Games Of State (1996)

by Tom - Op Center 03 Clancy

  Now he saw the pilot look back at him. There was someone between the seats of the flight deck, on the floor, struggling to rise. As the pilot turned away, he tried to throw the chopper into another dive. The cable held, both vehicles shook, and then the pilot looked back again. This time, though, he was not looking at August but at the cable.

  Slowly, he began backing the helicopter up. With a flash of terror, August realized what he was trying to do. He was attempting to use the rotor to cut the cable. If he couldn't get away he was going to take everybody down.

  August scrambled feverishly to drag his leg up over the skid. As soon as he was standing, he reached for the cabin door and literally yanked it open. He hurled himself into the passenger compartment. With two strides he was in the open flight deck. Stepping over the semi-conscious man on the floor, August cocked his arm into a tight jujitsu chamber, with the elbow waist-high, straight back, and punched the pilot in the side of the head. With piston-like speed, he hit him a second and third time, then pulled the dazed man from the seat.

  Dropping into it, August held the control stick steady while he turned to the man on the floor.

  "Hausen? Get up! I need you to fly this damn thing!"

  The German was groggy. "I ... I tried to steady it for you ... twice."

  "Thanks," August said. "Now c'mon--"

  Slowly, Hausen began to drag himself into the copilot's seat.

  "A little faster, please!" August shouted. "I have very little idea what I'm doing here!"

  Wheezing, Hausen flopped into the seat, dragged a sleeve across his bloody eyes, and took the stick.

  "It's okay," the German said. "I ... I have it."

  Bolting from the pilot's seat, the Colonel angrily threw Dominique into the cabin, then went back to the open door. He leaned out. Boisard was manfully making his way to Manigot.

  "We're secure in here!" August yelled. "When you have him, undo the cable!"

  Boisard acknowledged and August ducked back inside.

  "You okay up there?" the Colonel shouted to Hausen.

  "I'll be fine," the German said wearily.

  "Keep it steady until you get the word," August said. "Then we'll head back to the factory."

  Hausen acknowledged. Bending over Dominique, August picked him up, plunked him into a chair in the cabin, and stood in front of him.

  "I don't know what you did," August said, "but I hope it was bad enough so that they put you away forever. "

  Dazed and bleeding, Dominique managed to look up at him and smile. "You can stop me," he said through loose teeth, "but you can't stop us. Hate ... hate is more bankable than gold."

  August smirked. And punched him again. "There's interest on my account," he said.

  As Dominique's head rolled to his right, August went back to the open hatch. His arms shaking from exhaustion, he helped Manigot inside. When Boisard was finished unhooking the cable, August assisted him in as well. Then he closed the door and fell heavily to the floor.

  The sad thing was, the bastard was right. Hate and hate-mongers continued to flourish. He used to fight them. Used to be pretty good at it. Still was, he had to admit. And though it took a while for his brain to catch up to his heart, he knew that when he landed he had a call to make.

  SEVENTY-THREE

  Friday, 12:53 A.M., Toulouse, France

  The men of the Gendarmerie had secured the factory by the time the Osprey returned. The New Jacobins had been rounded up and handcuffed. They had been separated into groups of two and placed in office cubicles guarded by two men each. Ballon believed that martyrs and heroes were either exhibitionists or wind-up toys. They were less likely to do anything if no one was there to see or provoke them. The quick collapse of the New Jacobins reinforced something else which Ballon also believed. That they were cowardly pack animals with no stomach to fight when left on their own or faced with equal or superior numbers.

  Whatever the truth of the matter, there was no further resistance as local police vans were summoned to cart the captives away. Ambulances were also called, though Ballon insisted on being treated at the site and remaining there until the Osprey and LongRanger had returned. Along with the others, he'd watched the distant struggle. Until the Osprey pilot radioed that Dominique had been taken, no one knew what the outcome had been.

