Tom Clancy – Op Center 3 – Games Of State

Hood stared at her for a moment before he walked over. He wanted to say that she’d performed like a hero too, but he didn’t. She’d never warmed to slap-on-the-back compliments, and he knew that that was not what she wanted to hear from him.

He took her hands in his. “I think this is the latest we’ve ever been out.” She laughed once. Tears rolled from her eyes. “We were old fogies back then. Dinner, reading in bed, ten o’clock news, early movies on weekends.” Hood was suddenly aware of the weight of his wallet inside his jacket and of the two ticket stubs inside it. She wasn’t. She was staring into his eyes with love and longing.

She did not intend to make this easy.

He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs, then moved his hands to her shoulders. He kissed her on the cheek. The warm salt of her tears made him want to move closer, hold her, kiss her ear.

He stepped back.

“There are going to be inquiries, a lot of commissions and court dates. I would like to get you an attorney.” “Okay. Thanks.” “I’m sure someone will pick up Demain’s assets when this is all cleared up. My staff has muscle in all kinds of places. I’ll make sure you’re involved. Until then, Matt will find things for you to do.” “My savior,” she said dryly.

Hood grew annoyed. “This isn’t fun for me either, Nancy. But I can’t give you what you want.” “Can’t you?” “Not without taking from someone else, someone I love. I’ve spent most of my adult life growing up with Sharon. We’re intertwined in ways that are very special to me.” “Is that all you want?” she asked. “A relationship that’s special? You should be delirious. We were. Even when we fought we had passion.” “Yes,” Hood said, “but that’s over. Sharon and I are happy together. There’s a lot to be said for stability, knowing that someone will be there—” “For better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health,” Nancy said bitterly.

“That,” Hood said, “or even just showing up at the movies.” Nancy’s mouth turned down. She blinked several times without looking away. “Ouch,” she said. “Direct hit.” Hood was sorry to have hurt her, but at least he’d found the strength to say what needed to be said. It felt bad but it felt right.

Nancy finally funned away. “So,” she said. “I guess I should have gone back to town with Colonel Ballon.” “The local police are on the way,” Hood told her.

“They’ll see that we get a ride.” “You’re still a blockhead,” she said with a brave smile.

“I meant he’s single. It was a joke.” “Gotcha,” Hood said. “Sorry.” Nancy took a deep breath. “Not as sorry as I am. About everything.” She looked at him again. “Even though this didn’t work out the way I wanted, it was good to see you, again. And I’m glad you’re happy. I truly am.” She started to walk away, swaying as she had when he’d seen her at the hotel, her hair snapping this way, then that. Hood started after her. Without turning around, she held up her hand like a police officer stopping traffic and shook her head.

Hood watched her go, his own eyes dampening. And when she had disappeared into the crowd of police and medics he smiled sadly.

The date, at last, had been kept.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR Monday, 9:32 A.M., Washington, D.C.

Hood, Stoll, and Herbert were welcomed back to Op- Center with a small party in the Tank, the high-security conference room. When they arrived, the senior staffers were already gathered with trays of coffee, croissants, and crullers.

“We bought out all of the French and German-sounding pastries in the commissary,” Ann Farris pointed out as she welcomed Hood with a cheek-to-cheek air kiss.

Ed Medina and John Benn had spent the weekend building a small tableau of toy soldiers representing NATO, Hood, and Herbert. They were defending a fort labeled “Decency” from a horde of disfigured soldiers pouring from a troop transport labeled “Hate.” The bruised but unbowed Herbert was touched. Stoll lapped it all up. Hood was embarrassed. Rodgers stood cross-armed in the corner, out of Hood’s limelight, a hint of envy in his expression.

When prompted to speak, Hood perched himself on the corner of the conference table and said, “All we did was what people like General Rodgers and our Striker personnel do all the time.” “Run amok abroad,” Lowell Coffey suggested, “and make the diplomats earn their pay?” “No,” Stoll countered. “Fight for truth, justice, and the American way!” “Where’re my pom-poms?” Ann Farris asked.

