The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

again! Don't you see?'
Just a few feet behind him, Helen DAgustino realized that she'd read Liz Elliot
correctly the previous summer.
She was as much a coward as a bully. And now whom did the President have to
advise him? Fowler rose from his chair and headed for the bathroom. Pete Connor
trailed along as far as the door, because even Presidents are not allowed to
make that trip alone. 'Daga' looked down on Dr Elliot. Her face was – what? the
Secret Service agent asked herself. It was beyond fear. Agent D'Agustino was
every bit as frightened herself, but she didn't – that was unfair, wasn't it?
Nobody was asking her for advice, nobody was asking her to make sense of this
mess. Clearly, none of it made sense at all. It simply didn't. At least no one
was asking her about it, but that wasn't her job. It was Liz Elliot's job.
***
'I got a contact here,' one of the sonar operators said aboard Sea Devil
One-Three. 'Buoy three, bearing twoone-five . . . blade count now . . . single
screw – nuclear submarine contact! Not American, screw's not American.'
'Got him on four,' another sonarman said. 'This dude's hauling ass, blade count
shows over twenty, maybe twenty-five knots, bearing my buoy is three-zero-zero.'
'Okay,' the Tacco said, 'I have a posit. Can you give me drift?'
'Bearing now two-one-zero!' the first one responded. 'This guy is moving!'
Two minutes later, it was clear, the contact was heading straight for USS Maine.
***
'Is this possible?' Jim Rosselli asked. The radio message had gone from Kodiak
straight to the NMCC. The commander of the patrol squadron didn't know what to
do and was screaming for instructions. The report came in the form of a RED
ROCKET, copied off also to CINCPAC, who would also be requesting direction from
above.
'What do you mean?' Barnes asked.
'He's heading straight for where Maine is. How the hell could he know where she
is?'
'How'd we find out?'
'SLOT buoy, radio – oh, no, that asshole hasn't maneuvered clear?'
'Kick this to the President?' Colonel Barnes asked.
'I guess.' Rosselli lifted the phone.
***
'This is the President.'
'Sir, this is Captain Jim Rosselli at the National Military Command Center. We
have a disabled submarine in the Gulf of Alaska, USS Maine, an Ohio-class
missile boat. Sir, she has prop damage and cannot maneuver. There is a Soviet
attack submarine heading straight towards her, about ten miles out. We have a
P-3C Orion ASW aircraft that is now tracking the Russian. Sir, he requests
instructions.'
'I thought they can't track our missile submarines.'
'Sir, nobody can, but in this case they must have DF, I mean used
direction-finders to locate the sub when she radioed for help. Maine is a
missile submarine, part of SIOP, and is under DEFCON-TWO Rules of Engagement.
Therefore, so is the Orion that's riding shotgun for her. Sir, they want to know