  When the Osprey landed, followed by the LongRanger, Colonel August personally took charge of Dominique. They exited side by side, August holding Dominique in a forearm lock. The Frenchman's forearm was facing up, resting on August's. His elbow was tucked into August's armpit and his hand was turned up and back toward his body. If he tried to escape, August would simply bend the hand toward his body, causing excruciating pain in the wrist.

  Dominique didn't try to escape. He could barely walk. August immediately turned him over to the Gendarmerie. He was placed in a van with Ballon and four of his men.

  "Tell Herr Hausen he can have the headlines," Ballon told August before they drove away. "Tell him I will write them myself!"

  August assured him that he would.

  The Osprey pilot had called ahead for the NATO medics. Though the cuts and bruises Boisard and especially Manigot had suffered were mostly superficial, there were a lot of them. And Manigot had fractured two ribs.

  Hausen was in the worst shape. In an effort to remain conscious and focus his energy during the flight back, he had talked to August. He said that Dominique had tried at first to strangle him. And each time Hausen had rallied and tried to wrest control of the helicopter, Dominique had kicked or beaten him again. As soon as the helicopter landed, Hausen slumped over the control stick.

  Hood entered the LongRanger so he could be with the Deputy Foreign Minister until he was evacuated. Hood sat in the pilot's seat beside the German as they waited for the NATO medic to finish with the assault casualties.

  Hood called his name. Hausen looked over and smiled faintly.

  "We got him," he said.

  "You got him," Hood replied.

  "I was willing to die if I could take him with me," Hausen said. "I ... didn't care about anything else. I'm sorry."

  "No need to apologize," Hood said. "It all worked out."

  The American got up and stepped aside as a medic and her assistant arrived. She examined the wounds on Hausen's neck, temple, scalp, and lower face to make sure there was no need for hemorrhage control. Then she checked his eyes and heart rate and made a cursory spinal examination.

  "Mild neurogenic shock," she said to her assistant. "Let's get him out of here."

  A stretcher was brought over and Hausen was carried from the LongRanger. Hood walked out behind them.

  "Paul!" Hausen shouted as he was lifted down the steps.

  Hood said, "I'm here."

  "Paul," Hausen said, "this is not finished. Do you understand?"

  "I know. We'll get that regional center going. Take the initiative. Now don't talk."

  "In Washington," Hausen said as he was placed in the ambulance. He smiled weakly. "Next time we meet in Washington. Quieter."

  Hood smiled back at him and squeezed his hand before they shut the door.

  "Maybe we ought to invite him to a budget hearing," Matt Stoll said from behind him. "This'll seem like a day at the beach."

  Hood turned. He squeezed his associate's shoulder. "You were a real hero tonight, Matt. Thanks."

  "Aw, it was nothing, Chief. It's amazing what you can do when your ass is in danger and you've got no choice."

  "Not true," Hood said. "A lot of people panic under fire. You didn't."

  "Bull," Stoll said. "I just didn't show it. But I think you've got other unfinished business. So I'm just going to tiptoe away and have a nervous breakdown."

  Stoll left. Nancy was standing directly behind him, in the shadows.

  Hood stared at her for a moment before he walked over. He wanted to say that she'd performed like a hero too, but he didn't. She'd never warmed to slap-on-the-back compliments, and he knew that that was not what she wanted to
hear from him.

  He took her hands in his. "I think this is the latest we've ever been out."

  She laughed once. Tears rolled from her eyes. "We were old fogies back then. Dinner, reading in bed, ten o'clock news, early movies on weekends."

  Hood was suddenly aware of the weight of his wallet inside his jacket and of the two ticket stubs inside it. She wasn't. She was staring into his eyes with love and longing. She did not intend to make this easy.

  He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs, then moved his hands to her shoulders. He kissed her on the cheek. The warm salt of her tears made him want to move closer, hold her, kiss her ear.

  He stepped back.

  "There are going to be inquiries, a lot of commissions and court dates. I would like to get you an attorney."

  "Okay. Thanks."

  "I'm sure someone will pick up Demain's assets when this is all cleared up. My staff has muscle in all kinds of places. I'll make sure you're involved. Until then, Matt will find things for you to do."

