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s； could he？…and moved quietly into the corridor。
There must have been some sort of bug or motion sensor close to the bedroom door； Jack thought。 He never managed to surprise anyone when he came out into the upstairs corridor unexpectedly。 The heads always seemed to be looking in his direction and there was the instant morning race to see who could greet him first。
The first this time was one of the senior Secret Service troops； head of the night crew。 Andrea Price…O'Day was still at her home in Maryland； probably dressed and ready to head out the door…what shitty hours these people worked on his behalf； Jack reminded himself…for the hourlong drive into D。C。 And with luck she'd make it home… when？ Tonight？ That depended on his schedule for today； and he couldn't remember offhand what he had happening。
〃Coffee； boss？〃 one of the younger agents asked。
〃Sounds like a winner； Charlie。〃 Ryan followed him； yawning。 He ended up in the Secret Service guard post for this floor； a walk…in closet； really； with a TV and a coffeepot…probably stocked by the kitchen staff…and some munchies to help the people get through the night。
〃When did you e on duty？〃 POTUS asked。
〃Eleven； sir；〃 Charlie Malone answered。
〃Boring duty？〃
〃Could be worse。 At least I'm not working the bad…check detail in Omaha anymore。〃
〃Oh； yeah；〃 agreed Joe Hilton； another one of the young agents on the deathwatch。
〃I bet you played ball；〃 Jack observed。
Hilton nodded。 〃Outside linebacker； sir。 Florida State University。 Not big enough for the pros； though。〃
Only about two…twenty； and it's all lean meat； Jack thought。 Young Special Agent Hilton looked like a fundamental force of nature。
〃Better off playing baseball。 You make a good living； work fifteen years； maybe more； and you're healthy at the end of it。〃
〃Well； maybe I'll train my boy to be an outfielder；〃 Hilton said。
〃How old？〃 Ryan asked； vaguely remembering that Hilton was a recent father。 His wife was a lawyer at the Justice Department； wasn't she？
〃Three months。 Sleeping through the night now； Mr。 President。 Good of you to ask。〃
I wish they'd just call me Jack。 I'm not God； am I？ But that was about as likely as his calling his manding general Bobby…Ray back when he'd been Second Lieutenant John P。 Ryan； USMC。
〃Anything interesting happen during the night？〃
〃Sir； CNN covered the departure of our diplomats from Beijing； but that just showed the airplane taking off。〃
〃I think they just send the cameras down halfway hoping the airplane'll blow up so that they'll have tape of it…you know； like when the chopper es to lift me out of here。〃 Ryan sipped his coffee。 These junior Secret Service agents were probably a little uneasy to have 〃The Boss；〃 as he was known within the Service； talking with them as if he and they were normal people。 If so； Jack thought； tough shit。 He wasn't going to turn into Louis XIV just to make them happy。 Besides； he wasn't as good…looking as Leonardo DiCaprio； at least according to Sally； who thought that young actor was the cat's ass。
Just then； a messenger arrived with the day's copies of the morning's Early Bird。 Jack took one along with the coffee and headed back to read it over。 A few editorials bemoaning the recall of the trade delegation… maybe it was the lingering liberalism in the media； the reason they were not； never had been； and probably never would be entirely fortable with the amateur statesman in the White House。 Privately； Ryan knew； they called him other things； some rather less polite； but the average Joe out there； Arnie van Damm told Jack once a week or so； still liked him a lot。 Ryan's approval rating was still very high； and the reason for it； it seemed； was that Jack was perceived as a regular guy who'd gotten lucky…if they called this luck； POTUS thought with a stifled grunt。
He returned to reading the news articles； wandering back to the breakfast room； as he did so； where； he saw； people were hustling to get things set up…notified； doubtless； by the Secret Service that SWORDSMAN was up and needed to be fed。 Yet more of the His Majesty Effect； Ryan groused。 But he was hungry； and food was food； and so he wandered in； picked what he wanted off the buffet； and flipped the TV on to see what was happening in the world as he attacked his eggs Benedict。 He'd have to devour them quickly； before Cathy appeared to yell at him about the cholesterol intake。 All around him； to a radius of thirty miles or so； the government was ing to consciousness； or what passed for it； dressing； getting in their cars； and heading in； just as he was； but not as fortably。
〃Morning； Dad；〃 Sally said； ing in next and walking to the TV； which she switched to MTV without asking。 It was a long way since that bright afternoon in London when he'd been shot； Jack thought。 He'd been 〃daddy〃 then。
In Beijing； the puter on Ming's desk had been in auto…sleep mode for just the right number of minutes。 The hard drive started turning again； and the machine began its daily routine。 Without lighting up the monitor； it examined the internal file of recent entries； pressed them； and then activated the internal modem to shoot them out over the 'Net。 The entire process took about seventeen seconds； and then the puter went back to sleep。 The data proceeded along the telephone lines in the city of Beijing until it found its destination server； which was； actually； in Wisconsin。 There it waited for the signal that would call it up； after which it would be dumped out of the server's memory； and soon thereafter written over； eliminating any trace that it had ever existed。
In any case； as Washington woke up； Beijing was heading for sleep； with Moscow a few hours behind。 The earth continued its turning； oblivious of what transpired in the endless cycle of night and day。
Well？〃 General Diggs looked at his subordinate。 〃Well； sir；〃 Colonel Giusti said； 〃I think the cavalry squadron is in pretty good shape。〃 Like Diggs； Angelo Giusti was a career cavalryman。 His job as mander of 1st Armored's cavalry squadron （actually a battalion； but the cav had its own way of speaking） was to move out ahead of the division proper； locating the enemy and scouting out the land； being the eyes of Old Ironsides； but with enough bat power of its own to look after itself。 A bat veteran of the Persian Gulf War； Giusti had smelled the smoke and seen the elephant。 He knew what his job was； and he figured he had his troopers trained up about as well as circumstances in Germany allowed。 He actually preferred the free…form play allowed by simulators to the crowded training fields of the bat Maneuver Training Center； which was barely seventy…five square kilometers。 It wasn't the same as being out there in your vehicles； but neither was it restricted by time and distance； and on the global SimNet system you could play against a plete enemy battalion； even a brigade if you wanted your people to get some sweat in their play。 Except for the bumpy…float sensation of driving your Abrams around （some tankers got motion sickness from that）； it conveyed the plexity better than any place except the NTC at Fort Irwin in the California desert； or the parable facility the Army had esta