The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

Who are they? Ghosn wondered. It took a second. Brigadier General Abraham Ben
Jakob, Deputy Director of the Mossad, his brain answered after sorting through
all the recognition photographs he'd memorized. Talking to an American. I wonder
who he is . . . Ghosn's head turned slowly and casually. The American would have
several bodyguards . . . the one close by was obvious. A very serious fellow
that one was, old . . . late forties, perhaps. It was the hardness – no, not
hardness, but alertness. One could control the face but not the eyes – ah, the
man put sunglasses back on. More than one. Had to be more than one, plus Israeli
security officers. Ghosn knew that he'd let his eyes linger a touch too long,
but –
'Oops.' A man had bumped into him, a fraction smaller and slighter than Ghosn.
Dark complexion, possibly even a brother Arab, but he'd spoken in English.
Contact was broken before Ghosn had time to realize that he'd been quickly and
expertly frisked, 'Sorry.' The man moved off. Ghosn didn't know, wasn't sure if
it had been what it seemed to be or if he'd just been checked out by an Israeli,
American, or other security officer. Well, he wasn't carrying a weapon, not even
a pocket knife, just a shopping bag full of books, Clark saw Ding give the
all-clear sign, an ordinary gesture, like shooing an insect off his neck. Then
why the eye-recognition from the target – anyone who took an interest in his
protectee was a target – why had he stopped and looked? Clark turned around.
There was a pretty girl just two tables away. Not Arab or Israeli, some sort of
European, Germanic language, sounded like, maybe Dutch. Good-looking girl, and
such girls attracted looks. Maybe he and the other two had just been between a
looker and his lookee. Maybe. For a protective officer, the balance between
awareness and paranoia was impossible to draw, even when you understood the
tactical environment, and Clark had no such illusions here. On the other hand,
they'd selected a random eatery on a random street, and the fact that Ryan was
here, and that Ben Jakob and he had decided to look things over . . . nobody had
intelligence that good, and nobody had enough troops to cover even a single city
– except maybe the Russians in Moscow – to make the threat a real one. But why
the eye-recognition?
Well. Clark recorded the face, and it went into the memory hopper with all the
hundreds of others.
***
Ghosn continued his own patrol. He'd purchased all the books he needed, and was
now observing the Swiss troops, how they moved, how tough they looked. Avi Ben
Jakob, he thought. Missed opportunity. Targets like that one didn't appear every
day. He continued down the rough, cobbled street, his eyes vacant as they
appeared to scan at random. He'd take the next right, increase his pace, and try
to get ahead of the Swiss before they made it to the next cross street. He both
admired what he saw in them and regretted that he saw it.
***
'Nicely done,' Ben Jakob observed to Clark. 'Your subordinate is well-trained.'
'He shows promise.' As Clark watched, Ding Chavez looped back to his lookout
point across the street. 'You know the face?'
'No. My people probably got a photograph. We'll check it out, but it was
probably a young man with normal sexual drives,' Ben Jakob jerked his head