'We may not have a choice,' Herbert replied. 'It's happening, and we've been asked to help. The VSO may not want the CIA or National Security Council involved. Our government doesn't like religious wars. Minority wars. Paul's answer has to be yes or no.'
Given that choice, Rodgers knew what Pope Paul would say. He always put people ahead of politics. But Rodgers had been in this game long enough to know that even a successful mission could hurt. Instead of proving how invaluable Op-Center was, they could piss off all the intelligence units that did not have a Vatican contact, or had missed the significance of the Washington Post article, or who just didn't want Op-Center to succeed at any damn thing they did.
'If nothing else,' Herbert said, 'getting involved with the kidnapping will let your new team hit the ground running.'
'That's true,' Rodgers said. 'Bob, I've been wanting to talk to you about the team-'
'There's nothing to talk about,' Herbert interrupted.
'I think there is,' Rodgers shot back. 'Paul sprang the HU-
r~
84
OP-CENTER
MINT idea on me this morning, and I ran with it.'
'That's what you were supposed to do,' Herbert assured him.
'Not over your still-breathing body,' Rodgers said.
Herbert laughed. 'Mike, I don't have the time, temperament, or experience to run a field force,' the intelligence chief assured him. 'You do. Now we've got more important things to deal with than protocol between coworkers who also happen to be good friends.'
Rodgers did not believe that Herbert was as indifferent as he made it sound. But Rodgers thanked him just the same.
Herbert was about to call Hood and update him when the file on Colonel Ballon opened.
'Hold on,' Rodgers said. 'I just brought up the file of someone I thought might be able to help us.'
'Who?'
'Colonel Ballon,' Rodgers told him.
'Good idea,' Herbert observed. 'He's a tough nut.'
'That's why I wanted to call on him,' Rodgers said. 'Unfortunately, he's MIA.'
'You mean Patricia lost him?' Herbert asked.
'No,' Rodgers said. He was sickened as he read the file. 'I mean Ballon is gone. According to the GIGN payroll files, he stopped showing up for work nearly two years ago. There's been no trace of him since.'
'He may have gone undercover,' Herbert suggested.
'Possibly,' Rodgers agreed.
It was also possible that Colonel Ballon ran afoul of someone he had crossed. The officer's disappearance occurred not long after the struggle with the New Jacobins. Rodgers was not ready to make that leap, either. But he could not ignore the possibility.
'I'll have Darrell check on this,' Rodgers said as he composed an E-mail for the former FBI agent. 'Maybe he can get an update from some of his European contacts.'
Herbert said he would let Rodgers know what Hood had to say. Then he hung up. Rodgers returned to his list of operatives. He did not imagine that Hood would keep Op-Center
MISSION OF HONOR
85
out of this. American officials did not turn down requests from the Vatican. Not even unofficial requests. That meant that Rodgers might have to field a team sooner than he expected.
Rodgers had a sudden flashback to the moment he learned he had to take his green Striker team out to save the space shuttle Atlantis. The general had been sitting at this same desk, at about the same time, when the call came from Hood.
'Can you be ready to go at twenty-three hundred hours?'
Of course he could, he had replied. And Striker performed brilliantly that night.
They always performed brilliantly.
His eyes moistened, not with sorrow but with pride. Smiling for the first time in weeks, Rodgers went back to his files and to the job at hand.
THIRTEEN
Okavango Swamp, Botswana Wednesday, 5:58 A.M.
For the first few hours, Father Bradbury had fought temptation. He refused to lick the damp interior of his hood.
During the trek to the islet, the priest's hair, hood, and clothing had become saturated with the swamp water. The temperature dropped during the night, causing the thicker grime to separate from the water. The remaining
