The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

'Somebody's been here!' She pointed to the tray with the cups, and knew that
Fowler hadn't fetched it himself.
'Coffee?'
'BOB!'
'Look, Elizabeth, the people outside the door know that you're here. What do you
think we are hiding, and from whom are we hiding it? Hell, they probably have
microphones in here.' He'd never said that before. He didn't know for sure, and
had studiously refrained from inquiring, but it was a logical thing to expect.
The institutional paranoia of the Secret Service denied the agents the ability
to trust Elizabeth or anyone else, except the President, Therefore, if she tried
to kill him, they needed to know, so that the agents outside the door could
burst in with their guns and save HAWK from his lover. There probably were
microphones. Cameras, too? No, probably not cameras, but surely there had to be
microphones. Fowler actually found that thought somewhat stimulating, a fact
that editorial writers would never have believed. Not The Ice Man.
'My God!' Liz Elliot had never thought of that. She hoisted herself up, and her
breasts dangled deliciously before his eyes. But Fowler was not that sort of
morning person. Mornings were for work.
'I am the President, Elizabeth,' Fowler pointed out as she disengaged herself.
The idea of cameras occurred to her, too, and she quickly rearranged the
bedclothes. Fowler smiled at the foolishness of it. 'Coffee?' he asked again.
Elizabeth Elliot almost giggled. Here she was, in the President's bed, naked as
a jaybird, with armed guards outside the door. But Bob had let someone in the
room! The man was incredible. Had he even covered her up? She could ask, but
decided not to, fearing that he might display his twisted sense of humor, which
was at its best when it was slightly cruel. And yet. Had she ever had so good a
lover as he? The first time – it must have been years, but he was so patient, so
. . . respectful. So easy to manage. Elliot smiled her secret smile to herself.
He could be directed to do exactly what she wanted, when she wanted it, and do
it consummately well, for he loved to give pleasure to a woman. Why? she
wondered. Perhaps he wanted to be remembered. He was a politician, after all,
and what they all craved was a few lines in history books. Well, he'd have
those, one way or another, Every President did, even Grant and Harding were
remembered, and with what was happening . . . Even here he craved being
remembered, and so he did what the woman wanted, if the woman had the wit to
ask.
'Turn the sound up,' Liz said. Fowler complied at once, she was gratified to
see. So eager to please, even in this. So, why the hell had he let some servant
in with the coffee! There was no understanding this man. He was already reading
over the faxes from Rome.
'My dear, this is going to work. I hope your bags are packed, Elizabeth.'
'Oh?'
'The Saudis and the Israelis actually agreed on the big one last night . . .
according to Brent – God, this is amazing! He had separate solo sessions with
both sides, and both of them suggested the same thing . . . and to keep them
from knowing it, he simply cycled back and forth as he said it would probably be
acceptable . . . then confirmed it on another round trip! Ha!' Fowler slapped