Call to Treason - Tom Clancy [58]
"Like Atlas," she repeated.
Hood thought about that, then smiled. She got him. He put the paperweight down. "What do you do when you feel like your life and career are on a parallel course in the wrong direction?"
"That depends," Liz replied. She shut the door. "If you're patient, it's like moving around that globe. Learn what you can on the journey, enjoy the scenery, and eventually, you come back around."
"What if you feel like you're running out of fuel?"
"Ride the winds."
"I have been," Hood told her.
"And?" The psychologist moved toward the desk. "Talk to me, Paul."
Hood hesitated. He was not good at this. He did not like to complain or to seek help. But Liz must have sensed that something was wrong.
The woman was responsible for keeping psychological files of the staff, and her antennae were always extended. Decisions made in these offices could affect millions of people. If Liz felt that someone were under too much stress, either personal or professional, she could order them to take time off. She had done that with Mike Rodgers after his Striker military unit was decimated in India.
"Truthfully, Liz?" Hood said. "I feel like those winds have been blowing me all over the damn place, mostly away from where I need to be."
"Do you know where you need to be?"
"Not doing this," he said. "Not cutting personnel and pulling back from missions. Not kowtowing."
"That's negative space," she said in a careful, nonjudgmental voice.
"You can't define what you should be doing by what you're not doing."
She leaned on the desk so their eyes were level. "First tell me this, Paul. Are we talking about home or about Op-Center?"
"Both," he admitted.
"So you feel like your backsliding in two areas."
"Yeah. At the same speed and gaining momentum."
"Do you wish you were back with Sharon?"
"No," he said without hesitation.
"Are you upset that she's getting her life together?"
Liz was Harleigh's therapist, so Hood was not surprised that she knew this.
"No," he answered truthfully.
"You said you were kowtowing. To Sharon?"
Hood nodded. "To her, to the CIOC, to Scotland Yard, and when you leave I'll probably feel like I was kowtowing to you."
"Then tell me to go."
Hood hesitated.
"The only way to stop backsliding is to dig down with your heels." She stood. "Do it, Paul."
"Okay. We're done," he said.
"Not good enough. That isn't an end. It's neutral."
"I don't see the difference," he confessed.
"I'm still here. I'm still talking, aren't I?"
Hood grinned. "Get out," he said sharply. "Now," he added.
Liz smiled. "One more thing?" she asked.
Hood could not tell whether or not this was a trap. "One," he said firmly.
"Everyone is disoriented and retrenching," Liz said. "Sharon, the intelligence community, the nation. You're being pushed, but it isn't personal it's partly fear, partly a sense of renewal."
The intercom beeped. It was Bugs Benet's line.
Liz turned to go. "Don't be afraid to push back," she said.
"Aggression externalized is preferable to aggression internalized."
"Isn't that how wars start?" Hood asked as the intercom beeped again.
"No," Liz said. "Was the American Revolution about tea? Was the Civil War about slavery?"
"In part "
"Bingo. War is never about one thing," Liz said. "It's about one thing that was never addressed and became two things, then three, and finally exploded and consumed everything."
She was right. "Thanks, Liz," Hood said as he picked up the phone.
"Anytime," she said.
Hood nodded gratefully as he took the call. "What is it, Bugs?"
"Chief, the White House just called," Bugs said. "The president wants to see you in two hours."
"Did he say why?"
"No," Bugs said.
Being asked to see the president was not unprecedented. However, if Hood had any doubt about the wisdom of Liz's advice, it evaporated when he asked who else was going to be there.
"Senator Debenport," Bugs replied.
* * *
TWENTY-ONE
Washington, D.C. Tuesday, 7:30 a.m.
With the flags of Texas and the United States as his backdrop, the dome of the Capitol between them, bright morning light causing