The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

'Threaten? That will never happen, Avi. How could it?' Ryan warned himself that
he was talking too much. This guy is good, Jack reminded himself.
'But you cannot dictate policy to us.'
Jack bit off his reply. 'You're very clever, General, but I still have my
orders. You have to wait. I'm sorry that Your people in D.C. can't help you, but
neither can I.'
Ben Jakob changed tack yet again. 'I'm even buying you a meal, and my country is
not so rich as yours.'
Jack laughed at his tone. 'Good beer, too, and as you say, I can't do this where
you say I'm going. If that's where I'm going . . .'
'Your air crew has already filed the flight plan. I checked.'
'So much for secrecy.' Jack accepted the new bottle with a smile for the waiter.
'Avi, let it rest for a while. Do you really think that we'd do anything to
compromise your country's security?'
Yes! the General thought, but he couldn't say that, of course. Instead he said
nothing. But Ryan wasn't buying, and used the silence to change the course of
the discussion himself.
'I hear you're a grandfather now.'
'Yes, my daughter added to the gray in my beard. A daughter of her own, Leah.'
'You have my word: Leah will have a secure country to grow up in, Avi.'
'And who will see to that?' Ben Jakob asked.
'The same people who always have.' Ryan congratulated himself for the answer.
The poor guy really was desperate for information, and he was sad that Avi had
made it so obvious. Well, even the best of us can be pushed into corners . . .
Ben Jakob made a mental note to have the file on Ryan updated. The next time
they met, he wanted to have better information. The General wasn't a man who
enjoyed losing at anything.
***
Dr Charles Alden contemplated his office. He wasn't leaving quite yet, of
course. It would harm the Fowler Administration. His resignation, signed and
sitting on the green desk blotter, was for the end of the month. But that was
just for show. As of today, his duties were at an end. He'd show up, read the
briefing papers, scribble his notes, but Elizabeth Elliot would do the briefs
now. The President had been regretful, but his usual cool self. Sorry to lose
you, Charlie, really sorry, especially now, but I'm afraid there's just no other
way . . . He'd managed to retain his dignity in the Oval Office despite the rage
he'd felt. Even Arnie van Damm had been human enough to observe 'Oh, shit,
Charlie!' Though enraged at the political damage to his boss, van Damm had at
least mixed a little humanity and locker-room sympathy with his anger. But not
Bob Fowler, champion of the poor and the helpless.
It was worse with Liz. That arrogant bitch, with her silence and her eloquent
eyes. She'd get the credit for what he had done. She knew it, and was already
basking in it.
The announcement would be made in the morning. It had already been leaked to the
press. By whom was anyone's guess. Elliot, displaying her satisfaction? Arnie
van Damm, in a rapid effort at damage control? One of a dozen others?
The transition from power to obscurity comes fast in Washington. The embarrassed