'At what price, though?' McCaskey asked.
'Compromise,' Hood said.
McCaskey shook his head. 'I don't think I can go along with this.'
'That's your choice,' Hood said. He was sad but not surprised to hear that. 'But it explains what I said before about dying. When I was at the White House this morning, I listened to Senator Debenport's bloody damn deal. I left, I had a long think, and I made my choice. But it cost me, Darrell. A part of my soul died before that electromagnetic pulse bomb was even detonated.'
McCaskey looked as though his grip on the last rung had slipped. This was not how he had planned his life, how he ran his life.
'May I make a suggestion?' Hood asked.
'Please.'
'Continue the work you were doing for the reasons you were doing it. We can worry about the rest of it later.'
'Self-deception,' McCaskey said.
'Will you feel better if a killer and possibly a bomber gets away?'
Hood asked with uncharitable bluntness.
'That's a helluva choice,' McCaskey said, his voice low, his eyes flat.
'Maybe it's just old age, but I can't remember a time when options were easy or clear.'
McCaskey nodded gravely. 'We agree on that, at least.'
'I'll take it,' Hood said with the hint of a smile.
'What I do not understand is how the hell we got here, Paul. Mike is gone, the building has been gutted, our integrity is no longer impervious. Even you would have to admit that.'
'I do,' Hood replied sadly.
Integrity had always been the center's hallmark. Integrity had also been Paul Hood's personal hallmark. Now, even if he draped an albatross around his neck and preached virtue like the Ancient Mariner, Hood would never have that quality again. What upset him more than the deal with Debenport was the fact that he had not seen this coming. He thought he was smarter than that.
'I'll have to get back to you on how we got here,' Hood said. 'Right now, I'm more concerned about where we are going and who is coming along. Can I count on you?'
'I'll finish what I started,' McCaskey said.
'That's all I need. Thanks.'
McCaskey headed toward the door. 'I told Mike I would wait to hear from him before leaning any more on Orr and Link,' he said. 'In the meantime, I'm going to see if the Metro Police have anything. They've been concentrating their efforts on the second murder.'
Hood nodded. 'Thanks again,' he added.
'Sure,' McCaskey said.
The former FBI agent left, and Hood was alone once more. Alone in the Tank, the brain of Op-Center encased in its electromagnetically protected skull. Alone while his staff struggled to put the other organs together again. There was one, however, that Hood wondered if they would ever be able to retrieve. The one they needed almost as much as the brain: the heart.
THIRTY-SIX
Washington, B.C. Tuesday, 6:31 p.m.
Darrell McCaskey picked up two things on his way to the Metro Police.
