Sea of Fire

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Like a federal Darwin exploring survival of the fittest in a bureaucracy, Paul Hood had identified countless functions for the director of Op-Center. Sometimes the job required a quarterback. Sometimes it called for a cheerleader. Sometimes there were other responsibilities. This happened to be one of those rah-rah times.

Paul Hood entered the small, bright room that was Stephen Viens's work area.

Officially, this area was Op-Center's internal security department. Viens and his one-person team watched for moles and people who might be tempted to pass secrets on to other nations. That was how it had been described when Op-Center's accountant Carolina Burdo drew up the annual budget. Unofficially, it was also where Viens used his years as satellite imaging supervisor with the NRO to get priority satellite time for Op-Center.

Viens's office was the only one in the underground sector that had a window. The window looked out into the corridor, but that did not matter. After years of working for the National Reconnaissance Office, Viens wanted a real-time view, even if it was of more work space. That included Mary Timm's small cubicle, which was located just outside his door. The young woman was reviewing data being fed to her by various surveillance satellites. She was collating that information and sending it to Viens.

Viens himself was seated with his back to the window. Before him, on a laboratory table, three laptop computers sat side by side. The surveillance expert looked over as Hood entered.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Paul, but we're not getting anything useful," Viens lamented.

"Are you getting anything at all?" Hood asked. He stopped beside Viens. There were very different kinds of maps on each monitor. Hood guessed that they were the sections of sea that Viens was studying. This sector of intelligence gathering was relatively new for Op-Center, which used to rely exclusively on the NRO for satellite surveillance.

"We haven't seen or heard anything that resembles a boat on the run," Viens informed him. "And we've covered a lot of territory along the Great Barrier Reef, the eastern reaches of the Celebes, the entire Banda Sea, and the western and southwestern Coral Sea."

"You did all that in ninety minutes?" Hood asked.

"Yes, but we had three processes going at once," Viens said. "Audio, visual, and thermal. One often eliminates the need for the other."

"How?"

"For instance, we've been monitoring the ARCON," Viens told him. "That's the Asian Rim Civilian Observation Network. It consists, basically and informally, of whoever is out there. The maritime police and navies in that region use specific frequencies for civilian communication. If the radar on a freighter or a cruise ship saw another vessel barreling through, the night watch would have reported it on an ARCON frequency. Since no one did, our program calculated how far the radar of reported vessels was sweeping. Odds were that our target ship was not moving through that area, so we didn't waste satellite time looking for it." Viens made a face. "I don't like the fact that we're using technology to figure out where people aren't, not where they are. But it's the best we can do."

"Michelangelo said that sculpting is taking away the parts of the marble that aren't the statue," Hood said.

"It also took the man about four years to paint a ceiling, if I'm remembering my Vatican history correctly," Viens said.

"You are," Hood told him. He had spent several nights reading about the Vatican during Op-Center's church-allied mission in Botswana. The Vatican's wealth included its vast art collection, and facts about it were in the files.

"Stop kicking yourself in the ass," Hood said. "You're searching with no idea of what to look for. At least we can tell Bob where not to look."

"I'll E-mail the clear zone parameters to your office," Viens said.

"Thanks," Hood said.

"But I'm still not satisfied," Viens said.

"That's okay," Hood said. "Just don't be down on yourself. There's a difference."

Viens grunted in what Hood took for agreement. He began collecting the data for Herbert.

Hood left the office. He had not managed to boost Viens's morale. Worse than that, there had been backwash. The futility of the operation was starting to gnaw at Hood. Viens literally had access to a world of electronic data. He was usually in the forefront of any we-can-do-this movement. If he was worried, then there was real cause for concern.

Hood glanced down at Mary Timm as he passed her desk. He gave her a brave little smile and a wink. She smiled back. It was a big smile. Not just pretty but confident. It was a smile full of youth and uncorrupted hope. Even Mary's eyes were radiant.

Hood remembered when he used to feel that way. First as mayor of Los Angeles, and then when he first became the director of Op-Center. Even if he were being naive at the time, Hood always felt that things would work out. And invariably they did. Not always without cost, but they had a saying on Wall Street when he worked in finance. If the goods are worth it, the price was worth it.

These goods were worth it.

Things would work out again, somehow. He had to believe that.

Mary's smile lingered in Hood's memory. Sometimes just the simplest gesture was also cheerleading.