Divide and conquer - Tom Clancy [95]
Everyone who had that level would be down there. Being seduced and controlled by Jack Fenwick. Hood walked back toward the Cabinet Room. He was still holding his cell phone and tapping it against his open palm.
He felt like throwing the damn thing. He could not phone the president.
Calls to the Situation Room went through a different switchboard than the rest of the White House. He did not have clearance for direct dial, and Fenwick would certainly have arranged it so that any calls Hood made would be refused or delayed. Hood was accustomed to challenges, to delays. But he always had access to the people he needed to talk to and persuade. Even when terrorists had seized the United Nations Security Council, there had been ways to get in. All he needed was the resolve and manpower to do it. He was not accustomed to being utterly stonewalled like this. It was miserably frustrating. He stopped walking. He looked up at the portrait of Woodrow Wilson, then looked at the painting of Mrs. Wilson.
"Shit," he said. He glanced down at the phone. Maybe he wasn't as stonewalled as he thought. Jogging again. Hood returned to the Cabinet Room. He was willing to bet there was one avenue Jack Fenwick hadn't closed down. He couldn't have, even if he wanted to.
A queen always beat a Jack.
Baku, Azerbaijan Tuesday, 11:09 a.m.
As Odette walked down the hall, she had two concerns. One worry was that she might be making a mistake about the identity of the man in room 310.
That he was not, in fact, the Harpooner. Orlov had given Odette a general idea what the Harpooner looked like. But he had added that the Harpooner probably wore disguises. She had a mental picture of someone tall and aquiline with pale, hateful eyes and long fingers. Would she hesitate to shoot if someone not-so-tall and heavyset with blue, welcoming eyes and stubby fingers opened the door? Would that give him a chance to strike first? An innocent man would come over and say "Hello," she told herself. The Harpooner might do that to throw off her guard.
She had to strike first, whoever was in there. Her other concern was a question of confidence. She had been thinking about the reluctance she heard in General Orlov's voice. Odette wondered what concerned him most. That something would happen to her or that the Harpooner might escape? Probably both. Though she tried to rev up an "I'll show him" mentality. General Oriov's lack of confidence did not boost her own. It doesn't matter, she told herself. Focus on the goal and on nothing else. The mission was all that mattered. The target was just a few doors down. Odette and David Battat had agreed that she would start their spat. She was the one who had to open the door and go in. She should control the timing. The couple passed room 314. Odette was holding the key in her left hand. She still had the gun in her right hand, under the jacket, which was draped over her forearm. Battat was holding the switchblade at his side. He seemed to be somewhat more focused than he had been when he arrived. Odette was not surprised. She was, too. They passed room 312. Odette turned to Battat.
"Why are you stopping?" she asked him. Odette made sure not to shout just so the Harpooner could hear. Her tone was normal, conversational.
"What do you mean, "Why am I stopping?" he asked right back. Odette moved ahead several steps. She stopped in front of room 310. Her heart was speeding.
"Aren't we going inside?"
"Yes," he replied impatiently.
"That's not our room," Odette said.
"Yes it is," Battat said.
"No," Odette said.
"This is our room."
"We're in 312," Battat said confidently. She put the key in the slot of 310. That was the signal for Battat to step over to the room. He walked over and stopped directly behind her. His right shoulder was practically touching the door. Odette's fingers were damp with sweat.
She could actually smell the brass of the key. She hesitated. This is what you'we been waiting for, she reminded herself. An opportunity