War of Eagles

the field.”

“That was the hub. Now we’re in the fringes.”

“Not by choice,” Hood pointed out. “We’ve been pushed out by younger or more aggressive individuals with stronger beliefs. Or if not stronger, they put more muscle behind what they do believe.”

“Christ, Paul. You sound like an old soldier.”

“Bob, I am—we are,” Hood insisted. “We have been marginalized by people of passion, by people who want to build a career or an army or an ideology, or else destroy one.”

“I never thought I would hear you call me a moderate,” Herbert joked.

“You are devoted to your people,” Hood said. “Loudly, fiercely, but completely. That keeps you from watching your own ass, from elbowing your way to the front of the line.”

“I like where I am. And I do not see anything wrong with being one of the guys who holds it all together from the middle.”

“Which is exactly what I’m talking about,” Hood replied. “No one is a centrist anymore.” Hood was starting to get annoyed. Not with the vague, imagined usurpers but with himself. There was resignation in his voice, and he did not like that. “Look, I’ve got to get ready to go. The government car will be here soon.”

“And I have to take another walk around the intel we have collected,” Herbert said. “Have you thought about your own safety at the launch?”

“Not really. We’ll be in a bunker—”

“The concrete will protect you from an explosion, not from radiation,” Herbert cautioned.

“I guess we will just have to make sure that nothing happens,” Hood said.

“That’s a goal, not a plan,” Herbert said.

“I know.”

Hood’s conversation with Bob Herbert was different, too. There was a time when the men would have been discussing very specific options about evolving situations. Ideas would be on the table, intelligence would be in the data stream, and answers would emerge. Instead, they sat here complaining, like old men on a park bench reminiscing about the good old days.

Hood did not like that, either. He had always prided himself on being a professional. And for him, by definition, that was someone who did his best, even when he did not feel like it. Maybe it was post-traumatic shock about being plucked from Op-Center, but he was not doing his best. He and Herbert were like mice in a maze, moving along a route they did not know to a goal they could not see.

That had to change.

Now.

“Bob, we need to take another walk around this situation. There has to be something we’ve missed.”

“Such as? We’ve gone over the launch site, the schedule—”

“There must be something in the individuals, their personalities, their past actions that we can use.”

“Sure,” Herbert said. “Say, are you okay?”

“Why?”

“A minute ago you sounded down,” Herbert said. “Now you sound like you’re speeding.”

“It’s a new day and an important one,” Hood explained, rising. He had not intended that to be metaphorical, but it was both literally and figuratively true. “You’re right. We don’t have a plan, and we need one, something better than planting my ass in a concrete bunker and waiting for something to happen.”

Herbert was silent for a moment. “How about this,” he said. “Don’t go to the bunker. Ask to go somewhere else.”

“Where? A representative of the president of the United States will not be given an all-access pass.”

“Will Le’s daughter be there?” Herbert asked.

“Yes.”

“What if you could convince her that the prime minister is in danger?” Herbert asked.

“And use that how?”

“I am isolating potential targets at the launch site for Mike’s team,” Herbert said. “Maybe you can have a look at them as well. Between you and the marines, we can cover more territory.”

“I think Le and his daughter might go for that,” Hood said. “I’ll talk to them when I get there.”

“I like it,” Herbert said. “I’ll send the likeliest sites to your laptop. If you check it en route to the facility, I can talk to Mike about dividing the duties.”

“Absolutely,” Hood told him. “If I have any questions, I’ll give you a shout.”

“I’ll be here,” Herbert assured him. Now the intelligence chief sounded energized as well.

Hood hung up and took a quick shower. The water invigorated his body the way the ideas had invigorated his mind. Both contributed to the much-needed renewal of Hood’s spirit.

At least one thing had not changed over the years: Hood’s capacity to bootstrap himself and those around him. What the old Op-Center team may have lacked in zealousness they made up for in endurance and dedication.

That was not nothing.

At the moment, it could be everything.

FORTY-FIVE

Zhuhai, China Thursday, 7:18 A.M.

Tam Li was dozing at his desk when the intercom came on. He did not start at the sound, because he never slept very deeply. It was a habit soldiers acquired if they wanted to survive. He picked up the phone.

“Go ahead.”

“General, an aircraft is approaching from Beijing,” the orderly reported. “It is carrying Chou Shin of the Guoanbu.”

“How do you know?”

“We advised the pilot that the base is in a lockdown situation because of the maneuvers off Taipei,” the orderly replied. “The pilot insisted that command did not apply to his passenger.”

That was not good. Not at all. “Are they landing?” the general asked.

“They said they will, with or without assistance from the tower,” the orderly informed him.

“Bring them down,” the general said. “Send two security units to meet the aircraft and take them all into custody.”

“Arrest the Guoanbu director?” the orderly asked.

“And everyone with him.”

“Yes, sir,” the orderly said. “The security detachment leader will need to know the charge.”

“Murder,” Tam Li said without hesitation.

“Sir?”

“Chou Shin has committed homicidal acts of terrorism abroad.”

“Yes, sir,” the orderly said. “If there is resistance?”

“Tell the detachment leader to resist back!” the general shouted. He slammed the receiver into the cradle and looked at his watch. He did not need to prove the charges or even make them survive the morning. All he needed was for Chou Shin and the leadership at the launch site to be out of the way for the next few hours. After that, there would be a military crisis that only military leaders could solve.

The general was now completely awake. His olive green jacket was draped on the back of the chair. He got up and put it on. He tugged the hem to remove the wrinkles. He tugged it hard.

The bastard provocateur, he thought angrily. Chou Shin may have thought to confront the general and bully him into aborting his plan. That would not happen. In fact, Chou Shin would not set eyes on Tam Li until a frightened nation had surrendered its will to the military. Not only would a general become the effective leader of one billion Chinese, but Chou’s antiquated Communist ideology would be buried at last and for all time. In a way, his arrival here was timely. Tam Li had planned to tell the prime minister that he was