'Lucy, who did you speak with? Admiral Link? Senator Orr? Someone who works for one of them?'
'A woman.'
'Do you know which woman?'
'No,' Lucy said.
'What number did she call?'
'My cell phone,' Lucy said.
'Okay,' McCaskey said. 'Now I want you to stay here. Someone will come for you. You have to believe I'm going to try to help you, all right?'
'All right,' she said blankly.
McCaskey gave her a reassuring pat on the back of her tense hand. Then he stepped back onto the highway. The police were making their way through traffic. Maria was standing there. Behind her, the airbag of the car had inflated.
'Nice move,' he said. 'Are you hurt?'
'No. You?'
'No.'
McCaskey kissed his wife on the forehead and reached for his cell phone. It was gone. Poor Bob was probably mad with concern and madder with confusion. McCaskey hurried ahead. He needed to get a phone so he could call the intelligence chief. He showed one of the police officers his Op-Center ID. The man loaned him his phone. McCaskey said he would return it later.
McCaskey did not call Bob Herbert's phone because the line was probably still open. Instead, he called the Tank. Bugs Benet answered. He asked Hood's assistant to have Herbert find out who called Lucy O'Connor's cell phone within a half hour of the murder of William Wilson.
'Will do,' Bugs said. 'How can we reach you?' 'Don't worry about me,' he said. 'Keep an ear to the ground for Mike.' McCaskey wasn't being heroic, just practical. He had a feeling that whether he was about to resign or not, Mike Rodgers was the one who would have to carry this ball in for the touchdown.
FIFTY
San Diego, California Wednesday, 3:45 p.m.
Inevitably, out of chaos comes order. The only two questions are when and at what cost?
Chaos evolved quickly in the hotel lobby, as it always does. One convention-goer carried it to three who carried it to nine. When chaos spreads, Mike Rodgers knew that the most important thing was not to try to contain it. Security had called the police, and reinforcements were on the way. Their presence would emphasize what was already an extraordinary situation and remove whatever remained of normalcy. That would merely put the same amount of tumult in a more confined space.
And chaos tended to leap whatever firebreaks were placed around it. The task at hand was to eliminate the cause, not to contain the result.
The cause was shock about the apparent abduction of Admiral Kenneth Link and uncertainty about who did it or why. Mike Rodgers wanted to get on the problem right away. And not just to help eliminate the panic. Apparently, this was related to whatever the hell had started in Washington just four days ago.
Rodgers walked over to a relatively quiet corner near the magazine stand. He called the office of General Jack Breen at Pendleton. Breen said it was good to hear from his old friend.
'Where are you?' the marine general asked.
'San Diego,' Rodgers replied.
'San Diego? I hear there's noise in that area. Yours?'
'Indirectly,' Rodgers said. 'Jack, I need air recon ASAP. Something with eyes and teeth. We believe Admiral Kenneth Link has been kidnapped from the hotel here.'
