Sea of Fire

Chapter Forty-Seven

Hood was in his office, waiting for nine A.M. to arrive. That was when he planned to call Daphne Connors at home. While he waited, his phone beeped. He hoped it was the advertising executive. If Daphne called him, that would make his life a whole lot easier.

It was not Daphne Connors. It was Lowell Coffey.

"Well, we just sent two teams on a very unusual mission," Coffey said.

"Where are you?"

"At the observation post cabin of the Queensland North Rural Fire Brigade," Coffey said. "We have a new member of the team."

"Oh?"

"A koala that was burned in a fire," Coffey said. "They're sneaking him into the Darling compound through a back entrance. Then the fire captain, FNO Loh, and Bob are going in the front door to try to get him back."

"Who are Loh and Bob supposed to be?" Hood asked.

"Volunteers with the local International Wildlife Education and Conservation Group," Coffey told him. "They're going to position the koala as their local poster child. Tell Darling what bad press it would be if the little escapee was hurt on his property. While they're inside, Bob is going to try to split from the others to get to Darling's phone."

"Has he got a chance?"

"You know I would never bet against Bob," Coffey replied. "But I have to admit he's got me worried. Bob's pretty pissed off."

"About what?"

"He was getting pretty hot about Darling, about the whole idea of a guy in our sights being innocent until proven otherwise," Coffey said.

"Hold on," Hood said. "I'm going to conference in Liz Gordon."

"Paul, I don't know if it's that serious—"

"Exactly," Hood said. "Let's talk to someone who will."

Hood put Coffey on hold and punched in Liz's home phone. She was there, obviously still asleep. The Op-Center psychiatrist did the Washington bar scene on Friday nights. Not to party, she swore, but to research a book she was writing on the dynamics of human flirtation. Maybe that was true. But Liz certainly sounded hungover when she answered the phone. She recovered quickly when she heard it was Paul Hood on the line. He brought her up to date and then plugged Coffey into the conversation.

"Lowell, Liz is on the line," Hood said.

"Good morning," Liz said groggily.

"Late evening here," Coffey said. "But good morning."

"Right. Lowell, did Bob seem unstable, impatient?" she asked.

"He seemed fed up," Coffey replied. "He was disgusted out of proportion with the situation we're facing."

"How bad did he lay into you personally?" Liz asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Did he insult you, criticize you, work you over?" Liz asked. "Putting it bluntly, Lowell, is this payback?"

"No!" Coffey said. "Even if he had, I can be objective. Give me credit."

"Not my job," she said. "Was there any physical manifestation? Was he pounding things, playing repetitively with anything on his wheelchair?"

"He was in the backseat of the helicopter," Coffey said. "I couldn't really see."

"Paul, was he airlifted from the Beirut rubble?" Liz asked.

"I believe he was," Hood said.

"This could be subconscious motor memory, the chopper sound and vibration triggering unresolved hostility," she said. "Bottom line, Lowell. Do you think Bob is dangerous?"

"That may be an overstatement," Coffey replied. "I mean, you want a guy in that position to be aggressive."

"So the answer is no," she said.

"The answer is no, he was sounding almost blood-thirsty," Coffey replied. "Not quite, but getting there."

"But he was not violent," she said.

Coffey said he was not.

"Paul," Liz said, "were there any reports of Bob overreacting on his last field operation? In Germany, I think it was?"

"It was Germany, and no, there was nothing," Hood said.

"What this sounds like is displacement," Liz said. "Shifting anger or desire from an original target to a more convenient one. Possibly triggered by the chopper, possibly by delayed post-traumatic stress. All of it tied together by Bob's natural frustration with the system and possibly some jet lag. It's difficult to ascribe exact causes without talking to Bob. But it doesn't sound as if he'll flip out on you. People who experience transference usually peak at the onset of symptoms. They're looking to dump. Something triggers it, and off they go."

"So we've seen the worst of it," Hood said.

"Probably," Liz replied. "Unless someone sprays lighter fluid on the fire. Is that likely to happen, Lowell?"

"From everything I've heard, Jervis Darling is a pretty cool fellow," Coffey said.

"What about the people Bob is traveling with?" Liz asked.

"Leyland is pretty lighthearted, and Loh is very quiet and serious, almost catatonic," he replied.

"That should help keep him in balance," Liz said.

"So we're okay to let this play out," Hood said.

"Given that nothing is ever guaranteed, I'd say yes," Liz told him. "I don't see him blowing."

"Not even if they're stonewalled?" Hood asked.

"Bob has a self-imposed objective, which is to get data from a telephone," Liz said. "If he fails to do this, he'll be angry. But his training will probably keep him in check. He will regroup and try again. The real danger is if he is personally exposed by Jervis Darling."

"As a spy and not an animal welfare worker," Hood said.

"That's correct," Liz said. "The assumed identity gives him a way of keeping his real feelings inside. If that's stripped away, he might become the person Lowell described. It's part of the fight-or-flight mechanism, and Bob Herbert is not prone to flight."

That was the truth. Hood had never been a big believer in psychiatry. But if he peeled away the jargon, the things Liz said made sense.

Hood thanked her and let her go back to sleep. Then he told Coffey that he was going to let this play out. Whether or not they liked Herbert's inquisitorial manner, there was no avoiding the bottom line. While there was still a trail to follow, they had to find out who made it and why.

Hood sighed. He no longer felt like calling Daphne. Until Herbert was safe, he did not want any distractions.

At least that was what Hood told himself.