There was an ocean-deep silence on the other end.

"I tracked her down," said Rodgers. "She's divorced, no kids, living in Enfield, Connecticut. She sells advertising space for a newspaper and says she'd love to see you again."

"You still know how to stack a deck, General."

"Hell, Brett, at least come back and let's have a face-to-face about this. Or do I have to get someone over there to order you to come back?"

"General," Brett said, "it'd be an honor to command a team like Striker. But I'd be landlocked at Quantico most of the time, and that'd drive me crazy. At least now I get to travel around Europe and put my two cents in on various projects."

"Two cents?" Rodgers said. "Brett, you've got a million goddamn bucks in your head and I want that working for me. How often does anyone there even listen to what you have to say?"

"Rarely," August admitted.

"Damn right. You've got a better mind for tactics and strategy than anyone in uniform. You should be listened to."

"Maybe," August admitted, "but that's the Air Force. Besides, I'm forty-five years old. I don't know if I can go running around the Diamond Mountains in North Korea shooting down Nodong missiles, or chasing a train through Siberia."

"Horseshit," Rodgers repeated. "I'll bet you can still do those one-armed pushups you used to practice while we waited for planes at Bradley. Your own little astronaut training program."

"I can still do 'em," August said, "though not as many as I used to."

"Maybe not, but they're a whole lot more than I can do," Rodgers said. "And they're probably a lot more than the kids of Striker can do." Rodgers leaned forward on his desk. "Brett, come back and let's talk. I need you here. Christ, we haven't worked together since the day we enlisted."

"We built that model of the F-14A Tomcat two years ago."

"You know what I mean. I wouldn't ask if I didn't think we'd be a good fit. Look, you've wanted to have time to write a book about Vietnam. I'll give you the time. You wanted to learn to play the piano. When are you going to do that?"

"Eventually. I'm only forty-five."

Rodgers frowned. "Funny how the age thing cuts both ways for you."

"Isn't it?"

Rodgers drummed his desktop. He only had one more card to play, and he intended to make this one work. "You're also homesick," he said. "You told me so the last time you were here. What if I promise that you won't be landlocked. I've been wanting to send Striker on maneuvers with other special forces teams around the world. Let's do it. We're also working on a Regional Op-Center facility. When that's up and running we'll move you and Striker around. You can spend a month in Italy with all your Italian pals, then in Germany, in Norway--"

"I'm doing that now."