The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

president had allowed that to happen. Probably, she admitted. They were only
men, after all, and all men sometimes thought from the testicles instead of the
brain. That the President should become a lackey of such a shallow woman as this
– that was what offended her. But that, she admitted to herself, was both odd
and inconsistent. After all, women didn't come much more liberated than she was.
So why, she asked herself, was it bothering her? It had been too long a day for
that. She needed sleep, and knew that she'd only get five or six hours before
she was on duty again. Damn these overseas trips . . .
***
'So what is it?' Qati asked, just after dawn. He'd been away the previous day,
meeting some other guerilla leaders, and also for a trip to the doctor, Ghosn
knew, though he could not ask about that.
'Not sure,' the engineer replied. 'I'd guess a jamming pod, something like
that.'
'That's useful,' the commander said at once. Despite the rapprochement, or
whatever the key phrase was, between East and West, business was still business.
The Russians still had a military, and that military still had weapons.
Countermeasures against those weapons were items of interest. Israeli equipment
was particularly prized, since the Americans copied it. Even old equipment
showed how the Israeli engineers thought through problems, and could provide
useful clues to newer systems.
'Yes, we should be able to sell it to our Russian friends.'
'How did the American work out?' Qati asked next.
'Quite well. I do like him, Ismael. I understand him better now.' The engineer
explained why. Qati nodded.
'What should we do with him, then?'
Ghosn shrugged. 'Weapons training, perhaps? Let's see if he fits in with the
men.'
'Very well. I'll send him out this morning to see how well he knows combat
skills. And you, how soon will you pick the thing apart?'
'I planned to do it today.'
'Excellent. Do not let me stop you.'
'How are you feeling, Commander?'
Qati frowned. He felt terrible, but he was telling himself that part of that was
the possibility of some sort of treaty with the Israelis. Could it be real?
Could it be possible? History said no, but there had been so many changes . . .
Some sort of agreement between the Zionists and the Saudis . . . well, after the
Iraq business, what could he expect? The Americans had played their role, and
now they were presenting some kind of bill. Disappointing, but hardly
unexpected, and whatever the Americans were up to would divert attention away
from the latest Israeli atrocity. That people calling themselves Arabs had been
so womanly as to meekly accept fire and death . . . Qati shook his head. You
didn't fight that way. So, the Americans would do something or other to
neutralize the political impact of the Israeli massacre, and the Saudis were
playing along like the lapdogs they were. Whatever was in the offing, it could
hardly affect the Palestinian struggle. He should soon be feeling better, Qati
told himself.