and executed by Paul Hood. Mr. Hood was replaced because he has never followed a playbook. He ran Op-Center based on cronyism, on questionable international interests and alliances, and used civilian attitudes on military operations. His approach caused dozens of military casualties.”

“I am not a fan of Mr. Hood,” Carrie said. “But in fairness, he also defused numerous international crises.”

“Mike Rodgers did that. Colonel Brett August did that. Lieutenant Colonel Charlie Squires did that. They were the men in the field, improvising their way through situations in which Hood had placed them. Our boys signed on to protect the United States of America. Instead, they have given their lives to protect India, Japan, and Russia. We are not the intelligence police of the world, Morgan.”

She could not disagree with that assessment. Years before Homeland Security was given the job of defusing domestic crises, that had been the chartered task of Op-Center — the National Crisis Management Center.

“Hood did his reckless seat-of-the-pants thing again in Xichang,” Carew said. “No one was consulted, no one gave him any parameters. And he dragged your people into it. The press and the president look at the gains. They crow about how we saved lives, created an international bond. I look at the debits. I don’t care about the rocket, I don’t give a damn about the prime minister, and I am not concerned about what would have been a very short pissing match in the Taiwan Strait. In fact, I might have gone along with it.”

“An air and sea battle that we would have been committed to be part of?” Carrie said.

“It would not have lasted long enough for us to do much,” Carew said. “I’ve read the file on General Tam Li. He was a progressive, a black market capitalist. He got rid of Chou Shin, a hard-line Communist who was no friend of ours. He apparently blew up a boat in Charleston and a nightclub in Taipei. Maybe Tam Li should have become the next prime minister. He sounds like someone we could have dealt with.”

General Carrie was trying to figure out where Carew was going. A rant like this did not come without a price.

“The lost political landscape is not for me to say,” the chairman went on. “I am sure that Chinese security forces are reviewing tapes of the Xichang facility, looking to ID the team. What concerns me is that four highly trained intelligence operatives will have to be withdrawn.”

Carrie did not know how to respond. She saw his point. The team had been compromised looking out for Chinese interests involving a satellite built by a largely European conglomerate. The gain for the United States was peripheral and hazy.

“Here’s the bottom line,” Carew went on, his tone a little softer now. “My vision for Op-Center is to make it larger and more effective. You know that, and I know you share that vision. Otherwise you would still be at G2. But I cannot get you the budget you need when your team makes someone else look good. Not when this man, Paul Hood, gives new meaning to the term Op—‘one person.’ I want Op-Center to have a good relationship with the other intelligence organizations as long as it does not compromise your mission or your charter, which is to defuse crises that affect this nation.”

“I understand,” Carrie replied.

“This is not about me, and it is not about you. It is about the uniforms we wear and the unique bond that gives us to the nation they represent.”

“I understand that, too.”

“I would like to see Mr. Herbert dismissed,” Carew said.

Carrie was surprised by the request. “Mr. Chairman, I believe I can make him understand—”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Carew said. “You can’t afford to have people there who require convincing. I’ve already spoken with the new topkick at G2. You can take whoever you want as an interim intelligence director while you search for a permanent replacement.”

Carrie believed the chairman was overreacting. But she shared his vision for Op-Center and, while she could refuse to dismiss Herbert, there was something to be gained by making an object lesson of the intelligence chief. The NCMC could not tolerate loose cannons. They could not accommodate those with divided loyalties.

The general promised to take care of it and hung up. She called Liz Gordon first to tell her what was going to happen and to ask her advice on handling Herbert. The psychologist had known him for many years and had written nearly a dozen psych profiles of the man. In situations where post-traumatic stress could apply — the loss of his wife and his legs in Beirut — a yearly overview was mandatory.

“I think he’s ready to move on, frankly,” Liz said. “But that doesn’t mean this will go down easy. Do you have to dismiss him?”

“I do,” Carrie said. “Any advice?”

“He’s gonna be Bob Herbert,” Liz said.

“Meaning?”

“Expect him to be very bitter and sarcastic, but don’t offer to help him find anything,” she said. “Herbert does not like to feel disabled in any way.”

“All right.”

“Also, may I come to see you when you’re finished?”

“Of course,” Carrie said. “Make it eleven.”

Liz thanked her, and Carrie hung up. She asked Bugs to have Herbert come to see her. She had already decided that he would not be escorted out by security guards. It would not be that kind of dismissal.

Bob Herbert arrived looking more rested than he had since Carrie’s arrival at Op-Center. The two had spoken only briefly after the mission was completed, and Herbert had seemed pleased with the way it worked out. She asked him to shut the door behind him.

“One-on-one before lunch,” Herbert said. “That isn’t good for me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“There’s nothing happening abroad; I’ve read all the intelligence briefings. So it’s a local matter,” Herbert said. “Things percolate through the D.C. political system at night, decisions get made in the dark, and those encyclicals are handed down early in the morning. For top officials, that means shortly after ten.” He looked at his watch. “It’s half-past ten now. Obviously, whatever this is, it could not wait.” Herbert looked at Carrie. “Also, Paul Hood called me at home. The president is happy, but the Joint Chiefs are upset with how this played out, especially the exposure of the field ops. Someone has to be scapegoated for that.”

Carrie was impressed by Herbert’s comprehensive analysis. It gave her second thoughts about what she had to do.

“I am not happy with the way priorities were established by your office, nor with the overall evolution of the mission in China,” Carrie said.

“Should we have let the rocket blow up and a Taiwanese force be annihilated while we collected intel?” Herbert asked.

“The mission parameters were about the payload, which was lost,” she pointed out. “The situation in Taiwan is speculative and secondhand. Moreover, a team that had been seconded to Op-Center was exposed.”

“That’s not so bad,” Herbert said. “We usually kill our field units.”

She did not reply to that.

“When do you want my resignation?”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said.

Herbert seemed surprised for the first time. “What do you mean? Are you firing me?”

“Very reluctantly,” she said.

“You’re fucking firing me?” he exclaimed. “I take the fall for the marines so you don’t have to?”

“You take the fall for the marines because you were the middleman between them and the orders of outsiders,” Carrie said. “You acted unilaterally without considering the long-term effect on Op-Center.”

“If I had not acted, the team would have been fried, along with two of our distinguished alumni!” Herbert shouted.

“That was not your decision to make,” Carrie said.

“Like hell!”

“If you’d like, I can show you the job description,” she said evenly. “The director of intelligence does not give orders unless they apply directly to the collecting of information. Since neither General Rodgers nor Mr. Hood was authorized to command the team, you should have gone to Mr. Plummer or myself.”

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