There was a hint of bitterness in her voice. After the assassination of her mentor, Martha Mackall, Aideen needed time off-more than Op-Center could afford to give her.
Aideen went on quickly. "I was thinking on the way over, we haven't seen each other in over a year. How are you?"
"Okay," he said. "I assume you heard about the trouble in Kashmir."
The woman nodded once. "I was sorry to hear about that. How's Colonel August?"
"He's fine," Rodgers said. "That mission was my call, my black mark. Besides, he's always been able to look ahead."
"While you look back," she said.
"What can I say? I'm a history buff," he said.
"You can say that you apply what you learn to the future," Aideen answered. "Otherwise, what's the point of learning it?"
"I agree."
"What about Paul and Bob?" Aideen asked.
She is good at this, Rodgers thought. Aideen did not let a sore subject sit. She got in, made her point, and kept things moving.
"Paul and Bob are the same," Rodgers told her. "I suppose you heard that Ann Farris is no longer at Op-Center."
"Yes. I'm hoping she left due to natural causes," Aideen said. That was a euphemism for attrition or a change to a better job. What she was really saying was that she hoped Ann had left for professional reasons and not because of her relationship with Paul.
"It was not exactly that," Rodgers told her. "There were budget cuts. That's how I lost Striker, too."
"Not just the personnel? You mean the group?" she asked.
Rodgers nodded.
That surprised the woman. Obviously, there had not been time for that one to hit the Washington grapevine.
"Mike, I'm so sorry," she said.
"It's okay. It was a kick in the pants," he admitted, "but we move on. Which is one of the reasons I asked you to come down here today."
McCaskey returned with Aideen'.> decaf. She thanked him without taking her eyes off Rodgers.
"I'm putting together a new group," he said quietly. "Very low profile, doing the same kind of work you did with Maria. I was wondering if you'd consider being part of it."
She looked from Rodgers to McCaskey. "Will Maria be working with us?" she asked.
"We don't know yet," Rodgers said.
"I do," McCaskey replied. "When Mike asks that question, Maria won't hesitate. Not like she did when I popped mine."
"We haven't decided if Mike is even going to ask that question," Rodgers clarified.
Before they could discuss the team further, David Battat entered the cafe. Rodgers recognized him from his file photo and motioned him over. The general did not know what to expect from the man. He only knew what he had read in the dossier, that Battat had been a CIA liaison with the Mujahideen guerrilla fighters in Afghanistan. He worked his way up to running a field office in New York. He was sent back in the field when one of his operatives, Annabelle Hampton, helped the terrorists who attacked the United Nations Security Council. Stationed in Baku, Azerbaijan, he had recently worked with Op-Center to prevent war in the Caspian Sea.
The former CIA agent was short and scrappy, with none of the boot camp polish to which Rodgers was accustomed. But the general was not dealing with the military any longer. He felt like South Carolina's Edward Rutledge and the other Southern delegates to the Continental Congress must have felt when they first met their Yankee counterparts. No veneer, no respect for class or finery. Yet Rodgers reminded himself that they all managed to work together to gain American independence.
Battat reached the table. He was wearing a New York University sweatshirt and had the New York Times under his arm. He carried nothing else. Rodgers liked a man who traveled light.
Battat brushed back his short, thinning black hair. He introduced himself to Rodgers and McCaskey.
Rodgers introduced Aideen. Battat's heavy eyebrows rose behind his sunglasses.
"You must be the Aideen Marley who writes for the MCJ" Battat said.
"That's me," she said.
"I read your article on the impact of media hysteria on civic antiterrorist preparedness," Battat said. "We'll have to discuss it."
"You don't agree with my findings?" she asked.
"I do, as far as they go," he said. He pulled a stool underneath him and sat down. "You can't anticipate and preempt assaults. All you do is panic people, which can be worse than an attack itself. Hell, it is an attack itself."
"A mock attack," she said.
"Psychological assaults are not pretend assaults," Battat replied.
"No, but they are easier to defend against," she suggested. "Education always goes down harder than ignorance."
"Education is totally beside the point," Battat said dismissively. "Fear is the key. A dictator has to be afraid that he will lose his small kingdom if he attempts to expand it. Khrushchev didn't pull his missiles from Cuba because he suddenly thought, 'Hey, wait a minute! What am I doing?' " Battat said. "He was scared of mutual assured destruction. So forget that. You also can't just manage crises after the fact, which is what Aideen's article really suggests."
"What's your solution?" Aideen asked.
Rodgers was enjoying this. The great thing about pundits is that they were always right and wrong. There was no universal solution. But the debates were always fascinating.
"My solution is an aggressive offense," Battat replied. "An enemy hits a building, you knock out a city block. They hit a city block, you wipe out an entire town or city. They hit a city, you turn the country to landfill."
"What's wrong with the legal system handling the aftermath of an attack?" Aideen asked.
"Because that gives them a podium from which to spout their BS," Battat replied. "Who needs that?"
"It also lets people know that they are twisted individuals who need to be watched," Aideen said.
"You know what?" Battat replied. "TV is something you watch. I prefer our enemies dead."
"We will have to discuss this," Aideen said.
There was an edge in Aideen's voice. But again, the woman had been savvy enough to table the discussion before it became overly emotional. As for Battat, he sounded like any passionate Washingtonian with an opinion. That would not make him stand out. Just the opposite in fact. These two looked and sounded like ordinary citizens.
"David, can I get you anything?" McCaskey asked. "I mean, apart from a tactical nuclear weapon?"
"I'm good," Battat said. "They gave out cookies on the plane." He looked at Rodgers. "How have you been?"
"I'm alive," Rodgers replied.
"I read about what happened overseas," Battat said. "You did us proud. Americans and everyone in the business."
"Thanks," Rodgers said. "I was just telling Ms. Marley that because of what happened, we've been forced to make a few changes."
"Nothing the unappreciative, buck-passing bureaucrats do surprises me," Battat said. "How can I help?"
"We're putting together a different kind of sports team, and I'm sounding out possible players."
"I'm in," Battat told him.
"That's it?" McCaskey said.
"That's it," Battat replied.
"Great," Rodgers said. He looked at Aideen. "What about you?"
She hesitated before replying. "I'm very interested," she said. "I'd like to discuss this some more."
"Sure," Rodgers said.
Rodgers did not know whether her hesitation was bitterness toward Op-Center, a desire to run her own life, or maybe even impatience with Battat. Possibly a little of everything.
"What I suggest is that we go back to the office and have a real chat," Rodgers said.
Aideen nodded.
"Question," Battat said. "When were you thinking of fielding this team? Just so I can work things out schedule-wise."
Rodgers finished his coffee and looked at his watch. He replied, "In about six hours."