The reporter hesitated; he was well aware of the Admiral’s reputation for near-absolute silence on the subject of his already legendary cruise, the fabulous voyage of the Galahad. He couldn’t just barge in on the Admiral and demand answers, as was usual with publicity-hungry politicians and show people. He could score the biggest story of the century today; but he had to hit him right.
You couldn’t hope to snow a man like the Admiral; he wasn’t somebody you could push around. You could sense the solid iron of him from here.
Nobody else had noticed the solitary diner. The Era man drifted closer, moving unhurriedly, thinking furiously. It was no good trying some tricky approach; his best bet was the straight-from-the-shoulder bit. No point in hesitating. He stopped beside the table.
The Admiral was looking out across the Gulf. He turned and glanced up at the reporter.
The news man looked him squarely in the eye. “I’m a reporter, Admiral,” he said. “Will you talk to me?”
The Admiral nodded to the seat across from him. “Sit down,” he said. He glanced around the room.
The reporter caught the look. “I’ll keep it light, sir,” he said. “I don’t want company either.” That was being frank.
“You want the answers to some questions, don’t you?” the Admiral said.
“Why, yes, sir,” the reporter said. He started to inconspicuously key his pocket recorder, but caught himself. “May I record your remarks, Admiral?” he said. Frankness all the way.