The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

'Hmm . . .' Wellington observed to himself. The DDCI is getting a little on the
side. Nothing illegal, just unsavory. Also out of character for the saintly Dr
John Patrick Ryan. When his lover is annoyed by some local gang members, he
simply sics his bodyguards on them, like a mafia capo might do, as a lordly
public service that no cop would ever bother fooling with.
Might that be enough?
No.
He needed something more. Evidence, some sort of evidence. Not good enough for a
grand jury . . . but good enough for – what? To launch an official
investigation. Of course. Such investigations were never really secret, were
they? A few whispers, a few rumors. Easily done. But first Wellington needed
something to hang his hat on.
***
'There are those who say this could be a preview of the Superbowl: Three weeks
into the NFL season, the Metrodome. Both teams are two and oh. Both teams look
like the class of their respective conferences. The San Diego Chargers take on
the Minnesota Vikings.'
'You know, Tony Wills's rookie season has started even more spectacularly than
his college career. Only two games, and he has three hundred six yards rushing
in forty-six carries – that's six-point-seven yards every time he touches the
ball, and he did that against the Bears and the Falcons, two fine rushing
defenses,' the color man observed. 'Can anybody stop Tony Wills?'
'And a hundred twenty-five yards in his nine pass receptions. It's no wonder
that they call this kid the franchise.'
'Plus his doctorate from Oxford University.' The color man laughed. 'Academic
All-American, Rhodes Scholar, the man who single-handedly put Northwestern
University back on the map with two trips to the Rose Bowl. You suppose he's
faster than a speeding bullet?'
'We'll find out. That rookie middle linebacker for the Chargers, Maxim Bradley,
is the best thing I've seen since Dick Butkus came out of Illinois, the best
middle linebacker Alabama ever turned out – and that's the school of Tommy
Nobis, Cornelius Bennett, and quite a few other all-pros. They don't call him
the Secretary of Defense for nothing.' It was already the biggest joke in the
NFL, referring to the team owner, Dennis Bunker, the real SecDef.
'Tim, I think we got us a ball game!'
'I should be there,' Brent Talbot observed. 'Dennis is.'
'If I tried to keep him away from his games, he'd resign,' President Fowler
said. 'Besides, he used his own plane.' Dennis Bunker owned his own small jet,
and though he allowed others to fly him around, he still maintained a current
commercial pilot's license. It was one of the reasons the military respected
him. He could try his hand at almost anything that flew, having once been a
distinguished combat flyer.
'What's the spread on this one?'
'Vikings by three,' the President answered. 'That's just because of the home
field. The teams are pretty even. I saw Wills against the Falcons last week.
He's some kid.'
'Tony's all of that. A wonderful boy. Smart, marvelous attitude, spends a lot of