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MISSION OF HONOR
65
TEN
Washington, D.C. Tuesday, 8:00 P.M.
The Watergate was Bob Herbert's favorite hotel. And not just his favorite in Washington. His favorite in the world.
It was not only because of the history of the hotel. The infamy attached to Richard Nixon and the break-in. Herbert actually felt sorry for the man. Virtually every candidate did what Nixon's staff had done. Fortunately or unfortunately, he got caught. That was bad enough. What affected Herbert was this smart man's too-slow uptake in the nascent art of spin control.
No, Herbert had a more personal connection with the hotel. It happened in 1983. He was still getting accustomed to life in a wheelchair, to life without his wife. His rehabilitation facility was several doors down from the hotel. After one frustrating session, Herbert decided to go to dinner at the Watergate. It was his first time out alone.
The hotel, the world, were not yet wheelchair-accessible. Herbert had a difficult time getting around. It was made more difficult by the fact that he was convinced everyone was giving him the 'you poor man' look. Herbert was a CIA agent. He was accustomed to being invisible.
Herbert finally made it into the hotel and to a table. Almost at once, the diners at the next table engaged him in conversation. After a few minutes, they invited Herbert to sit with them.
The diners were Bob and Elizabeth Dole.
They did not talk about disabilities. They discussed the value of growing up in a rural area. They talked about food. They compared notes on TV shows, movies, and novels. It
was one of those moments of kismet that transcended the practical value of what had transpired. The act of being asked to join the Doles made Herbert feel whole.
Herbert had come back often after that. The Watergate became a touchstone for him, a place that reminded him that a man's value was not in his mode of mobility but what was inside.
Of course, it did not hurt that they had installed ramps since then.
Herbert did not go directly to the elevators. He went to the house phones. There, he swung his laptop from the arm of the wheelchair and accessed the wireless Internet. As soon as he was on-line, he rang room 222. Intelligence people made enemies. Some of those enemies went to elaborate extremes to get revenge. Herbert wanted to make certain that it was Edgar Kline who had called and not someone trying to set Herbert up.
Kline picked up. 'Hello?'
'Just making sure you're in,' Herbert said.
'I got here five minutes ago,' Kline replied.
'On what airline and flight?' Herbert asked.
If Kline were being held against his will, he might give Herbert misinformation to keep him from coming up.
'Lufthansa 418,' Kline said.
Herbert did an Internet search for Lufthansa schedules. While he waited he asked, 'What make of aircraft?'
'Boeing 747,' Kline replied. 'I was in seat IB, and I had the filet.'
Herbert smiled. A moment later, the Lufthansa web site confirmed the flight. It was supposed to land at 3:45 P.M., but it had been delayed. 'I'll be right up,' Herbert said.
Three minutes later, Bob Herbert was rapping on the door of room 222. A tall man with a lantern jaw and short blond hair answered. It was Edgar Kline all right. A little more rotund and leathery around the eyes than Herbert remembered him, but then who wasn't?
Kline smiled and offered his hand. Herbert rolle^d into the foyer and shut the door before accepting it. He glanced quickly
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OP-CENTER
around the room. There was an open suitcase on the bed. Nothing had been removed from it yet. A tweed sports jacket was draped over the back of the desk chair, and a necktie was slung over that. Kline's shoes were at the foot of the bed. Those were the first things a man would have removed after a long flight. The arrival looked legitimate. Kline did not appear to be trying to put something over on him.
Now Herbert turned toward Kline and shook his hand.
'It's good to see you, Robert,' Kline said.
Kline spoke with the same reserve Herbert remembered so well. And though he was smiling, it was the kind of smile a professional gambler gave to a newcomer or to a flip comment during a poker game: polite, practiced, not insincere but not very expressive.
'I'm glad to see you, too,' Herbert replied. 'We haven't been together since I left for Beirut, have we?'
'No,' Kline said.
'So what do you think of the new me?' Herbert asked.
