The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

'Is there a game at Denver today?'
'No, that's tomorrow night, Broncos and the Seahawks. Won't be much of a game.
The Broncos are rebuilding this year.'
'I see.' Bock left the room and arranged for the concierge to get them tickets
to Denver in the morning.
***
Cathy got up to see him off. She even fixed breakfast. Her solicitude over the
past few days had not made her husband feel any better. Quite the reverse. But
he couldn't say anything about it, could he? Even the way she overdid it,
straightening his tie and kissing him on the way out the door. The smile, the
loving look, all for a husband who couldn't get it up, Jack thought on his way
out to the car. The same sort of smothering attention you might give to some
poor bastard in a wheelchair.
'Morning, Doc.'
'Hello, John.'
'Catch the Vikings–Chargers game yesterday?'
'No, I, uh, took my son to see the Orioles. They lost six to one.' Success was
following Jack everywhere, but at least he'd kept his word to his son. That was
something, wasn't it?
'Twenty-four to twenty-one in overtime. God, that Wills kid is incredible. They
held him to ninety-six yards, but when he had to deliver, he popped it for
twenty yards and set up the field-goal,' Clark reported.
'You have money on the game?'
'Five bucks at the office, but it was a three-point spread. The education fund
won that one.'
It gave Ryan something to chuckle about. Gambling was as illegal at CIA as it
was in every other government office, but a serious attempt to enforce a ban on
football betting might have started a revolution – the same was true at the FBI,
Jack was sure, which enforced interstate gambling statutes – and the
semi-official system was that half-point betting spreads were not allowed. All
'pushes' (odds-caused ties) forfeited into the Agency's in-house charity, the
Education Aid Fund. It was something that even the Agency's own
Inspector-General winked at – in fact, he liked to lay money on games as much as
the next guy.
'Looks like you at least got some sleep, Jack,' Clark noted, as they made their
way towards Route 50.
'Eight hours,' Jack said. He'd wanted another chance the previous night, but
Cathy had said no. You're too tired, Jack. That's all it is. You're working too
hard, and I want you to take it easy, okay?
Like I'm a goddamned stud horse that's been overworked.
'Good for you,' Clark said. 'Or maybe your wife insisted, eh?'
Ryan stared ahead at the road. 'Where's the box?'
'Here.'
Ryan unlocked it and started looking at the weekend's dispatches.
***
They caught an early direct flight from Washington National to Denver Stapleton
International. It was a clear day most of the way across the country, Bock got a