"It all depends on how you look at it," General Leiber said firmly. "The collateral damage is negligible."
"The what damage?"
"Collateral damage. It's what we military like to call civilian casualties."
"A thousand people is not negligible!"
"Not if they were all personal friends, no," the general admitted. "But compared to the current U.S. population, which is roughly two hundred and fifty million, it's a drop in the bucket. We lose more people every month to highway accidents."
The President's mouth compressed into a bloodless line. He turned in his seat to face the joint Chiefs. The Joint Chiefs regarded him with stony expressions. They were not about to contradict General Leiber, because he was using exactly the argument they would have used. The commandant of the Marines looked as if he were about to volunteer something, but Admiral Blackbird kicked him under the table.
"But the man is a damned procurement officer," the commandant whispered to the admiral.
"Look at the President's face. Do you want to tell that to him at a time like this?"
The commandant subsided.
"I have to take this before the American people," the President said at last.
"Respectfully, Mr. President, I think you should stonewall," Admiral Blackbird suggested.
"Impossible."
"Sir, think of the political consequences. What could you tell the nation?"
"That we've been attacked. "
"By Intercontinental Ballistic Locomotives?" The President's face lost its resolve.
"If the Russians get wind of this-assuming that they aren't behind it it will show us up as the proverbial paper tiger. Hell, they'd read it as a sign of weakness and maybe launch an all-out attack themselves."
"I have to say something."
"How about that we've been loked?" the Acting Secretary of Defense piped up.
Everyone looked at him quizzically.
"It's like nuked," he offered, "only not as bad. Tell them that."
"Loked?" the President repeated.
"Attacked by Intercontinental Ballistic Locomotives. Or ICBL, for short."
"It'll never fly," Admiral Blackbird insisted. "We must invent a cover story. Something plausible about a gasmain explosion. We have no choice. The American people are in a near-panic. They've had war jitters for a week. If they thought this was an attack, think of the pandemonium. No one would believe they were safe."
"The trouble is," the President said gravely, "they are not. What protection do we have against these things?"
"Our nuclear deterrent is useless without a target," the Air Force's Chief of Staff said soberly. "And even if we had one, it's politically questionable to nuke someone who hasn't nuked us first. Bad precedent."
"I think we could make an exception in this case," the Acting Secretary of Defense said stubbornly.
"I took a preelection pledge not to be the first to launch a nuclear missile," the President said. "I agree with the general. We can't nuke in response to a loking." He banged the table. "Now you've got me saying it."
Everyone glared at the Acting Secretary of Defense, whose face reddened.
General Martin S. Leiber grinned. He felt stupid standing in front of his locomotive blowups. But so far the meeting hadn't gone too badly. No one had blown his cover. And the Acting Secretary of Defense was catching all the hell. General Leiber wasn't sure how long that would continue, so he made his next move.
"I think there's only one solution," he said. Everyone looked at him.
"Let me continue trying to trace the ... er ... KKV's. I'm sure one of my leads will pan out."
The President was a long time in answering. General Leiber broke out in a sweat. He knew that only as long as the President expressed confidence in him would the joint Chiefs refrain from blowing the whistle. Finally the President spoke.
"It galls me, but the American public cannot be allowed to think that their leadership cannot protect them. Go with the cover story. General Leiber, I'm counting on you to come up with an answer before the next ICBL strike."
"Yes, sir, Mr. President," General Leiber said heartily. He snapped a quick salute, just in case. He started to pull down the blowups.
"Better burn those," the President said. "Security reasons."
"But, Mr. President," General Leiber protested. "These cost the government three thousand dollars."
The President returned to his office with a heavy heart. A week in office and he felt like he had aged ten years. He wondered how he was going to get through four years of this, and then he figured that when the American people realized that there was nothing standing between them and destruction but a few thousand miles of Atlantic sky, there probably wouldn't be a constitutional government left by the time his first State of the Union address was due.
He had no choice now but to tell Smith everything. He had been hoping to avoid this, but Smith had been unable to locate the launcher and General Leiber hadn't come up with a single locomotive lead.
He picked up the new CURE phone. It was beginning to feel like part of his hand. He wondered if past Presidents had felt that way too.
It rang five times before Dr. Smith answered. His voice sounded muzzy and thick.
"Smith, I hope you have something."
"Still inputting, Mr. President."
"It can wait. I have something new for you to input."
"I'm clearing a file. Proceed, please."
"The KKV's. They've been identified."
"Yes."
"They are old locomotives."
"Old locomotives, yes." Smith's voice did not change. The President could have told him they were fired by Pygmy blowguns.
"The first was an American Big Boy, built in 1941, the second a Prussian Class G12. The third is being analyzed."
"Got that, sir." Smith's voice was preoccupied.
"Do you have any questions? Would you like me to repeat any of that?"
"No, sir, I have it. Two identified locomotives. One unidentified. I'll see what the computer says."
"Right," the President said. "Keep me briefed." Hanging up, he thought that Smith was an amazing character. Totally unflappable. You'd think the man would have at least asked why the President hadn't volunteered the information before.
The truth was that the President had been afraid to. If Smith thought that the President had lost his mental balance, Smith might have been tempted to remove him from office. CURE was designed to uphold the constitutional gevernment, not any particular officeholder. But General Leiber had failed him, so it was a moot point.
Remo and Chiun walked into Smith's Folcroft office hours later. They looked dusty and worn, especially Remo.
"Smitty, you're not going to believe this," Remo began.
"Do not rub it in," Chiun inserted. "I will speak. Emperor, I can explain."
"Explain what?" Smith asked absently.
"My ... mistake."
"I'm certain it will not happen again, whatever it was." Remo and Chiun exchanged glances.
Remo snapped his fingers in Smith's ear. "Smitty, Smitty, wake up."
"What? Oh. Remo. Master Chiun. I did not realize you had returned."
"You were just talking to us," Remo reminded him.
"Oh! Was I? How peculiar," he said, his gaze drifting back to his terminal.
Remo took Smith's head in his hands and forced him to look away from the screen. "Look at me, Smitty. Wake up!"
"No need to shout, Remo."
"I need your undivided attention."
"It is undivided. Go ahead."
"The Air Force has identified the KKV's."
"No, I identified the KKV's," Chiun insisted.
"Yeah, right. Actually, Chiun identified the new one before the Air Force showed up. Generally."
"You cannot get more specific than I did," Chiun complained, relieved that Smith was not going to bring up the matter of his earlier mistake.