State of Siege

FIFTY-SEVEN

The greetings were warm, and the good wishes were sincere as Hood entered the van. There was no driver. After Herbert shut the door and Hood had settled into the passenger’s seat, Coffey drove the short distance to Op-Center. The attorney informed Hood that they’d only be at Op-Center long enough for him to shower, shave, and put on a clean suit Herbert had brought from the house.

“Why?” Hood asked. “Where are we going?”

“To the White House,” Coffey said.

“What’s waiting for me there, Lowell?” Hood asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Coffey admitted. “Secretary-General Chatterjee is flying down with Ambassador Meriwether to see President Lawrence. They’re meeting at noon. The president is the one who wants you there.”

“Any idea why?”

“I can’t imagine the president wants a he-said, she-said thing,” Coffey replied. “Anything else I can think of is not good.”

“Meaning?” Hood asked.

“Meaning he may want to send you back to New York in the custody of the American ambassador,” Coffey said. “To make sure you’re around to answer any questions the secretary-general and her associates may have. A gesture of our concern.”

Herbert’s wheelchair was parked behind and between the seats. “A gesture,” he snorted. “Paul saved the friggin’ place. What he did took as much guts as I’ve ever seen. Mike and Brett were also great. But Paul — when I heard that you were the one who took the last guy out, I was never prouder of anyone. Never.”

“Unfortunately,” Coffey said, “international law does not provide for ‘proud’ as a defense.”

“And I’m telling you, Lowell, if Paul is sent to New York or the goddamned Hague and the International Court of Supposed Justice,” Herbert said, “or some other half-assed place where they serve up scapegoat on hot coals, I’m gonna take hostages.”

The debate was typical Herbert-Coffey and, as usual, the real world was somewhere between the two extremes. There were legal issues, to be sure, but courts also took emotional exigencies into consideration. Hood wasn’t as concerned about that as he was about the near future. He wanted to be with his family, helping Harleigh through her recovery. He couldn’t do that if he were defending himself in some other country.

Hood also wanted to stay with Op-Center. Maybe resignation had been an overreaction. Maybe he should have taken a leave of absence.

And maybe that’s all academic now, he reminded himself. A few days ago, his future was still in his own hands. Now it was in the hands of the president of the United States.

Since no one else knew that Hood was being brought here, none of the primary weekday staff was present. The weekend team congratulated Hood for his heroism and Harleigh’s rescue. They wished him luck and support with whatever came next.

The hot shower felt good on Hood’s sore muscles, and the fresh clothes felt even better. Forty-five minutes after arriving at Andrews, Hood was back in the van with Herbert handling security and Coffey at the wheel.