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The other thing that made Herbert happy was when outsiders left him and his coworkers alone to do their jobs. When Op-Center first began operations, no one paid them much attention. Whether they were saving the space shuttle from saboteurs or Japan from nuclear annihilation, everything they did was covert. It passed under the radar of the press and most foreign intelligence services. The relationships they established were ones they chose to establish. They did so quietly with Interpol, the Russian Op-Center, and other groups.

Unfortunately, the dynamics changed drastically after Paul Hood personally resolved a highly public hostage standoff at the United Nations. Foreign governments complained to the White House about Hood's unsanctioned military activity on international territory. The Central Intelligence Agency, the National Security Agency, and even the State Department complained to the Congressional Intelligence Oversight committee. They accused Paul Hood of usurping personnel and chartered responsibilities from both agencies. The Pentagon said that Op-Center had monopolized the spy satellite capabilities of the National Reconnaissance Office.

All of that was true. But the truth did not always tell the whole story. None of these activities were done for the aggrandizement of Paul Hood or the NCMC. Under Hood, OpCenter functioned without the bureaucracy, infighting, and egos that undermined the effectiveness of those other agencies. That helped Op-Center to achieve its chartered goaclass="underline" to save lives and protect American interests.

Because of politics, not effectiveness or cost-efficiency, the CIOC had ordered Paul Hood to cut his operating budget. He had done so. This morning, Hood was supposed to learn the results of the quarterly follow-up conducted by the CIOC finance subcommittee. Hood, Rodgers, and Herbert hoped that tempers had cooled somewhat in four months. The previous day, the men had submitted their written petition to get some of the cuts rescinded. Among other things, training a new Striker team was going to take additional funds. Hood had been optimistic. Rodgers had been pessimistic. Herbert had declared himself neutral.

"Neutral like Sweden," Alison Carter had joked. The night before, Dr. Carter and her former patient had gone to dinner. Carter had just completed a secret assignment for the State Department. Though she did not say so, Herbert took that to mean she had participated in an assassination. Officially, the United States government did not sanction such killings. Unofficially, with the help of medical specialists, they executed them brilliantly.

During the course of the mission, Carter had exposed extensive collaboration between supposedly neutral Sweden and Nazi Germany during World War II. She was proud of that fact. She said that she had never believed any nation or individual could be completely impartial about anything.

Herbert disagreed. He insisted he had to be neutral. As he pointed out to Dr. Carter after one glass of wine too many, "It takes an Optimist, Pessimist, and Centrist to spell Op-Center."

She had groaned and made him pay for dinner. Then she left him with this thought: "Tell me," Carter asked. "Do you ever use the neutral gear on your wheelchair?"

Herbert informed her that there was no neutral gear on his chair. Just forward and backward.

"Exactly," she replied.

Herbert passed Paul Hood's office. The door was open. Since Hood's separation from his wife Sharon, he had been getting to the office earlier and earlier. For all Herbert knew, his boss had slept here instead of going back to his new apartment.

Not that it mattered. Staying busy had helped keep Hood's spirits from sinking. The intelligence chief certainly understood that. His own wife was killed in the blast that had cost him the use of his legs. After her death, all Herbert wanted to do was work. He needed to keep his mind moving forward, engaged in something constructive. If he had dwelt on the loss, his mind would have stayed in place, idling angrily, digging downward.

That was probably why psychologists called the result the pits of depression, now that Herbert thought about it.

Hood was gazing at his computer monitor. Herbert rapped lightly on the doorjamb.

"Good morning," Herbert said.

Hood glanced toward the door. He looked tired. "Good morning, Bob," Hood replied.

The director's voice was low and flat. The day had just begun, and already something was not right.

"Is Mike in yet?" Hood asked.

"I haven't seen him," Herbert replied. He swung into the doorway. "What's up?"

Hood hesitated. "The usual," he said quietly.

That told Herbert a lot.

"Well, let me know if there's anything I can do," Herbert said.

"There will be," Hood assured him. He did not elaborate.

Herbert smiled tightly. He lingered a moment. He thought about trying to get Hood to talk but decided against it.

Herbert backed his wheelchair from the doorway and continued down the hallway. Psychologist Liz Gordon was already at work. So was Director of Electronic Communications Kevin Custer. Herbert waved good morning to each of them as he passed. They waved back. It was a welcome touch of normalcy.

He did not bother trying to guess what Hood had to say to Rodgers. Herbert was an intelligence man. And right now, he had very little intelligence to go on.

But he did know two things. One was that the news was grave.

Paul Hood had been mayor of Los Angeles before coming to Op-Center. He was a politician. Hood's silence a moment ago was not about keeping secrets. It was about protocol. His tone had told Herbert that the news was bad. The fact that Hood did not want to tell Herbert, his trusted number-three man, meant that Mike Rodgers was entitled to hear it first. That told Herbert it was personal.

The other thing Herbert knew was that Alison Carter was right: Neutrality was a myth.

Herbert was an optimist. Whatever this was and whatever it took, he would help his teammates beat it.

Chapter Five

Okavango Swamp, Botswana
Tuesday, 4:35 P. M.

The Okavango River is the fourth longest river system in southern Africa. The wide river runs southeasterly for over 1,000 miles, from central Angola to northern Botswana. There, it ends in a vast delta known as the Okavango Swamp. In 1849, the Scottish explorer David Livingstone was the first European to visit the region. He described the swamp as "vast, humid, and unpleasant with all manner of biting insects."

"Vast" is an understatement.

The great, triangular delta covers an area of some 6,500 miles. Much of the region is under three feet of water during the rainy season. For the rest of the year, just over half the swamp is as dry as the surrounding plains. Amphibians such as frogs and salamanders breed in cycles that produce offspring who are air breathers by the time the rains stop. Other animals, such as lungfish and tortoises, burrow into the mud and estivate to survive.

The Moremi Wildlife Reserve is located beyond the northeastern corner of the Okavango Swamp. The reserve's 1,500 square miles are a strikingly different world from the marshland, a self-sustaining ecosystem of lions and cheetahs, wild pigs and wildebeests, hippopotamuses and crocodiles, storks and egrets, geese and quail, and rivers filled with pike and tiger fish.

There is only one animal that dwells in both regions. And right now, a force of them was making its way from one area to the other.

After leaving the Maun tourist center, Leon Seronga had led his four-vehicle caravan north through the reserve. The unit was riding Mercedes Sprinters that had been given to them by the Belgian. "The Necessary Evil," as Seronga referred to him in private, among his men. Each van held fourteen passengers. The vehicles had been flown to the Belgian's private airfield in Lehutu in the Kalahari. That was where they had been painted the green and khaki of Moremi Ranger Patrol vans. Before crossing the reserve with their prisoner, the men had all donned the olive-green uniforms of rangers. If any real rangers or army patrols stopped the RPVs, or if they were spotted by tour groups or Botswana field forces, they would claim to be searching for the paramilitary unit that had kidnapped the priest. Depending upon who approached, Leon's team was equipped with the proper documentation. The Belgian had provided that as well.