CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Phil Katzen bumped into Hood on the way to his office and followed him in. He told the Director what they'd discovered, and that Stoll was already going through the first of the ROK diskettes.
'That would dovetail with what Gregory Donald told Martha,' Hood said. 'He and Kim Hwan at KCIA don't think it's North Korea, either.' Hood felt good about having seen his son, and about the boy's prospects. He allowed himself a little grin. 'How's it feel to get away from oil slicks and rain forests?'
'Strange,' the Environmental Officer admitted, 'but invigorating. Getting to use muscles that are a little atrophied.'
'Spend too much time here, and that isn't all that'll atrophy.'
Ann Farris strode into the room. 'Paul—'
'Just the person I want to see.'
'Maybe not. Do you know about the ROK files?'
'I'm the Director. They pay me to know those things.'
'My' — she frowned— 'we're feeling festive. Must've had a good meeting with the President.'
'Not really. With my son. What about those files? I thought requisitions from the archives were privileged information.'
'Sure. And by noon, the Washington Post'll know. It's pathetic what good people will do for money or Super Bowl tickets. But that's not the problem we have to solve right now. Do you have any idea what kind of PR nightmare we'll have if word gets out that we suspect our allies of being behind this?'
'Can't you spin it?'
'Like a top, Paul. But mistrust is sexy, and that's what everyone's going to play up.'
'Whatever happened to truth, justice, and the American way?'
'It died with Superman, friend,' Phil said. 'And when they brought him back, they forgot about the rest.'
Ann tapped a pen on the small notebook she was holding. 'What did you want to see me about?'
'Hold on, Ann.' Hood had already pressed F6 and his assistant's face filled the screen. 'Anything new from the KCIA, Bugs?'
'The lab report's in file BH/1.'
'What's in the nutshell?'
'North Korean explosives, boot prints, petrol traces. How's Alexander?'
'Better, thanks. Do me a favor and ask Bob Herbert to come in at eleven.' Hood punched the image off. He dragged a hand down his face. 'Shit. The KCIA says it's North Korea, but Matty thinks we were invaded by a South Korean virus and Gregory Donald thinks we have South Koreans masquerading as North Koreans. Quite a circus.'
'You're quite a ringmaster,' Ann said. 'What's wrong with Alexander?'
'Asthma attack.'
'Poor kid,' said Phil, shaking his head as he made for the door. 'Freakin' smog doesn't help, this time of year. I'll be with Matty if you need me.'
When they were alone, Hood noticed that Ann was looking at him intently. It wasn't the first time he had ever watched her watching him, but today there was something in those dark amber eyes that made him warm and uneasy— warm because there was compassion in those eyes, and uneasy because it was a feeling he didn't get often enough from his wife. But then, Ann Farris didn't have to live with him.
'Ann,' he said, 'the President—'
'Paul!' Lowell Coffey said as he swung in, his big hand still on the doorjamb as he nearly collided with Ann.
'Come in,' Ann said. 'No reason to shut the door with all the leaks around here.'
'I hear you,' said Coffey. 'Paul, I need a second. About that ROK check Matty's running: you've got to make sure that the only words coming from this facility are 'No Comment.' There are confidentiality agreements with Seoul, possible defamation of character if we point the finger at a person or group, and we risk exposure on some of the questionable ways the information on those diskettes was collected.'
'Have Martha read everyone the riot act. And have someone on Matt's staff set the computers to transcribe all phone conversations.'
'Can't do that, Paul. Illegal as hell.'
'Then do it illegally, and have Martha tell everyone we are.'
'Paul—'
'Do it, Lowell. I'll deal with the goddamn ACLU later. I can't have my people worrying about plugging leaks, and I can't worry about who might be causing them!'
Lowell left, trailing disgust.
Hood looked at Ann, tried to recollect his thoughts. He noticed her kerchief now, casually knotted around her hair. He hated himself as he sat there thinking how nice it would be to tug gently at the end of the red and black cloth, and lose his hands in her long brown hair- He pulled his thoughts together in a hurry. 'Ann, I've, uh, I've got something else for your plate. You heard about the Mirage that was shot up?'
She nodded, the eyes suddenly looking sad. He wondered if she could possibly have known what he was thinking. Women never ceased to astound him that way.
'The White House is going to issue a statement to the effect that in light of North Korea overreacting to our flyover, our forces in the region are being put on Defcon 3 alert.' He glanced at the countdown clock on the back wall. 'That was fifty-two minutes ago. Pyongyang will do the equivalent, possibly one-up us, and my guess— my hope— is that the President will let things sit until we learn more about what happened at the Palace. At this stage of the game, if he escalates, God only knows what the North will do. When Bob gets here, we've got to talk to Ernie Colon and give the President a military options update. What I need you to do, Ann, is soften whatever the White House says.'
'Give us a way out?'
'Exactly. Lawrence won't apologize for the surveillance plane, so we can't either. But if all we do is talk tough, eventually we're going to have to act tough. Let's get some regrets into our statement, so that if we have to back down at any point there's an open door. You know— they have the right of all sovereign nations to protect their territory, and we regret that circumstances forced us to take extreme measures to do the same.'
'I'll have to run it past Lowell—'
'That's fine. I kind of sacked him before.'
'He deserved it. He's a pain.'
'He's a lawyer,' Hood pointed out. 'We pay him to play devil's advocate.'
Ann folded away her pad, hesitated. 'Have you eaten today?'
'Just a little crow.'
'I noticed the feathery quality in your voice. You want something?'
'Maybe later.' Hood heard Bob Herbert's voice as he rolled down the hall. He looked up at Ann. 'Tell you what. If you're free around twelve-thirty, why don't you have them send over a couple of salads from the commissary. We'll do greens and strategy.'
'It's a date,' she said, in a way that shot electricity down his belly.
Ann turned to go and he watched her while pretending to look down. It was a dangerous little game, but it wasn't going anywhere— he wouldn't let it— and, right now, the attention felt fine.
He shifted gears quickly as Herbert spun into the office, buzzing Bugs and asking him to put the Secretary of Defense on teleconference.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
The Nodong missile site was just eighty miles as the crow flies, but the trip was slowed by deeply rutted dirt
