State of Siege

sleep. Unlike most of the girls, however, her sleep was punctuated by tiny whines, shouts, and spasms. Maybe the greatest tragedy of all, Hood realized, was that he hadn’t saved Harleigh from that damn room. The poor girl was still there in spirit if not in body.

The aircraft landed at Andrews Air Force Base, ostensibly so the military could assure the privacy of the children. But Hood knew better. Andrews was where Op-Center was based. After they taxied, Hood saw Op- Center’s white van waiting for him on the tarmac. Lowell Coffey and Bob Herbert were both visible in the open side door.

Sharon didn’t see the men until she was on her way down the steps. Hood acknowledged them with a nod. They remained in the van.

The State Department had provided wheelchairs for anyone who wanted them. They also provided a bus to bring everyone home. An official told the parents that their cars would be collected from the airport later that day.

Sharon and Hood both helped Harleigh into a wheelchair. Alexander manfully took his place behind the chair as Sharon turned to her husband.

“You’re not coming with us, are you?” Sharon asked. Her voice was flat and withdrawn, her eyes distant.

“I honestly didn’t know they’d be here,” he said, jerking a thumb toward the van.

“But you’re not surprised.”

“No,” he admitted. “I did kill someone on foreign soil. There’s going to be fallout from that. But you’ll be okay. Bob’s arranged for round-the-clock police protection at the house.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Sharon said and turned toward the chair. Hood took her hand in his. She stopped.

“Sharon, don’t do this.”

“Do what?” she asked. “Go home with our children?”

“Don’t shut me out,” he said.

“I’m not shutting you out, Paul,” Sharon said. “Just like you, I’m trying to stay calm and deal with things. What we decide over the next few days is going to affect our daughter for the rest of her life. I want to be emotionally ready to make those decisions.”

“We have to be ready to make those decisions,” Hood said. “That’s our job.”

“I hope so,” Sharon said. “But you’ve got two families again. I’m not going to waste any more energy fighting for equal time.”

“Two families?” Hood said. “Sharon, I didn’t ask for this to happen. I was out of Op-Center! If I’m back, it’s because I’m in the middle of an international incident. I—we—won’t be able to handle this alone.”

Just then, the State Department official came over. He told them the bus was loaded and waiting. Sharon told Alexander to go ahead. She said she’d be there in a moment. Hood gave his son a wink and told him to keep a careful eye on his sister. Alexander said he would.

Hood looked back at his wife. Sharon was looking up at him. There were tears in her eyes.

“And when this international incident is finished?” Sharon asked. “Will we have you then? Do you really think you’ll be happy helping to manage a household instead of running a city or a government agency?”

“I don’t know,” Hood admitted. “Give me a chance to find out.”

“A chance?” Sharon smiled. “Paul, this may not make any sense to you, but last night, when I heard what you did for Harleigh, I was angry at you.”

“Angry? Why?”

“Because you risked your life, your reputation, your career, your freedom, to save our daughter,” she said.

“And that made you angry?” Hood said. “I can’t believe that—”

“It did,” she said. “All I ever wanted from you were little bits of your life. Time for a violin recital, a soccer game, a vacation once in a while. Dinner as a family. Holidays with my parents. I rarely got any of that. I couldn’t even get you to sit with me last night while our baby was in danger.”

“I was too busy trying to get her out—”

“I know,” she said. “And you did. You showed me what you can do when you want to. When you want to.”

“Are you saying I didn’t want to be with my family?” Hood said. “Sharon, you’re stressed out—”

“I said you wouldn’t understand,” she told him. The tears trickled down her cheeks. “I’d better go.”

“No, wait,” Hood said. “Not like this—”

“Please, they’re waiting,” Sharon said. She withdrew her hand and ran toward the bus.

Hood watched his wife go. After the accordion door was shut and the bus growled to life, Hood started walking toward Coffey and Herbert.

Now Hood was angry.

He couldn’t believe it. Even his wife had found fault with what he’d done in the Security Council chamber. Maybe she and Chatterjee should hold a press conference.

But the anger began to pass as Hood walked toward the van. And just as suddenly, something else began to eat at him. It was a mixture of guilt and doubt, and it started bubbling up the moment Hood saw Bob Herbert stretch out his big, welcoming hand.

The moment Hood realized that he no longer felt so alone.

The moment Paul Hood had to ask himself the honest and very painful question:

What if Sharon was right?

FIFTY-SEVEN

Washington, D.C.

Sunday, 10:00 A.M.

The greetings were warm, and the good wishes were sincere as Hood entered the van. There was no driver. After Herbert shut the door and Hood had settled into the passenger’s seat, Coffey drove the short distance to Op- Center. The attorney informed Hood that they’d only be at Op-Center long enough for him to shower, shave, and put on a clean suit Herbert had brought from the house.

“Why?” Hood asked. “Where are we going?”

“To the White House,” Coffey said.

“What’s waiting for me there, Lowell?” Hood asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Coffey admitted. “Secretary-General Chatterjee is flying down with Ambassador Meriwether to see President Lawrence. They’re meeting at noon. The president is the one who wants you there.”

“Any idea why?”

“I can’t imagine the president wants a he-said, she-said thing,” Coffey replied. “Anything else I can think of is not good.”

“Meaning?” Hood asked.

“Meaning he may want to send you back to New York in the custody of the American ambassador,” Coffey said. “To make sure you’re around to answer any questions the secretary-general and her associates may have. A gesture of our concern.”

Herbert’s wheelchair was parked behind and between the seats. “A gesture,” he snorted. “Paul saved the friggin’ place. What he did took as much guts as I’ve ever seen. Mike and Brett were also great. But Paul — when I heard that you were the one who took the last guy out, I was never prouder of anyone. Never.”

“Unfortunately,” Coffey said, “international law does not provide for ‘proud’ as a defense.”

“And I’m telling you, Lowell, if Paul is sent to New York or the goddamned Hague and the International Court of Supposed Justice,” Herbert said, “or some other half-assed place where they serve up scapegoat on hot coals, I’m gonna take hostages.”