The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

'It really is amazing,' Ghosn said.
What they looked at might easily have been a piece of blown glass, so smooth it
appeared. In fact it was far smoother than that. The uniformity of the outside
surface was so exact that the greatest distorting effect came from gravity.
Whatever imperfections there might have been were far too small to see with the
naked eye, and were definitely below the design tolerances Fromm had established
when he'd worked the hydrocodes on the minicomputer.
The outside of the folded cylinder was perfect, reflecting light like some sort
of eccentric lens. As the arm rotated it around the long axis, the placement and
size of the reflected ceiling lights did not move or waver. Even the German
found that remarkable.
'I would never have believed we could do so well,' Ghosn said.
Fromm nodded. 'Such things were not possible until quite recently. The
air-bearing-lathe technology is hardly fifteen years old, and the laser-control
systems are newer still. The main commercial application is still for ultra-fine
instruments like astronomical telescopes, very high-quality lenses, special
centrifuge parts . . .' The German stood. 'Now, we must also polish the inside
surfaces. Those we cannot visually inspect.'
'Why do the outside first?'
'This way we can be sure that the machine is performing properly. The laser will
control the inside – we know now, you see, that it is giving us good data.' That
explanation wasn't really true, but Fromm didn't want to give the real one: he
truly thought this beautiful. The young Arab might not understand. Das ist die
schwarze Kunst . . . It actually was rather Faustian, Fromm thought, wasn't it?
How very strange, Ghosn thought, that something so wonderfully shaped could . .
.
'Things continue to go well.'
'Indeed,' Fromm replied. He gestured to the interior of the enclosure. When run
properly, the lathe trimmed off something almost like metallic thread, but
thinner, visible mainly because of its reflectivity. A singularly valuable
thread, it was collected for remelting and possible future use.
'A good stopping place,' Fromm said, turning away.
'I agree.' They'd been at it for fourteen hours. Ghosn dismissed the men. He and
Fromm walked out, too, leaving the room to the custody of the two security
guards. The guards were not highly educated men. Selected from the Commander's
personal retinue of followers, each was the veteran of many years of combat
operations. Perversely, their fighting had been more against fellow Arabs than
their putative Zionist enemies. There was a plethora of terrorist groups, and
since each drew its support from the Palestinian community, there was
competition for the limited pool of followers. Competition among men with guns
not infrequently led to confrontation and death. In the case of the guards, it
also proved their loyalty. Each of the men on duty was an expert shot, about
good enough to be on a par with the new American addition to the organization,
the infidel Russell.
One of the guards, Achmed, lit up a cigarette and leaned against the wall. He
faced yet another boring night. Walking guard on the outside, or patrolling the
block on which Qati slept, at least gave them a variety of things to observe.