Executive orders - Tom Clancy [267]
What's today look like? POTUS asked, turning away when the Black Hawk lifted off.
SURGEON is airborne, Andrea heard in her earpiece. Everything's clear, the overwatch people reported from their perches on the government buildings around the White House. They'd been scanning the perimeter for the last hour, as they did every day. There were the usual people out there, the regulars, known by sight to the Detail members. These were people who seemed to turn up a lot. Some were just fascinated by the First Family, whichever family it might be. For them, the White House was America's real soap opera, Dallas writ large, and the trappings, the mechanics, really, of life in this most famous of dwellings drew them for some reason that Service psychologists struggled to understand, because for the armed agents on the Detail, regulars were dangerous by their very existence. And so the snipers on the Old Executive Office Building-OEOB-and Treasury knew them all by sight through their powerful spotting glasses, and knew them all by name, too, because Detail members were out there, too, disguised as street rats or passersby. At one time or another, the regulars had all been trailed to whatever homes they might have, and identified, and investigated, quietly. Those with irregularities were profiled for personality type-they all had a few kinks-and then they'd be carefully scanned by the Detail members who worked outside for weapons-up to and including being bumped into by a jogger and expertly groped while being helped to their feet during the embarrassed apology. But that danger was past, for now.
Didn't you check your schedule last night? Price asked, distracted from her duties into asking a dumb question.
No, decided to catch some TV, SWORDSMAN lied, not knowing that they spotted the lie. He didn't even blush, Price saw. For her part, she didn't allow her face to change. Even POTUS was allowed to have a secret or two, or at least the illusion of it.
Okay, here's my copy. She handed it over. Ryan scanned the first page, which took him to lunch. SecTreas is on the way in for breakfast right after CARDSHARP.
What do you guys call George? Jack asked, entering the West Wing.
TRADER. He likes that, Andrea reported.
Just so you pronounce it right. Which wasn't a bad line for 7:50 A.M., POTUS thought. But it was hard to tell. The Detail liked nearly all of his jokes. Maybe they were just being polite?
Good morning, Mr. President. Goodley stood, as usual, when Jack entered the Oval Office.
Hi, Ben. Ryan dropped the schedule down on his desk, made a quick scan for important documents, and took his seat. Go.
You stole my thunder talking with the crew last night. We have gornischt on Mr. Zhang. I could give you the long version, but I imagine you've already heard it. The President nodded for him to go on.
Okay, developments in the Taiwan Strait. The PRC has fifteen surface ships at sea, two formations, one of six, one of nine. I have compositions if you want, but they're all destroyers and frigates. Deployed in regular squadron groupings, the Pentagon tells us. We have an EC-135 listening in. We have a submarine, Pasadena, camped between the two groups, with two more boats en route from central Pacific, timed to arrive in-area in thirty-six and fifty hours, respectively. CINCPAC, Admiral Seaton, is up to speed and tasking out a full surveillance package. His parameters are on Secretary Bretano's desk now. I've discussed it over the phone. Sounds like Seaton knows his business.
Political side, the ROC government is taking no official notice of the exercise. They put out a press release to that effect, but their military is in contact with ours-through CINCPAC. We'll have people in their listening posts-Goodley checked his watch-may be there already.