The sum of all fears - Tom Clancy [110]
"Tell me, Robert, this treaty idea - where exactly did it come from?" Narmonov asked. He knew the truth and wanted to see Fowler's abilities as a liar.
"Many places, as with all such ideas," the President replied lightly. "The moving force was Charles Alden - poor bastard. When the Israelis had that terrible incident, he activated his plan immediately and - well, it worked, didn't it?"
The Russian nodded again, and made his mental notes. Fowler lied with skill, evading the substance of the question to give a truthful but evasive answer. Khrushchev was right, as he'd already known. Politicians all the world over are not terribly different. It was something to remember about Fowler. He didn't like sharing credit, and was not above lying in the face of a peer, even over something so small as this. Narmonov was vaguely disappointed. Not that he'd expected anything else, but Fowler could have shown grace and humanity. He'd stood to lose nothing by it, after all. Instead he was as petty as any local Party apparatchik. "Tell me, Robert", Narmonov asked behind a poker face that would have stood him well in Las Vegas, "what sort of man are you?"
"It is late, my friend," Narmonov observed. "Tomorrow afternoon, then?"
Fowler stood. "Tomorrow afternoon, Andrey."
Bob Fowler escorted the Russian to the door and saw him off, then returned to his suite of rooms. Once there he pulled the hand-written check-list out of his pocket to make sure he'd asked all the questions.
"Well?"
"Well, the missile problem, he says, is exactly what our inspectors said it is. That ought to satisfy the guys at DIA." A grimace; it wouldn't. "I think he's worried about his military."
Dr Elliot sat down. "Anything else?"
The President poured her a glass of wine, then sat beside his National Security Advisor. The normal pleasantries. He's a very busy, very worried man. Well, we knew that, didn't we?"
Liz swirled the wine around the glass and sniffed at it.
She didn't like Italian wines, but this one wasn't bad. "I've been thinking, Robert "
"Yes, Elizabeth?"
"What happened to Charlie we need to do something. It isn't fair that he should have disappeared like that. He's the guy who put this treaty on track, isn't he?"
"Well, yes," Fowler agreed, sipping at his own replenished glass. "You're right, Elizabeth. It really was his effort."
"I think we should let that out - quietly, of course. At the very least -"
"Yes, he should be remembered for something other than a pregnant grad student. That's very gracious of you, Elizabeth." Fowler tapped his glass against hers. "You handle the media people. You're releasing the treaty details tomorrow before lunch?"
"That's right, about nine, I think."
"Then after you're finished, take a few of the journalists aside and give it to them on background. Maybe Charlie will rest a little easier."
"No problem, Mr President," Liz agreed. Exorcizing that particular demon came easily enough, didn't it? Was there anything she could not talk him into?
"Big day tomorrow."
"The biggest, Bob, the biggest." Elliot leaned back and loosened the scarf from her throat. "I never thought I'd ever have a moment like this."
"I did," Fowler observed with a twinkle in his eye. There came a momentary pang of conscience. He'd expected to have it with someone else, but that was fate, wasn't it? Fate. The world was so strange. But he had no control over that, did he? And fate had decreed that he would be here at the moment in question, with Elizabeth. It wasn't his doing, was it? Therefore, he decided, there was no guilt, was there? How could there be guilt? He was making the world into a better, safer, more peaceful place. How could guilt attach to that?
Elliot closed her eyes as the President's hand caressed her offered neck. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected a moment like this.
The entire floor of the hotel was reserved for the President's party, and