The StarSight Project

by S. P. Perone

  Glancing at the clock, Shane realized he had about 15 minutes to get to the conference room in the administration building. Leaving now, he would get there just a few minutes early. He put the papers in a folder, and headed out his door. Stopping by Sandy’s office, he poked his head in and said, “Sandy, if you need anybody to talk to while I’m out of town, please call Dr. Churchill. He and I had a conversation last night; and I told him you might need his help. He is even better qualified than I to advise you on responding to questions. I trust his judgement…without reservation…and you can too.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Shane…I really appreciate your thinking about my situation. That means a lot.”

  “Good luck at the…” she added, but then stopped, bringing her hand up to her face. “Oh, my God! I meant to ask what you were going to do about arranging to stay and work out at Livermore! Have you figured that out yet?”

  “Don’t worry, Sandy…Dr. Churchill and I talked that one over last night. I think I can handle it.”

  And, without another word, he waved goodbye, hurried down the corridor, through the hallway door, and was on his way to meet the inquisition.

  After about half-an-hour, the Provost’s conference room was beginning to get a little stuffy. The fall chill in the air had prompted the university to turn on the heat, and, being one of the oldest on campus, the Admin building was inherently poorly ventilated. Shane believed he could still smell the residual smoke from thousands of cigars that had been consumed in this room over the 150-year history of the university…at least until theNo Smoking era of the past decade.

  Janus Clarkson, in his cheap blue suit, vainly attempting to stifle his air of self-importance, had been going down systematically a list of questions designed to summarize all of the historical facts regarding the establishment of the DOE contract, both unclassified and classified aspects, at Daniels. Seated next to him, at the actual head of the long conference table was the Provost, Dr. Howard Newman. Newman was not a big man…about 5 feet 7 inches, no more than 130 pounds. In his early sixties, with a tanned wrinkle-free face, thick white hair combed straight back, and no glasses obscuring his piercing black eyes, he established a presence in the room that belied his small physical stature. Dressed in a tailored charcoal gray suit, with starched pale blue shirt and expensive blue and gold striped tie, he had been quietly listening to the questions and answers while simply resting his finely manicured hands on the table in front of him. He took no notes.

  Shane knew from previous interactions that Newman was a shrewd and powerful fixture in the administration. While the President of the university was out raising money from his industrial contacts, and lobbying with the state legislature during each funding cycle, the Provost’s job was to make sure that the university delivered the goods. And he performed that job exceptionally well. Newman had become Professor of Business Administration at the age of forty-five, after having built a successful tax accounting business, which had expanded into a large number of offices throughout the greater Philadelphia area. During this period, he had been invited to present graduate courses periodically in the business school at the University of Pennsylvania. When his company had been purchased by a competitor for fifty million dollars, Newman had been invited to join the university as a Full Professor. With his knowledge of both the academic and real worlds of business, he rose rapidly through the administrative chain (discipline Head, Department Head, Associate Dean), until being named Dean of the Business School at Penn.

  A couple years previously, Newman had applied for the open position of Provost at Daniels, and had been interviewed, along with a handful of other candidates, mostly from schools other than Daniels. Shane had been on the Selection Committee, and had strongly endorsed Newman for the job. Newman was hired at Daniels, and took over as Provost this past year. Now, Shane wondered if he would come to regret his recommendation. He didn’t know the answer yet, but it was noteworthy that Newman had not been privy to any of the negotiations, which preceded the approval of the DOE classified research contract at Daniels. That was before his time…so Newman was free to pull the plug on that contract now, without any adverse reflection on his previous decision-making. In fact, Harry and Shane had discussed this matter, and had concluded that that would be the Provost’s decision…no matter what transpired at the meeting this morning. It was that discussion late last night, over a bottle of Sobon Estate Zinfandel, which had prepared Shane to lay out for Sandy this morning how he expected the whole affair to turn out.

  Tony was seated halfway down one side of the long conference table, while the rest of the five-person committee, including Harry Churchill, were spread out along the other side of the table. In keeping with the confidential nature of the meeting, no secretary was present to take notes. Clarkson was seated diagonally across from Shane, next to Newman, who was seated at the very head of the table, just inside the large mahogany double-doors that led out to the main hallway of the first floor of the Admin building. Along the two long walls of the room were oil portraits of several past Presidents of the university. At the end of the room opposite Newman was a wall with a window looking out on to the wooded campus.

  “Now, Professor Shane,” Clarkson was saying, “what can you tell us about the project at Lawrence Livermore Lab?”

  “What do you want to know, Janus,” Shane replied, pointedly maintaining a casual response to contrast with Clarkson’s inquisitional tone.

  “We need toknow whether or not this is a CIA-sponsored project in which one of our faculty, a research associate, and a graduate student of Daniels University is involved,” Clarkson insisted, in his most threatening manner.

  “Janus, the project at Livermore is DOE-sponsored, allowing a group of scientists to conduct research on the White supercomputer. The project is an outgrowth of the classified research that’s being funded by DOE at Daniels and elsewhere. We will be able to make exceptional progress in this manner, which would be impossible at our individual institutions.

