The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

have an officer talking with Hughes Aerospace right now to see what their
thinking is.
'Okay, we're still trying to get ATC tapes from Stapleton to see if an aircraft
might have delivered the bomb, and we are awaiting word from rescue and other
teams dispatched to the site of the explosion. That's all I have.'
'We have two wings fully in the air, and more coming on line as we speak,'
CINC-SAC said next. 'All my missile wings are alerted. My Vice-CINC is in the
air in Looking Glass Auxiliary West, and another Kneecap is about to take off
for where you are, sir.'
'Anything happening in the Soviet Union?'
'Their air-defense people are increasing their alert level, as we have already
discussed,' General Borstein replied. 'We're getting other radio activity, but
nothing we can classify yet. There is no indication of an attack on the United
States.'
'Okay.' The President let out a breath. Things were bad, but not out of control.
All he had to do was get things settled down, and then he could go forward. 'I'm
going to open the direct line to Moscow.'
'Very well, sir,' NORAD replied.
A Navy chief yeoman was two seats away from President Fowler. His computer
terminal was already lit up. 'You want to slide down here, Mr President,' the
chief said. 'I can't cross-deck my display to your screen.'
Fowler crab-walked his swivel chair the eight feet to the chief's place.
'Sir, the way this works is, I type in what you say here, and it's relayed
directly through the NMCC computers in the Pentagon – all they do is encipher it
– but when the Russians reply, it arrives in the Hot Line room in Russian, is
translated there, and then sent here from the Pentagon. There's a backup at Fort
Ritchie in case something goes wrong in D.C. We have land-line and two separate
satellite links. Sir, I can type about as fast as you can speak.' The chief
yeoman's nametag read ORONTIA, and Fowler couldn't decide what his ancestry was.
He was a good twenty pounds overweight, but he sounded relaxed and competent.
Fowler would settle for that. Chief Orontia also had a pack of cigarettes
sitting next to his keyboard. The President stole one, ignoring the no-smoking
signs that hung on every wall. Orontia lit it with a Zippo.
'All ready, sir.' Chief Pablo Orontia looked sideways at his Commander-in-Chief.
His gaze didn't betray the fact that he'd been born in Pueblo, Colorado, and
still had family there. The President would settle things down, that was his
job. Orontia's job, he reasoned, was to do his best to help the man. Orontia had
served his country in two wars and many other crises, mainly as an admiral's
yeoman on carriers, and now he turned off his feelings as he had trained himself
to do.
'Dear President Narmonov. . .'
***
Captain Rosselli watched the first for-real transmission on the Hot Line since
his arrival in Washington. The message was put up on the IBM-PC/AT and
encrypted, then the computer operator hit the return button to transmit it. He
really should be back at his desk, Jim thought, but what went through here might
be vital to what he was doing.