Call to Treason - Tom Clancy [75]
"Chief?" Stoll said.
Hood turned. "Yes, Matt?"
"Bob was a little out of line there you handled that well."
"Thanks."
"But the truth is we're hearing a lot of conflicting things about Op-Center and the CIOC," Stoll said.
"Hearing from whom?"
"Okay, we're not actually hearing it," Stoll said. "We're sort of hacking it from Company and FBI internal E-mail."
"They should have used Mr. Wilson's fire walls Hood said.
"They do," Stoll said.
"And you broke through?"
"Not exactly," Stoll told him. "There's a serious flaw in Master Lock one that hackers would have had to plan ahead to exploit. Two years ago I sent E-mails to the agencies with a virus. A time bomb. What it does is lurk in the software and reset it to a previous systems checkpoint on my command. It's like sending the computer into the past for as long as I need, then restoring the current programs. If someone is on the computer, they are unlikely to notice."
"Matt, that's brilliant."
"Thanks. I figured the best way around increasingly sophisticated fire walls was to go in before they were raised.
The point is, according to internal E-mails, there are folks who say we're grandstanding by working on this Wilson thing, and others who say we're going down and desperate for attention."
"Neither of those is true," Hood said.
"Then what is true?"
"We were downsized, period," Hood told him. "Right now I'm working to see if we can't get some of our assets restored."
"Oh? What are the odds?"
"Pretty fair," Hood said. "I'll let all the department heads know when I have more information."
"Sweet. We could use a lift."
Hood gave the younger man's shoulder a squeeze, then went back to his office. He had never felt so torn in his life. His position made him unavailable for office gossip, let alone the gossip of other offices.
Nor had Op-Center ever been a place where workers had a reason to gripe. There had been sadness and setbacks, but always due to missions. There was never a sense that the organization itself was in jeopardy. Certainly no one ever believed that Op-Center would be blindsided by the CIOC and other government agencies. Like Paul Hood, the National Crisis Management Center was the golden child of intelligence.
They thought.
Hood reached his office and shut the door. He stood inside, staring at his desk. If Hood accepted the president's offer, he would be participating in the spoils system he had always fought. His guiding principle would not necessarily be what was right but what was right for Op-Center. He would no longer be Pope Paul, as Herbert and the others sometimes called him in jest, but Apostate Paul.
But was anything so clear cut anymore? It did not matter whether the president was right or wrong about the threat Senator Orr represented.
That was psychological spin-doctoring. What mattered was hanging on to men like Matt Stoll and Darrell McCaskey. Hood would not like everything the new NCMC was asked to do. But this was not about his comfort zone.
This was about preserving enough of Op-Center so that their important primary mission of crisis management could continue.
Hood went to the phone to call Senator Debenport. He would agree to the terms Debenport and the president had presented. He would ask for guarantees, not to be made an ambassador but to protect the existing staff.
He would make his deal with the devil.
* * *
TWENTY-SIX
Washington, D.C. Tuesday, 11:50 a.m.
Kenneth Link sat alone in the conference room, reviewing a computer file of layout plans for the convention floor. Eric Stone had E-mailed a suggestion for the location of the podium. He felt the stand should be moved fifteen yards closer to the north side of the convention center. That put the speakers closer to the right when people entered the arena through the main gate. Link felt the change was gimmicky and declined to approve it.
Or maybe Link was just being contrary. He was not sure. The interview with Darrell McCaskey had left him in a sour mood. It had not gone the way he had anticipated. The admiral believed that