But cramped as Hood had been, at least he felt rested. Bob Herbert was right. The secret to sleeping on airplanes had nothing to do with whether one reclined. He hadn't, yet he'd slept wonderfully. The key was silence, and the earplugs had worked perfectly.

Hood frowned as he sat up straight. We've come to Germany at the invitation of Deputy Foreign Minister Hausen to look at millions of dollars of hi-tech equipment, and fifty cents worth of Brooklyn-made silicone makes me a happy man. There had to be a moral in that.

Hood removed the plugs. As he poked them into their plastic container, he tried to capture at least the contentment he'd felt in his dream. But even that was gone. Hood raised the window shade and squinted into the hazy sunlight.

Dreams, youth, and passion, he thought. The most desirable things always fade. Could be that was why they were so desirable. In any case, he told himself, what the hell did he have to moan about? His wife and kids were happy and healthy and he loved them and his work. That was more than many people had.

Annoyed with himself, he leaned toward Matt Stoll. Op-Center's portly Operations Support Officer was sitting in the aisle seat to Hood's right. He was just removing his headphones.

"Good morning," Hood said.

"Good morning," Stoll said as he stuffed the headphones in the seat back. He looked at his watch, then turned his big, Kewpie-doll face toward Hood. "We're twenty-five minutes early," he said in his precise, clipped tones: "I really wanted to hear Rockin' '68 cycle through a ninth time."

"That's all you did for eight hours? Listened to music?"

"Had to," Stoll said. "At thirty-eight minutes in, you get Cream followed by the Cowsills and Steppenwolf. It's like Quasimodo's beautiful ugliness-- 'Indian Lake' sandwiched between 'Sunshine of Your Love' and 'Born to Be Wild.' "

Hood just smiled. He didn't want to admit that he'd liked the Cowsills when he was growing up.

"Anyway," Stoll said, "those earplugs Bob gave me melted right out of my head. You forget, we heavy people sweat more than you skinny people do."

Hood glanced past Stoll. Across the aisle, the gray-haired Intelligence Officer was still asleep.

Hood said, "Maybe it would've been better if I'd listened to music too. I was having this dream and then…"

"You lost it."

Hood nodded.

"I know the feeling," Stoll said. "It's like a power failure which takes your computer data with it. You know what I do when that happens?"

"Listen to music?" Hood guessed.

Stoll looked at him with surprise. "That's why you're the boss and I'm not. Yeah, I listen to music. Something I associate with good times. That takes me right to a better place."

From across the aisle, Bob Herbert said in his high Southern drawl, "Me? I rely on earplugs for peace of mind. They're worth stayin' skinny for. How'd they work for you, Chief?"