  "My savior," she said dryly.

  Hood grew annoyed. "This isn't fun for me either, Nancy. But I can't give you what you want."

  "Can't you?"

  "Not without taking from someone else, someone I love. I've spent most of my adult life growing up with Sharon. We're intertwined in ways that are very special to me."

  "Is that all you want?" she asked. "A relationship that's special? You should be delirious. We were. Even when we fought we had passion."

  "Yes," Hood said, "but that's over. Sharon and 1 are happy together. There's a lot to be said for stability, knowing that someone will be there--"

  "For better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health," Nancy said bitterly.

  "That," Hood said, "or even just showing up at the movies."

  Nancy's mouth turned down. She blinked several times without looking away. "Ouch," she said. "Direct hit."

  Hood was sorry to have hurt her, but at least he'd found the strength to say what needed to be said. It felt bad but it felt right.

  Nancy finally turned away. "So," she said. "I guess 1 should have gone back to town with Colonel Ballon."

  "The local police are on the way," Hood told her. "They'll see that we get a ride."

  "You're still a blockhead," she said with a brave smile. "I meant he's single. It was a joke."

  "Gotcha," Hood said. "Sorry."

  Nancy took a deep breath. "Not as sorry as I am. About everything." She looked at him again. "Even though this didn't work out the way I wanted, it was good to see you again. And I'm glad you're happy. I truly am."

  She started to walk away, swaying as she had when he'd seen her at the hotel, her hair snapping this way, then that. Hood started after her. Without turning around, she held up her hand like a police officer stopping traffic and shook her head.

  Hood watched her go, his own eyes dampening. And when she had disappeared into the crowd of police and medics he smiled sadly.

  The date, at last, had been kept.

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  Monday, 9:32 A.M., Washington, D.C.

  Hood, Stoll, and Herbert were welcomed back to Op-Center with a small party in the Tank, the high-security conference room. When they arrived, the senior staffers were already gathered with trays of coffee, croissants, and crullers.

  "We bought out all of the French and German-sounding pastries in the commissary," Ann Farris pointed out as she welcomed Hood with a cheek-to-cheek air kiss.

  Ed Medina and John Benn had spent the weekend building a small tableau of toy soldiers representing NATO, Hood, and Herbert. They were defending a fort labeled "Decency" from a horde of disfigured soldiers pouring from a troop transport labeled "Hate."

  The bruised but unbowed Herbert was touched. Stoll lapped it all up. Hood was embarrassed. Rodgers stood cross-armed in the corner, out of Hood's limelight, a hint of envy in his expression.

  When prompted to speak, Hood perched himself on the corner of the conference table and said, "All we did was what people like General Rodgers and our Striker personnel do all the time."

  "Run amok abroad," Lowell Coffey suggested, "and make the diplomats earn their pay?"

  "No," Stoll countered. "Fight for truth, justice, and the American way!"

  "Where're my pom-poms?" Ann Farris asked.

  Hood quieted the twenty-odd people gathered in the office. "Like I said, we only followed the example that our Op-Center colleagues have set for us. Speaking of which, Mike--you want to make the announcement?"

  Rodgers shook his head and extended his hand toward Hood. Hood wanted to drag him over, force him to share in this triumph. But self-promotion was not in Rodgers's lexicon.

  Hood said, "Over the weekend, General Rodgers finalized plans for Colonel Brett A. August to come to Washington to take command of Striker. Colonel August was the man who actually collared Gerard Dominique, and he's going to be a great stragetic and personal asset to our team."

  There was a smattering of applause and upthrust thumbs.

  "As I'm sure you've all noticed," Hood went on, "this weekend the press was full of the fall of Dominique and the implications of Operation L'Ecouter. I saw a lot of editorials about the way the prejudices and suspicions of otherwise good people were going to be manipulated, used to destroy lives and societies. I hope the warnings don't die with the headlines. Ann, we'll have to talk about that. Let's see if we can work up some kind of educational program for schools."

  She nodded and smiled proudly at him.

