Tom Clancy – Op Center 3 – Games Of State

Leave him alone, Jean-Michel thought. This was insane.

Richter was insane. There were two bodies in the car, the world was about to be disordered and reconfigured, and this madman was taking a nap.

“Herr Richter,” Jean-Michel implored, “I urge you to cooperate with M. Dominique. He can and he will help you, I promise.” Without opening his eyes, the German said, “M. Horne, I don’t care to listen to anymore. It’s been a long and stressful day and it will be two hours, at least, before we reach our destination. Some of the country roads are a bit shabby. You might want to close your eyes as well. You look a little peaked.” “Herr Richter, please,” Jean-Michel persisted. “If you’d only listen.” Richter shook his head. “No. We’ll be silent now, and later, you will listen. And then you will report to Dominique.

Or perhaps you will elect to remain here. Because you will see why I am confident that Felix Richter and not Gerard Dominique will be the next Fhrer of Europe.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN Thursday, 5:47 P.M., Hamburg, Germany

The Ambassador Hotel was located on Heidenkampsweg, on the other side of Hamburg. Hood was barely aware of being driven through the crowded streets or over the crisscrossing beauty of the narrow canals and basins. When the car pulled up, Hood bolted out and ran to the house telephones. He asked the operator for Ms.

Bosworth. An awful silence followed, as he waited to be told that she had checked out or that she had lied to him about where she was staying and there was no one here by that name.

“Hold on, please,” the operator said in English, “and I will ring that room for you.” Hood thanked the man, then held on. His heart was thumping out of control. His mind was everywhere yet nowhere. He would think about Gerard Dominique and the hate games, but he always ended up back on Nancy. What they’d had. What she’d done. What they’d lost. And then he would get angry with himself because his heart was out of control that way too. He was consumed, again, with Nancy Jo. Even though his hunger could go, would go nowhere.

“Hello?” Hood leaned on his forearm, against the wall…”Hi,” he said.

“Paul? Is that you?” Nancy sounded genuinely surprised, and pleased.

“Yes, Nancy. I’m in the lobby. Can we talk?” “Of course! Come up.” He said, “It might be better if you came down.” “Why? Are you afraid I’ll attack you the way I used to?” “No,” Hood said, uncomfortable with his thoughts. He wasn’t afraid at all, damn him.

“Then come on up and help me pack,” she insisted.

“Fifth floor, turn right, last door on the left.” She hung up and Hood stood there for a moment, listening to the dial tone. At least it drowned out his heart.

What are you doing, asshole? he asked himself. After a moment of self-pity, he answered, You’re going to find out information about Gerard Dominique. About hate games.

About what might be going on in Toulouse. And then you’re going to go back to Hausen’s office to report on what you’ve found.

Replacing the phone in its cradle, Hood turned toward the elevators and rode to the fifth floor.

Nancy answered the door wearing tight jeans and a pink polo shirt. The shirt was tucked in, emphasizing her delicate shoulders. The raised collar showed off her long neck. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail like the one she’d used to wear when they went bike riding.

She smiled her perfect smile, then turned and walked back to the bed. There was an open suitcase on the cover.

As she packed the last of her toiletries, Hood walked over.

“I’m pretty surprised to see you,” Nancy said. “I thought when we said good-bye, that was it.” “Which time?” Hood asked.

Nancy looked up. Hood stood at the foot of the bed and watched her.

“Touch‚,” Nancy said with a little smile. She finished packing, closed the suitcase, and set it on the floor. Then she sat down slowly, gracefully, like a lady riding sidesaddle.

“So what is it, Paul?” she asked, the smile fading, softening.

“Why did you come?” Hood said, “Truthfully? To ask you a couple of questions about your work.” Nancy stared at him. “Are you serious?” He shut his eyes and nodded.

“I think I’d rather have heard something untruthful,” she said. She rose and turned away. “You haven’t changed, have you Paul? Romantic as Scaramouche in the bedroom, celibate as St. Francis on the job.” “That’s not true,” he said. “This is a bedroom, and I’m being celibate.” Nancy looked at Paul and he smiled. She started to laugh. “That’s two for you, St. Paul,” she said.

“It’s Pope Paul now,” he corrected her. “At least, that’s what they call me in Washington.” “I’m not surprised,” Nancy said. She walked toward him. “Coined, I’m willing to bet, by a frustrated female admirer.” “As a matter of fact, it was,” Hood said. He blushed.

Nancy walked up to him, and he began to turn away from her. She put her hands on his waist, hooked fingers into his belt loops, and stopped him. She looked up into his eyes.

“All right, Pope Paul,” she said. “What did you want to ask me about my work?” Hood looked down at her. He didn’t know what to do with his arms and put them behind him, his left forearm in his right hand. One of her knees was beside his, inside his leg.

Well what the hell did you think was going to happen?

he asked himself. You knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

What bothered him more, though, was that this was exactly what a big part of him had wanted. God help him; but it did.

“This is silly,” he said. “How am I supposed to talk to you like this?” “You just did,” she pointed out softly. “Now do it again.” Hood’s forehead was hot, his heart was on overdrive, and blood was racing everywhere. He smelled the apricot shampoo in her hair, felt her warmth, saw those eyes he had looked down into so often in the dark— “Nancy, no,” he said firmly. He took her wrists and held them as he stepped back. “We can’t do this. We can’t.” She looked down as her magnificent, sensual posture deflated.

“Your work,” Hood said, breathing deeply. “I need you to tell me— I mean,” he said, calming, “I’d like you to rtell me what you’re working on.” She shot him a disgusted look. “You’re out of your mind, you know that?” she asked. She crossed her arms and half-turned.

“Nancy—” “You reject me and you still want me to help you. I’ve got a teensy-weensy problem with that, Paul.” “Like I said before,” Hood told her, “I didn’t reject you.

I didn’t reject you at all.” “Then why am I here and you over there?” Hood reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew his wallet. “Because you rejected me.” He took out the two movie tickets and let them flutter to the bed. Nancy looked at them.

“You rejected me,” he said, “and I made myself another life. I won’t jeopardize that. I can’t.” Nancy picked up the tickets, ran them gently between her thumb and forefinger, then suddenly tore them in half.

She gave one set of stubs to Hood and put the other in her jeans pocket.

“I didn’t reject you,” she said quietly. “Not a day has crept by that I didn’t wish I’d grabbed you and taken you with me. Because I saw this in you as well, the conviction of a goddamn knight. You were the only person I ever knew who didn’t need New Year’s Eve to make resolutions. You always did what you thought was right and then stuck to your decisions.” Hood put the stubs in his wallet. “If it’s any consolation, I wish to hell you had grabbed me and taken me with you.” He grinned. “Though I’m not sure how I would’ve taken to being Paul and Nancy, the jet-setting Bonnie and Clyde.” “Shittily,” she said. “You’d probably have made me turn myself in.” Hood embraced her, pulled her head to his chest. She held onto him tightly, then tighter still. But it was innocent this time. And a part of him was very, very sad.

“Nance?” he said.

“I know,” she replied, still snuggled in his arms. “You want to know about my work.” “Something rotten’s happening on-line,” he said.

“But something nice is happening here,” she said. “I feel safe. Can’t I enjoy it a little bit longer?” Hood stood there listening to his watch tick, looking at the sky darkening outside the window, concentrating on anything but the dream that was in his arms and in his memory. He stood there thinking, checkout is in the early afternoon. She stayed to see me, hasn’t checked out because she’s anticipating more.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *