Smith returned to his screen, typing in the words "Kinetic Kill Vehicle" and initiating a global search through the CURE system's massive memory banks. Then he settled back in his chair. Even with massive sort and memory capabilities, the computer would take several minutes to isolate an answer.
Perhaps the President had a point, Smith mused. Perhaps CURE's mission had become too big to manage effectively. Or maybe it was just that the world had become too complicated.
Chapter 10
As General Leiber was on his way to the White House, his car phone buzzed. He picked it up.
"Yeah," he said sourly.
"Major Cheek here, General."
"What is it?"
"We have a positive ID on the hostile object."
The general sat up straight. His hand tightened on the wheel. "Give it to me," he barked.
"Bad news."
"I can take it."
"It's one of ours, for sure."
"Ours?"
"Absolutely. It's an Alco Big Boy, vintage 1941. They used to haul cargo on the defunct Wyoming Division of the Union Pacific line. It's a real monster, sir. One of the most powerful steam engines ever devised. Listen to this: length 132 feet, weight 537 tons, tractive effort of 135,375 pounds. This means it could pull that weight, sir. It had sixteen driving wheels and-"
"Never mind that crap. Can you trace it to anyone?"
"Not without knowing its running number, General. And we've found no identifying marks."
"Are you absolutely, positively certain of your information?"
"Yes. I've researched it thoroughly. The reference books are wonderful, sir. I wish I had had them before. They would have saved a lot of time. For instance, the bell turns out to have been very important. American locomotives always had them because they rode through wild country where buffalo and horses ran free. In Europe, trains don't have bells.They don't have cowcatchers either. Instead, they have these two bumper rods sticking out in front. It's really quite fascinating, General."
"I'm sure the President will agree when I tell him," General Leiber said bitterly. "I'm on my way to the White House right now. He expects a full briefing."
"Good luck, General."
"You're a big help," the general muttered, hanging up. "The bastard. I think he enjoys watching the crap rain down on me."
Frowning, the general abruptly swung his car around. He pulled up in front of a hobby store.
Inside, he went to the section devoted to model trains. "Can I help you, sir?" a clerk asked him.
"You can help not only me but also your country."
"Glad to." The clerk stiffened.
"Fine. Hang loose, civilian. I need a model of an Alco Big Boy locomotive. Right now. Can you oblige your country?"
"Yes, over here." The clerk searched a shelf of colorful boxes. He straightened. "Ah, here."
"Outstanding," the general said, ripping off the cellophane and opening the box. Inside, there were a hundred tiny plastic pieces attached to plastic trees.
"It's in pieces." The general's voice was disappointed.
"You have to assemble it."
"No time. Don't you have one that's in one piece?"
"Not that model. We do have HO scale versions of more recent trains. if you'd rather have one of those."
"It's gotta be this one," the general insisted.
"They assemble quite easily. An hour or less."
"How fast could you put one of these together?"
"Oh, perhaps twenty minutes-if I don't get a sudden rush of customers."
The general slapped the box in the clerk's hands. "Do it. For your country."
"But "
"No buts. The President of the United States is waiting for me. For this. Do it. The government will not only be eternally in your debt, but I think I can get you a consultant's fee."
"Well, business is slow-"
"Then face front and hop to it!" General Leiber barked. Twenty minutes later, when General Leiber was on his third cigar, the clerk handed him a perfect replica of an Alco Big Boy steam engine. It was redolent of plastic cement.
"Remarkable machine, isn't it?" the clerk said admiringly. "So streamlined, so powerful."
"You'd think different if one was pointed at you," the general said, pulling out a requisition form. He scribbled on it, then said, "Sign here."
The clerk signed.
"Your check will be in the mail."
Back in his car, the general put the sheet away for safekeeping. The clerk would receive $250 for emergency situational model prototype assembling. General Leiber put another zero at the end. If he survived, he would skim a cool $2,250 from the deal. If not, it wouldn't matter.
The general drove his car up to the White House gate. The guard waved him through. He drove up to the side entrance, where a Marine guard in a snappy blue dress uniform saluted him as he opened the door.
The President greeted General Leiber with a firm handshake. His sober face looked like a thundercloud. "General, step into my office."
"Yes, sir," said General Leiber, following him in and taking a seat in an empty chair. He clutched the model train, wrapped in a paper bag, in one beefy fist. The fist perspired.
"General, I want everything you have on the KKV threat," the President said evenly.
"I won't mince words," General Leiber shot back. "We're facing a threat beside which conventional nuclear weapons pale into insignificance."
"It's that bad?"
"Worse. Only a handful of nations belong to the so-called nuclear club. Of them, only three-the U.S., USSR, and China-possess intercontinental delivery systems. The KKV threat is as dire as it is because virtually every nation on earth possesses a stockpile. They are cheap. They are effective. And once they are perfected, I don't doubt that every lousy border skirmish will turn into an excuse to deploy them."
The anger in the President's face seeped away like ground water. His composed features slackened. His eyes grew tired.
"It sounds like the end of civilization as we know it," he said wearily.
"That would not be an exaggeration," General Leiber said firmly. He clutched the package tighter. He felt a piece break off under the pressure of a thumb. But that didn't matter. The President was buying it. Leiber decided to lay it on a little thicker. Maybe he wouldn't have to unwrap the locomotive. No sense in taking any chances.
"Who fired it?"
"My people are still working on that question."
"Then we cannot retaliate or threaten, can we?"
"Not with accuracy. But the retaliation option is not entirely closed."
"No? Please explain."
"Sir, at this moment, our enemy is waiting for a response. I say we give them one."
"Such as?"
"We nuke someone at random."
"Great grief! Are you serious?"
"Consider the psychological effect. If we nuke another country, the aggressor can't help but notice. It will bring him up short. He might hesitate to strike again."
"It sounds very dubious, General."
"Well, Mr. President, once you're acclimated in office, you'll find that tactics such as this are really quite sound. Call it a preemptive warning."
"And whom do you suggest we nuke?" the President asked slowly.
"Obviously, none of the other superpowers. They would only complicate the situation. I would suggest Vietnam, but it would only piss off the Chinese, and there's no telling what they would do. Eastern Europe is out for the same reason. The Russians can be touchy about stuff like that. I was thinking of someone safe, like Australia or Canada."
"But they're our friends."
"Mr. President, on the level we're operating on, we don't have friends. Only temporary allies. Besides, we want to take care to hit someone who can't hit back."