The sum of all fears - Tom Clancy [302]
"What about the computer side?"
That program has already been validated. They've taken tapes from six different aircraft, and smoothed out the noise. It's never taken them more than two or three hours to do an hour of tape."
"Mexico City to B.C. is "
"Depending on weather, just under four hours, max. Doing the full tape will be an overnighter," Clark estimated. "The President's schedule is what?"
"Arrival ceremony is Monday afternoon. The first business session is the following morning. State dinner Tuesday night."
"You going?"
Ryan shook his head. "No, we're going to the one a week earlier - geez, that's not too far off, is it? I'll call the 89th Wing at Andrews. They do training hops all the time. Getting your team aboard won't be hard."
"I have three capture teams selected. They're all ex-Air Force and Navy elite spooks," Clark said. They know the business."
"Okay, run with it."
"You got it, Doc."
Jack watched him leave and lit up another.
CHAPTER 29
Crossroads
MV Carmen Vita cleared the Straits of Gibraltar right on schedule, her Pielstick diesels driving her at a constant nineteen knots. The crew of forty officers and men (this ship did not have any women in the crew, though three of the officers had their wives with them) settled down for the normal sailing routine of watch-keeping and maintenance. They were seven days out from the Virginia Capes. On her deck and stowed below were a goodly number of standard-sized container boxes. These actually came in two sizes, and they were all loaded with various types of cargo which the captain and crew neither knew nor cared very much about. The whole point of contamenzation was that the ship was used exclusively as a contract-hauler, much as a trucker was used by various businesses. All the ship's crew needed to worry about was the weight of the containers, and that always seemed to work out rather uniformly, since the containers themselves were always loaded to reflect what a commercial truck could legally pull along a public highway.
The ship's southerly routing also made for a fairly sedate and uneventful passage. The really bitter winter storms followed a more northerly track, and the ship's master, a native of India, was happy for it. A youngish man for such a substantial command - he was only thirty-seven - he knew that good weather made for a fast and fuel-efficient voyage. He aspired to a larger and more sumptuous ship, and by keeping Carmen Vita on schedule and under budget, he'd get that in due course.
It was the tenth day in a row that Clark hadn't seen Mrs Ryan. John Clark had a good memory for such things, honed by years of field operations of one sort or another, in which one stayed alive by keeping track of everything, whether it seemed important or not. He'd never seen her more than twice in a row. Jack worked an inconvenient schedule - but so did she, with early-morning surgery at least twice a week and she was awake this morning. He saw her head through the kitchen window, sitting at a table, probably drinking coffee and reading the paper or watching TV. But she hadn't even turned her head to look at her husband when he left, had she? Ordinarily she got up to kiss him goodbye like any wife. Ten days in a row.
Not a good sign, was it? What was the problem? Jack came out to the car, his face dark and looking down. There was the grimace again.
"Morning, Doc!" Clark greeted him cheerily.
"Hi, John," was the subdued reply. He hadn't brought his paper again, either. He started reading from the dispatch box as usual, and by the time they reached the DC Beltway, he'd just be staring, a grim thousand-yard stare in his eyes as he lit a continuous chain of cigarettes. Clark decided that he just couldn't stand it anymore.
"Problem at home, Doc?" he asked quietly, watching the road.
"Yeah, but it's my problem."
"Guess so. The kids are okay?"
"It's not the kids, John. Leave it, okay?"
"Right." Clark concentrated on his driving while