[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"Certain of what, dammit?"
"Don't you remember our earlier conversation, General?- No cowcatcher means
it's not American. We have a foreign . . . er ... KKV."
"Can you ID the country of origin?"
"That's my hope, sir."
"Could it be African?"
"African?" the major said, his voice frowning. The general distinctly heard
him flipping through the pages of a book.
"I see no mention of any African models in this book on steam KKV's."
"Our intelligence indicates it lifted off from Africa. So it's gotta be
African."
"The first one was a U.S. model. But of course, a lot of older models were
shipped abroad after we converted the diesel engines. Can I say 'engines' over
an open line?"
"I don't care," the general said morosely. "I want to know where that thing
came from. Isn't there any way we can find out?"
"There is one possibility sir. The livery."
"Say that again."
"When an engine goes into service, it's painted with the operating company's
colors. Just like they do with passenger jets today. They call that the
livery."
"Sound reasoning, Major. What color is this KKV?"
"Unknown, General. The entire surface is scorched. But we're trying to scrape
off the gunk and get to the paint. It's our only chance."
"Will you need any special equipment?"
"Yes, whatever they use to analyze paint. I would think the FBI lab would be
able to help.
"No good. I don't know anyone in the FBI. They're law. I don't mess with the
civilian law. The military is one thing, but once civilian law gets on a man's
tail, they don't let go."
"I catch your drift, General. What about the CIA?"
"No way. You get in hock to those spook bastards and the next thing you know,
their periscopes are rising out of the john while you're sitting on it."
"Well, General, whatever you have to do, if we can get paint samples and you
can have them identified, we should have our ID."
"I'll get right on it," promised General Leiber, hanging up.
"Damn!" he swore after some thought. He didn't know squat about paint
analysis. Worse, he didn't know anyone who did.
The phone rang suddenly, and without thinking, he picked it up.
"General Leiber?" The voice was very authoritarian, very military.
"Yes. Who is this?"
"This is the joint Chiefs."
"I hear only one of you."
"I'm chairman. Admiral Blackbird. We've just watched the President's address.
What goes on? Who is this military mind the President is talking about? We
know it isn't the Acting Secretary of Defense. We have that bastard down here
where he can't muck things up with his inexperience."
"Good move," said General Leiber, who hadn't even thought of the Secretary of
Page 57
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Defense. "Admiral," he went on, "if the President had wanted this man's
identity known, he would have broadcast it. I understand from the President
that the security of the good old U.S. of A. depends upon this man's name
being a national secret."
"Harrumph. I suppose that makes good strategic sense. Give us the poop on the
situation threat-wise."
"We're at Defcon Two and holding."
"We know that. What's the situation on your end?"
"We're moving toward identifying the aggressor."
"Good. We're itching to press buttons down here. Anything we can do to speed
up the process?"
"We've got a complicated materiel-analysis problem up here," General Leiber
said. "Frankly, we're not certain how to proceed. The normal agencies that
might handle this kind of work are civilian. We don't want to involve them. "
"Good thinking. Civilians can't pound sand."
"I read you there. So what do we do?"
"General, when the Joint Chiefs are in this situation, there is only one place
to turn."
"Sir?"
"Computers, man. Computers can do anything today. What you do is find a
computer to handle the matter, program it, and let 'er rip!"
"Outstanding, Admiral. I'll pass your suggestion along. We'll be in touch."
General Leiber hung up with a gleeful expression. Why hadn't he thought of
that himself? Of course. A computer. There were tons of them in the
Pentagon-payroll computers, cost-analysis computers, there was even a
wargaming computer. Somewhere.
The trouble was, the damned things took weeks or even months to program.
General Leiber didn't have weeks to program a computer to analyze scorched
paint chips. And he sure didn't trust any Pentagon programmer with the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
"Certain of what, dammit?"
"Don't you remember our earlier conversation, General?- No cowcatcher means
it's not American. We have a foreign . . . er ... KKV."
"Can you ID the country of origin?"
"That's my hope, sir."
"Could it be African?"
"African?" the major said, his voice frowning. The general distinctly heard
him flipping through the pages of a book.
"I see no mention of any African models in this book on steam KKV's."
"Our intelligence indicates it lifted off from Africa. So it's gotta be
African."
"The first one was a U.S. model. But of course, a lot of older models were
shipped abroad after we converted the diesel engines. Can I say 'engines' over
an open line?"
"I don't care," the general said morosely. "I want to know where that thing
came from. Isn't there any way we can find out?"
"There is one possibility sir. The livery."
"Say that again."
"When an engine goes into service, it's painted with the operating company's
colors. Just like they do with passenger jets today. They call that the
livery."
"Sound reasoning, Major. What color is this KKV?"
"Unknown, General. The entire surface is scorched. But we're trying to scrape
off the gunk and get to the paint. It's our only chance."
"Will you need any special equipment?"
"Yes, whatever they use to analyze paint. I would think the FBI lab would be
able to help.
"No good. I don't know anyone in the FBI. They're law. I don't mess with the
civilian law. The military is one thing, but once civilian law gets on a man's
tail, they don't let go."
"I catch your drift, General. What about the CIA?"
"No way. You get in hock to those spook bastards and the next thing you know,
their periscopes are rising out of the john while you're sitting on it."
"Well, General, whatever you have to do, if we can get paint samples and you
can have them identified, we should have our ID."
"I'll get right on it," promised General Leiber, hanging up.
"Damn!" he swore after some thought. He didn't know squat about paint
analysis. Worse, he didn't know anyone who did.
The phone rang suddenly, and without thinking, he picked it up.
"General Leiber?" The voice was very authoritarian, very military.
"Yes. Who is this?"
"This is the joint Chiefs."
"I hear only one of you."
"I'm chairman. Admiral Blackbird. We've just watched the President's address.
What goes on? Who is this military mind the President is talking about? We
know it isn't the Acting Secretary of Defense. We have that bastard down here
where he can't muck things up with his inexperience."
"Good move," said General Leiber, who hadn't even thought of the Secretary of
Page 57
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Defense. "Admiral," he went on, "if the President had wanted this man's
identity known, he would have broadcast it. I understand from the President
that the security of the good old U.S. of A. depends upon this man's name
being a national secret."
"Harrumph. I suppose that makes good strategic sense. Give us the poop on the
situation threat-wise."
"We're at Defcon Two and holding."
"We know that. What's the situation on your end?"
"We're moving toward identifying the aggressor."
"Good. We're itching to press buttons down here. Anything we can do to speed
up the process?"
"We've got a complicated materiel-analysis problem up here," General Leiber
said. "Frankly, we're not certain how to proceed. The normal agencies that
might handle this kind of work are civilian. We don't want to involve them. "
"Good thinking. Civilians can't pound sand."
"I read you there. So what do we do?"
"General, when the Joint Chiefs are in this situation, there is only one place
to turn."
"Sir?"
"Computers, man. Computers can do anything today. What you do is find a
computer to handle the matter, program it, and let 'er rip!"
"Outstanding, Admiral. I'll pass your suggestion along. We'll be in touch."
General Leiber hung up with a gleeful expression. Why hadn't he thought of
that himself? Of course. A computer. There were tons of them in the
Pentagon-payroll computers, cost-analysis computers, there was even a
wargaming computer. Somewhere.
The trouble was, the damned things took weeks or even months to program.
General Leiber didn't have weeks to program a computer to analyze scorched
paint chips. And he sure didn't trust any Pentagon programmer with the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]