Arc Light by Eric Harry Page B

showed the tarmac roll by in front of the plane.
    â€œThose curtains are made of aluminized fabric, sir,” GeneralSherman replied. “It’s standard procedure.”
    â€œYou mean they’re going to take off with the curtains drawn?” the First Lady asked.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Sherman said. “It’s . . . it prevents, well, tissue dehydration and . . . and chlorioretinal burns if . . . ” He didn’t finish his sentence—he just smiled. “It beats the system our tanker crewmen use. They use shaded goggles in daylight, but right now—at night when it’s too dark to wear them—they put zinc oxide on their exposed skin and fly with an eye patch on to keep at least one eye, uh, unburned.”
    There was an uncomfortable silence.
    Leading the tour back down the hallway to the rear, Sherman said, “In addition to the crew, we’ve got the sixteen armed air policemen you saw outside.”
    â€œWhy so many?” the First Lady asked. Some, Lambert had noticed, had grenade launchers mounted underneath their rifles, and others carried light machine guns.
    â€œWell, ma’am, we really don’t know just where we might have to land,” Sherman said, choosing his words carefully. “I mean, what kind of security there will be there. This just gives us . . . widens our options.” After pausing to ensure that his response was satisfactory, General Sherman said, “The aircraft has four thousand six hundred and twenty square feet of main deck divided into six areas. Immediately behind the cockpit here, in what would be first class, are your private quarters, Mr. President.” The group peered into the cabin at bunk beds trimmed in gold.
    Walking down the corridor, Sherman said, “Next we’ve got your conference room,” and the group filed by the doorway. Lambert saw the Joint Chiefs—some in uniform, others in civilian clothes—seated about the rectangular table. There were telephones between every seat and at the head, which presumably was the President’s seat, facing the display screen.
    â€œThen, moving on back,” Sherman said, “we have the briefing room.” They walked through an empty auditorium-style room with a couple of dozen seats facing a large screen and into a room filled with consoles, busy people working at each one. “This is the battlestaff work area,” Sherman said to the President. “We can monitor and update all of the information that is fed into the NORAD Command Center Processing and Display System, more commonly known as the ‘Big Board,’ to keep you informed of events around the world.”
    Moving into another compartment, the general turned to an officer who was monitoring a computer console and asked, “Is General Thomas still in conference?”
    â€œYes, sir,” the man said after checking the screen.
    â€œAnd finally,” Sherman said, obviously extending his tour to stall for time, “this is the communications control center.” As the plane, taxiing at high speed, turned and everyone stepped to one side to rebalance, the general said, “When we get airborne, we’ll play out a five-mile-long trailing wire antenna for very low frequency transmissions. The several-mile wavelength allows penetration directly through the earth to similarly equipped aircraft, ships, and ground installations. It’s not perfect—the wave-formation time slows our rate of transmission significantly—but it gets through. Usually.”
    General Sherman waited, getting only raised eyebrows from the First Lady, and then continued. “For regular high-speed communications, which are subject to some interference under certain . . . in certain situations, we have a full range of high frequency transceivers. We also have a super high frequency system and satellite transceivers housed in a dorsal