The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

'That's right.'
'I like the way you set that thing up.'
'Thanks, Marcus, but the credit goes to Clark and Chavez. Open to a suggestion?'
Jack asked.
'Go ahead.'
'Put them back in Operations?'
'If they bring this one off, the President will go along with it. So will I.'
'Fair enough.' That was pretty easy, Jack thought. He wondered why.
***
Dr Kaminiskiy went over the films and swore at himself for his error of the
previous day. It hardly seemed possible, but –
But it wasn't possible. Not here. Was it? He had to run some additional tests,
but first he spent an hour tracking down his Syrian colleague. The patient was
moved to another hospital, one with a laminar room. Even if Kaminiskiy were
wrong, this man had to be totally isolated.
***
Russell fired up the forklift and took several minutes to figure out the
controls. He wondered what the previous owner had needed with one, but there was
no point in that. There was enough remaining pressure in the propane tanks that
he didn't have to worry about that either. He walked back to the house.
The people here in Colorado were friendly enough. Already, the local newspaper
distributors had set up the delivery boxes at the end of the drive. Russell had
the morning paper to read with his coffee. A moment later, he realized how good
a thing that was.
'Uh-oh,' he observed quietly.
'What is the problem, Marvin?'
'I've never seen this before. The Vikings fans are planning a convoy . . . over
a thousand cars and buses. Damn,' he noted. 'That'll screw the roads up . . .'
He turned to see the extended weather forecast.
'What do you mean?'
'They have to come down I-76 to get to Denver. That might mess things up some.
We want to arrive about noon, maybe a little later . . . about the same time the
convoy is supposed to arrive . . .'
'Convoy – what do you mean? Convoy defending against what?' Qati asked.
'Not a real convoy,' Russell explained. 'More like a, uh, a motorcade. The fans
from Minnesota have a big deal laid on . . . Tell you what, let's get a motel
room for us. One close to the airport. When's our flight?' He paused. 'Jesus, I
really haven't been thinking very clear, have I?'
'What do you mean" Ghosn asked again.
'Weather,' Russell replied. 'This is Colorado, and it is January. What if we get
another snowstorm?' He scanned the page. Uh-oh . . .
'For driving, you mean?'
'That's right. Look, what we ought to do is get rooms reserved, one of the
motels right by the airport, say. We can go down the night before . . . or I'll
get the rooms for two – no, three nights, so there won't be any suspicion.
Christ, I hope there's vacancies.' Russell walked to the phone and flipped open
the Yellow Pages right next to it. It took him four tries to find a room with