He stepped up beside her, looking north while she looked south. "Jesus, Nancy, I'm not going to feel guilty about this. You ran away from me. You left without an explanation and I met someone else. Someone who threw in her lot with me, who trusted me with her life and heart. I won't do anything to cheapen that."

"I didn't ask you to," Nancy said. "Coffee isn't betrayal."

"It is the way we used to drink it," Hood said.

Nancy smiled. She looked down. "I understand. I'm sorry-- for everything-- sorrier than I can say, and I'm sad. But I do understand" She faced him. "I'm staying at the Ambassador and I'll be here until this evening. If you change your mind, leave a message."

"I won't change my mind," Hood said. He looked at her. "As much as I'd like to."

Nancy squeezed his hand. He felt the charge again.

"So politics didn't corrupt you," she said "I'm not surprised. Just a little disappointed."

"You'll get over it," Hood said. "After all, you got over me."

Nancy's expression changed. For the first time Hood saw the sadness that had been hidden beneath her smile and the longing in her eyes.

"Do you believe that?" she asked.

"Yes. Otherwise, you couldn't have stayed away."

She said, "Men really don't understand love, do they? Not on my best day, with the closest pretender to the Paul Hood throne, did I ever meet anyone as, bright or as compassionate or as gentle as you." She leaned over and kissed him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry I disturbed you by coming back into your life, but I wanted you to know that I never got over you, Paul, and I never will."

Nancy didn't look at him as she walked back toward the edge of the park. But he looked at her. And once again Paul Hood was standing alone, two movie tickets in his wallet, suffering the absence of a woman he loved.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Thursday, 4:35 P.M.,

Hanover, Germany

As soon as he saw the gun, Bob Herbert threw his car into reverse and crushed the hand controlled gas pedal down. The sudden backward acceleration threw him hard against his shoulder harness, and he cried out as it snapped tight against his chest. But the bullets from the van missed the driver's seat, pelting the hood and the front fender as the car rocketed away. Herbert continued moving away, even after his vehicle's right rear side struck a street light and caromed off, skidding onto the road. Oncoming cars braked fast or swerved to avoid him. The drivers shouted and blasted their horns.

Herbert ignored them. He looked ahead and saw the front-seat passenger of the van lean out the window. The man trained the gun on Herbert.