The intelligence chief hung up. Hood sat back. It was funny. He never knew that Herbert had joined the CIA to be like a TV character. He wondered if things like that should be in a person’s dossier. He found it touching. He was glad they had that conversation. Not just for Herbert’s sake but for his own. There were times when Hood had his doubts about decisions. That came from not being a specialist like Herbert, Coffey, or Rodgers. There were other times, like now, when he was sure of himself. He thought back to something his mother’s mother had said in her later years. Grandmother April was a dressmaker who learned her trade in Phoenix when Arizona was still a territory. After the family relocated to Los Angeles, she got work in the movies. Hood went with her to the studio one day and watched as she was making a ball gown for a movie. She asked for a bolt of gray. Her eleven-year-old grandson asked why she wanted such a boring color.

“Sometimes red and blue can’t function together unless you have a neutral color between them,” his grandmother had replied.

She was right. Which was why he felt pretty good right now.

Sometimes people needed that, too.

THIRTY-ONE - The Celebes Sea Saturday, 12:36 A.M.

THIRTY-ONE

The Celebes Sea Saturday, 12:36 A.M.

Coffey asked to see Warrant Officer Jelbart in private. With permission, the men walked over to the captain’s small ready room. It was little more than a closet with a desk and chair, but it had a door. Coffey closed it. The men remained standing. Jelbart had known that the American was on a call to Op-Center. But Coffey had spoken quietly, and the bridge was filled with the usual conversation and radio communication, as well as the constant rumbling of the engines far below. Jelbart did not know what Coffey had discussed.

Jelbart was stunned when the American told him. He did not doubt the accuracy of the intelligence, but he refused to accept the conclusion.

“Mr. Coffey, why would a man in Salty’s position become involved with any black-market activity?” Jelbart asked.

“Excuse me. Salty?” Coffey asked.

“Yeah. Nicknamed for a crocodile,” Jelbart said. “And may I say, the shoe fits.”

“Interesting,” Coffey observed. “Crocodiles are not discriminating about their prey. They’re survivors.”

“What you’re getting at won’t fly,” Jelbart said. “I’m sure they would be much more selective if they had billions of dollars to plan their menu.”

“Perhaps.”

“Mr. Coffey, forgive me,” Jelbart said. “But do you have any idea what you’re saying?”

“I do. Which brings us back to your question, Warrant Officer. Let’s assume the information is correct. Why would a man in Mr. Darling’s position do anything like this?”

Jelbart shook his head. “I cannot begin to imagine.”

“Try,” Coffey urged.