State of Siege - Tom Clancy [44]
As Harleigh thought about defending themselves, she experienced a flash of terror. She wondered if this might have something to do with her father and Op-Center. He had never talked about work at home, not even when he and her mother had argued. Could it be that Op-Center had wronged these people in some way? She had learned in civics class that except for Israel, the United States was the largest target of terrorism in the world. The violinists were the only Americans here. were they after her? What if they didn't know her father had resigned? What if they wanted to control her to control him?
The flesh of her neck and shoulders grew warm. Harleigh began to perspire along her sides. The gown that had felt so new, so elegant, clung to her like a bathing suit. This isn't happening, she thought. It was the kind of thing you saw on the news happening to other people. There were supposed to be safeguards here, weren't there? Metal detectors, guards at the doors, security cameras.
Suddenly, the man who'd been talking to the delegate from Sweden called the Australian man over. After a short discussion, the Australian man grabbed the delegate by the collar, hoisted him up and, at gunpoint, walked him up the stairs toward the door. Harleigh wished she had her violin to hug close. She wished she could be held by her mother. Her mom was probably frantic-unless she was trying to be Ms. Calm to other frantic mothers. She probably was. That had to be where Harleigh got it from. Then she thought of her father. When Harleigh's mother had taken her and Alexander to visit their grandparents and figure out their future, her father decided to give up his career rather than lose them. She wondered if he'd be able to look at this as another crisis and think calmly, even though his daughter was involved.
The Australian man returned. After exchanging a few rough words with the delegate, he took the paper from him and shoved the man along the stairs. Harleigh assumed that their captors had just given someone a list of demands. She no longer thought that she might be the target. She felt her neck cool. They were going to get through this.
The Swedish delegate was seated with the other delegates, back on the floor with his hands on his head. Harleigh assumed it was time to wait. That would be all right. Her father had once said that as long as people were talking, they weren't shooting. She hoped so. She decided not to think about it. Instead, quietly, very quietly, she did what she came here for.
She hummed "A Song of Peace."
Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland Saturday, 10:09 p.m. After hanging up with Colonel August, Mike Rodgers looked at the clock on his computer screen. The LongRanger would be at Andrews in about twenty-five minutes. The C-130 would be ready to go by then. Bob Herbert looked over at the general. The intelligence chief scowled. "Mike? Are you listening?" "Yes," Rodgers said. "You've got a team working on Mala Chatter ee's past to see who might want to humiliate the new secretary-general. Possibly fellow Hindus who oppose her public stand on behalf of women's rights. You're also checking the whereabouts of the people Paul helped to stop in Russia and Spain, in case this is about him."
"Right," Herbert said.
Rodgers nodded and rose slowly; the damn bandages were constricting. "Bob, I'm going to need you to run the show here for a while."
Herbert seemed surprised. "Why? Aren't you feeling okay?" "I'm feeling fine," Rodgers said. "I'll be going to New York with Striker. I'm also going to need a base of operations once we get there. Something near the United Nations that could also serve as a staging area.
The CIA must have a shell in that neighborhood." "There's one right across the street, I believe," Herbert said. "Eastern tower of the twin skyscrapers, UN Plaza. The Doyle Shipping Agency, I think it's called. They keep an eye on the comings and goings of spooks pretending to be diplomats, probably gather