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By Root 393 0

to speed on Paul Hood's schedule-- now his schedule-- for the coming week. There were meetings with the heads of the other U.S. intelligence groups about sharing information more efficiently, a preliminary budget hearing, and lunch with the head of the French Gendarmerie Nationale, Benjamin. Just the thought of all that talk made his mouth dry. But there were some real challenges ahead as well. He'd be sitting down with Bob Herbert and Matt Stoll, their computer genius, to work out programs for coverage from the new ED satellite, the Electronic Disruptor. The ED satellite was being tested over Japan and could disrupt electronic impulses in objects as small as a desktop computer. He would also be receiving data from personnel on the ground in the Middle East, South America, and elsewhere. And then there were reports from U.S. agents in the Russian Army. He was looking forward to news of the Petroleum, Oil, and Lubricants Distribution overhaul, and he was curious to see how the new Russian President planned to compensate for personnel cutbacks in both the troop rear and operational rear.

Most of all, he was looking forward to the first conceptual sit-downs with Op-Center engineers for the proposed Regional Op-Center. After Korea, it had occurred to him that they should have mobile facilities which could be shuttled anywhere in the world. If it was feasible, one or more ROCs could make them an even more effective intelligence unit.

After lunch, Rodgers had gone to the shooting range at Andrews. There were days when he could dance around a bull's-eye with a.45-caliber M3 grease gun and miss it every time. Then there were days when he could pick his teeth with a.22-caliber Colt Woodsman. Today had been one of those good days. After two hours of marksmanship that left Air Force personnel stunned, Rodgers visited his mother in the Van Gelder Nursing Home. She was no more lucid than she'd been since her stroke two years before. But he read to her, as he always did, her favorite Walt Whitman poems, then sat and held her hand. After he left, he met an old Vietnam buddy for dinner. Andrew Porter owned a chain of comedy clubs up and down the East Coast, and he made Rodgers laugh like no one else.

While they were drinking coffee and getting ready to pay the check, Rodgers's pager beeped. It was Assistant National Security Director Tobey Grumet. He used his cellular phone to call her back.

Tobey informed him of the New York bombing and of an emergency Oval Office meeting called by the President. Rodgers apologized to Porter and left at once.

As he raced along the highway, Rodgers's thoughts went to General Charles "Chinese" Gordon. Gordon's efforts to protect indefensible Khartoum from the fanatical hordes of the Mahdi were at once among the boldest and most insane military adventures in history. Gordon paid for his heroism with his life, taking a spear in the chest and having his head paraded around on a pike. But Rodgers knew that that was how Gordon had wanted to die. The Englishman had traded his life for the chance to tell a tyrant, "No. You can't have this place without a fight."

Rodgers felt the same way. No one was going to do something like this to his country. Not without a fight.

He listened to the news on the radio and spoke on the phone as he drove to the White House. He was glad he had something to do: it kept him from dwelling on the horror. There were over two hundred deaths. The East River was shut down to traffic, and the FDR Drive on Manhattan's east side would be closed for days while it was examined for structural damage, Other transit points were being checked for explosives-- bridges, railroads, airports, highways, subways-- meaning that the hub of the world's economy would be effectively shut down on Monday morning.

Op-Center's staff FBI liaison, Darrell McCaskey, phoned Rodgers and told him that the FBI had taken charge of the investigation and that Director Egenes would be at the meeting. McCaskey told Rodgers that the usual list of extremists had called to take credit for the bombing. But no one believed