Hood quieted the twenty-odd people gathered in the office. “Like I said, we only followed the example that our Op-Center colleagues have set for us. Speaking of which, Mike— you want to make the announcement?” Rodgers shook his head and extended his hand toward Hood. Hood wanted to drag him over, force him to share in this triumph. But self-promotion was not in Rodgers’s lexicon.

Hood said, “Over the weekend, General Rodgers finalized plans for Colonel Brett A. August to come to Washington to take command of Striker. Colonel August was the man who actually collared Gerard Dominique, and he’s going to be a great stragetic and personal asset to our team.” There was a smattering of applause and upthrust thumbs.

“As I’m sure you’ve all noticed,” Hood went on, “this weekend the press was full of the fall of Dominique and the implications of Operation L’Ecouter. I saw a lot of editorials about the way the prejudices and suspicions of otherwise good people were going to be manipulated, used to destroy lives and societies. I hope the warnings don’t die with the headlines. Ann, we’ll have to talk about that. Let’s see if we can work up some kind of educational program for schools.” She nodded and smiled proudly at him.

Hood said, “The evidence Matt dug up on the Demain computers is safe with French prosecutors. Since there were international elements to the crime, representatives of the U.S., Germany, and other nations will be on hand to make sure that Dominique doesn’t wriggle away. I would also like to congratulate Matt and his team. Yesterday, they traced the launch site of the hate games here in the U.S. to a bank computer in Montgomery, Alabama. They were planted there over the Internet so they could be launched as close as possible to the place where Rosa Parks refused to give her bus seat to a white man in 1955. Dominque believed in history. Too bad he didn’t learn a damn thing from it.” Rodgers said solemnly, “As Samuel Taylor Coleridge said, ‘If men could learn from history, what lessons it might teach us. But passion and party blind our eyes.’ ” Hood said, “I think we opened a few eyes in Europe, especially thanks to Bob.” “And Jody Thompson,” Herbert said. “I’d be under a pile of rocks if it weren’t for her.” “Yes, and Jody,” said Hood. “We’ve been told that the Chaos Days celebration in Germany fizzled after what happened. A lot of the younger people became disillusioned and went home early.” “Poor babies,” said Martha. “Wanna bet they’ll be back?” “You’re right,” said Hood. “We didn’t put an end to hate. But we did put them on notice. At ten o’clock, I’m meeting with Senator Barbara Fox—” There were scattered boos.

Hood held up his hands. “I promise you that she won’t leave here without rescinding the budget cuts she’s threatened. Actually, over the weekend I was thinking about how we could use additional money for a new division operating either as part of Op-Center or independently. A Web Patrol or Net Force to watch over the information highway.” “Why not call it Computer CHiPs?” Stoll asked. “Or how about Information Highway Patrol?” There were several loud groans.

“What?” he said: “Net Force is better?” “It’ll get taken seriously by Congress and the press,” John Benn said, “and that’s what counts.” “Speaking of Congress,” Hood said, “I don’t want to keep Senator Fox waiting. I want to thank everyone for this welcome home, and I especially want to thank General Rodgers for the support you gave us overseas.” Hood left then, followed by respectful applause and a few cheers. On the way out, he patted Rodgers’s shoulder and asked him to join him. They left the Tank together.

“Is there anything we can do to make Colonel August feel welcome?” Hood asked as they walked back toward his office.

“Only one thing I can think of,” Rodgers said. “I’m going to head into D.C. at lunchtime to see if I can find a model of Revell’s Messerschmitt Bf 109. We used to build kits as kids and that was the big one we missed.” “Expense-account it,” Hood said.

Rodgers shook his head. “This one’s on me. I owe it to Brett.” Hood said he understood, then asked Rodgers if he wanted to attend the meeting with Senator Fox.

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