Read Online Trinity's Child by William Prochnau - Free Book Online Page B

for both our nations, I was forced to compromise. Some of my colleagues demanded the inclusion of an intimidation factor. I doubt you will be intimidated. It will do you no personal harm. . . .”
    The President knew every eye in the Situation Room was on him. He did not like the feeling. He fought to control the shaking. Why? And why this way? His mind floated woozily back to his Inauguration Day and the ride up Pennsylvania Avenue with his predecessor. He did not like the man he had beaten and did not particularly respect him, a feeling he knew was mutual. The inaugural ride had been mostly silent. Then, as the procession made the final turn toward the Capitol, the outgoing President finally broke the silence.
    “What would you do if, the moment you took your hand off the Bible today, the Soviets hit you with a BOOB attack?” The question was quiet and serious.
    “I'm sorry, sir,” he had replied, not sure he had heard.
    “If the Russians hit you with a BOOB attack?”
    “A what attack?”
    “A BOOB attack.”
    He had turned away from the crowds outside the limo and met eyes that bored in on him, the way he felt other eyes boring now. “Afraid you've got me there,” he replied, the crowds smile still on his face. “Thought I'd been briefed on 'em all. What the hell is a BOOB attack?”
    “Bolt out of the blue. No warning at all.”
    “We both know that's the least likely scenario.” The President-elect didn't like his predecessor's tone. This was his day, dammit. “Guess that's why they gave it that acronym, huh?”
    “Don't kid yourself. You don't have the space to kid yourself now. We say it's the least likely because it's the only one for which we can conceive of no humanly acceptable response. Therefore it won't happen. We're very good at rationalizing. Everything nuclear is a rationalization. The Japanese started World War II with a BOOB attack.”
    “This is different. This is nuclear. Only a boob would do it.”
    “Maybe. We ended World War II with a BOOB attack. A nuclear BOOB attack. The Soviets reminded me of that many times. And don't kid yourself about our wonderful propensity for acronyms. For most of our political lifetimes we've been living with a nuclear policy known as Mutual Assured Destruction. If each side has enough to totally destroy the other, neither side will use it. Nice rationalization, that one. Nice acronym, too. MAD.”
    The President-elect had stopped smiling and stared eye to eye with the man he was succeeding. Then he broke into a grin again.
    “Well, at my age, I don't think I'll let boobs keep me awake nights,” he said, and turned to resume waving to the crowds.
    “That's too bad,” he heard over his shoulder.
    The conversation had confirmed his opinion of the man he had defeated. The man was damned rude.
     
     
    O'Toole collided with the raw outside air last but at full stride. The first icy assault froze the hair inside his nostrils, then seared the inside of his lungs. Jackhammer pain racked his head. Icy darts jabbed through the soles of his boots, slicing at the nerves in his wet feet. His brain, overwhelmed by the sensory overload, went blank as he careened down the out-ramp, only his instincts and training propelling him after his crewmates.
    Near the wingtip, Moreau edged past Halupalai, lung fog billowing over her shoulder. Kazaklis moved past, too, enveloping the Hawaiian in their mist. Moreau scrambled up the belly hole first, clambering up the inky stairwell toward the hypnotic lure of the dim red glow of the cockpit lights two levels above. Kazaklis entered next, his groping hand landing high on the inside of the copilot's leg before reaching the railing.
    “You bastard,” Moreau spat over her shoulder.
    “Move it, Moreau,” Kazaklis shot back. “I've felt better thighs on a Safeway fryer.”
    That wasn't true. But he had been regretting the foolishness of his move on Moreau for six long months now. There were plenty of pelvic bones. And she knew