The sum of all fears - Tom Clancy [325]
"My wife got a headache, sir. Had to leave. Sorry."
"Feeling all right now?"
"Yes, sir, thank you."
"Turn your people loose."
Ryan stood. "Will do, Mr President."
Van Damm followed him out and walked him to the West Entrance. "Nice job, Jack."
"Gee, they going to start liking me?" Jack asked wryly. The meeting had gone much too well.
"I don't know what happened last night, but Liz is really pissed at your wife."
"They talked about something, but I don't know what."
"Jack, you want it straight?" van Damm asked.
Ryan knew that the friendly walk to the door was just too convenient, and the symbolism was explicit enough, wasn't it? "When, Arnie?"
"I'd like to say it's just business and not personal, but it is personal. I'm sorry, Jack, but it happens. The President will give you a glowing send-off."
"Nice of him," Jack replied matter-of-factly.
"I tried, Jack. You know I like you. These things happen."
"I'll go quietly. But-"
"I know. No back-shots on the way out or after you're gone. You'll be asked in periodically, maybe draw some special missions, liaison stuff. You get an honorable discharge. On that, Jack, you have my word of honor, and the President's. He's not a bad guy, Jack, really he isn't. He's a tough-minded son-of-a-bitch and a good politician, but he's as honest as any man I know. It's just that your way of thinking and his way of thinking are different - and he's the President."
Jack could have said that the mark of intellectual honesty is the solicitation of opposing points of view. Instead, he said, "Like I said, I'll go quietly. I've been doing this long enough. It's time to relax a little, smell the roses and play with the kids."
"Good man." Van Damm patted his arm. "You bring this job off and your going-away statement from the Boss will sparkle. We'll have Gallic Weston write it, even."
"You stroke like a pro, Arnie." Ryan shook his hand and walked off to his car. Van Damm would have been surprised to see the smile on his face.
"Do you have to do it that way?"
"Elizabeth, ideological differences notwithstanding, he has served his country well. I disagree with him on a lot of things, but he's never lied to me, and he's always tried to give me good advice," Fowler replied, looking at the plastic-stick microphone. He suddenly wondered if it was working.
"I told you what happened last night."
"You got your wish. He's on the way out. At this level, you do not throw people out the door. You do it in a civilized and honorable way. Anything else is small-minded and decidedly stupid, politically. I agree with you that he's a dinosaur, but even dinosaurs get a nice spot in the museums."
"But-"
"That's all. Okay, you had words with his wife last night. I'm sorry about that, but what kind of person penalizes someone for what their wife did?"
"Bob, I have a right to expect your support!"
Fowler didn't like that, but responded reasonably. "And you have it, Elizabeth. Now, this is neither the time nor the place for this sort of discussion."
Marcus Cabot arrived at Andrews Air Force Base just after lunch for his flight to Korea. The arrangements were more luxurious than they looked. The aircraft was a U.S. Air Force C-1418 Starlifter, an aircraft with four engines and an oddly serpent-like fuselage. Loaded into the cargo area, he saw, was essentially a house trailer complete with kitchen, living and bed rooms. It was also heavily insulated - the C-141 is a noisy aircraft, especially aft. He went out the front door to meet the flight crew. The pilot, he saw, was a blond captain of thirty years. There were, in fact, two complete flight crews. The flight would be long, with a fueling stop at Travis Air Force Base in California, followed by three mid-air 'tankings' over the Pacific. It would also be singularly