Sea of Fire Read Free Page B

be more enemies,” Hood replied. “You can’t vanquish all of them.”
    “Probably not,” she said.
    “So I don’t see what the benefit is to an ongoing high-intensity conflict,” Hood said.
    “Living,” she said. “You feel passionate about something every second of every day.”
    “The hate doesn’t eat you up?” Hood asked.
    “That’s the point!” she said. “It only eats you up if it stays inside. I channel it, use it as fuel for other things.”
    “I see,” Hood said.
    Not only did Daphne remind Hood of Martha Mackall, but she would get along terrifically with Op-Center’s intelligence chief Bob Herbert. Herbert hated fast and deep and enthusiastically. Hood admired, respected, and trusted him. But if Herbert didn’t have someone to keep him in check, he would constantly struggle between what was right and what was satisfying.
    Daphne sat back again. “So. Now that I’ve turned you off completely, talk to me about whatever you do that isn’t classified.”
    “You didn’t turn me off,” Hood insisted.
    “No?”
    Hood shook his head as he took another bite of bread-stick. “Some of my best friends are sociopaths.”
    The woman gave Hood a twisted little smile.
    That’s promising, Hood thought. She can laugh at herself.
    Hood answered Daphne’s question as she finished her appetizer. He explained that Op-Center was the epithet for the National Crisis Management Center. It was housed in a two-story building at Andrews Air Force Base. During the Cold War, the nondescript, ivory-colored structure was one of two staging areas for flight crews known as NuRRDs—nuclear rapid-response divisions. In the event of a nuclear attack on the nation’s capital, their job would have been to evacuate key officials to safe command centers outside of Washington, D.C. With the fall of the Soviet Union and the downsizing of the NuRRDs, emergency air operations were consolidated elsewhere. The newly evacuated building at Andrews was given over to the newly chartered NCMC.
    Hood told Daphne no more or less than was described in Op-Center’s public charter.
    “The NCMC has two primary functions,” Hood said quietly. Speaking in a loud whisper was a habit he had developed whenever he discussed even declassified Op-Center business in public. “One is preventative. We monitor intelligence reports as well as the mainstream press for possible ‘hot button’ incidents. These are seemingly isolated events that can trigger potential crises or terrorist activities at home and abroad.”
    “Such as?” she asked.
    “The failure of Third World governments to pay their troops, which can lead to revolution and attacks on American interests,” Hood said. “The seizure of a large cache of drugs, which can spur retaliation against law enforcement officers. We make sure local personnel are aware of potential dangers.”
    “So there’s a lot of profiling, intelligent guesswork, that sort of thing,” Daphne said.
    “Exactly,” Hood said. “The other function of Op-Center is to deal with situations that have already started to burn. I can’t go into details, but it’s along the lines of what we did at the United Nations.”
    “Killing bad guys,” Daphne said.
    “Only when necessary,” Hood replied. He said no more.
    Until eight months ago, the crisis-management process relied heavily on the rapid-response military squad known as Striker. After Striker was decimated in Kashmir, Hood decided to rely instead on the surgical insertion of deterrent personnel. This allowed Op-Center to undermine enemies from the inside. It might take more time, but it risked fewer lives. If a military presence were required, Rodgers would call in an outside special ops unit.
    The conversation turned to their private lives. Daphne told Hood about her ex-husband and how he was not ambitious enough to satisfy her.
    “He was a partner in his father’s law firm, a very powerful and high-profile firm,” she said. “But he preferred