Games of State - Tom Clancy [31]
The General hated mysteries, and during the forty-minute drive he'd tried to imagine everything it could be, from an infestation of ants or bats to something Billy might have done himself.
Nothing he considered even came close.
The Striker base was located at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia. The team members were housed in apartments on the base; families had townhouses. Melissa and Billy lived in the largest of these, closest to the swimming pool. Regulations said that they would be allowed to stay in the commander's residence until a permanent new Striker leader was named. As far as Rodgers was concerned, they could live there as long as they liked and the new commander could stay somewhere else. There was no way he'd tear Billy from his friends until Melissa felt he was ready.
Besides, Rodgers thought as he showed his pass to the guard at the gate, the way the search is going it'll be the millennium before we have a new commander. The man he really wanted for the job, Colonel Brett August, had already turned him down twice. And he'd probably turn Rodgers down a third time when he called him again later. Meanwhile, Major Shooter, on loan from Andrews Air Force Base, was the temporary leader. Everyone liked him, and he was a masterful strategist. But he had no combat experience. There was no reason to assume he'd choke in the field, but no reason to assume he wouldn't. On the kinds of world-in-the-balance missions Striker had drawn in North Korea and Russia, it was a risk they couldn't afford.
Rodgers parked his brand-new, apple-red Blazer in the parking area and jogged toward the front door. Melissa opened it before he arrived. She looked okay, her posture relaxed, and Rodgers slowed down.
But then, the young woman had a habit of looking as if all was right with the world. Even when Charlie was alive, when he got riled up chicken-fighting in the pool or playing hockey in the rink or losing the spot for his seven-letter word in Scrabble, she was the portrait of composure. Now that her husband was gone, she did the picnics and outings with the rest of the Striker families, tried to keep life as normal as possible for her son. Rodgers could just imagine the tears she'd cried in the dark. But the operative word was "imagine." She rarely showed any of her sadness in public.
He hopped up the steps and they embraced warmly.
"Thanks for coming, Mike," she said.
"You smell nice," he smiled. "Apricot shampoo?'
She nodded.
"Never smelled that one before."
"I decided to change a few things." She looked down. "You know."
Rodgers kissed her on the forehead. "Of course."
He stepped past her, still smiling. It was strange coming here in the morning and not smelling the gourmet coffees that Charlie always drank.
"Where's Billy?" Rodgers asked.
"Taking a bath. He burns off energy playing in the tub, so he's calmer in school."
Rodgers heard the boy splashing now, upstairs. He looked back at Melissa. "Has he been acting up?"
"Only the last few days," Melissa said. "That's why I asked you to come here a little early."
Melissa crossed the small living room and motioned with a finger for Rodgers to follow. They entered the playroom, which was decorated with framed prints of warplanes. On top of the TV was a framed photo of Charlie with a black ribbon in the corner. Other photos of the family stood on the fireplace mantel and bookshelves.
Rodgers tried not to look at them as Melissa led him to the computer table. He set the comic books beside the printer as Melissa turned on the computer.
"I thought it would be.a fun distraction to get Billy on the Internet," she said. "There's a gopher."
"Sorry?" Rodgers said.
"I take it you're not up on this?"
"No," Rodgers said. "You could say I'm a little down on high-tech inactivities, but that's another story."
Melissa nodded. "A gopher is a system of menus which allows users relatively easy access to text archives on the Internet."
"Like a Dewey Decimal card file," Rodgers said, "in real libraries."
"Like that." Melissa smiled. "The point