The sum of all fears - Tom Clancy [169]
"I know the CAG on TR, Robby Jackson," Ryan said to nobody in particular. Not that it mattered. Theodore Roosevelt was actually in Norfolk, and Robby was still preparing for his next cruise. The names in the wargame were generic, and personal knowledge of the players didn't matter, since they were not supposed to be real people. But if it were real, Robby was Commander Air Group on USS Theodore Roosevelt, and his would be the first plane off the cats. It was well to remember that, though this might be a game, its purpose was deadly serious. "Background information?" Jack asked. He didn't remember all of the pre-brief on the scenario being played out.
"CIA reports a possible mutiny in the Soviet Union by Red Army units in Kazakhstan, and disturbances in two Navy bases there also," the game narrator, a Navy commander, reported.
"Soviet units in the vicinity of Valley Forge?" Bunker asked.
"Possibly a submarine," the naval officer answered.
"Flash Message," the wall speaker announced. "USS Kidd reports that it has destroyed an inbound surface-to-surface missile with its Close-in Weapons System. Superficial damage to the ship, no casualties."
Jack walked to the corner to pour himself a cup of coffee. He smiled as he did so. These games were fun, he admitted to himself. He really did enjoy them. They were also realistic. He'd been swept away from a normal day's routine, dumped in a stuffy room, given confused and fragmented information, and had no idea at all what the hell was supposed to be going on. That was reality. The old joke: How do crisis-managers resemble mushrooms? They're kept in the dark and fed horseshit. "Sir, we have an incoming HOTLINE message " Okay, Ryan thought, it's that kind of game today. The Pentagon must have come up with the scenario. Let's see if it's still possible to blow the world up
"More concrete?" Qati asked.
"Much more concrete." Fromm answered. "The machines each weigh several tons, and they must be totally stable. The room must be totally stable, and totally sealed. It must be clean like a hospital - no, much better than any hospital you have ever seen." Fromm looked down at his list. Not cleaner than a German hospital, of course. "Next, electrical power. We'll need three large backup generators, and at least two UPSs -"
"What?" Qati asked.
"Un-interruptible power supplies," Ghosn translated. "We'll keep one of the backup generators turning at all times, of course?"
"Correct," Fromm answered. "Since this is a primitive operation, we'll try not to use more than one machine at a time. The real problem with electricity is ensuring a secure circuit. So, we take the line current through the UPSs to protect against spikes. The computer systems on the milling machines are highly sensitive.
"Next!" Fromm said. "Skilled operators."
"That will be highly difficult," Ghosn observed.
The German smiled, amazing everyone present. "Not so. It will be easier than you think."
"Really?" Qati asked. Good news from this infidel!
"We'll need perhaps five highly trained men, but you have them in the region, I am sure."
"Where? There is no machine shop in the region that-"
"Certainly there is. People here wear spectacles, do they not?"
"But-"
"Of course!" Ghosn said, rolling his eyes in amazement.
"The degree of precision, you see," Fromm explained to Qati, "is no different from what is required for eyeglasses. The machines are very similar in design, just larger, and what we are attempting to do is simply to produce precise and predictable curves in a rigid material. Nuclear bombs are produced to exacting specifications. So are spectacles. Our desired object is larger, but the principle is the same, and with the proper machinery it is merely a matter of scale, not of substance. So: can you obtain skilled lens-makers?"
"I don't see why not," Qati replied, hiding his annoyance.
"They must be highly