The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

'Thank you, Dr Elliot.' Both had a good laugh. Elizabeth moved up to kiss him,
dragging her breast along his chest to do so. 'Bob, you don't know what you mean
to me.'
'Oh, I think I might,' the President allowed.
Elliot shook her head. 'All those dry years in academe. Never had time, always
too busy. I was so tied up with being a professor. So much time wasted. . .' A
sigh.
'Well, I hope I was worth waiting for, dear.'
'You were, and you are.' She rolled over, testing her head on his shoulder and
drawing his hand across her chest until it rested on a convenient spot. His
other hand found a similar place, and her hands held his in place.
What do I say next? Liz asked herself. She had spoken the truth. Bob Fowler was
a gentle, patient, and talented lover. It was also true that on hearing such a
thing, any man, even a President, was under control. Nothing, for a while, she
decided. There was time to enjoy him further, and time to examine her own
feelings, her eyes open and staring at a dark rectangle on the wall that was a
fine oil painting whose artist she'd never bothered to note, some sweeping
Western landscape of where the plains ended at the Front Range of the Rockies.
His hands moved gently, not quite arousing again, but giving her subtle waves of
pleasure which she accepted passively, occasionally adjusting the position of
her head to show that she was still awake.
She was starting to love the man. Wasn't that odd? She paused, wondering if it
was or wasn't. There was much to like and admire in him. There was also much to
confuse. He was an irreconcilable mixture of coldness and warmth, and his sense
of humor defied understanding. He cared deeply about many things, but his depth
of feeling seemed always motivated by a logical understanding of issues and
principles rather than true passion. He was often befuddled – genuinely so –
that others didn't share his feelings on issues, in the same way that teachers
of mathematics were never angered, but saddened and puzzled that others failed
to see the beauty and symmetry of their calculations. Fowler was also capable of
remarkable cruelty and total ruthlessness, both delivered without a trace of
rancor. People stood in his way, and if he could destroy them, he did. It was
like the line in The Godfather. It was never personal, just business. Perhaps
he'd learned that from the mafiosi he'd sent to prison, Liz wondered. The same
man could treat his true followers with a matter-of-fact coldness that rewarded
efficiency and loyalty with . . . how could she describe it? . . . the gratitude
of an accountant.
And yet he was also a wonderfully tender man in bed. Liz frowned at the wall.
There was no understanding him, was there?
'Did you see that report from Japan?' the President asked, getting to business
just as Elliot was on the verge of a conclusion.
'Ummm, glad you brought that up. Something disturbing came into the office the
other day.'
'About what?' Fowler showed his interest by moving his hands in a more
deliberate fashion, as though to coax information out of her that she'd been
waiting to reveal for some time.
'Ryan,' Liz replied.