Conquer
By
Tom Clancy and Steve Pieczenik
Novels by Tom Clancy
THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER
RED STORM RISING
PATRIOT GAMES
THE CARDINAL OF THE KREMLIN
CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER
THE SUM OF ALL FEARS
WITHOUT REMORSE
DEBT OF HONOR
EXECUTIVE ORDERS
RAINBOW SIX
SSN: STRATEGIES OF SUBMARINE WARFARE
Created by Tom Clancy and Steve Pieczenik
TOM CLANCY'S OP-CENTER
TOM CLANCY'S OP-CENTER: MIRROR IMAGE
TOM CLANCY'S OP-CENTER: GAMES OF STATE TOM CLANCY'S OP-CENTER: ACTS OF
WAR
TOM CLANCY'S OP-CENTER: BALANCE OF POWER
TOM CLANCY'S OP-CENTER: STATE OF SIEGE
TOM CLANCY'S OP-CENTER: DIVIDE AND CONQUER
TOM CLANCY'S NET FORCE
TOM CLANCY'S NET FORCE: HIDDEN AGENDAS
TOM CLANCY'S NET FORCE: NIGHT MOVES
Created by Tom Clancy and Martin Greenberg
TOM CLANCY'S POWER PLAYS: POLITIKA
TOM CLANCY'S POWER PLAYS: RUTHLESS. COM
TOM CLANCY'S POWER PLAYS: SHADOW WATCH
Nonfiction
SUBMARINE: A GUIDED TOUR INSIDE A NUCLEAR WARSHIP
ARMORED CAV: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN ARMORED
CAVALRY REGIMENT
FIGHTER WING: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN AIR FORCE COMBAT WING
MARINE: A GUIDED TOUR OF A MARINE EXPEDITIONARY UNIT
AIRBORNE: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN AIRBORNE TASK FORCE
CARRIER: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN AIRCRAFT CARRIER
INTO THE STORM: A STUDY IN COMMAND
(written with General Fred Franks)
EVERY MAN A TIGER
(written with General Charles Horner) Tom Clancy's Op-Center
DIVIDE
AND
CONQUER
BERKLEY BOOKS. NEW YORK
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
TOM CLANCY'S OP-CENTER: DIVIDE AND CONQUER
A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with Jack Ryan Limited Partnership and S & R Literary, Inc.
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley edition / June 2000
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2000 by Jack Ryan Limited Partnership and S & R Literary, Inc.
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ISBN: 0-425-17480-8
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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
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Acknowledgments
We would like to acknowledge the assistance of Martin H. Greenberg, Larry Segriff, Robert Youdelman, Esq., Tom Manon, Esq." and the wonderful people at Penguin Putnam, including Phyllis Grann, David Shanks, and Tom Colgan. As always, we would like to thank Robert Gottlieb of The William Morris Agency, our agent and friend, without whom this book would never have been conceived. But most important, it is for you, our readers, to determine how successful our collective endeavor has been.
- Tom Clancy and Steve Pieczenik
PROLOGUE
Washington, D.C.
Sunday, 1:55 p.m.
The two middle-aged men sat in leather armchairs in a corner of the wood-paneled library. The room was in a quiet corner of a Massachusetts Avenue mansion. The blinds were drawn to protect the centuries-old art from the direct rays of the early-afternoon sun. The only light came from a dull fire that was smoldering in the fireplace.
The fire gave the old, wood-paneled room a faintly smoky smell.
One of the men was tall, stout, and casually dressed with thinning gray hair and a lean face. He was drinking black coffee from a blue Camp David mug while he studied a single sheet of paper resting in a green folder.
The other individual, seated across from him with his back to the bookcase, was a short bulldog of a man with a three-piece gray suit and buzz-cut red hair. He was holding an empty shot glass that, moments before, had been brimming with scotch. His legs were crossed, his foot was dancing nervously, and his cheek and chin bore the nicks of a quick, unsatisfactory shave.
The taller man shut the folder and smiled.
"These are wonderful comments. Just perfect."
"Thank you," said the red-haired man.
"Jen's a very good writer." He shifted slowly, uncrossing his legs. He leaned forward, causing the leather seat to groan.
"Along with this afternoon's briefing, this is really going to accelerate matters. You know that, don't you?"
"Of course," the taller man said. He put his coffee mug on a small table, rose, and walked to the fireplace.
He picked up a poker.
"Does that scare you?"
"A little," the red-haired man admitted.
"Why?" the taller man asked as he threw the folder into the flames. It caught fire quickly.
"Our tracks are covered."
"It's not us I'm worried about. There will be a price," the red-haired man said sadly.
"We've discussed this before," the taller man said.
"Wall Street will love it. The people will recover. And any foreign powers that try to take advantage of the situation will wish they hadn't." He jabbed the burning folder.
"Jack ran the psychological profiles. We know where all the potential trouble spots are. The only one who's going to be hurt is the man who created the problem.
And he'll recover. Hell, he'll do better than recover.
He'll write books, give speeches, make millions."
The taller man's words sounded cold, though the redhaired man knew they weren't. He had known the other man for nearly thirty-five years, ever since they served together in Vietnam. They fought side by side in Hue during the Tet offensive, holding an ammunition depot after the rest of the platoon had been killed. They both loved their country passionately, and what they were doing was a measure of that deep, deep love.
"What's the news from Azerbaijan?" the taller man asked.
"Everyone's in place." The red-haired man looked at his watch.
"They'll be eyeballing the target close-up, showing the man what he has to do. We don't expect the next report for another seven hours or so."
The taller man nodded. There was a short silence broken" only by the crackling of the burning folder.
The red-haired man sighed, put his glass on the table, and rose.
"You've got to get ready for the briefing. Is there anything else you need?"
The taller man stabbed the ashes, destroying them.
Then he replaced the poker and faced the red-haired man.
"Yes," he said.
"I need you to relax. There's only one thing we have to fear."
The red-haired man smiled knowingly.
"Fear itself."
"No," said the other.
"Panic and doubt. We know what we want, and we know how to get there.
If we stay calm and sure, we've got it."
