Executive orders - Tom Clancy [364]
Huh?
For keeping him alive. We actually like taking care of the Boss, even if he gets too familiar with the hired help.
Jack freshened his drink while they relaxed on the other sofa. Remarkable, he thought. For the first time, there was a genuinely relaxed atmosphere in the office, to the point that two people could joke about him, right in front of him, as though he were a human being instead of POTUS.
I like this a lot better. The President looked up. Robby, this gal has been around more crap than we have, listened in on all sorts of things. She has a master's degree, she's smart, but I'm supposed to treat her like she's a knuckle-dragger.
Well, hell, I'm just a fighter jock with a bad knee.
And I still don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be. Andrea?
Yes, Mr. President? Getting her to call him by his name was an impossible goal, Jack knew.
China, what do you think?
I think I'm no expert, but since you ask, I don't know.
You're expert enough, Robby observed with a grunt. All the king's horses and all the king's men don't know much, either. The additional subs are arriving, he told the President. Mancuso wants them on the north-south line between the two navies. I've concurred on that, and the Secretary's signed off on it.
How's Bretano doing?
He knows what he doesn't know, Jack. He listens to us on operational stuff, asks good questions, and listens some more. He wants to start getting out into the field next week, poke around and see the kids at work to educate himself. His managerial skills are downright awesome, but he's swinging a big ax-he's going to, that is. I've seen his draft plan for downsizing the bureaucracy. Whoa, Admiral Jackson concluded, with an eye-roll.
You have problems with that? Jack asked.
No way. It's about fifty years overdue. Ms. Price, I'm an operator, he explained. I like greasy flight suits and the smell of jet fuel and pulling g's. But us guys at the sharp end always have the desk-sitters after us like a bunch of little dogs at our ankles all the time. Bretano loves engineers and people who do things, but along the way he's learned to hate bureaucrats and cost accountants. My kind of guy.
Back to China, Ryan said.
Okay, we still have the electronics-intelligence flights working out of Kadena. We're getting routine training stuff. We do not know what intentions the ChiComs have. CIA isn't giving us much. Signal intelligence is unremarkable. State says that their government says, 'What's the big deal?' And that's it. The Taiwanese navy is big enough to handle the threat, if there is one, unless they get cold-cocked. That's not going to happen. They're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, doing their own training ops. A lot of sound and fury, signifying nothing I can make out.
The Gulf?
Well, we're hearing from our people in Israel that they're taking a very close look, but I gather they're not getting much in the way of hard intel. Whatever sources they had were probably with the generals who bugged out to Sudan-aides and such, probably. I got a fax in from Sean Magruder-
Who's that? Ryan asked.
He's an Army colonel, boss-man of the 10th Cav in the Negev. I met him last year; he's a guy we listen to. 'Most dangerous man in the world,' is what our good pal Avi ben Jakob says of Daryaei. Magruder thought that was insightful enough to pass it along.
And?
And we need to keep an eye on it. It's probably a ways off, but Daryaei has imperial ambitions. The Saudis are playing it wrong. We should have people on the way over now, maybe not many, but some, to show the other side that we're in the game.
I talked to Ali about that. His government wants to cool it.
Wrong signal, Jackson observed.
Agreed. POTUS nodded. We'll work on that.
What's the state of the Saudi military? Price asked.
Not as good as it ought to be. After the Persian Gulf War, it got fashionable to join their National Guard, and they bought equipment like it was a bunch of Mercedes cars from a wholesaler. For a while they had themselves a fine old time playing soldier, but then