'Soft-pedal. Do you mean bury?'
'I mean they should let the Brits handle this through channels. They should let the Metro Police work the investigation.'
The Metropolitan Police were efficient, sensitive, and discreet. Their footsteps would not splash much mud.
While Rodgers did not believe that Hood was doing this for the reasons Link had stated, there was no doubt that the presence of a crisis management organization would leave a much bigger footprint.
'There's something else to consider,' Link went on. 'The CIOC can effectively dissolve Op-Center tomorrow simply by downsizing the budget to zero. If Hood steps on FBI jurisdiction, that could happen. Be a friend to him. Suggest to Hood that he reconsider his involvement.'
'I'll think about it,' Rodgers said.
The subject was not raised again.
The men talked a little about the USF and the convention, and Link shared a list of politicians and business leaders who were privately committed to lending support to the party. It was impressive. He also gave Rodgers a CD containing USF press releases and internal directives to bring him up to speed.
Donald Orr returned, and so did a sense of balance. The senator said the interview had gone very well, that he had told CBS that they should wait for an official statement from investigators before speculating about the death of the man he described as 'Britain's gift to Europe.'
That was one of Kat's phrases, Orr said, and he liked the point it made.
As Rodgers conferred with the men, he found himself very relaxed with Orr and very suspicious of Link. The Orr-Link dynamic was not good cop, bad cop. It was more honest than that. Orr was like the white hat sheriff who would face a gunslinger on Main Street at high noon and let him draw first. Link was the deputy who hid behind a window with a rifle, clipped the bad guy in the shoulder, then went over and stepped on the wound until the man told him where the rest of the gang was hiding. Both approaches were strategically valid as long as you were not the target. Rodgers knew where he stood with Orr. He was not so sure about Link. There was a fine distinction between being employed by someone and being used by them. It was up to the integrity of the employer and the dignity of the employee to see that the line was not crossed.
Rodgers left, promising to call the men with his answer in the morning.
He wanted to join them. The idea was exciting, and it was a new experience for him. Still, Rodgers was not certain what to do. It would mean leaving the military for something that was wildly uncertain. On the other hand, what in the world was not uncertain?
When Rodgers woke this morning, he was still the deputy director of Op-Center.
As Rodgers walked to his car, he found himself feeling surprisingly bitter about his dismissal. Why would Hood fire him, then put a high-overhead individual like Darrell or Bob Herbert on an off-topic investigation? It wasn't exactly disloyal, but it did suggest some sadly screwed-up priorities. And what about the idea that Hood might use this to help Op-Center? Though he did not for a moment believe that the evidence would have been falsified, as Link suggested, perhaps Hood would in fact seize on this to help redirect an ailing Op-Center.
That's the beauty about being deputy sheriff, the general decided. The sheriff was the big symbol and the big target. He had to get out in the street and confront the outlaw. He could not snipe at him from safety, and he did not have time to run a psyops campaign.
Clearly, Kenneth Link's years as the director of covert operations for the CIA had not been wasted. As Rodgers drove into the heavy traffic and rust-colored sunlight of late afternoon, he decided he would have that talk with Paul Hood about the William Wilson investigation.
FIFTEEN
Charlottesnlle, Virginia Monday, 4:18 p.m.
When April Dorrance was a young girl growing up in rural Sneedville, Tennessee, on the Virginia border, her father collected discarded appliances and fixed them for resale. That was the kind of thing a skilled and resourceful African-American man had to do in the South in the early 1970s to feed his family. April loved playing house with the appliances before they were repaired. She also enjoyed watching her father work. She loved seeing his huge hands manipulate fine wire and tools. He always explained what he was doing and why.
'That was how my pop taught me,' Royal Dorrance said one night in their small cabin with its corrugated tin roof.
'And is that how his father taught him?' April asked.
