Games of State - Tom Clancy [41]
After hanging up, Rodgers thought about the hate groups and wondered if they were more pervasive than ever, or if the instant media coverage simply made people more aware of them.
Or maybe it's both, he thought as he passed the sentry at the gate. The media coverage of these groups inspired like-minded racists to form their own groups, causing the media to report on the "phenomenon" of hate groups. One dirty hand washes the other.
Rodgers parked and walked briskly toward the front door. The meeting with Senator Fox was scheduled for 8:30. It was already 8:25. The Senator was usually early. She was also usually pissed if whoever she came to see wasn't early.
That will probably be strike one against me, Rodgers thought as he rode the elevator down. Strike two if she's in an unusually bad mood.
When the General exited in the lower level, the sympathetic look on the face of Anita Mui, the lower-level sentry, confirmed that the count was 0-and-2.
Well, he thought as he headed down the corridor, I'll have to find a way to deal with that. Commanders do, and Rodgers loved being a commander. He loved overseeing Striker and he loved running Op-Center when Hood was away. He loved the process of making things happen for America. Being even a small cog in that great machine filled him with indescribable pride.
And part of being that cog is dealing with other cogs, he told himself. Including politicians.
He stopped short as he passed Martha Mackall's office. The door was open and Senator Fox was sitting inside. He saw from the Senator's grim expression that he had struck out, even before he'd stepped to the plate.
He looked at his watch. It was 8:32. "Sorry," he said.
"Come in, General Rodgers," she said. Her voice was tight, clipped. "Ms. Mackall has been telling me about her father. My daughter was a tremendous fan of his music."
Rodgers entered. "We all liked Mack's stuff," he said as he shut the door. "Back in 'Nam, we called him the Soul of Saigon."
Martha was wearing her serious professional face. Rodgers knew it well. Martha had a habit of adopting the attitudes of people who could advance her career. And if Senator Fox was down on Rodgers, then Martha would be too. Even more so than usual.
Rodgers sat on the edge of Martha's desk. Since Senator Fox wanted the home court advantage, she was going to have to look up at him.
"Unfortunately," Senator Fox said, "I didn't come here to discuss music, General Rodgers. I came to discuss your budget. I was disappointed when Director Hood's assistant telephoned yesterday to say that Mr. Hood had a more pressing engagement-- spending money he won't have. But I decided to come here anyway."
"Paul and I worked closely together preparing the budget," Rodgers said. "I can answer any questions you have."
"I have only one question," the Senator said. "When did the Government Printing Office begin publishing fiction?"
Rodgers's stomach began to burn. McCaskey was right: Paul should have handled this.
Senator Fox placed the briefcase in her lap and popped the latches. "You asked for an increase of eighteen percent at a time when government agencies are making across-the-board cuts." She handed Rodgers his own three-hundred-page document. "This is the budget I will present to the finance committee. It contains my blue-pencil reductions totaling thirty-two percent."
Rodgers's eyes snapped from the budget to the Senator. "Reductions?"
"We can talk about how the remaining seventy percent is to be apportioned," Fox continued, "but the cut will be made."
Rodgers wanted to throw the budget back at the Senator. He waited a moment until the urge had passed. He turned and placed it on Martha's desk. "You've got nerve, Senator."
"So do you, General," Fox said, unfazed.
"I know," he replied. "I've tested it against North Vietnamese, Iraqis, and North Koreans."
"We've all of us seen your medals," she replied politely. "This is not a mandate on courage."
"No, it's not," Rodgers quietly agreed. "It's a death sentence. We have a