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"He used to be with the National Center for Middle East Studies in Cairo," Hood said. "Now he's with the Institute for Peace."

"How would he play in Syria?"

"He'd be very welcome there," said Hood, still confused. "He's a devout Muslim and a pacifist. He also has a reputation for honesty."

"Hell," said Larry Rachlin, "I'm starting to lean toward Steve on this one. Mr. President, do we really want an Egyptian Boy Scout talking restraint with a terrorist state?"

"We do when everyone else is running off half-cocked," the President said. He glanced at Burkow, but didn't rebuke him. Hood knew that he wouldn't. The men had been friends for too long and been through too many personal and professional crises together. Besides, Hood knew that the President welcomed Burkow saying the things that he, as the Commander-in-Chief, could not. "Paul," the President went on, "I'd like you to go to Damascus with Professor Nasr."

Hood recoiled slightly. Larry Rachlin and Steve Burkow both sat up straight. Lincoln smiled.

"Mr. President, I'm not a diplomat," Hood protested.

"Sure you are," said Lincoln. "Will Rogers said that diplomacy is the art of saying 'nice doggie' until you can find a rock. You can do that."

"You can also talk to the Syrians about intelligence and about banking," the President said. "That's exactly the kind of diplomacy I need right now."

"Until we find a rock," Burkow muttered.

"Frankly, Paul," the President continued. "I also can't afford to send anyone at cabinet level. If I do, the Turks will feel slighted. Personally, I'm as tired of being pushed around as Steve and Larry are. But we've got to try the low-key route. Mrs. Klaw will see that you have the appropriate policy papers to read on the flight. Where is Mr. Nasr?"

"In London, sir," Hood said. "He's speaking at some kind of symposium."

"You can pick him up there," the President said. "Dr. Nasr can fine-tune and help sell whatever you think will work. You can take that kid from GU if you'd like. This will also put you on the scene in case you need to help negotiate for the release of General Rodgers. Ambassador Haveles in Damascus will see to all the security arrangements."

Hood thought about missing his daughter's piccolo solo tonight at school. He thought about how his wife would fear for him going into that part of the world at this particular time. And. he thought about both the challenge and pressure of being part of history, of helping to save lives instead of risking them.

"I'll be on a plane this afternoon, sir," Hood said.

"Thanks, Paul." The President looked at his watch. "It's one-thirty-two. General Vanzandt, Steve, we'll have the Joint Chiefs and Security Council meet in the Oval Office. at three o'clock. You want to move the battle group, General?"

"I think it would be prudent, sir," Vanzandt said.

"Then do it," said the President. "I also want options in the event of increased hostilities. We've got to keep this from spreading."

"Yes, sir," General Vanzandt said

The President rose, signaling the end of the meeting. He walked out with Burkow and General Vanzandt on either side, followed by Rachlin and Colon. Secretary of Defense Colon threw Hood a friendly salute as he left.

As Hood sat alone at the conference table, collecting his thoughts, Av Lincoln walked over.

"The first time I ever pitched in the Major Leagues," the Secretary of State told him, "it wasn't because I was ready for the job. It was because three other starters were sick, injured, or suspended. I was eighteen years old and scared spitless, but I won the game. You're smart, you're dedicated, you're loyal, and you've got a conscience, Paul. You're going to bat this assignment out of the ballpark."

Hood rose. He shook Lincoln's hand. "Thanks, Av. I hope I don't dazzle everyone so much that you're out of a job."

Lincoln smiled as they left the Situation Room together. "Considering the stakes, Paul, I hope you do."

* * *

SEVENTEEN

Monday, 8:17 p.m.,

Oguzeli, Turkey

Lowell Coffey was staring