Executive orders - Tom Clancy [424]
One thing at a time, Cliff.
The meeting returned to the China issue. By mutual consent, it was decided that the UIR problem was on the back burner for the next few days.
Any change in China policy from the White House? Rutledge asked.
Adler shook his head. No, the President was just trying to talk his way through things-and, yeah, I know, he shouldn't have called the Republic of China China, but maybe it rattled their cage just a little in Beijing, and I'm not all that displeased about it. They do need to learn about not killing Americans. We have crossed a line here, people. One of the things I have to do is let them know that we take that line seriously.
Accidents happen, someone observed.
The Navy says it wasn't an accident.
Come on, Mr. Secretary, Rutledge groaned. Why the hell would they do that on purpose?
It's our job to find out. Admiral Jackson made a good case for his position. If you're a cop on the street and you have an armed robber in front of you, why shoot the little old lady down the block?
Accident, obviously, Rutledge persisted.
Cliff, there are accidents, and there are accidents. This one killed Americans, and in case anybody in this room forgot, we are supposed to take that seriously.
They weren't used to that sort of reprimand. What was with Adler, anyway? The job of the State Department was to maintain the peace, to forestall conflict that killed people in the thousands. Accidents were accidents. They were unfortunate, but they happened, like cancer and heart attacks. State was supposed to deal with the Big Picture.
THANK YOU, Mr. President. Ryan left the podium, having again survived the slings and arrows of the media. He checked his watch. Damn. He'd missed seeing the kids off to school-again-and hadn't kissed Cathy good-bye, either. Where in the Constitution, he wondered, was it written down that the President wasn't a human being?
On reaching his office, he scanned the printed sheet of his daily schedule. Adler was due over in an hour for the send-off to China. Winston at ten o'clock to go over the details of his administrative changes across the street at Treasury. Arnie and Callie at eleven to go through his speeches for next week. Lunch with Tony Bretano. A meeting after lunch with-who? The Anaheim Mighty Ducks? Ryan shook his head. Oh. They'd won the Stanley Cup, and this would be a photo opportunity for them and for him. He had to talk to Arnie about that political crap. Hmph. Ought to have Ed Foley over for that, Jack smiled to himself. He was a hockey fanatic
YOU'RE RUNNING LATE, Don Russell said, as Pat O'Day dropped Megan off.
The FBI inspector continued past him, saw to Megan's coat and blanky, then returned. The power went off last night and reset my clock-radio for me, he explained.
Big day planned?
Pat shook his head. Desk day. I have to finish up a few things-you know the drill. Both did. It was essentially editing and indexing reports, a secretarial function which on sensitive cases was often done by sworn, gun-toting agents.
I hear you want to have a little contest, Russell said.
They say you're pretty good.
Oh, fair, I guess, the Secret Service agent allowed.
Yeah, I try to keep the shots inside the lines, too.
Like the Sig-Sauer?
The FBI agent shook his head. Smith 1076 stainless.
The ten-millimeter.
It makes a bigger hole, O'Day pointed out.
Nine's always been enough for me, Russell reported. Then both men laughed.
You hustle pool, too? the FBI agent asked.
Not since high school, Pat. Shall we set the amount