  “You’re avoiding my question, Professor Shane,” Clarkson persisted. “Is this or is this not a CIA-related project?”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Chairman,” Harry interrupted. “This is the first time we’ve heard the CIA mentioned in these proceedings. Where is this question coming from?”

  Shane was amused. Clarkson had not shared this “inside” information with everyone on the committee. The Provost had been taken into his confidence, Shane was certain, because otherwise there would not have been any justification for this “inquiry”. And, perhaps he had shared the information with Tom Harrison, the committee member seated directly to Clarkson’s right, who had originally raised the inquiry issue at the meeting that Harry had missed. But, last night, because Carothers and the Senator had already concluded that Shane’s CIA connection had been discovered at the university, Shane had shared the information with Harry Churchill. So, Harry had had nearly twelve hours to prepare for Clarkson’s little “surprise”. That was way more than enough time for Harry.

  Momentarily caught off guard, Clarkson sputtered for a moment, and then replied, “The Provost was given this information recently from a ‘reliable’ source, and that was the motivation for his requesting the Research Committee to investigate.”

  “Why wasn’t this information shared with the rest of the committee?” Harry inquired.

  “Dr. Churchill, you were absent from the meeting where this issue was discussed. And this issue was too delicate to be mentioned outside of the closed meeting,” Clarkson replied.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Chairman, but I didn’t ask whyI wasn’t informed; I asked why the rest of the committee was not,” Harry persisted. Then, turning to look first to his right, and then back to his left, at Clarkson, he asked, “Which members of the committee were present at the meeting when this inquiry was proposed? Was the possible CIA connection mentioned then?”

  For several moments, nobody spoke up. Then, Tom Harrison, an Associate Professor of Chemical Engineering, slowly raised
his solitary hand.

  Looking around again, and finding no other hands lifted, Harry glared back at Clarkson. “What kind of committee meeting was this? A two-man meeting? I don’t know about my colleagues here at the table, but I’m just about to get up and walk out if I don’t get some explanation about what’s going on here.”

  Abruptly, the Provost’s familiar voice broke in. “Your point is well taken, Harry. PerhapsI can explain.”

  The room became strangely quiet. Eyes turned towards Newman, who had not asked a single question, nor spoken a single word, during the first forty-five minutes of the meeting. Fittingly, Clarkson and Harrison gazed down at the papers in front of them, anticipating the Provost’s words with some apprehension.

  “What Professor Clarkson has said is essentially correct. It was I who requested that the Research Committee look into this allegation that the CIA was involved in research being conducted on campus. Where this allegation came from is not relevant here. I told Professor Clarkson that this was an urgent matter, and he called a meeting of the committee on short notice. I was present at that meeting. Only two members were able to make it. Because of the extraordinary circumstances, I took it upon myself to request that the two representatives endorse an action to call the entire committee together for this inquiry. And, as you know, the formal request for this meeting actually came from my office.”

  “It was unfortunate,” Newman continued, “that all members of the Research Committee could not attend the prior meeting. But, surely, you have to agree that the situation was unusual, and called for rapid, discrete action. It was on my orders that none of the information from that meeting was discussed with the rest of the committee until today.”

  Shane was astonished…not at what the Provost had just said…but because Harry hadpredicted what would be said. Harry had been certain that the Provost would take the responsibility squarely on his shoulders, and that only Newman, Clarkson, and Harrison had been informed about the CIA connection. Harry had discovered in the past couple days that he had not been the only one that had missed the prior meeting. So, when Shane had told him about the CIA issue last night, Harry had correctly pieced together what was going on. It was Harry’s guess that Clarkson had been the original informant…the “reliable source”; that the Provost was doing only what he believed he must…with no personal agenda except to emerge unscathed; and that Harrison was just an innocent participant. Oh, and of course, Harry was certain that Clarkson had purposely scheduled the prior meeting when he knew Harry had a conflict.

  “Perhaps,” the Provost continued, “if the Chair will allow, I might ask a few questions now?”

  Noting a profuse nodding of the head from Clarkson’s direction, the Provost shifted his gaze towards Shane, and continued, “Tony, has your research contract with DOE come at the expense of your agreement to share your results with the CIA?”

  Shane sat there, the directness and appropriateness of the question reminding him why he had so admired Newman when he interviewed for the Provost position. The Provost knew how to cut through all the bullshit.

  Fortunately, so did Harry. And, Harry had primed him for this question.

  “Provost Newman…” Shane began.

  “Please, Tony, the name is ‘Howard’. We’ve known each other too long to be that formal.”

  “Thanks, Howard,” Shane replied. “Your question is a very good one. In fact, it may be the only relevant question for this matter. And, the answer is simple. No. There was no prior agreement to share results with the CIA; and the awarding of the DOE contract was not predicated on any such commitment.”

  “Thanks, Tony. Now, let me ask this: do you presently have an agreement to share your classified research results with the CIA?”

  This was where Shane prayed that Harry’s advice would be correct. He had said to answer this question with a question. (Of course, that was the advice his dad had always given him whenever he might get stuck.But, Dad , Shane thought to himself,you never envisioned this kind of situation .)

