“I don’t believe this.”
“I am not happy about it either, but I cannot have rogue directors working under me.”
“Okay. I won’t do it again.”
“I know,” she said firmly.
Herbert got the message. “Screw you, ma’am,” he said, then turned and opened the door. He stopped. “If you send security, I’ll piss on them,” he warned without turning around.
“We would not want that to be your final act here,” she said. “You can leave at your leisure.”
“I’ll be gone by lunchtime,” Herbert said and wheeled himself through the door.
General Carrie was sorry the conversation had taken the turns it did, but there was no way to prevent that. The dismissal was humiliating, but Herbert would get another position. And Op-Center would be on notice that there was a chain of command that had to be followed.
She punched on the intercom. “Bugs, have Darrell come in and get me General Selby at G2. Tell Lowell Coffey I’ll want to see him in an hour. Also, please get Liz on the phone.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The first thing Carrie needed to do was replace Bob Herbert and have Darrell McCaskey ready to interface with the new person. She assumed McCaskey would stay on. Unlike Herbert, the former FBI agent was a career team player. As for Coffey, she wanted to make sure there was nothing Op-Center needed to do legally in regard to Bob Herbert. She wanted it understood that his dismissal was due to a serious infraction of policy and not his disability. She did not think he would pursue that route, but angry men often behaved unpredictably.
Bugs beeped. “Liz Gordon is on line two.”
“Thank you,” Carrie said as she scooped up the phone and punched the button. “Liz, can we postpone our chat till later?”
“Of course. How did it go?”
“Pretty much as you said. He’s not happy.”
“He holds on to grudges, but they’re part of what fuels him,” Liz admitted.
“Was there something you needed to talk about quickly?” Carrie asked.
Liz hesitated. “No.” She added, “Not quickly.”
“Okay. Then we’ll get together in the afternoon, if that’s all right.”
“Sure.”
There was something oddly reserved in the psychologist’s answers. She was usually very outspoken. But General Carrie could not worry about that now. She had a command to run.
She had a responsibility that was greater than the moment and the people moving through it. Chairman Carew was right. There was a nation to keep secure.
Nothing was more important than that.
SIXTY-THREE
Liz Gordon sat alone in her office. The door was shut, and air hummed from the vent overhead, from the back of her computer.
The machines were breathing easier than she was.
She knew the answer, of course. General Carrie had grabbed her attention and teased her imagination. Liz would miss Bob Herbert. He was a fascinating man and a valued coworker. But Carrie’s decisive action against his bad judgment had done more than impress her. It had encouraged and emboldened her.
It was schoolgirl stupid, but she had a crush on the woman. The question was what to do about it.
Liz had wanted to meet with the general to discuss counseling for staffers about the fallout of the firing. But Liz had really wanted to meet with the general so she could take another physical and emotional core sample on herself. To see if she could work with Carrie without being distracted by her. To see if perhaps Carrie found her intriguing or maybe more.
Perhaps it was just as well the meeting was delayed. That gave Liz a little more time to collect herself.
She thought back to Martha Mackall. It had been different with the late political liaison. Liz had liked the woman, but there was no chemistry. Martha was pushy, not strong. She was out for herself. The good of the organization did not matter to her. It mattered deeply to Morgan Carrie.
She said the name again in her head. It was a strong name. It went with her strong character.
It was not just her style of leadership that had won Liz Gordon, it was her attentiveness. Liz had spent the better part of two decades looking into people’s eyes to see what they were about. The people who had nothing to hide looked directly at you. The people with something to share did so with words and with unflinching commitment. That came through the eyes.
During the limited time they had been together, General Carrie always looked at her flush, square, and bold. Liz did not think it was simply because Carrie had the confidence of a three-star general. Liz believed that all women shared a bond that transcended the practical needs of the moment. The notion of unimpeachable sisterhood was a myth. But the desire and capacity to love was strong. Especially among female soldiers who are forced to break the rules of traditional gender roles and behavior. In times of war they must be as aggressive as men. In times of peace, they work harder to recover their gentler humanity.
Being decisive at the helm of the NCMC was like being at war. General Carrie would also need downtime to reflect on that. A husband, even a caring and devoted one, could not understand that in quite the same way as a woman.
He could not. Another woman would not need the reclamation process explained to her. Especially if that woman were in the trenches as well.
Of course, not every woman understood that she required the attention. Sometimes she had to be educated. Therein lay the delicacy of the situation. Liz did not know what General Carrie knew or understood or sensed.
But she would.
The psychologist tried to concentrate on work as her heart throbbed anxiously in her throat. She made a list of the people who had worked closely with Bob Herbert, who would be hardest hit by his firing. Darrell McCaskey, of course. But the man was a professional and would roll with it. Lowell Coffey — who did not get along with the intelligence chief but respected him — and Ron Plummer, who found Herbert sharp but abrasive. Their main concerns would not be about Herbert but about how to avoid his fate. How to make sure Op-Center ran smoothly and efficiently during the transition. That was surely the result Carrie was after.
Liz had to be careful she did not upset that goal, or she could be dismissed herself.
It was exciting and frightening, uplifting and unnerving. For the first time in a long time there was optimism in the psychologist’s racing heart and a powerful sense of belonging.
Life was good.
SIXTY-FOUR
“Life sucks,” Herbert said into his glass.
Bob Herbert and Mike Rodgers were sitting at a small rectangular table in Off the Record when Paul Hood arrived. The tavern was located just below street level at the elegant Hay-Adams Hotel, a short distance across Lafayette Park from the White House. Hood walked over, enjoying the warm, clear late afternoon. It was remarkable how clean the air was compared to Beijing and even Xichang. Or maybe he was just happy to be back and intact. It was probably a lot of both. On the way he phoned the kids to see how they were doing. He also
