Sea of Fire

twice the opportunity for leaks.'

'I'm not sure we can avoid them,' Herbert replied. 'This rope apparently has two ends.'

'That's true,' Hood said. 'Which means if you tug on one, you'll get to the other. I'm with Lowell on this. I think we should concentrate our resources on the Australian end for now.'

'Paul, trashman Dahman may be the easier end of the rope to grab,' Herbert said.

'But if we do get him, Bob, that will give Darling time to generate alibis and red herrings to keep the heat from him,' Hood said. 'Darling scares me more. He's got unlimited access to interests in the West, Bob. He probably gets a free pass through customs in most places.'

'Billionaires with private jets often do,' Coffey pointed out.

'If Darling's gone bad, for whatever reason, he's the one we have to worry about,' Hood said. 'If Dahman is involved, we can sweep him up later. Lowell, have that talk with Jelbart and get back to us.'

'Will do,' Coffey said.

'Bob, will you hang on a second?' Hood asked. 'I need to talk to you about something.'

'Sure,' Herbert said.

As Coffey got off, Hood hit the Mute button. He wanted Herbert to think he was conducting other business. In fact, he wanted to take a moment to think about what he was going to say. Unless Bob Herbert himself did the closing, he did not respond well to having trapdoors shut on those dark, complex, underground tunnels that ran through his mind.

Hood tapped off the Mute button. 'I'm back,' he said.

'What happened?' Herbert asked. 'Did I honk you off or something?'

'No,' Hood replied. 'Just the opposite. When you feel strongly about something, I don't like closing the door.'

'Boss, I feel strongly about everything,' Herbert said.

'I know,' Hood said. 'But Lowell was pissing you off. I wanted to get him on his way, then come back to what you're thinking.'

'He pisses me off because he's a left-wing elitist,' Herbert said. 'But he may be right about this. I'm not sure I'm right about going after Dahman.'

'And I'm not sure you're wrong,' Hood admitted. 'What if you went to Malaysia? Did some checking?'

'Frankly, I'd enjoy the hell out of it. If time were not at a premium, I'd push for it,' Herbert said. 'But since we don't have the resources to go in with me, I'm not sure it's the best use of my time, but I appreciate the counterproposal. Did you think I'd accept?'

'I wasn't sure,' Hood said. 'I thought you might.'

'My independent Southern soul?' Herbert commented.

'Something like that.'

'Well, I'm thinking you might be right about that one,' Herbert told him. 'I got into the spy game because I wanted to be Peter Gunn. Remember him? The TV private eye?'

'Vaguely,' Hood said. 'I was a Gunsmoke and Bonanza man myself.'

'An ensemble guy,' Herbert said.

'I never looked at it that way, but I suppose so,' Hood admitted. 'I wanted to run the Ponderosa.'

'Gunn was a loner,' Herbert said. 'He always knew what to say whether he was talking to a thug, a cop, or a woman. Just the smartest, most confident repartee. He was tough. He could take a beating or give one. And he never lost. That's what I wanted to be like.'

'But?'

'But I don't have Gunn's writers,' Herbert said. 'I learned there is a big fat difference between fiction and reality. Just between us spies, I didn't get quite as much information as I wanted from Colonel Hwan.'

'You got what we needed.'

'Barely,' Herbert said. 'When that happens, I tend to push a little too hard on the next one. Thanks for reeling me in.'

'You reeled yourself in,' Hood said.

'You're wrong, but we'll leave it at that,' Herbert told him.

The intelligence chief hung up. Hood sat back. It was funny. He never knew that Herbert had joined the CIA to be like a TV character. He wondered if things like that should be in a person's dossier. He found it touching. He was glad they had that conversation. Not just for Herbert's sake but for his own. There were times when Hood had his doubts about decisions. That came from not being a specialist like Herbert, Coffey, or Rodgers. There were other times, like now, when he was sure of himself. He thought back to something his mother's mother had said in her later years. Grandmother April was a dressmaker who learned her trade in Phoenix when Arizona was still a territory. After the family relocated to Los Angeles, she got work in the movies. Hood went with her to the studio one day and watched as she was making a ball gown for a movie. She asked for a bolt of gray. Her eleven-year-old grandson asked why she wanted such a boring color.

'Sometimes red and blue can't function together unless you have a neutral color between them,' his grandmother had replied.

She was right. Which was why he felt pretty good right now.

Sometimes people needed that, too.

Chapter Thirty-One

The Celebes Sea Saturday, 12:36 A.M.

Coffey asked to see Warrant Officer Jelbart in private. With permission, the men walked over to the captain's small ready room. It was little more than a closet with a desk and chair, but it had a door. Coffey closed it. The men remained standing. Jelbart had known that the American was on a call to Op-Center. But Coffey had spoken quietly, and the bridge was filled with the usual conversation and radio communication, as well as the constant rumbling of the engines far below. Jelbart did not know what Coffey had discussed.

Jelbart was stunned when the American told him. He did not doubt the accuracy of the intelligence, but he refused to accept the conclusion.

'Mr. Coffey, why would a man in Salty's position become involved with any black- market activity?' Jelbart asked.

'Excuse me. Salty?' Coffey asked.

'Yeah. Nicknamed for a crocodile,' Jelbart said. 'And may I say, the shoe fits.'

'Interesting,' Coffey observed. 'Crocodiles are not discriminating about their prey. They're survivors.'

'What you're getting at won't fly,' Jelbart said. 'I'm sure they would be much more selective if they had billions of dollars to plan their menu.'

'Perhaps.'

'Mr. Coffey, forgive me,' Jelbart said. 'But do you have any idea what you're saying?'

'I do. Which brings us back to your question, Warrant Officer. Let's assume the information is correct. Why would a man in Mr. Darling's position do anything like this?'

Jelbart shook his head. 'I cannot begin to imagine.'

'Try,' Coffey urged.

'Boredom, maybe? A challenge?' Jelbart said. 'God knows he's got all the power, money, and influence he needs.'

'Is his power base very solid?' Coffey asked.

'Lord, yes,' Jelbart replied. 'For many ordinary folks, Jervis Darling embodies the spirit of Australia. He has proven that anyone can build an empire. Politicians fight for his endorsement and photo opportunities.'

'What about his personal life?'

'The business press doesn't like him, but the society pages love him,' Jelbart said. 'He and his young daughter go everywhere. Usually with some established actress or political matron on his arm. No supermodels or fluff.'

'What happened to Mrs. Darling?'