Tom Clancy's op-centre_ mirror image - Tom Clancy [138]
"Message received and appreciated, Larry," Hood said. "As I said, I'll get back to you."
"Do that," said the CIA Director, using the tapered tip of his cigar to punch off his image.
Hood looked over at Mike Rodgers. Everyone else had left to attend to departmental business, leaving the Director and his deputy to wait for word from the Mosquito.
"Sorry you had to hear that," Hood said.
"No sweat," said Rodgers. He was sitting in an armchair, his arms crossed, his brow creased. "You don't have to worry about him, though. We've got photos. That's why he has to bluster so damn much. He doesn't really carry a lot of weight."
"What kind of photos?" Hood asked.
"Of him on a boat with three women who weren't his wife," Rodgers said. "The only reason the President replaced Greg Kidd with him is that Larry had wiretaps of the President's sister trying to hold a Japanese company up for under-the-table campaign contributions."
"That lady's a piece of work." Hood smiled. "President Lawrence should have given the CIA to her instead of Larry. At least she'd have used it to spy on our enemies instead of on us."
"Like the man said," Rodgers told him, "this is Purgatory. Everyone's an enemy here."
The phone beeped. Hood thumbed the speaker button.
"Yes?"
"Incoming from Striker," said Bugs.
Rodgers jumped over.
"Private Honda reporting in," said a clear voice from a sea of quiet.
"I'm here, Private," said Rodgers.
"Sir, myself, Pups, and Sondra are on board the extraction craft--"
Rodgers felt his gut tighten.
"--the other three are still on the train. We don't know why they haven't stopped yet."
Rodgers relaxed slightly. "Any indication of resistance?"
"There doesn't appear to be," said Honda. "We can see them moving in the windows of the cab. I'll keep the line open. Contact in thirty-nine seconds."
Rodgers's hands were fists and he leaned on them as he stood beside the desk. Hood's hands were folded beside the phone, and he took the opportunity to pray for Striker.
Hood looked at Rodgers. The General raised his eyes to meet the Director's. Hood could see the pride and concern in those eyes, understood the strength of the union between these men, a union deeper than love, closer than marriage. Hood envied Rodgers that bond-- even now, when it was causing him so much concern.
Especially now, Hood thought, for those fears made the bond even stronger.
And then Honda's voice came back on, with an edge that hadn't been there moments before.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Tuesday, 4:54 P.M., St. Petersburg
The distance between Peggy and the main entrance of the Hermitage couldn't have been greater if she were still in Helsinki. At least, that was how the English operative felt as she walked briskly toward the next gallery to the south, paintings of the School of Bologna. From there, if she could make it, the walk to the State Staircase was a short one.
Peggy knew the woman was following her and would also have backup, someone who would be watching and reporting back to a command center. Perhaps the one right here in the Hermitage, operating with or without Orlov's approval.
Peggy stopped to look at a painting by Tintoretto, just to see what her stalker would do. She watched her intently, as though she were a fingerprint under a magnifying glass.
The woman paused in front of a Veronese. There was no playacting. She stopped abruptly, obviously, wanting Peggy to know that she was being followed. Perhaps, Peggy thought, the woman was hoping she would panic.
Concentration put two little creases above her nose. Peggy considered and rejected a number of options, from taking a painting hostage to starting a fire. Counterattacks like those invariably brought more forces to the scene and made escape less likely. She even contemplated trying to reach the TV studio and surrender