The sum of all fears - Tom Clancy [346]
The fire was agreeably warm. The President's cabin at Camp David was in the classic American pattern, heavy logs laid one atop the other, though on the inside they were reinforced with Kevlar fiber, and the windows were made of rugged polycarbonate to stop a bullet. The furniture was an even more curious mix of ultra-modern and old-comfortable. Before the couch he sat on were three printers for the major news services, because his predecessors liked to see the wire copy, and there were three full-sized televisions, one of which was usually tuned to CNN. But not tonight. Tonight it was on Cinemax. Half a mile away was a discreetly-sited antenna farm that tracked all of the commercial satellites, along with most of the military ones, a benefit of which was access to every commercial satellite channel - even the X-rated ones, which Fowler didn't bother with - creating the world's most expensive and exclusive cable system.
Fowler poured himself a beer. It was a bottle of Dortmunder Union, a popular German brew that the Air Force flew over - being President did carry some useful and unofficial perks. Liz Elliot drank a French white, while the President's left hand toyed with her hair.
The movie was a sappy comedic romance that appealed to Bob Fowler. The female lead, in fact, reminded him of Liz in looks and mannerisms. A little too snappy, a little too domineering, but not without redeeming social value. Now that Ryan was gone - well, on the way to being gone - maybe things would settle down.
"We've certainly done well, haven't we?"
"Yes, we have, Bob." She paused for a sip of wine. "You were right about Ryan. Better to let him go honorably." So long as he's gone, along with that little shrew he married.
"I'm glad to hear you say that. He's not a bad guy, just old-fashioned. Out of date."
"Obsolete," Liz added.
"Yeah," the President agreed. "Why are we talking about him?"
"I can think of better things." She turned her face into his hand and kissed it.
"So can I," the President murmured as he set his glass down.
"The roads are covered," Cathy reported. "I think you made the right decision."
"Yeah, there was just a bad one on the Parkway just outside the gate. I'll be home tomorrow night. I can always steal one of the four-by-fours they have downstairs."
"Where's John?"
"He's not here right now."
"Oh," Cathy observed. And what might he be up to?
"While I'm here, I might as well get some work done. Call you in the morning."
"Okay, bye."
"That's one aspect of this place that I won't miss," Jack told Goodley. "Okay, what have you developed?"
"We've been able to verify all the meetings through September."
"You look like you're ready to drop. How long have you been up?"
"Since yesterday, I guess."
"Must be nice to be still in your twenties. Crab a piece of the couch outside," Ryan ordered.
"What about you?"
"I want to read over this stuff again." Jack tapped the file on his desk. "You're not into this one yet. Go get some Z's."
"See you in the morning."
The door closed behind Goodley. Jack started to read through the NIITAKA documents, but soon lost concentration. He locked the file in his desk and found a piece of his own couch, but sleep wouldn't come. After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, Ryan decided that he might as well stare at something less boring. He switched on the TV. Jack worked the controller to catch a news broadcast, but he hit the wrong button and found himself staring at the tail end of a commercial on Channel 20, an independent Washington station. He almost corrected the mistake when the movie came back. It took a moment. Gregory Peck and Ava Gardner black and white Australia.
"Oh yeah," Ryan said to himself. It was On the Beach. He hadn't seen that in years, a Cold War classic from Nevil Shute, wasn't it? A Gregory Peck movie was always worth the trouble. Fred Astaire, too.
The aftermath of a nuclear war. Jack was