Call to Treason - Tom Clancy [139]
Herbert was happy to test the elevator. It was strange. He had ridden this elevator thousands of times, but this was the first time he paid attention to the sounds, to the little bumps and jolts. Were those mechanical groans of pain or the yawns of waking machinery? He was very aware of the thinness of the air, which was being forced in by a portable, battery-powered pump on the top of the carriage. In a way, the carriage reminded Herbert of how he had been after Beirut: hurt and shut down for a while, then struggling back into service. That was an advantage Herbert had over his Op-Center colleagues. The rebuilding process was miserably familiar territory to him.
The elevator was a little sluggish, but it reached the bottom of the shaft.
Better too slow than fast, Herbert decided.
He wheeled himself out, reached back inside to send the carriage upstairs, and headed to the Tank. The skeleton team at work throughout Op-Center was sharp and focused. That did not surprise Herbert. In a post crisis situation, work was an intense, short-term involvement that kept trauma from settling in. It was like an emotional gag reflex. The full impact of what had happened would not hit these people until they put down the armor of responsibility.
Hood was the only other person in the Tank. The reunion was surprisingly relaxed, at least from Herbert's perspective. The intelligence chief had kept Hood up to date and had nothing to add. He plugged the laptop into the dedicated power source in the room and rebooted it. He wanted to be ready if Viens called with information.
The map from Homeland Security showed traffic patterns, air lanes, and even possible terrorist targets such as nuclear power plants, electrical grids, dams, transportation centers, and shopping malls.
Overlays with different access routes could be added to the image if necessary.
The McCaskeys arrived shortly after Herbert. They brought dinner, which was welcome. It marked the first real break anyone had enjoyed since the attack. In the case of the McCaskeys, it was the first real time-out they had enjoyed since the death of William Wilson. Hood asked about Rodgers. Both McCaskey and Herbert told him what the general was doing.
"I meant, how is he doing?" Hood asked.
"I think he is kind of in limbo, waiting to see how this all turns out," McCaskey told him.
"It is odd," Maria said. "Mike Rodgers is out in the real world, but you say he is in limbo. We are in a badly wounded facility, yet we are supposedly connected to the world."
"I suppose everything depends on your attitude," Hood replied.
"Knowing you have a job helps," McCaskey said.
"Elected officials and appointees learn to live with flux," Hood said.
"I still say it's the inside defines the outside."
"You mean like us," Maria said. "The shell of Op-Center is broken, but we are still functioning."
"Exactly," Hood said.
Herbert did not involve himself in the conversation. He busied himself with taking bites from the roast beef club sandwich the McCaskeys had brought, pulling up a map of San Diego County on his laptop, and jacking his borrowed cell phone into the Tank system. As a rule, pep talks bored the intelligence chief. Herbert was self-driven. Usually because there was a throat he needed to get his hands around. That was all the motivation he needed. This particular conversation had a fringe of wide-eyed sanctimony that made him angry. Maria had her spouse alive and well and at her side. Hood still had an organization to run and a resume that would keep him circulating through government employ as long as he wanted. It was easy for them both to be optimistic.
Maybe you really ought to join Mike out there, Herbert thought. Start a consultancy of some kind, maybe for private