Op-Center

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

"What's the weather outside?" Hood asked as he walked into Matt Stall's office.

Stoll hit Shift/F8, then 3, then 2. "Sunny, seventy-eight degrees, wind from the southwest." When he was finished, he returned to the keyboard, inputting instructions, waiting, then inputting more.

"How's it coming, Matty?"

"I've got the system cleaned out, except for the satellites. I should have those back in about ninety minutes."

"Why so long? Don't you just write a program to erase it?"

"Not in this case. There are pieces of virus in every photo file we have from the region, going back to the 1970s. They've been lifting images from everywhere. We've got a Ken Burns history of North Korean hardware in today's satellite pictures. And it's seamless. I want to meet the guy who wrote this before we shoot him."

"Can't promise you that." Hood rubbed his eyes. "Have you taken a break today?"

"Yeah, sure. Have you?"

"This is it."

"A working break. Stretch the legs. See if I'm screwing up again."

"Matty, no one blamed you for what happened—"

"Except me. Shit, I used to laugh at Shakespeare or whoever it was said that 'For want of a nail, the horseshoe was lost…' business. Well, he was right. I missed the nail and the kingdom came tumbling down. Can I ask you a question, though?"

"Shoot."

"Were you a little happy when the computers went banzai, or was it my imagination?"

"It wasn't your imagination. I wasn't happy, I was—"

"Smug. Sorry, Paul, but that's how it struck me."

"Maybe. I feel like we've all gotten into this speed trap, everything moving faster because it can. When communications were slower and reconnaissance took time, people had time to think and cool down before they blasted hell out of each other."

"But they did it anyway. Fort Sumter would have happened with or without Dan Rather and Steve Jobs. I just think you like being a daddy, and these babies don't need us till they run the family car into a ditch."

Before Hood could protest— and when he thought about it later he was glad he didn't, because Stoll had a point— Bob Herbert paged him. He used Mart's phone and punched Herbert's number.

"Hood here."

"Bad news, Chief. We found out what Major Lee was up to today, at least part of the day."

"More terrorism?"

"Looks that way. He took four quarter-drums of poison gas— tabun— from the Hazardous Materials Vault at the army base in Seoul. All very legal, the paperwork in order. It says he's taking it up to the DMZ."

"When was this?"

"About three hours after the explosion."

"So he would have had enough time to set the blast, get to the base, and head north, assuming that's his real destination. And somewhere along the way he decided to waylay Kim Hwan."

"Sounds about right."

Hood looked at his watch. "If he did go north, he's been there at least seven hours."

"But doing what? Tabun is a pretty heavy gas. Somebody'd notice if he was hauling a missile around, and he'd need a crop duster to use it on troops."

"Then there's the question of which troops. He could use it on ours to send Lawrence into a frenzy, or use it on the North Koreans to push them over the edge. Bob, I'm not going to go to the President with this. Call General Schneider at the DMZ. Wake him if you have to, and tell him about Lee. Ask him to find Donald as well, and have him call me."

"What are you going to tell Greg?"

"To radio General Hong-koo and tell him we've got a nut on the loose."

Herbert's gasp was audible over the phone. "Tell North Korea that the South Koreans are behind all this? Chief, the President'll have you shot deader'n Ike Clanton."

"If I'm wrong, I'll load the gun myself."

"What about the press? The Dee-Perks'll smear it everywhere."

"I'll talk to Ann about that. She'll have something ready to go. Besides, world opinion may slow the President down long enough for us to prove our case."

"Or get our asses royally kicked."

"Lives are worth that. Just do it, Bob. We're short on time."

Hood hung up.

"I know," said Stoll without looking up, "my fingers are flying as fast as possible. Just find out what kind of truck Lee was driving: I'll get your satellites back as soon as possible."