CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Paul Hood arrived at Hausen's office with Nancy walking a few paces behind him. She entered tentatively, as though she weren't sure whether she'd find friends or enemies here. What she found, at the moment, were people completely wrapped up in their own concerns.
Hausen was talking on a cellular phone in the reception area. He had obviously determined that the security of his office phones had probably been compromised. The cellular phone wasn't secure, but at least he wouldn't have to worry that the enemy was listening to everything he said.
Lang was sitting on the edge of the desk, lips pressed tightly together as he looked down at Hausen. Matt Stoll was still sitting at Hausen's computer in the main office.
Hausen was speaking forcefully in German with someone named Erwin. German always seemed harsh to Hood, but this conversation seemed especially so. And Hausen did not look pleased.
Lang walked over to them. Hood introduced him to Nancy. 'This is Nancy Jo Bosworth. She's an employee of Demain.' Even as he said it, he couldn't believe the words were coming from his mouth. He had to have been insane to have gone back to get her. Completely and utterly insane.
'I see,' Lang said with a polite, pursed smile.
'I'm not a friend of Dominique's,' she added. 'I don't know him.' 'It appears that few do,' Lang said, still smiling tightly.
Hood excused himself to introduce Nancy to Stoll. Then he left them together and returned to the outer office.
'What is Herr Hausen doing?' he asked Lang.
'He's talking with the French Ambassador in Berlin, trying to arrange an immediate trip to France to investigate the matter of this game and its maker. Herr Hausen wants to confront this man Dominique in the presence of French authorities.' Lang leaned closer. 'He tried calling Dominique directly but was unable to get through. He seems unusually agitated by all of this. He takes hate crimes so very personally.' Hood asked, 'How is it going with the Ambassador?' 'It isn't going well at all,' Lang said. 'Dominique apparently has a great deal of influence over there. He controls banks and several industries and a horrifying number of politicians.' Hood gave Hausen a short, sympathetic look, then stepped into the main office. He knew how difficult it was dealing with the system in Washington. He couldn't begin to imagine the red tape which had to exist between nations.
Especially nations with a longstanding hate-hate relationship such as these two.
He stood beside Nancy as she watched Stoll guide fluidly animated dogs running through a swamp. He found it difficult to concentrate on the game.
'How're you doing, Matt?' Hood asked.
Stoll hit 'P' to pause. He turned. around, his eyebrows arched. 'This is one nasty game, Chief. What the characters do to people with ropes, knives, and dogs is not to be believed. You'll be able to see for yourself later,' he said.
'I've hooked up the VCR and I'm playing through. I'll watch the tape later in slow motion to see if there are subliminal messages or other clues or anything I've missed.' Nancy said, 'I take it this is the game Herr Hausen received.' 'Yup,' Stoll said, unpausing the game. Almost immediately, one of the dogs he was controlling fell into quicksand and began sinking.
'Shit!' he yelled 'Y'know, I was doing okay when I was alone—' 'Deal with it,' Nancy said. She leaned over him and pushed the 'down' arrow on the keyboard.
'Hey, what are you doing?' Stoll demanded. 'Don't mess with my game—' 'You missed something,' Nancy said.
'I what?' As she held the button down, the dog drifted through the quicksand and emerged in an underground cavern. She switched between the left and right arrows, collecting Nazi memorabilia and racking up points.
Hood walked over. 'How did you know that was there?' 'This is an adapatation of a game I designed called The Bog Beast,' Nancy replied. 'Same game screens— background, foreground elements, traps. Different characters and scenario, though. I had a swamp monster running from its creator and angry villagers. This is obviously very much different.' 'But it's definitely your game,' Hood said.
'Absolutely.' She turned the controls back to Stoll.
'Exit by crawling into the storm drain on the left,' she said.
'Thanks,' he huffed as he continued playing.
Hood stepped away. He resisted the urge to take Nancy's hand and pull her along. But he'd noticed Stoll's eyes dart toward them while they stepped toward the corner. For all its quality and top-level security clearances, Op-Center was no different from other offices. It talked. His people could keep state secrets, but the phrase 'personal secrets' was almost an oxymoron.
Nancy came of her own accord. Hood could see the concern, love, and lingering disappointment in her eyes.
'Paul,' she said softly, 'I know I screwed up in the past, but this isn't my doing. Any number of people could have made these changes.' 'You mean people in the inner circle of Dominique's.' Nancy nodded.
'I believe you,' Hood said. 'The question is, what are we going to do about it?' Hood's cellular phone beeped and he excused himself.
'Hello?' 'Paul,' said the caller, 'it's Darrell. Can you talk?' Hood said that he could.
McCaskey said, 'I've met with Liz and Mike, and it looks to us like this fellow you were asking about is Mr. Hate himself. And powerful enough to avoid arrest.' 'Explain.' 'He appears to use a network of banks to launder money and finance hate groups worldwide. The law sniffs around him but never bites. Meanwhile, it looks like he's getting set to introduce a new joystick which helps players feel as if whatever they're seeing on the screen is very real.' 'I assume this joystick is compatible with the hate games.' 'Sure is,' said McCaskey. 'But our immediate problem isn't any of that. The Pure Nation team that got picked up this morning may have been a plant. It looks like they and the hate games could be part of a larger plan to turn U.S.
cities into racial war zones. Again,' he said, 'we have no hard evidence. Only some tenuous links and gut feelings.' 'Our gut feelings are usually on the money,' Hood said.
'Does it look like there's any kind of timetable?' 'Tough to say. The media are all over Pure Nation, and we think they're going to milk that forum.' 'Of course they will,' said Hood.
'The games are also ready to launch,' McCaskey said.
'If this is a coordinated effort, the coordinator isn't going to let the fear grow cold. A couple of strikes against blacks and communities won't just ignite, they'll explode. I've just been talking with my associates at the Bureau. We agree that in a worst-case scenario, incidents could begin erupting within days, if not hours.' Hood didn't bother to ask how a single foreign businessman had been able to put so much of what Rodgers called 'bad news' in position without being discovered. He knew the answer. Dominique had money, autonomy, and patience. With money and patience alone, the Japanese Aum Shinrikyo cult had been able to operate from a Manhattan office from 1987 to 1995, buying everything from a computer equipment to a laser system capable of measuring plutonium to several tons of steel for the manufacture of knives. All of this was going to be used to help begin a war between Japan and the United States. Though it was unlikely the war would have occurred; the nuclear destruction of a U.S. city might well have been achieved if investigators of the Senate Permanent Investigations Committee, working with the CIA and the FBI, had not been able to penetrate and arrest the members of the doomsday cult.
Hood asked, 'What are the chances of stopping this from your end?' 'Obviously,' said McCaskey, 'until we know the scope of the man's ambitions or even specific targets, I can't say.' 'But you think— you feel— that all of this is being generated by one man?' McCaskey said, 'That's how it looks from here.' 'So if we were to get to the one man,' Hood said, 'we could put the brakes on everything.' 'Conceivably,' McCaskey said. 'At least, that's the way it looks to me.' 'Let's work on that,' Hood said. 'Meanwhile, has anybody heard anything from Bob?' McCaskey said, 'Actually… yes.' Hood didn't like the way that sounded. 'What's he doing?' McCaskey explained and Hood listened, feeling guilty as all hell for having let Herbert go off on his own. Chasing around the woods, a man in a wheelchair against a van-load of neo-Nazis. It was absurd. Then he got angry. Op-Center had lost Private Bass Moore in Korea and Lieutenant Colonel Charlie Squires in Russia. Herbert should have realized that if anything happened to him, Congress would chain the entire operation to a desk. Herbert had no right to jeopardize the entire
