Tom Clancy's op-center_ acts of war - Tom Clancy [20]
Martha sat still for a moment, then said, "I'll think about it."
Hood wanted to say, "You'll do it." But Martha was a thorny woman who also had to be handled with care. He said, "Can you let me know by this afternoon?"
She nodded, then left.
Stoll regarded Hood. "Thanks, Chief. I really mean that."
Hood drained the last cold drop from his mug. "Your friend screwed up over there, Matt. But if you can't go to bat for a good man who's been a loyal ally, then what the hell good are you?"
Stoll made a zero with his thumb and index finger, thanked Hood again, then left.
Alone again, Hood pressed his palms into his eyes. He had been a big-city mayor and a banker. When his father was his age, forty-three, he was a CPA struggling to keep his own small accounting firm afloat. How did Frank Hood's son come to this place in life where careers could live or die, where people could live or die, based on decisions he made here?
He knew the answer, of course. He loved government and he believed in the system. And he did it because he believed that he could make these decisions compassionately and intelligently.
But Lord, he thought, it's difficult.
With that, the self-pity ended. Rising with his mug, Hood left the office to start on his next cup of coffee.
* * *
EIGHT
Monday, 3:53 p.m.,
Sanliurfa, Turkey
Mary Rose Mohalley finished running the last of the local systems checks. The software for the ALQ-157 infrared jammer was on-line and functioning. So was the hardware of the three-foot-by-two-foot-by-two-foot X-poser, which was designed to detect the residue of nitroglycerin, C-4, Semtex, TNT, and other explosives. Then she checked to make sure the ROC's batteries and solar panels were working at full capacity. They were. Two dozen batteries were dedicated to the ROC's internal systems. Another four batteries were devoted to powering the van's engine when, unlike now, gasoline wasn't readily available. The latter four batteries consisted of a pair of low-rate-energy storage batteries and two high-rate-energy flywheel batteries. Together the four batteries provided a total of eight hundred extra miles of travel capacity without recharging. All of the nickel metal-hydride batteries were stored in two fifty-eight-by-fourteen-inch compartments that were built into the raised floor. The solar panels that powered the van's air-conditioning and water were also working perfectly.
The twenty-nine-year-old got up. She had intended to go out and stretch, maybe catch a few minutes of sun, when Mike Rodgers spoke.
"Mary Rose, would you mind getting Matt's OLM program up and running before you do anything else?"
The young woman's shoes squeaked as she stopped suddenly on the smooth, black rubberized floor covering. Rodgers hadn't turned around or he would have seen her shoulders slump.
"No, I wouldn't mind at all," Mary Rose replied lightly. She plopped back down. Back at Op-Center, psychologist Liz Gordon had warned her that the only rays she'd get working with Mike Rodgers were whatever low-level radiation leaked from her computer monitor.
After giving his associate her assignment, Rodgers arched his back and stretched in silence. Then he continued going through his own checklist.
There it was, Mary Rose grumbled to herself. General Rodgers just took his break.
She looked at the screen and began moving the mouse around. The OLM was Matt Stoll's On-Line Mole. Though they had both been eager to try it, the OLM was part of the second wave of software installations. It was scheduled to be up and running by four p.m. However, with General Rodgers, a request was as imperative as a command.
The young woman rubbed her tired eyes, but that didn't make them feel any better. She was still jet-lagged from the flight