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The two stopped walking in front of the Finnish National Theater. They looked at one another with warm smiles and soft eyes.

"I confess I was wrong," Peggy said. "I didn't think you'd be up to this."

"Thanks," George replied. "That's encouraging, coming from someone with so much more experience, someone so much older."

Peggy was tempted to throw him on his back the way she had when they first met. Instead, she offered him her hand.

"The face of an angel and the soul of an imp," she said. "It's a good combination, and you carry them well. I hope to see you again."

"Ditto," he said.

She half turned, stopped. "When you see him," she said, "the chap who grudgingly allowed me to join you, thank him."

"The team leader?" George asked.

"No," said Peggy. "Mike. He gave me a chance to take back some of what I lost."

"I'll tell him," George promised.

And turning to the sun like a moth to flame, Peggy walked down the empty street.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

Friday, 8:00 A.M.,

Washington, D.C.

An overnight rain had left the runway at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware damp and misty, reflecting the mood of the small group that had gathered to meet the C-141 transport. Standing beside an immaculate honor guard, Paul Hood, Mike Rodgers, Melissa Squires, and the Squires's son, Billy, were of one heart, and that heart was bleeding.

When they had arrived in the limousine following the hearse, Rodgers had thought that he should remain strong for Billy. But now he realized that apart from being unnatural, it was impossible. When the cargo hatch was opened and the flag-draped coffin was rolled out, tears warmed Rodgers's cheeks and he was as much a boy as Billy, anguished and in need of comfort and despairing that there was none to be had. The General stood at attention, enduring as best he could the sobs of Lieutenant Colonel Squires's widow and son to his left. He was glad when Hood came from his right to stand behind the couple the hem of his trench coat billowing slightly in the wind, his hands on their shoulders ready to offer words or support or strength or whatever was necessary.

And Rodgers thought, How I have misjudged this man.

The honor guard fired off their guns, and as the coffin was loaded onto the hearse for the ride to Arlington, and the four of them stood alongside it, the spindly five-year-old Billy suddenly turned to Rodgers.

"Do you think my daddy was afraid when he was on the train?" he asked in his pure, little-boy voice.

Rodgers had to roll his lips together to keep from losing it. As the boy's big eyes waited, it was Hood who squatted in front of him and answered.

"Your dad was like a police officer or a firefighter," Hood said. "Even though they're all afraid when they face a criminal or a fire, they want to help people and so they pull bravery out of here. " He touched a finger to the lapel of Billy's blazer, right over his heart.

"How do they do that?" the boy asked, sniffling but attentive.

"I'm not sure," Hood replied. "They do it in a way that heroes do."

"Then my daddy was a hero?" asked the boy, obviously pleased with the idea.

"A great one," said Hood. "A superhero."

"Bigger than you, General Rodgers?"

"Very much bigger," Rodgers said.

Melissa put an arm around Billy's shoulder and, managing a grateful smile at Hood, ushered him into the limousine.

Rodgers watched Melissa as she climbed in. Then he looked at Hood.

"I have read--" he started, stopped, then swallowed hard before he began again. "I have read the greatest speeches and writings in human history. But nothing ever moved me the way you just did, Paul. I want you to know that I'm proud to know you. And what's more, I'm proud to be serving under you."

Rodgers saluted Hood and climbed into the car. Because his eyes were on Billy, the General didn't see Hood wipe away a tear as he followed him in.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

The following Tuesday, 11:30 A.M.,

St. Petersburg

Paul Hood, his wife, and their two children took a long walk