"Paul, your Striker team is en route to Spain," the President said, "and Darrell McCaskey is already there. You're also working with an Interpol agent who surrendered to the troops at that factory massacre. What about her, Paul? Can she be counted on?"

"She surrendered to try and get to Amadori," Hood acknowledged. "But we don't know what she'll do if and when she gets to him. Whether she'll reconnoiter or try and neutralize him."

Hood hated himself for using that euphemism. They were talking about assassination-the same thing they'd all deplored when it happened to Martha Mackall. And for exactly the same reason: politics. This was, truly, a dirty, stinking business. He wished that he were with his family instead of here.

"What's this woman's name?" the President asked.

"María Corneja, Mr. President," Hood replied. "We have a file on her. She was attached to Op-Center for several months when we were first commissioned. She learned from us and we from her."

"What would Ms. Corneja do if she had the support of a team like Striker?" the President asked.

"I'm not sure," Hood answered honestly. "I'm not sure it would even make a difference. She's tough and pretty independent."

"Find out, Paul," the President said. "But do it quietly. I want this to stay at Op-Center from now until it's finished."

"I understand," Hood said. His voice was a low monotone. His spirits were even lower. No one else had even offered to jump in with him.

He wasn't a boy. He knew that there might come a time when it would be necessary to stage a black-ops action like this-the use of Striker or one of his people to target and take out an enemy. Now that it was here he didn't like it. Not the job and not the fact that Op-Center was on its own. If they succeeded, a man was dead. If they failed, this would be on their consciences for the rest of their lives. There was no clean way out of it.

Carol Lanning must have understood that. She and Hood remained seated at the table, side by side, as the President and the others left. The men all said goodnight to Hood but nothing more. What could they say? Good luck? Break a leg? Shoot him once for me?

When the room was empty, Carol put her hand on Hood's.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's no fun being disavowed."

"Or set up," Hood said.

"Hmmm," she replied. "You don't think anyone else knew what the President was planning?"

Hood shook his head. "And when they leave here, they'll forget he ever suggested it. Like he said, this is Op-Center's play." He shook his head again. "The damn thing is it's not even retribution. The men who killed Martha are dead."

"I know," Carol said. "Nobody ever said this business was fair."