  Hood said, "The evidence Matt dug up on the Demain computers is safe with French prosecutors. Since there were international elements to the crime, representatives of the U.S., Germany, and other nations will be on hand to make sure that Dominique doesn't wriggle away. I would also like to congratulate Matt and his team. Yesterday, they traced the launch site of the hate games here in the U.S. to a bank computer in Montgomery, Alabama. They were planted there over the Internet so they could be launched as close as possible to the place where Rosa Parks refused to give her bus seat to a white man in 1955. Dominque believed in history. Too bad he didn't learn a damn thing from it."

  Rodgers said solemnly, "As Samuel Taylor Coleridge said, 'If men could learn from history, what lessons it might teach us. But passion and party blind our eyes.' "

  Hood said, "I think we opened a few eyes in Europe, especially thanks to Bob."

  "And Jody Thompson," Herbert said. "I'd be under a pile of rocks if it weren't for her."

  "Yes, and Jody," said Hood. "We've been told that the Chaos Days celebration in Germany fizzled after what happened. A lot of the younger people became disillusioned and went home early."

  "Poor babies," said Martha. "Wanna bet they'll be back?"

  "You're right," said Hood. "We didn't put an end to hate. But we did put them on notice. At ten o'clock, I'm meeting with Senator Barbara Fox--"

  There were scattered boos.

  Hood held up his hands. "I promise you that she won't leave here without rescinding the budget cuts she's threatened. Actually, over the weekend I was thinking about how we could use additional money for a new division operating either as part of Op-Center or independently. A Web Patrol or Net Force to watch over the information highway."

  "Why not call it Computer CHiPs?" Stoll asked. "Or how about Information Highway Patrol?"

  There were several loud groans.

  "What?" he said. "Net Force is better?"

  "It'll get taken seriously by Congress and the press," John Benn said, "and that's what counts."

  "Speaking of Congress," Hood said, "I don't want to keep Senator Fox waiting. I want to thank everyone for this welcome home, and I especially want to thank General Rodgers for the support you gave us overseas."

  Hood left then, followed by respectful applause and a few cheers. On the way out, he patted Rodgers's shoulder and asked him to join him. They left the Tank together.

  "Is there anything we can do to make Colonel August feel welcome?" Hood aske
d as they walked back toward his office.

  "Only one thing I can think of," Rodgers said. "I'm going to head into D.C. at lunchtime to see if I can find a model of Revell's Messerschmitt Bf 109. We used to build kits as kids and that was the big one we missed."

  "Expense-account it," Hood said.

  Rodgers shook his head. "This one's on me. I owe it to Brett."

  Hood said he understood, then asked Rodgers if he wanted to attend the meeting with Senator Fox.

  Rodgers declined. "Once a week is enough. Besides, you've always handled her better than I have. I just don't have the touch."

  Hood said, "I just tried doing what you do for a living, Mike. You've got the touch all right."

  "Then it's settled," Rodgers said. "If we can't persuade her, we put her in a helicopter in cuffs."

  "It works for me," Hood said as his assistant, "Bugs" Benet, poked his head from his office down the hall. He informed the director that the Senator had just arrived.

  With Rodgers's good wishes following him down the hall, Hood hurried to meet Senator Fox at the elevator.

  The woman arrived with her two assistants and a sly expression.

  "Good morning, Paul," the Senator said as she stepped out. "Have a restful weekend?"

  "When my wife wasn't yelling at me for nearly getting killed, yes."

  "Good." They began walking down the hall. The Senator said, "As for me, I wasn't resting. I was trying to figure out how I'm going to lop off heads working for the man who just saved the free world. Did you plan that, Paul? Just to make my life difficult?"

  "I can't sneak anything past you, can I?" he replied.

  "It'll sure play on Larry King Live," Senator Fox said. "Especially a man in a wheelchair saving Ms. Thompson. That was not only miraculous, it was a PR dream. And the press is positively loving her. Especially since she's been turning down offers to sell movie rights to her ordeal unless she can direct it. Smart cookie."