  “Howard, what does it matter to you or anyone else whether or not I share my research results with the CIA? As a consultant I do that sort of thing all the time…as do half of the faculty at this university.”

  “Do you get paid by the CIA for your information?”

  Clever, Shane thought to himself,he didn’t answer my question either. He just went on to number two as if I had confirmed the first allegation .

  Aloud, Shane responded, “Excuse me, Howard, but I don’t think I said I was giving any information to the CIA. And, I don’t think you’ve answered my question either.”

  Newman smiled, and sat back in his chair. He genuinely liked Shane; and he knew Shane respected him. They were engaged now in the kind of word games he loved to play. Shane was a worthy opponent, and he was beginning to enjoy this.

  “OK, Tony,” Newman responded, with a warm smile, “This is why it matters to the university if you are working with the CIA…even if it is not with university facilities. Your work at Livermore is being done on the university’s time, not yours. The same is true for the work of Ms. Stenstrom, and Mr. Campbell, your associates. You are not treating this as a ‘consulting’ activity; you are blatantly neglecting your university duties. Mr. Campbell is an ‘AWOL’ student, in serious danger of losing his residency requirement for the Ph.D. Ms. Stenstrom is the only one in a position to justify her working off-campus, but you have not submitted the appropriate travel and leave forms to satisfy our requirements for off-campus research.”

  “Frankly,” Newman continued, “none of this would show up on my radar screen, if the work were related to a typical federal research grant. Unanticipated research opportunities often come up, and we tend to look the other way when faculty re-arrange their teaching schedules, or research associates spend extended time off-campus, doing work related to university-sanctioned research. Your classified research contract is highly unusual…but ithas been sanctioned by the university. Although that happened before my tenure here, I do respect, nevertheless, that earlier decision.

  “The bottom line, Tony, is that the manner in which you’ve arranged abruptly to move your associates and yourself to work at Livermore Lab,and the fact that this is an unusual classified project, presents a difficult public relations problem for the university. Any public disclosure of this situation would be embarrassing. Moreover, if it were also disclosed that the CIA was supporting this effort, we would have an intolerable situation. And, some action would have to be taken.”

  The Provost had clearly stated the issue, just as Shane had hoped he would. And Harry had advised Shane to seize this moment to make a plea for common sense.

  “Can I ask, Howard,” Shane interrupted, “why the situation would be ‘embarrassing’? It’s not like we’re doing work for Iraq or Libya. We’re working on a project, which has been funded and defined by our own government agency, the DOE. Its nature is classified because it is related to national security. Since when has that been ‘embarrassing’? Since when do we need to apologize for that?”

  It was a passionate and eloquent plea, and Newman admired Shane’s timing and choice of words. He even agreed with Shane, in principle. Yet, he had a responsibility to the public, to the trustees of the university, and, yes, to any employee or student of the university whose position might be compromised by Shane’s aversion of the rules. He already knew what action he had to take. But, he was determined to make Shane understand why he had no choice. He owed him that much.

  “Tony, you are correct, of course. But, at this time in history, that isn’t enough. The people who pay the bills for this university don’t want to read about university faculty abusing the rules; neglecting their duties; and doing ‘classified’ research. If the CIA is involved, moreover, you need to recognize that events…maybe facts, maybe rumors…have surfaced over the past quarter century which have soured the public on that organization. They’ve come to think of it as capable of heinous crimes against foreign cou
ntries, and, most damning, against some of our own citizens. Assassination plots; covert surveillance of innocent citizens; support of genocidal guerrilla groups; turf wars with the FBI; all of these topics are daily fodder for news media. This university would pay a terrible price if it were accused of providing your salary while you were working for the CIA…or even if you were only involved in off-site classified research…while simultaneously neglecting your university duties.”

  “Can you understand this, Tony?” the Provost added.

  Shane knew what was coming. He remained silent, not showing any indication of agreement with the Provost. Harry had coached him well.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, Tony,” the Provost continued, “but we must assume that this story will find its way to a newspaper or TV news in the very near future. True or not, the alleged CIA involvement will be mentioned. The university must distance itself from this matter, and take some decisive action.”

  Except for Harry, Shane noticed, each of the committee members was nodding his head. Difficult as it was, he knew he should not challenge the Provost yet. He didn’t have a leg to stand on. He knew that a better opportunity was coming. It was Harry’s turn for a while.

  “Howard,” Harry interrupted, “do you want this committee to recommend possible actions? Or, do you have some specific recommendations for us to discuss?”

  “Obviously, Harry, I do have some specific recommendations in mind. But, since you bring it up, perhaps I should hear what the committee members have to say.”

  Jumping in like a shark devouring a baby seal, Clarkson interjected, “It seems clear to me that there is only one appropriate action to be taken. Professor Shane’s classified research contract must be terminated. The related off-site research effort then becomes unjustifiable, and must likewise be terminated. The alleged involvement of the CIA becomes a moot point. The university would thereby pre-empt any negative publicity due to the disclosure of this situation and the alleged CIA involvement.”