The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

man could want. Seemingly cold to her victims, wonderfully warm to her comrades.
So fine a mother she'd been to Erika and Ursel, so superior at that task as
she'd been at every other she'd ever attempted. Betrayed by supposed friends,
caged like an animal, robbed of her own offspring. His beloved Petra, comrade,
lover, wife, believer. Robbed of her life. And now he was being driven farther
from her. There had to be a way to change things back.
But first, he had to get away.
Bock set the paper down and tidied up the kitchen. When things were clean and
neat, he packed a single bag and left the apartment. The elevator had quit
again, and he walked down the four flights to the street. Once there he caught a
tram. In ninety minutes he was at the airport. His passport was a diplomatic
one. In fact he had six of them carefully concealed in the lining of his
Russian-made suitcase, and, ever the careful man, three of them were the
numerical duplicates of others held by real Bulgarian diplomats, unknown to the
Foreign Ministry office that kept the records. That guaranteed him free access
to the most important ally of the international terrorist: air transport. Before
time for lunch, his flight rotated off the tarmac, headed south.
***
Ryan's flight touched down at a military airport outside Rome just before noon,
local time. By coincidence they rolled in right behind yet another VC-20B of the
89th Military Airlift Wing that had arrived only a few minutes earliei from
Moscow. The black limousine on the apron was waiting for both aircraft.
Deputy Secretary of State Scott Adler greeted Ryan as he stepped off with an
understated smile.
'Well?' Ryan asked through the airport sounds.
'It's a go.'
'Damn,' Ryan said as he took Adler's hand. 'How many more miracles can we expect
this year?'
'How many do you want?' Adler was a professional diplomat who'd worked his way
up the Russian side of the State Department. Fluent in their language,
well-versed in their politics, past and present, he understood the Soviets as
did few men in government – including Russians themselves. 'You know the hard
part about this?'
'Getting used to hearing da instead of nyet, right?'
'Takes all the fun out of negotiations. Diplomacy can really be a bitch when
both sides are reasonable.' Adler laughed as the car pulled off.
'Well, this ought to be a new experience for both of us,' Jack observed soberly.
He turned to watch 'his' aircraft prepare for an immediate departure. He and
Adler would be traveling together for the rest of the trip.
They sped towards central Rome with the usual heavy escort. The Red Brigade, so
nearly exterminated a few years earlier, was back in business, and even if it
hadn't been, the Italians were careful protecting foreign dignitaries. In the
right-front seat was a serious-looking chap with a little Beretta squirt-gun.
There were two lead cars, two chase cars, and enough cycles for a motocross
race. The speedy progress down the ancient streets of Rome made Ryan wish he
were back in an airplane. Every Italian driver, it seemed, had ambitions to ride
in the Formula One circuit. Jack would have felt safer in a car with Clark,