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〃They are too busy selling their weapons to civilians for vodka；〃 the army political officer observed。 〃Their morale is poor； and they do not train anything like we do。〃
〃They have a new theater mander；〃 the army's intelligence chief countered。 〃A General…Colonel Bondarenko。 He is well regarded in Moscow as an intellect and as a courageous battlefield mander from Afghanistan。〃
〃That means he survived contact once；〃 Political observed。 〃Probably with a Kabul whore。〃
〃It is dangerous to underestimate an adversary；〃 Intelligence warned。
〃And foolish to overestimate one。〃
Peng just looked through the glasses。 He'd heard his intelligence and political officer spar before。 Intelligence tended to be an old woman； but many intelligence officers were like that； and Political； like so many of his colleagues； was sufficiently aggressive to make Genghis Khan seem womanly。 As in the theater； officers played the roles assigned to them。 His role； of course； was to be the wise and confident mander of one of his country's premier striking arms； and Peng played that role well enough that he was in the running for promotion to General First Class； and if he played his cards very carefully； in another eight years or so； maybe Marshal。 With that rank came real political power and personal riches beyond counting； with whole factories working for his own enrichment。 Some of those factories were managed by mere colonels； people with the best of political credentials who knew how to kowtow to their seniors； but Peng had never gone that route。 He enjoyed soldering far more than he enjoyed pushing paper and screaming at worker…peasants。 As a new second lieutenant； he'd fought the Russians； not very far from this very spot。 It had been a mixed experience。 His regiment had enjoyed initial success； then had been hammered by a storm of artillery。 That had been back when the Red Army； the real Soviet Army of old； had fielded whole artillery divisions whose concentrated fire could shake the very earth and sky； and that border clash had incurred the wrath of the nation the Russians had once been。 But no longer。 Intelligence told him that the Russian troops on the far side of this cold river were not even a proper shadow of what had once been there。 Four divisions； perhaps； and not all of them at full strength。 So； however clever this Bondarenko fellow was； if a clash came； he'd have his hands very full indeed。
But that was a political question； wasn't it？ Of course。 All the really important things were。
〃How are the bridging engineers？〃 Peng asked； surveying the watery obstacle below。
〃Their last exercise went very well； rade General；〃 Operations replied。 Like every other army in the world； the PLA had copied the Russian 〃ribbon〃 bridge； designed by Soviet engineers in the 1960s to force crossings of all the streams of Western Germany in a NATO/Warsaw Pact war so long expected； but never realized。 Except in fiction； mainly Western fiction that had had the NATO side win in every case。 Of course。 Would capitalists spend money on books that ended their culture？ Peng chuckled to himself。 Such people enjoyed their illusions 。 。 。
。。。 almost as much as his own country's Politburo members。 That's the way it was all over the world； Peng figured。 The rulers of every land held images in their heads； and tried to make the world conform to them。 Some succeeded； and those were the ones who wrote the history books。
〃So； what do we expect here？〃
〃From the Russians？〃 Intelligence asked。 〃Nothing that I have heard about。 Their army is training a little more； but nothing to be concerned about。 If they wanted to e south across that river； I hope they can swim in the cold。〃
〃The Russians like their forts too much for that。 They've grown soft with their new political regime；〃 Political proclaimed。
〃And if we are ordered north？〃 Peng asked。
〃If we give them one hard kick； the whole rotten mess will fall down；〃 Political answered。 He didn't know that he was exactly quoting another enemy of the Russians。
CHAPTER 43
Decisions
The colonel flying Air Force One executed an even better landing than usual。 Jack and Cathy Ryan were already awake and showered to alertness； helped by a light breakfast heavy on fine coffee。 The President looked out the window to his left and saw troops formed up in precise lines； as the aircraft taxied to its assigned place。 〃Wele to Poland； babe。 What do you have planned？〃 〃I'm going to spend a few hours at their big teaching hospital。 Their chief eye…cutter wants me to look at his operation。〃 It was always the same for FLOTUS； and she didn't mind。 It came from being an academic physician； treating patients； but also teaching young docs； and observing how her counterparts around the world did their version of her job。 Every so often； you saw something new that was worth learning from； or even copying； because smart people happened everywhere； not just at the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine。 It was the one part of the First Lady folderol that she actually enjoyed； because she could learn from it； instead of just being a somewhat flat…chested Barbie doll for the world to gawk at。 To this end she was dressed in a beige business suit； whose jacket she would soon exchange for a doc's proper white lab coat； which was always her favorite item of apparel。 Jack was wearing one of his dark…blue white…pinstriped President…of…the…United…States suits； with a maroon striped tie because Cathy liked the color bination； and she really did decide what Jack wore； except for the shirt。 SWORDSMAN wore only white cotton shirts with button…down collars； and despite Cathy's lobbying for something different； on that issue he stood firm。 This had caused Cathy to observe more than once that he'd wear the damned things with his tuxedos if convention didn't demand otherwise。
The aircraft came to a halt； and the stagecraft began。 The Air Force sergeant…this one always a man…opened the door on the left side of the aircraft to see that the truck…mounted stairs were already in place。 Two more non…s scurried down so that they could salute Ryan when he walked down。 Andrea Price…O'Day was talking over her digital radio circuit to the chief of the Secret Service advance team to make sure it was safe for the President to appear in the open。 She'd already heard that the Poles had been as cooperative as any American police force； and had enough security deployed here to defend against an attack by space aliens or Hitler's Wehrmacht。 She nodded to the President and Mrs。 Ryan。
〃Showtime； babe；〃 Jack told Cathy； with a dry smile。
〃Knock 'em dead； Movie Star；〃 she said in reply。 It was one of their inside jokes。
John Patrick Ryan； President of the United States of America； stood in the door to look out over Poland； or at least as much of it as he could see from this vantage。 The first cheers erupted then； for although he'd never even been close to Poland before； he was a popular figure here； for what reason Jack Ryan had no idea。 He walked down； carefully； telling himself not to trip and spill down the steps。 It looked bad to do so； as one of his antecedents had learned the hard way。 At the bottom； the two USAF