The sum of all fears - Tom Clancy [349]
The major trudged back to the cabin. The helicopter pad was on a high spot, and the wind was trying very hard to blow it clear of snow. As a result, there was only six inches to worry about. Down below, the drifts were as much as three feet deep. The grunts out walking the woods must be having a fine time, he thought.
"How bad?" the pilot asked, shaving.
"Circuit panel is acting up. The chief says he needs all day to get it back on line."
"We didn't hit that hard," the colonel objected.
"I already said that. Want me to make the call?"
"Yeah, go ahead. Have you checked the threat board?"
"The world's at peace, Colonel, sir. I checked."
The 'threat board' was mainly an expression. The alert level of the government agencies that dealt with various problems depended on the expected level of danger in the world. The greater the possible danger, the more assets were kept ready to deal with them. At the moment there was no perceived threat to the United States of America, and that meant that only a single aircraft was kept ready to back-stop the President's VH-3. The major placed the call to Annacostia.
"Yeah, let's keep dash-two warm. Dash-one is down with electrical problems no, we can handle it here. Oughta be back on line by midnight. Right. Bye." The major hung up just in time for Pete Connor to enter their cabin.
"What gives?"
"Bird's broke," the colonel replied.
"I didn't think we hit that hard," Connor objected.
"Well, that makes it official," the major observed. "The only one who thinks we did hit that hard's the friggin' airplane."
"The back-up's on alert status," the colonel said, as he finished shaving. "Sorry, Pete. Electrical problem, maybe has nothing to do with the touchdown. The back-up can be here in thirty-five minutes. Our threat board is blank. Anything we need to know about?"
Connor shook his head. "No, Ed. We know of no particular threat."
"I can bring the back-up bird here, but it means exposing it to the weather. We can take better care of it down at Annacostia. That's your call, sir."
"You can leave it down there."
"The Boss still wants to watch the game up here, right?"
"Correct. We all get a day off. Lift off for D.C. tomorrow about six-thirty. Problem with that?"
"No, ought to be fixed before then."
"Okay." Connor left and walked back to his cabin.
"What's it like out there?" Daga asked.
"About how it looks," Pete said. "The chopper's broke."
"I wish they'd be more careful," Special Agent Helen D'Agustino observed as she brushed her hair.
"Not their fault." Connor lifted the phone to the Secret Service command center, located a few blocks west of the White House. This is Connor. The chopper is down with a mechanical problem. Back-up is being kept at Annacostia because of weather conditions. Anything on the board I need to know about?"
"No, sir," the junior agent responded. On his status board, in LED characters he could see that the President of the United States - designated 'POTUS' on his display - was shown to be at Camp David. The First Lady of the United States - 'FLOTUS' - space was blank. The Vice President was at his official residence on the ground of the U.S. Naval Observatory off of Massachusetts Avenue, North West, along with his family. "Everything's nice and calm, far as we know."
"How are the roads down there?" Pete asked.
"Bad. Every Carryall we have is out retrieving people."
"Thank God for Chevrolet." Like the FBI, the Secret Service used the big Chevy four-wheel-drive trucks to get around. Heavily armored and with roughly the fuel-efficiency of a tank, the Carryall was able to do things that only a tank could excel. "Okay, it's nice and snug up here."
"I bet the Marines are freezing their cojones off."
"What about Dulles?"
"The Prime Minister is due in at eighteen hundred. The guys say Dulles has one runway open now. They expect to have everything clear by afternoon. Storm's slacking