State of Siege - Tom Clancy [59]
En route, Deputy Chief Mohalley had told Hood that the MP'S had choppered in from Fort Monmouth, New Jersey, where they were attached to the Air Mobility Command.
"According to the information I was given," Mohalley had explained, "the Congressional Intelligence Oversight Committee refused to give your Strikers permission to become involved in the crisis. Apparently, the CIOC chairman was concerned about Striker's reputation for rule-bending, so he contacted the White House and spoke directly with the president."
Obviously, Hood thought bitterly, no one had bothered to consider Striker's reputation for success. "When the president tried to phone Mike Rodgers," Mohalley went on, "he was furious to learn that Striker was already airborne. The president's next call was to Colonel Kenneth Morningside, Fort Monmouth post commander. I'm not surprised they're taking such a hard line," Mohalley added. "About fifteen minutes after the terrorists went into the United Nations, the State department issued a general order that no units of the security police were to set foot in the United Nations complex. I understand the NYPD got a similar order. Any incursion had to be requested by the secretary-general in writing, and the parameters approved by the unit's commanding officer."
Hearing this, Hood was more afraid for Harleigh and the other children than he was before. If Striker wasn't allowed to save them, who could? But Hood's feelings of despair shaded to rage when he saw Mike Rodgers, Brett August, and the rest of the Strikers being detained.
These men and women, these combat heroes, didn't deserve to be treated like thugs.
Hood got out of the car and jogged toward the group. Mohalley hurried after him. A stiff, salty wind blew in from the bay and Mohalley had to hold his cap to keep it from blowing off. Hood didn't feel it. The anger roiled inside, burning more intensely than his fear and frustration. His muscles were cable-taut and his mind was on fire. Yet his fury was not just directed at this outrage and at the continuing ineffectiveness of the UN. Like oil feeding deep-smoldering fires, his anger spilled everywhere. He actually found himself mad at Op-Center for having intruded so much on his life, at Sharon for not being more supportive, and at himself for having managed it all so badly. Lieutenant Solo, the military police; brigade commander, walked forward to meet them. The lieutenant was a short, beefy, balding man in his late thirties. He had unyielding eyes and a no-nonsense face.
Mohalley caught up to Hood and introduced himself to the colonel. Then he went to introduce Hood. But Hood had already walked past the officers toward the ring of MP'S. Frowning, the colonel turned and strode after him. Mohalley followed the colonel. Hood stopped just short of shouldering his way through the MP'S'-BUT it was a very short stop. Enough common sense remained to remind Hood that if he fought these people, he was going to lose. The lieutenant eased in front of Hood. "Excuse me, sir-" he said. Hood ignored him. "Mike, are you all right?" "Been in worse spots," he said.
That was true, Hood had to admit. Perspective joined common sense and Hood relaxed slightly.
"Mr. Hood," the lieutenant said insistently. Hood looked at him,, "Lieutenant Solo, these service-men report to me. What are your orders?"
"We've been instructed to make certain that all Striker personnel are put back on hoard