the murdered CIA guy.

Then Merrill Matlovich wrote me a curious e-mail just a few months back. I copied it into the Dear Dawn page under Merrill Matlovitch. So, now I guess I’m not sure who got popped by the Big Bad Kevin Guy.

I don’t know that many CIA guys. At least, I don’t think I do. It’s just a small World sometimes.

It sure was a relief for me when I learned that Captain Jack was well. He is still the number one pick for my respect after all of this time. It’s sorta nostalgic in a Good Ol’ Days kinda perspective but as I think about it tonight, the Good Ol’ Days were inside a small World too.

Back when I was working with Captain Jack, I also had another project that I was responsible for. On that other project I worked with another Golden individual who shines in my life’s memories still today. He is called Steve Arizona. Steve and I could solve any technological mystery, given enough time. We made a powerful technical team working together. After Steve and I finished our project successfully, Steve Arizona moved on to more and more exciting projects. We kept in touch every year or two to hear what the other had learned, or was learning. Then one sunny afternoon in September, I got a memorable call from Steve Arizona.

This was back in a time when I was tracking the Z-Accelerator Project which was being developed with the Department of Energy at Sandia Laboratories. (Go read my CATCH-22 page) The Z-Accelerator Project had been the subject of my intimate attention for years and it was close to success. I was expecting a more Peaceful World for the future because of it. When Steve Arizona called me on that sunny afternoon in September, I brought up the subject of the Z and asked Steve if he’d ever heard of it. I told him all about it, explaining the halo and tungstein array. I explained how Sandia was breaking records on the race to achieving a Fusion reaction. Finally, Steve gives in and starts chuckling at me from his end of the phone, because…’s such a small World…..Steve Arizona was working on the Z project.

My heart almost exploded when he admitted it. I was shameless in my begging for secrets, C’mon Steve, tell me you guys already did it. C’mon. Admit it.

There was NO WAY Steve Arizona would tell me any thing one way or the other. I knew he couldn’t, and I knew that he wouldn’t. That guy is true blue all the way. All Steve could do is chuckle at me.

Then he told me everything I knew was accurate.

Wow! That’s the sexiest thing anyone has ever told me. Like I mentioned, the Z was a very intimate part of my life. And just when you think the World couldn’t get any smaller…..

In Abbeville, Spring 2001, like I mentioned, things got real sketchy really fast at Rodi. After I refused Byron Spain’s offer to play a game of insider trading, a couple of Good Guys came into my office. They let me know that Rodi was NOT building ENGINES.


They told me that they’d like some information and I admitted I might know where some “information” was. That’s when I opened the firewall for anyone who wanted to come looking. But I wasn’t sure if anyone actually came……”looking”.

So, I went for a bike ride.

I spun my bike down a long country road in Vermilion Parish. It was mid May with a suffocating ninety-nine degrees and 150% humidity (an exaggeration, perhaps). It took forever to ride away from town because there were so many turtles on the road, it was slow going as I dodged the domed obstacles. Fifteen miles out of town, I found a dry coulee (ditch) and ducked into it. Then I pulled out my cell phone and called Steve Arizona. It was a sunny afternoon in May, inside Vermilion.

There was no doubt in my mind that I could tell Steve in twenty words or less what needed to be done. And I could count on him to do it. Copy the files off the Rodi Server and send them to the FBI. It was a short message, but not something to leave on an answering machine, which is what answered the phone at Steve Arizona’s place. Twelve hours later, I got the third degree from the Vermilion Parish Sheriff’s Office, getting grilled by Deputy Kevin and Deputy Roland, they wanted know who it was that I called in Arizona.

The World can be a pretty damned small place sometimes, eh?

Wanting to prove that I was Good Guy material, I took the risk and committed a Felony. I stole the computer when I left Rodi and the jurisdiction of Vermilion style of Law Enforcement.

Throughout my career, I’ve always stayed away from weapons technologies. Don’t want to know anything about warheads or missiles, ya know? But my Small World has been surrounded by them literally as well as personally.

Those Good Guys knew Rodi didn’t build engines. But you can be assured, they knew about the Secret Weapon that Rodi traded to the Royal Saudi Family in exchange for their big Rodi “investment”.

I’m tellin’ ya, just follow the money. Money buys the Power to wage the War that will control the Money to… the Power.

The World is caught in a CATCH-22.

It’s a very small World, eh?