Executive orders - Tom Clancy [37]
The United States of America had thwarted him for years. So much power. Even after reducing its might following the downfall of the Soviet Union-the lesser Satan-America could do things possible for no other nation. All it needed was political resolve, and though that was rare enough, the threat of it was ever daunting. Every so often the country would rally behind a single purpose, as had happened not so long before against Iraq, with consequences so startlingly decisive as compared with what little his own country had managed in a shooting war that had lasted nearly a full decade. That was the danger of America. But America was a thinner reed now-or rather, America was, if not quite headless, then nearly so. The strongest body was rendered crippled and useless by an injury to its neck, the more so from one to its head
Just one man, Daryaei thought, not hearing the words from the television now. The words didn't matter now. Ryan wasn't saying anything of substance, but telling the man half a world away much with his demeanor. The new head of that country had a neck that became the focus of Daryaei's gaze. Its symbolism was clear. The technical issue, after all, was to complete the separation of head from body, and all that stood between the two was the neck.
TEN MINUTES TO the next one, Arnie said after Joy left to catch her car to the airport. The Fox reporter was in makeup.
How am I doing? Jack disconnected the mike wire before standing this time. He needed to stretch his legs.
Not bad, van Damm judged, charitably. He might have said something else to a career politician, but a real politico would have had to field really tough questions. It was as though a golfer were playing against his handicap instead of a tour-pro partner, and that was fair, as far as it went. Most important, Ryan needed to have his confidence built up if he were to function at all. The presidency was hard enough at the best of times, and while every holder of that office had wished more than once to be rid of Congress and other agencies and departments as well, it was Ryan who would have to learn how indispensable the whole system of government was-and he'd learn the hard way.
I have to get used to a lot, don't I? Jack leaned against the wall outside the Roosevelt Room, looking up and down the corridor.
You'll learn, the chief of staff promised him.
Maybe so. Jack smiled, not realizing that the activity of the morning-the recent activity-had given his mind something to shunt aside the other circumstances of the day. Then a Secret Service agent handed him a slip of paper.
HOWEVER UNFAIR IT was to the other families, it was to be understood that the first priority had to be the body of President Durling. No fewer than four mobile cranes had been set up on the west side of the building, operating under the direction of hard-hatted construction foremen standing with a team of skilled workers on the floor of the chamber, much too close for safety, but OSHA wasn't around this morning. The only government inspectors who mattered were Secret Service-the FBI might have had overall jurisdiction, but no one would have stood between them and their own mournful quest. There was a doctor and a team of paramedics standing by as well, on the unlikely chance that someone might have survived despite everything to the contrary. The real trick was coordinating the actions of the cranes, which dipped into the crater-that's how it looked-like a quartet of giraffes drinking from the same water hole, never quite banging together due to the skill of the operators.
Look here! The construction supervisor