His hand was still on the phone. His eyes were on his hand. It had taken only a moment for the pros and cons to flash through his brain. He lifted his hand and sat back, a sour look on his face.
These weren’t exactly new or deeply buried feelings. Neither was the bitterness, which set in next. If only Sharon supported him instead of condemning him. It wouldn’t make him try any harder to be home earlier. He couldn’t. His hours were what they were. But it would make him feel like he had a real home to go to instead of a seminar on What’s Wrong with Paul Hood.
He thought of Nancy Bosworth again. Not long before, he’d bumped into his old flame in Germany. Never mind that she’d been the one who ran out on him years before. Never mind that she’d shattered his heart. When he saw her again he felt drawn to her because she was someone who wanted him, uncritically. She had only kind and flattering things to say.
Of course, Hood said, his conscience taking Sharon’s side, Nancy can afford to be generous. She doesn’t have to live with you and raise two kids and hurt for them when Dad’s not there.
But that didn’t change the fact that he’d wanted to hold Nancy Jo Bosworth tightly and he’d wanted to be held by her. That he’d yearned to crawl into her arms because she wanted him there, not as a reward for being good to his kids. That was passionless.
Then he thought about Ann Farris. The beautiful and sexy press liaison liked him. She cared about him. She made him feel good about himself. And he liked her. There were many times when he’d had to fight the urge to reach across the desk and touch her hair. But he knew that if he ever crossed that line, even a bit, there would be no going back. Everyone at Op-Center would know. Washington would know. Eventually Sharon would know.
So what? he asked himself. What’s wrong with ending a marriage that isn’t working the way you want it to anyway?
The words hung in his brain like a medical diagnosis he didn’t want to hear. He hated himself for even flirting with the notion of divorce, for despite everything he loved Sharon. And she had thrown in her lot with him, not with Renaldo. She had committed to building a life with him, not around him. And there were some things women would always be more possessive of than men. Like kids. That didn’t make her right and him wrong, her good and him bad. It made them different, that’s all. And differences could be worked out.
The bitterness was softened by the reminder that he and Sharon were vastly different people. She was a dreamer and he was a pragmatist. He was being judged by a standard that was more romantic wishfulness than reality. It was time to shelve those concerns for now because reality had to be dealt with. Besides, because they were family, his wife and children would forgive him.
At least, that’s how it was supposed to work in the World According to Paul.
Mike Rodgers, Bob Herbert, and Ron Plummer arrived for a 5:15 update. Hood was ready for them, his conscience relatively clear and his mind almost entirely focused. Plummer had been named the acting diplomatic officer until an official review process for Martha’s replacement could take place. That would not happen until the current crisis had passed. If Plummer had the chops for the job they’d know soon enough and the review would be a simple formality.
“Grim news,” Herbert said as he rolled in on his automated wheelchair. “The Germans just canceled a big soccer match they were supposed to play tomorrow in Barcelona at the Olympic Stadium. Said they’re concerned about the ‘air of violence’ in Spain.”
“Will the cancellation be recorded as a forfeit for Germany?” Hood asked.
“That’s a good question,” Herbert said, “to which the answer is no, unfortunately.” He pulled a printout from a pouch on the side of his chair. “The Federation of International Football Associations has ruled that in a nation where — and I quote—‘there is a substantial disturbance of services or a reasonable fear for security, a visiting team may request a postponement for the duration of said unrest.’ What’s going on in Spain certainly fits that requirement.”
“Which will probably cause more unrest among soccer fans,” Plummer said, “which will help the situation unravel further.”
“In a peanut shell, yeah,” Herbert replied. “The prime minister is going to go on TV in the morning to urge everyone to stay calm. But the military has already been sent into major cities in three Castilian provinces to keep peace where the police have been sitting on their hands. The people there have always had a real dislike for the Catalonians and Basques who work there. The stuff with Serrador and the group in San Sebastián really sent them over the edge.”
“The question is, where does it go from here?” Hood asked.
“We’ll know more after the prime minister speaks,” Plummer replied.
“What’s your sense of things?” Hood pressed.
“The situation will probably deteriorate,” Plummer said. “Spain has always been a patchwork of very different people — not unlike the Soviet Union was. Something like this, which polarizes ethnic groups, is a very tough fix.”
Hood looked at Rodgers. “Mike?”
The general was leaning against the wall. He shifted slowly, still obviously in pain. “The military people I spoke with in Portugal are extremely concerned. They can’t remember a time when tensions were so openly high.”
“I’m sure you know that the White House has contacted our ambassador in Spain,” Herbert said. “They’ve been told to button the embassy up tight.”
Hood nodded. National Security Chief Steve Burkow had phoned a half hour earlier to tell him that the embassy in Madrid was being put on alert. Passes for the military staff had been revoked and all nonmilitary personnel were ordered to remain on the compound. There was some fear about further attacks against Americans. But there was a more general concern that Americans might get caught in the overall violence that seemed to be brewing.
“Does NATO have any jurisdiction here?” Hood asked.
“No,” Rodgers replied. “They’re not a domestic police force. I checked with General Roche, Commander-in-Chief of Allied Forces in Central Europe. He’s pretty conservative. Doesn’t want to plant a toe outside the charter.”
“With Basques being attacked, the French Basques might not let it remain a domestic matter for long,” Plummer said.
“That’s true,” said Rodgers. “But NATO still won’t want to break their primary mandate, which is to resolve disputes between member nations peaceably.”
“I know William Roche,” Herbert said, “and I don’t blame him. NATO still has egg on its face from the Serbian-Bosnian conflict in ninety-four. The Serbs violated designated safe havens all over the place despite the threat of limited NATO air strikes. If you don’t intend to go in with everything you’ve got, stay on the sidelines.”
“Anyway,” Rodgers said, “there’s a larger issue. If Portugal or France or any local government puts troops on alert it might help to precipitate a crisis.”
“The Spanish are kinda ornery that way,” Herbert said. “Groups of’em will get together and start something because they’re insulted that someone would think they’d start something.”
“Are we talking about lynch mobs?” Hood asked.
“They might look for Portuguese or French nationals to beat up on,” Herbert said. “Then, of course, those governments will have to respond.”
Hood shook his head.
“Welcome to the world of precipitating crises,” Herbert said. “From my kinfolk firing on Fort Sumter to blowing up the battleship Maine, from shooting Archduke Ferdinand to the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Give people a spark and you usually end up with a fire.”