Unless it is not the satellite that really concerns them, Le reflected. Paul Hood had come directly to see him. Le wondered what they might know or suspect beyond what he already feared. At the moment, the only casualty on Chinese soil had been his own credibility. If he could not make peace between Director Chou and General Tam Li, the president and influential members of the National People’s Congress would lose faith in him. That was not something that would matter to the United States. And the destruction of the rocket would not impact them directly unless it affected one of their allies in the region.
Hopefully, there would be a way to find out.
Le was approached by Australian ambassador Catherine Barnes and her husband. At the same time, from the corner of his eye, the prime minister saw Hood making his way toward the door. Excusing himself from Ms. Barnes, the prime minister turned to his daughter.
“Anita, go to Mr. Hood before he leaves,” the prime minister whispered.
“Will you be all right on your own?”
“Ambassador Barnes speaks passable Mandarin, and it is almost time for the toasts. Go.”
Le released Anita’s hand, and she made her way through the crowd. She followed Hood as he left the ballroom. Hood had his cell phone in his hand, possibly preparing to call General Rodgers.
There was something a little dirty about it, Le realized. Part of what may have appealed to Paul Hood was the fact that his daughter was an attractive woman. If so, he was using her in an unseemly manner. But while that could be part of it, that was not all of it. Le’s sense of the brief meeting was that Paul Hood might be a new kind of spy. He was somewhere between General Rodgers and Ambassador Hasen: a covert bureaucrat, an ambassador without borders.
Testing a new kind of spy required a new kind of counterspy. Anita, an educator-interrogator. In a world where there were rumors of an American physician-assassin, the rules were definitely changing. Perhaps for the best. Le believed that Hood may have come for the reasons stated: to collect intelligence without prejudice and to begin forming a strategic international alliance. Whether that union lasted for as long as it took to protect the launch, or whether it was the start of a new détente remained to be seen. Even if that was not why Hood was here, the prime minister might be able to use him in that way. That would make this like any relationship in politics or in life. If it was successful, it did not matter who had contributed what and why.
It would be ironic, though, Le thought as he chatted superficially with Ambassador Barnes. A fight between two Chinese officials spills into the global arena. The one who stops it is a member of the audience. What was it Li-Li had said just two days ago?
“This situation is about the future.”
His wife may have been wiser and more prophetic than she knew.
THIRTY-FOUR
General Carrie did not get very much sleep.
She came home, sat on the sofa to go through the mail, and the next thing she knew, her husband was very gently nudging her awake.
“You must have been tired,” Dr. Carrie said.
The woman opened her eyes. The general was lying against the armrest, her feet on the floor. Her husband’s brown eyes were staring down at her.
“What?” she asked, still groggy.
“I said you must have been tired,” he repeated. He held up an envelope. “You actually opened a ‘You Won a Millions Bucks!’ come-on.”
General Carrie’s eyes shifted from her husband to the envelope. She did not remember opening it. She did not even remember sitting here. She looked at the clock on the digital video recorder. It was coming up on nine A.M. It was late.
“The housekeeper will be here in twenty minutes,” Dr. Carrie said.
“Yeah. Thanks,” his wife replied. She moved stubborn limbs in an attempt to get up. Her husband helped her. He was already dressed, which meant he had showered, and she did not hear him. She smelled coffee. General Carrie did not hear him make that, either.
“Can I get you anything before I leave?” he asked.
“Tea, thanks,” she said. “Also, a kiss.”
He bent over and planted one on her lips. It did not work as well as caffeine, but it was a start.
The neurosurgeon brought his wife her tea, then left. Carrie rose and took a long slug of the strong Earl Grey. She felt as tired as she did when she had come home. She heard the car pull from the driveway and savored her daily moment of solitude. She checked her cell phone. There was just one message. It was from the Andrews dispatch sergeant, probably wanting to know when he should come and get her. She was glad someone had been there for her the night before. That was the great thing about working on an air force base. There was always a driver in the staff pool. She called him and told him she’d be ready to leave at 9:30.
The general took off her uniform, showered quickly, and felt better when that was done. The housekeeper had arrived and let herself in. Patricia Salazar was a young single mother of two who went about her work with easy efficiency. It had occurred to Carrie years before that Patricia would be a perfect spy. She had the run of the house, and who would ever suspect a Portuguese-speaking housekeeper of being an agent for a third party?
Which was exactly the point. Carrie had her G2 staff run a background check. Although Patricia had been married to an NCO in an army signals regiment seven years before, he had left her — and the children — for another woman. Phone logs were checked, as were travel records. Patricia was watched for several weekends. The Salazars apparently had no contact after Patricia came to Maryland to live with her sister and brother-in-law.
Carrie had not felt bad about doing that. A clean house — and a happy housecleaner — were not more important than national security. But caution was a part of her profession. The general did not usually discuss work at home and never took sensitive documents to the house. But she did not want to go to work with a bug concealed in the heel of her shoe.
Carrie poured another cup of tea into a thermos, then glanced at the news on-line before the car arrived. There had been no explosions during the night. That was both good and bad. Good because no one had been hurt. Bad because each new event would give them more information to work with.
The driver arrived, and Carrie left with two things that were at her side constantly: her laptop and her secure phone. As soon as the general was comfortably settled in the car, she raised the glass partition between the seats and switched on the telephone. She entered the password neurodoc, then punched in 1*. That speed-dialed the cell phone of someone she spoke with almost every day, the man who had helped her rise through the military. The man who had ensured her promotion and made the transfer to Op-Center possible. General Raleigh Carew, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
“You did not call since you started,” Carew said.
“I was settling in, getting the overview.”
“And what’s your impression of Op-Center?”
“Most of the people are dedicated, hardworking, and extremely burned out,” the general informed him.