Call to Treason - Tom Clancy [54]
McCaskey was silent while he processed everything his wife had said.
"You're saying that making this appear to be a pattern actually underscores the uniqueness of the first hit," McCaskey said.
"That is how I see it," Maria replied.
"It's possible," he muttered after a long, long moment. "Dammit, it really is. Brava, my love."
She smiled at him.
"Paul, did you hear any of that?"
"I did, Darrell, and I'm still processing it," Hood told him. "But tell Maria 'well done."
"Thank you!" she said from under her husband's arm.
"It sounds like we're going to have to stay involved with this, then,"
Hood said.
"Maybe even deeper than we were before," McCaskey said.
If Maria had nailed this, they were not looking at a vengeful escort or industrial espionage. They were looking at something strongly reminiscent of what the FBI called an IOS, an improvised operational scenario. One in which the carefully devised plans for a strike team, undercover personnel, or sometimes both had to be quickly and effectively reconfigured because something had gone wrong.
An operation that was traditionally handled by seasoned intelligence personnel.
* * *
TWENTY
Washington, B.C. TUesday, 7:13 a.m.
Paul Hood had gone home for a long sleep, shower, then returned to Op-Center. He was wiped out from a day that was spent mostly with Ron Plummer, reviewing the restructuring of Op-Center. The investigation was also draining. It was not just a chess game but a chess game on multiple levels. Overinvolvement to help Scotland Yard might damage relations with the Metro Police. A concession to the police might weaken Hood's credibility not just with the Yard but with other intelligence agencies. Spending money on a non-core operation might hurt Hood's standing with the CIOC and with Op-Center employees who were going to be hard-pressed to do their existing jobs. In one sense, it was a hell of a challenge. In another, it was daunting and exhausting.
The previous afternoon had been so full that Hood did not have an opportunity to call his former wife. When he finally did have the time, it was nearly eleven p.m. Sharon would probably be asleep or with Jim Hunt. In any case, Hood preferred to talk with her when he was fresh. It helped him deal with whatever feelings of entitlement or bitterness she might spray his way.
Ironically, just before he phoned her, Matt Stoll called. He said that he understood the staff cuts and could do a lot of the maintenance work, paperwork, "the grunt work himself. But he said he needed at least another set of hands to help him. Cheap hands. "Monkey hands," he said.
There was something about that image which amused Hood. He knew a chimp they could hire.
He was disappointed with the crankiness in his soul, but the hurt was there and it wasn't going away. As long as he didn't communicate that to Sharon, no harm was done.
Sharon was rushed, as usual, when he called. She was going to work out, and her trainer another addition to her new life did not like it when she was late. She was also polite but formal, as Hood had come to expect. He got the words out quickly. Otherwise, he would have changed his mind about telling her that he had found an internship for Frankie Hunt.
"It's with Matt Stoll," Hood told her. "He'll be working on put-the-square-peg-in-the-square-hole stuff. Inventory and routing software and hardware upgrade notifications."
"Great," Sharon said. "Thanks."
She really did sound grateful. That made him uncomfortable. Sharon was happy because he was helping his goddamn replacement. There was a point at which a good soldier became an idiot. He felt he had crossed that.
"E-mail me his contact information," Hood told her, continuing because he had no choice. "I'll order an expedited background check, and we can go from there."
"Will do," she said. "Frankie is a good kid."
"I'm sure he is," Hood said pleasantly. It was filler, but he could not think of anything else to say. Anything