The pilot of the plan looked decidedly uncomfortable. "You do realize, of course," he stated, "that the heading you've just given me will take us into Russian airspace?"
The other man, his only passenger, excitedly replied, "Oh, yes, un hunh. I do. Very much. That's right."
"You have government approval for this mission...don't you?"
"Of course not. If we are caught, the government has to be able to plausibly deny all knowledge of what we've been doing..."
"Oh, boy..."
The passenger, a short, balding man wearing wire frame glasses with impossibly thick lenses, took a chocolate bar out of the pocket of his grey trenchcoat and offered the pilot a piece. The pilot, his eyes firmly on the controls, refused. The passenger happily munched on the candy for several minutes.
"Look," the pilot finally asked, "What is this all about?"
"Well," the passenger, gaining excitement with every breath, explained, "We're taking some of the most sophisticated weapons in the world to Russia as a gesture of good will. I hope we'll be able to reach moderates in the Russian government and make some friends for when the present Premier dies. It would also be nice if the Russians released some refuseniks as a result of the deal, although we can never admit a connection even if one develops. The weapons were bought by a consortium of Arabs, Iranians and Australians. We're also bringing a cake in the shape of a balalaika and a copy of the Declaration of Independence signed by the President as a sign of our good faith. Half the money we make from the sale of arms to the Russians will go to freedom fighters all over the world. A lot of it will go to Conservative organizations in Europe to ensure as little opposition to the employment of American Cruise missiles as possible. You know how touchy some of those Europeans get about allowing American weapons of mass destruction to stay on their soil. Then, with what's left, I think I'll take a vacation. With any luck, I should be able to help achieve dozens of our government's foreign policy objectives and be sitting on a beach in the Bahamas by New Year's, 1992. Neat, eh? So, what do you think?"
"I think that's insane!" the pilot exclaimed.
"You mean, insanely ambitious?"
"No, just insane."
"Oh. Well, it...it's no more insane than the operation that sent arms to Iran."
"That was a disaster!"
"Okay," the passenger agreed, crumpling the chocolate bar wrapper and tossing it aside, "bad example. What about the Contras supply operation? That went pretty well, don't you think?"
"It was a national disgrace!" the pilot angrily shouted. "Not only was it contempt of Congress, but -"
"Okay," the passenger cheerfully interrupted, "but who knows how many missions have been successfully carried out? Could be eight...could be 10...maybe as many as 12..."
"I'm not sure I like the idea of American foreign policy being carried out around the world by a dozen rogue elephants."
"Better than leaving it to the CIA."
The pilot looked at his passenger with dawning suspicion. "You do work for the government in some capacity, don't you?" he asked.
"Oh, yes."
"Oh, good."
"I'm a clerk in the Salt Lake City branch of the Small Deciduous Shrubbery Remains Division of the Environmental Protection Agency. Only, this is much more exciting than counting dead tree stumps, don't you think?" The pilot loudly sighed. "Oh, don't worry. I know that, if the Administration knew what we were up to, they'd be behind us 100 per cent."
"How do you know that?"
"My boss encouraged me to go. Look, the Administration created all these policies. If Congress isn't allowing the President to pursue them as fully as he would like, I step in. Even if they're not directly responsible, the Administration creates the atmosphere in which these kind of missions will take place."
"Right. That's enough."
"What are you doing?"
"Turning back."
"Turning back? But, what about our foreign policy?"
"When the President asks me to fly him into Russia with military hardware and an angel food cake -"
"Chocolate fudge, actually."
"Whatever. When the President asks me, that's when I'll do it."
"I'll double your fee."
"It's not worth risking the rest of my life in a gulag!"
"That's the trouble with America today," the passenger bitterly stated: "no more heroes!"
