Without remorse - Tom Clancy [226]
"The bags stink,' Billy had said. 'Like dead bodies, like the stuff they use.'
What the hell did that mean? Kelly wondered, going through town one last time. He saw police cars operating. They couldn't all be driven by corrupt cops, could they?
'Shit,' Kelly snarled at the traffic. 'Clear your mind, sailor. There's a job waiting, a real job.'
But that had said it all. boxwood green was a real job, and the realization came as clear and bright as the headlights of approaching cars. If someone like Sandy didn't understand - it was one thing to do it alone, just with your own thoughts and rage and loneliness, but when others saw and knew, even people who liked you, and knew exactly what it was all about... When even they asked you to stop ...
Where was right? Where was wrong? Where was the line between them? It was easy on the highway. Some crew painted the lines, and you had to stay in the proper lane, but in real life it wasn't so clear.
Forty minutes later he was on 1-495, the Washington Beltway. What was more important, killing Henry or getting those other women out of there?
Another forty and he was across the river into Virginia. Seeing Doris - what a dumb name - alive, after the first time when she'd been almost as dead as Rick. The more he thought about it, the better that seemed.
boxwood green wasn't about killing the enemy. It was about rescuing people.
He turned south on Interstate 95, and a final forty-five or so delivered him to Quantico. It was eleven-thirty when he drove into the training site.
'Glad you made it,' Marty Young observed sourly. He was dressed in utilities for once instead of his khaki shirt.
Kelly looked hard into the General's eyes. 'Sir, I've had a bad enough night. Be a pal and stow it, all right?'
Young took it like the man he was. 'Mr Clark, you sound like you're ready.'
That isn't what it's about, sir. Those guys in sender green are ready.'
'Fair enough, tough guy.'
'Can I leave the car here?'
'With all these clunkers?'
Kelly paused, but the decision came quickly enough. 'I think it's served its purpose. Junk it with the rest of 'em.
'Come on, the bus is down the hill a ways.' Kelly collected his personal gear and carried them to the staff car. The same corporal was driving as he sat in the back with the Marine aviator who wouldn't be going.
'What do you think, Clark?'
'Sir, I think we have a really good chance.'
'You know, I wish just once, just one goddamned time, we could say, yeah, this one's going to work.'
'Was it ever that way for you?' Kelly asked.
'No,' Young admitted. 'But you don't stop wishing.'
'How was England, Peter?'
'Pretty nice. It rained in Paris, though. Brussels was pretty decent, my first time there,' Henderson said.
Their apartments were only two blocks apart, comfortable places in Georgetown built during the late thirties to accommodate the influx of bureaucrats serving a growing government. Built of solid cinder-arch construction, they were more structurally sound than more recent buildings. Hicks had a two-bedroom unit, which compensated for the smallish living-dining room.
'So what's happening that you wanted to tell me about?' the Senate aide asked, still recovering from jet lag.
'We're invading the North again,' the White House aide answered.
'What? Hey, I was at the peace talks, okay? I observed some of the chitchat. Things are moving along. The other side just caved in on a big one.'
'Well, you can kiss that goodbye for a while,' Hicks said morosely. On the coffee table was a plastic bag of marijuana, and he started putting a smoke together.
'You should lay off that shit, Wally.'
'Doesn't give me a hangover like beer does. Shit, Peter, what's the difference?'
'The difference is your fucking security clearance!' Henderson said pointedly.
'Like that matters? Peter, they don't listen. You talk and talk and talk to them, and they just don't listen.' Hicks lit up and took a long pull. 'I'm going to leave soon anyway. Dad wants me to come and join the family business.