Howell said. 'I'll resign or take a bust-down or whatever disciplinary action they want.'
'Detective, I have a feeling your testimony is going to be important in this case,' Rodgers told him. 'You're going to take heat for what you did, and there's going to be exposure on aspects of your personal life.
Whatever dues you need to pay will get paid. I would be surprised if the Metro Police asked for more than that.'
'I hope you're right.'
'People are pretty compassionate, when you get down to it. They'll understand the kind of crap you were under from the start. If you hang tough, you'll be okay.'
'Thanks.' Howell smiled. 'Just having Darrell make the call meant a lot.'
'He's tough but fair,' Rodgers said.
The senator arrived, and the group left, save for three police officers. Hotel security was called, and under the eyes of two house detectives, the trio of officers packed up Senator Orr's belongings and had them taken downstairs. Then they went to the rooms of Kat Lockley, Kenneth Link, Eric Stone, and Kendra Peterson and did the same. The suitcases were placed in a police van and driven to the station.
Mike Rodgers did not join them as they closed up the suites. He had a job to do. Ironically, with everyone else gone, General Rodgers was in fact if not in name the ranking official of the USE He decided to go down to the convention hall and address the attendees. Though he was not one for public speaking, he was remarkably calm as he stood at the podium and said simply that the events of the past day had forced the USF to reevaluate its launch plans. He suspected the senator would have a statement to make within the next day or two but had no additional information or insights to share at present. He did not answer questions shouted from those near the stage.
'As of now,' he said in closing, 'the party is over.'
The double meaning did not appear to be lost on anyone. Slowly, thousands of people made their way to the street. Some went to their hotels to change flights, others waited for the downtown bars to open, and still others picked up discounted souvenirs from vendors.
By early afternoon, as word of the arrest and extradition of Senator Orr spread through the city, the USF banners were already coming down.
Soon, all that was left of the USF were discarded state placards and crumpled flyers tumbling from overstuffed trash cans and blowing down the Pacific Coast Highway.
FIFTY-EIGHT
Washington, D.C. Friday, 8:22 am.
It was a bittersweet meeting for all.
Stuffy, with a hint of smoke still hanging high in the air, the Tank was what it would never be again: home to all the surviving, original members of the Op-Center command team: Paul Hood, Mike Rodgers, Bob Herbert, and Darrell McCaskey. Hood had seen the men talking in the hallway and invited them in. Only Martha Mackall, who was slain in Madrid, was not present. Lowell Coffey, Matt Stoll, Ron Plummer, and Liz Gordon had joined later. All were involved in getting Op-Center running again. Coffey was talking to Senator Debenport about appropriations, Stoll and his team were installing new equipment, and Liz was 'talking to the staff to make sure there were no post pulse fears about being downstairs in a sealed environment, in a place where one of their coworkers had been killed.
Hood had expected there to be tension between himself and Rodgers, between himself and Herbert. Instead, there was a sense of triumph.
Darrell McCaskey had started an operation that they had seen to the finish line, all of them carrying the load part of the way. Hood was glad that it was Mike who had gotten to carry it home. He deserved to go out with a victory. If Bob Herbert held any bitterness about the downsizing of Op-Center, he had put it aside for now. Or maybe it was forgotten. The Mississippi native was like magnesium: a quick, bright burn, and then it was over. Just a few months before, Herbert had been angry at Rodgers for taking on an intelligence unit after the disbanding of Striker.
Or maybe he is just exhausted from pushing his wheelchair around, Hood thought. Herbert had ordered a spare motor, phone, and computer from the base quartermaster, but they would not be delivered until the next day.
'Detective Superintendent George Daily is a very happy man,' McCaskey said as they settled in around the conference table. He looked at Rodgers. 'Mike is a hero in the London press.'
'Maybe Scotland Yard will give me a job,' Rodgers replied.
'Whatever you do, go someplace where there is a window that opens,'
