"I appreciate it," Peggy said. "I've always liked to know where I stand."

Hood said, "I have my reservations, but Lowell's right. A binational group makes sense, and Peggy seems to have the right stuff."

Herbert drove his palms into the edge of the table and whistled the first few measures of "It's a Small World." Rodgers returned to his seat. His neck was flushed above the collar of his uniform, and his dark brow seemed even darker.

"I'll make sure you get the specifics as we do," Hood said, "so that your agent can link up with Striker. Needless to say, Commander, Striker's leader, Lieutenant Colonel Squires, has our complete trust. I expect Agent James to follow his orders."

"Of course, General," Commander Hubbard said, "and thank you."

Hood looked at Rodgers as the monitor winked off.

"Mike," Hood said, "he was going to send her anyway. At least now we'll know where she is."

"It was your call," Rodgers replied. "It's just not the one I would've made." He looked at Hood. "This isn't D-Day or Desert Storm. We didn't need an international consensus. The United States was attacked, and the United States military was responding. Period."

"Semicolon," Hood corrected. DI6 suffered casualties as well. The information they gave us reinforced our suspicions about the target. They deserve a shot at that target. "

"As I told you, we don't agree on that," Rodgers said. "Ms. James had to be disciplined by her own superior. She's certainly not going to listen to Squires. But you're back, and you're in command." He looked around the table. "I've finished everything on my agenda. Thank you, everyone, for your attention."

Hood also looked around. "Any other business?"

"Yes," said Herbert. "I think Mike Rodgers and Lynne Dominick and Karen Wong deserve friggin' medals for the silk purse they made from a sow's ear last night. While everyone else in the country was runnin' around wringing their hands about the explosion, those three figured out who did it and probably why. Instead of a Purple Heart, though, we just kicked Mike in the pants. I'm sorry, but I just don't get it."

"Because we disagree with him," said Lowell Coffey, "that doesn't mean we think any less of what he did."

"You're tired and p.o.'d, Bob," said Liz Gordon. "This wasn't about Mike. It was about living in the world of today."

Herbert grumbled his disapproval of the world of today as he rolled away from the table.

Hood rose. "I'll contact you all individually during the morning to check on your progress," he said. Then he looked at Mike Rodgers. "Once again, in case anyone missed it, no one in this room could've done the job that Mike did last night."

Rodgers gave him a little nod, then buzzed open the door and followed Bob Herbert from the Tank.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Monday, 8:00 P.M., St. Petersburg