The sum of all fears - Tom Clancy [383]
"Anything from the Russians?"
"Nothing unusual at all. There's a regional air-defense exercise underway in Eastern Siberia. That's all."
"Okay, alert all the stations. Put the word out that I want to hear anything they might have - anything. They are to hit every source they can just as fast as they can." Jack paused one more time. "How sure are we that this really happened?"
"Sir, two DSPS satellites copied the flash. We have a KH-11 that's going to be overhead in about twenty minutes, and I've directed NPIC to put every camera they have on Denver. NORAD says it's a definite nuclear detonation, but there's no word on yield or damage. The explosion seems to be in the immediate area of the stadium - like Black Sunday, sir, but real. This is definitely not a drill, not if we're jacking the strategic forces to DEFCON-TWO, sir."
"Inbound ballistic track? Aircraft delivery?"
"Negative on the first, there was no launch warning, and no ballistic radar track."
"What about a FOBS?" Goodley asked. A weapon could be delivered by satellite. That was the purpose of a Fractional-Orbital Bombardment System.
"They would have caught that," the SDO replied. "I already asked. On the aircraft side, they don't know yet. They're trying to check air-traffic-control tapes."
"So we don't know jack shit."
"Correct."
"President check in with us yet?" Ryan asked.
"No, but we have an open line there. He has the National Security Advisor there also."
"Most likely scenario?"
"I'd say terrorism."
Ryan nodded. "So would I. I'm taking over the conference room. Okay, I want DO, DI, DS&T in here immediately. If you need choppers to fetch them in, order 'em." Ryan walked into the room, leaving the door open.
"Christ," Goodley said. "You sure you want me here?"
"Yes, and when you have an idea, you say it out loud. I forgot about FOBS." Jack lifted the phone and punched the FBI button.
"Command Center."
"This is CIA, Deputy Director Ryan speaking. Who is this?"
"Inspector Pat O'Day. I have Deputy-Assistant Director Murray here also. You're on speaker, sir."
"Talk to me, Dan." Jack put his phone on speaker, also. A watch officer handed him a cup of coffee.
"We don't know anything. No heads-up at all, Jack. Thinking terrorists?"
"At the moment, it seems the most plausible alternative."
"How sure are you of that?"
"Sure?" Ryan shook his head at the phone, Goodley saw. "What's "sure" mean, Dan?"
"I hear you. We're still trying to figure out what happened here, too. I can't even get CNN on the TV to work."
"What?"
"One of my communications people says the satellites are all out," Murray explained. "Didn't you know that?"
"No." Jack pointed for Goodley to get back into the Ops Center and find out. "If that's true, it could scratch the terrorism idea. Jesus, that's scary!"
"It's true, Jack. We've checked."
"They think ten commercial commosats are nonfunctional," Goodley said. "All the defense birds are on line, though. Our commlinks are okay."
"Find the most senior S&T guy you can find - or one of our common people - and ask him what could snuff out satellites. Move!" Jack ordered. "Where's Shaw?"
"On his way in. Going to be a while the way the roads are."
"Dan, I'll give you everything I get here."
"It'll be a two-way street." The line went dead.
The most horrible thing was that Ryan didn't know what to do next. It was his job to gather data and forward it to the President, but he had no data. What information there was would come in through military circuits. CIA had failed again, Ryan told himself. Someone had done something to his country, and he hadn't warned anyone. People were dead because his agency had failed in its mission. Ryan was Deputy Director, the man who really ran the shop for the political drone placed over his head. The failure was personal. A million people dead, maybe, and there he was, all alone in an elegant little conference room staring at a wall with nothing on it. He hunted a line to NORAD and punched it.
"NORAD,"