Hood said he'd be there, of course. Then he went into the small private washroom in the back of his office. He shut the door. There was a speakerphone set in the wall under the light switch. After splashing water on his face he called Bob Herbert. Herbert's assistant said that he was talking to Darrell McCaskey and asked if this were a priority call. Hood said it wasn't and asked for Herbert to call back when he got off.

Hood had already finished washing his face and straightening his tie when the internal line beeped. Hood was glad to hear it. Like a scavenger drawn to carrion, his tired mind had padded back to Sharon and the kids. He didn't know why-to punish himself, he wondered?-but he didn't want to think about them now. When a crisis was pending, it was not the best time to reassess one's life and goals.

Hood hit the telephone speaker button and leaned on the stainless steel sink. "Hood," he said.

"Paul, it's Bob," Herbert said. "I was going to call you anyway."

"What's Darrell's news?"

"It's pretty grim," Herbert said. "NRO intelligence has confirmed that four helicopters, apparently sent by General Amadori, attacked the Ramirez factory at 5:20 a.m., local time. Aideen Marley and María Corneja were in the parking lot, hunkered down in their car, during the attack. The Spanish troops gunned down about twenty people before taking control of the factory and rounding up others. According to Aideen-who's still in the car and in contact with Darrell-María surrendered to the soldiers. Her hope is that she can find out where Amadori is headquartered and get that information back to us."

"Is Aideen in any immediate danger?"

"We don't think so," Herbert said. "The troops aren't making a sweep of the parking lot. It looks to her like they want to finish rounding up a few people and get the hell out."

"What about María?" Hood asked. "Will she try to stop Amadori?" He knew that the White House would have some of this information. That was probably one of the reasons for the hastily called meeting. He also knew that the President would ask the same question.

"Truthfully, I don't know," Herbert admitted. "As soon as I hang up I'm going to ask Liz for the psychological workup she did when María was working here. Maybe that'll tell us something."

"What does Darrell think?" Hood asked impatiently. "If anyone would know María Corneja, he's the man." Hood didn't put much trust in psychoanalytical profiles. Cold, paint-by-number studies were less valuable to him than human feelings and intuition.

"What man knows any woman?" Herbert asked.