"Yes, sir," said Fodor, who went to the front of the car to use the intercom they'd rigged from the locomotive.

Nikita would see to it that the train was safe. This was for the future of Russia, and no one-- not even his father, the General-- was going to stop it.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Monday, 7:10 P.M.,

Washington, D.C.

"Got it!"

Hood was napping on his couch, happy to turn over some of the routine duties to Curt Hardaway and the night crew, when Lowell Coffey entered his open office door with a flourish.

"Signed, sealed, and-- ta-ta!-- delivered."

Hood sat up and smiled. "CIC said yes?"

"They said yes," he said, "though it had nothing to do with me. It was the Russians themselves that got this for us by sending one hundred thousand soldiers into the Ukraine."

"I'll take it," Hood said. "'Did you tell Mike?"

"I just saw him," Lowell said. "He'll be coming over."

Hood regarded the document with Senator Fox's signature right on top, where the good conservatives would see it. He was glad to see it too, though. Lying here, he had already resolved to back Rodgers on the Striker mission. Checks and balances were good, he had decided, but sometimes decisive action was better.

As Lowell left to inform Martha Mackall, Hood sat back down on the sofa, E-mailed Hardaway, then rubbed his eyes and remembered exactly why it was he wanted to run Op-Center at all.

Hood and everyone he knew-- including the President, with whom he often disagreed-- did what they were doing, first and foremost, because it wasn't enough to salute their flag with the hand and a pledge. They needed to give it their lives and their full commitment. Rodgers had given him the brass plaque that sat on his desk, something Thomas Jefferson had once written: "The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants." From the time he was in college, he had wanted to be a part of that process.

That sacred process, he corrected himself.

Rodgers and Bob Herbert arrived then, and after shaking hands the men hugged each other.

"Thanks, Paul," Rodgers said. "Charlie's eager to do this."

Hood didn't say it, but he knew they were both thinking it: now that they had what they wanted, they both prayed it turned out right.

Hood fell into the chair behind his desk. "So they're free to go in," he said. "What're we going to do to get them out?"

Rodgers said, "However the CIC went, my friends at the Pentagon have given us the Mosquito."

"Which is?"