Games of State - Tom Clancy [117]
Hood took a step toward her. He was still holding her hand, and his grip softened. He was now holding the hand of a woman, not a captive. "There aren't very many companies like Demain," he said, "and thank God for that. What they're doing is wrong. And whatever happens, you mustn't go back there."
"Every large corporation has a few demons."
"Not like these," said Hood. "If this Pandora's box is opened, hundreds, perhaps thousands of people will die. The world will change, and not for the better."
Though her eyes were at once defiant and sad, her touch was willing. Hood wanted to kiss her, shelter her, love her. And then he asked himself, Who am I to talk about immorality?
"So," she said, "you don't want me going back. And you also want my help bringing Dominique to justice."
Holding her hand, looking into her eyes, he said quietly, "I do."
The wistful, tender way he'd spoken hit her almost as hard as the words he'd selected. She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
"Even if you get him, Dominique will get rich man's justice," Nancy said. "The kind the French government loves to dispense because it buys summer homes for officials."
"Dominique won't be able to buy his way out of everything he's done," Hood promised.
"And what about me?" she asked. "Where does a whistle-blower go?"
"I'll help you when this is all over," Hood said. "I'll see to it that you have work."
"Well, golly gee and thanks," Nancy said. "Haven't you figured out yet that that's not what I need from you, Paul?"
She half-turned, looked down, and ran her tongue across her upper lip. Hood continued to hold her hand. There was nothing he could say, nothing which wouldn't give her false hope.
After a moment, she faced him again. "Of course I'll help," she said. "Whatever you need I'll do."
"Thanks," Hood said.
"Don't mention it. What are ex-fiancées for?"
Hood touched her cheek, then turned to the pad on which he'd written Ballon's number. He didn't look back at Nancy as he placed the call. The yearning in his eyes would have given her the answer, and it wasn't an answer that would do either of them any good.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Thursday, 6:44 P.M.,
Wunstorf, Germany
The crack Bob Herbert heard was not the report of the gun. He knew that because the bullet would have struck his brain and shut it down before the sound of the gunshot reached him.
Also, he realized that the sound had come from above.
The branch fell heavily through the trees. Though the police officer hopped aside, out of the way, he couldn't avoid the young woman who dropped from the tree a moment later. She crashed down on him, spilling them both to the ground. But she had landed on top and got off first. Because he had managed to hold onto the gun, she rose, stepped on his wrist, and wrested it away.
"Here!" she said, pushing the weapon into Herbert's hands.
He aimed it at the police officer's head. When the man didn't stir, Herbert looked at the young woman. She was standing unsteadily to Herbert's left, obviously shaken by her plunge.
"Jody Thompson?" Herbert asked.
She nodded twice. She was nearly gasping. Her heart was probably racing from fear, poor thing.
"My name's Herbert. Bob Herbert. I work for the U.S. government. I want to thank you for what you did."
She said in breathless chunks, "It's not the first time I've fallen for a guy."
He smiled. She was pumped up by fear and maybe a little excitement. "I assume you didn't just fall from the tree--"
"No," she said. "I'd been walking and got lost. I fell asleep up there. I woke when I heard you and saw what he was going to do."
"I'm glad you're a light sleeper," Herbert said. "Now I think we'd better make sure our playmate is--"
Jody screamed, "Look out!"
Herbert hadn't turned his back on the police officer, but he'd made the mistake of looking at the girl. The German had pushed off from the ground before the American could fire. He dove for the gun. The wheelchair spilled over backward with the two men on it and four hands scrapped for the weapon.
Herbert lost the