Call to Treason by Tom Clancy, Steve Pieczenik, Jeff Rovin

do that when we went to work here. We agreed to protect our nation and its interests."
        "I don't need the sermon," Rodgers said. "I've served the country for my entire adult life."
        "I know, which is why you should understand what it means to work for a government agency," Hood said. "Op-Center has this much in common with the military. We are impacted by political trends and public whim.
        Whoever sits in this office has to work with whatever he is given. And with whatever is taken from him."
        Rodgers shook his head. "That's what the Vichy collaborators did when they capitulated to the German invaders."
        Hood's expression was no longer neutral. He winced, as though he had taken an uppercut square in the chin.
        "I'm sorry," Rodgers said. "I did not mean to imply that you're a coward."
        "I know," Hood said.
        An uncomfortable quiet settled upon the room. Hood stood. He walked toward Rodgers and offered his hand. The general accepted it. There was surprising warmth in Hood's handshake.
        "If you need anything, let me know," Hood said. "Or you can talk to Bob, if you prefer."
        "I'll talk to you," Rodgers said.
        "Good." Hood held on to Rodgers's hand. "Mike, I need you to believe something. This place cost me my family. If it costs me your friendship, I'm going to have to live with that. If it costs me your respect, I'm going to have to live with that, too. But I want you to know that leaving here would have been easier than what I just did. You talked about loyalty. I did what I believe was right for Op-Center, not what was convenient or comfortable or even best for me."
        "I believe you, Paul," Rodgers said. "I just don't agree with you."
        "Fair enough," Hood said. "But you need to know this, too. If there were a resistance movement fighting the CIOC, I would join it."
        "We can start one," Rodgers said. "I'll have some free time."
        "I doubt that," Hood said.
        "We'll see," Rodgers said and withdrew his hand. He felt much better having taken a swing at Hood's piety. He saw the man's point, but he still did not agree with it. Friends stood by friends. Period.
        Rodgers left and went to his own office. Or rather, Ron Plummer's office. He already felt uncomfortable here, like a noncom cleaning out the locker of a dead soldier. He forced himself to look beyond this, to the meeting with Senator Orr and whatever lay ahead.
        A little anarchy, Rodgers hoped.
        He was in the mood.

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    SEVEN
        
        Washington, B.C. Monday, 9:27 a.m.
        Hood was about to buzz Ron Plummer when his outside line beeped. He glanced at the Caller ID. It was his former wife. He did not feel like talking to her now. The conversations were usually difficult.
        Sharon was still bitter because he had not been around very much since they moved to Washington. Hood was angry because she had not supported the work he was doing at Op-Center. But none of that mattered. The call could be about the kids.
        "Good morning, Sharon," Hood said when he picked up the phone. He tried to sound pleasant.
        "Hi, Paul. Do you have a minute?"
        "Sure," he said. Sharon sounded unusually relaxed.
        "I need a favor," she said. "You met my friend Jim Hunt."
        "The caterer."
        "The home party restaurateur, yes," she said.
        Hunt was someone Sharon had known for years, dating back to when she had her own cooking show. They used to have an occasional lunch together. Now the kids told him they were having frequent dinners together.
        "His son Franklin will be studying poli-sci at Georgetown in the fall,"
        Sharon went on. "The school will give him college credit if he interns in a political institution over the summer. Is there anything he might be able to do at Op-Center? He's a very sharp young man, Paul."
        Hood's former wife, who had always resented