"I see." McCaskey bit one of the biscottis, then took another short swig of double espresso. "Well, there's probably some of that. But I think it's more," he said. "Maria's afraid that when she's finished psychologically disengaging from Interpol, she'll have a really tough time getting adjusted to suburban D. C. and then finding something interesting to do."
"I thought she was ready for a break," Rodgers said.
"So did she," McCaskey replied.
"Did something change her mind?" Rodgers asked.
"Yeah. Bob called her early this morning," McCaskey told him.
"Bob called Maria?" Rodgers asked.
McCaskey nodded.
Rodgers was not happy. Maria Corneja was on his own short list of operatives to call on, and Herbert knew that. But Bob Herbert was a team player. Something must have happened over there, or he would not have contacted her. Because Rodgers's cell phone was not secure, he would have to wait until he got to Op-Center to find out what it was.
"What did he want?" Rodgers asked.
"He needed Maria to check on something at the Ministry of Defense," McCaskey said.-
"Do you have any idea what it was?"
"Haven't a clue. But it didn't matter to Maria," McCaskey went on. "She got all juiced up having something to do, something that was important. She called me from her old office. She was psyched because she knew which people to talk to at the Ministry, she knew the area, and she knew exactly where to look. She felt plugged in."
"She's spent her life there," Rodgers said. "And going back home, right before you leave somewhere-that's rough."
"I know," McCaskey said. "But she also isn't a kid. We went through all this. She knew that moving here would be like anyone going to a new job, a new house in a new neighborhood, a new anything. There's a lot you think you're going to like about it. Then, like you said, after you make the commitment, you start to think about all the things it doesn 't have."
"You go through withdrawal," Rodgers said.
"You got it," McCaskey replied. "That's what Maria had been going through. Or at least, that's what she was going through until four-thirty this morning, our time. She wakes me up with a call that goes something like, 'Darrell, I may have made a mistake. I don't know if I can give this up.' "
"I'm sorry, Darrell," Rodgers said.
"Thanks. I appreciate that," McCaskey said.
Rodgers took a swallow of coffee. He was not certain whether this was a good time or a terrible time to broach the subject of Maria becoming a part of the new unit.
Given the situation in Botswana, he decided he did not have a choice. He also thought of something that might appeal to McCaskey.
"So what are you going to do if she does want to go back into the field?" Rodgers asked.
"I don't know," McCaskey said. "I guess the question is: Where does she get that opportunity?" He leaned in closer again. "There was a rumor going around the clubhouse yesterday that you're going to spearhead a new HUMINT operation. Is that true?"
Rodgers nodded. Herbert must have slipped McCaskey the word. The intelligence chief hated keeping a brother at arms in the dark.
McCaskey sat back. "Damn, Mike. I would have appreciated some kind of heads-up."
"You would have gotten that today, right now," Rodgers said. "That's why I asked to see you this morning. Christ, Paul just hit me with this new operation. "
McCaskey scowled.
"As for Maria, I don't know why Bob called her," Rodgers said. "The new group is my operation, not his. And I won't ask Maria to be involved with my team if it'll make things tough for you."
Even as he said that, Rodgers knew he should not have. He might not have anyone else he could call on in Europe. However, there might be a solution.
"I don't know, Mike," McCaskey admitted. "I love the woman. I always have. I gave Maria up once rather than worry about losing her in the field, if that makes any sense."
"It does," Rodgers said.
"But after talking to her this morning, I know she's not going to be happy working as a nine-to-fiver agaij^ even for us," he said.
"How ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm after they've seen Paree," Rodgers said.
"Something like that," McCaskey replied.
"Maybe she won't have to," Rodgers said.
"What do you mean?"
"We might be able to work something out where Maria is in the field part-time," Rodgers said. "And when she does go out, we wouldn't send her into red zones."
Red zones were high-risk areas, such as going behind the lines in combat situations. A white zone action was the infiltration of an adversary's nonmilitary group. A green zone operation was the kind Maria was doing now, going into an allied area for information.
"That could work," McCaskey said. "Hell, I don't want to try to control Maria."
"As if you could," Rodgers said.
"Exactly. I just don't want her dead."
Rodgers glanced at the wall clock.
"Listen, Darrell, we can talk about this later," Rodgers said. "Having Maria work with me is not why I wanted to see you. I asked you here to tell you about the HUMINT group because I may need help from some of your people in D. C. and abroad."
"Then why did you want to meet at this place instead of the office?" McCaskey asked.
"Because two other people are joining us," Rodgers said. "I want to see how they conduct themselves in public."
"You mean how well they blend in," McCaskey said.
"Exactly," Rodgers said.
Just then, as if on cue, Rodgers saw Aideen Marley enter the shop. Actually, the first thing he saw was the young woman's brilliant red hair. It was longer than he remembered, framing a face that was not as full as he remembered. She was wearing a smart fawn-colored pantsuit and seemed taller somehow. Maybe working in the corridors of power had changed her. Either it gave a person new self-confidence, or it crushed them. He liked the fact that working as a political consultant clearly had enhanced the thirty-six-year-old's poise.
Rodgers waved to her, and both men stood. Aideen weaved through the crowd. The smile she wore was genuine. That, too, was a rarity in Washington.
When Aideen arrived, she gave the general a warm hug. "How are you?" she asked.
"Not bad," Rodgers said. "You look terrific."
"Thanks," she said. She turned to McCaskey and offered her hand. "I hear you got married. Congratulations. Maria is a great, great lady."
"That she is," McCaskey said.
Aideen had worked closely with Maria and McCaskey averting a new, wide-ranging Spanish civil war.
McCaskey asked Aideen if he could get anything for her. She asked if he would mind getting a regular decaf and a croissant. He took one of his espressos with him and went back to the counter.
Rodgers regarded Aideen. "Decaf?" he remarked.
"I had three cups of coffee before I left home and another on the way," she said as she slid onto a stool. She put her shoulder bag on the floor, between her feet. "I get up and do most of my work when it's still dark out. Better for the concentration. I research and write my Moore-Cook Journal articles when my brain is still fresh, then cram for the day's meetings."
The Moore-Cook Journal was a quarterly about the impact of international affairs on domestic policy. It was published by a small, conservative isolationist think tank and was widely read in the intelligence industry.
"How's the consulting work going?" Rodgers asked.
"It's long hours, okay money, and crappy health coverage," she said. "But I like seeing new faces each day, and I love the learning curve. The trick is knowing things other people don't, then scaring them into hiring you."
"Information insurance," Rodgers said.
"Something like that," Aideen replied. "It would be nice to have a steady gig again, but I got out of line when I left OpCenter. I don't want to start over somewhere else."