Net Force - Tom Clancy [58]
And if that wasnt enough, the political side of the job required a lot more of something else Michaels hated-socializing. Since hed taken over, hed gone to four black-tie political soirées, suffering through vulcanized chicken or salmon cooked to blackboard-eraser consistency. All of these events had featured after-dinner speakers who could put a room full of dexadrine addicts into a suspended animation that made Sleeping Beauty look like an insomniac.
No, this was definitely not a part of the job he enjoyed.
At least he didnt have to worry about building appropriations. That was the Directors job. And given all the new structures that Net Force had recently constructed, was in the process of constructing, or was planning on constructing, that would be a major chore in itself. J. Edgar Hoover would never recognize the FBI Compound, it had grown so large in just the last five or six years. It was a small town unto itself.
He stared at the pile of hardcopy and the blinking To Do list on his computer screen. He had a stack of stuff to read, things to sign, all the minutiae of any mid-level office manager that had to be taken care of, regardless of the more important things that had to wait. And it wasnt going to get done if he just sat there and stared at it.
It was going to be a long day. And when it was done, he would go home to his empty condo, eat a meal alone, watch the news, read his mail and slog through reports on his flatscreen. Probably fall asleep reading-that was what happened most of the time. Either that, or get called out to one of the Nights of the Boring Politicos.
He missed Megan. He missed his daughter. He missed having someone to share his day with, to care that he came home, that he lived or died
He shook his head. Poor you. Youre just so damned sad, arent you?
Michaels chuckled. The Island of Self-Pity was a waste of time; he never could stay there very long. He had a job to do, and he was part of the solution and not part of the problem, wasnt he? Hell with the rest of it.
He reached for the hardcopy.
Monday, September 27th, 9:44 a.m. New York City
Yes, Ill be there, Genaloni said. His voice was curt and he was irritated, but he tried, as always, to hold onto his temper. Good-bye.
He put the phones receiver down gently when what he wanted to do was slam it into its cradle hard enough to break both. Women. Jesus.
As wives went, Maria was probably as good as any. She stayed home, took care of the kids, supervised the maids and butler and cook and gardener, was active in charity affairs. Hed met her in college. She was smart, and shed been drop-dead gorgeous when hed married her. She worked out, and had spent some time under the knife, so she was still damned attractive for a woman her age-hell, any age; and if anything, she had gotten smarter, too. She looked good on his arm, was always dressed better than anybody else in any room they went to, but she was a pain in the ass sometimes. Because she was smart and good-looking, and because she came from a rich family, she was used to getting her way. She wanted his time, and she always wanted it most when he least had it to give. He was going to have to break a date with Brigette, his mistress, to go to some cure-a-disease ball his wife wanted him to go to, and he wasnt happy about it.
That Maria probably knew about Brigette and had done this on purpose also crossed his mind.
There was a tap on the doorjamb. He looked up and saw Johnny the Shark Benetti standing in the open doorway. Shark was a good name for Johnny. He was young, quick, and could cut you to tatters with a knife no longer than your finger. The Shark also had a degree in business from Cornell. As people in his organization retired or went away for legal reasons, Genaloni replaced them with equally tough but more educated ones. Sure, smart people had their drawbacks-too much ambition was usually part of the package, but you could deal with that. Bury a guy chin-deep in money, and mostly he would think long and hard