War of Eagles Read Online Free PDF

Op-Center, sir?”
    “No longer your concern,” the president replied bluntly.
    “Excuse me, sir?”
    “I have given the post to General Morgan Carrie, formerly of G2,” the president said, leaning forward. “Her commission is effective immediately.” Debenport spoke now with some of the steel Hood remembered from his days as chairman of the CIOC. The pastor was gone, replaced by a higher authority.
    “You’re saying, Mr. President, that either I accept reassignment, or I’m fired,” Hood said.
    “Not at all, Paul,” the president told him. “You can resign, effective as of eight-thirty A.M. this morning. You can say it was always part of your plan to get Op-Center on its feet and move on.”
    “At the risk of belaboring something you want to see over and done, sir, are you saying you need me here, or are you saying you need me out of Op-Center?” Hood asked.
    “Both. Paul, the military is not happy with some of the budget initiatives this administration is taking. I have to equal the ledger.”
    “By giving them Op-Center?”
    “In a word, yes.” The president leaned back. “You’re not a neophyte, Paul. You know that this is how things work. As for the new position, that’s my way of maintaining balance. I need someone who will continue to interact with Op-Center on a personal level and who will form close relationships with personnel at other intelligence agencies here and abroad.”
    “You are saying, sir, that you want a personal intelligence officer.”
    “Cabinet level without the title,” the president said. “And don’t look so glum, Paul. That’s a promotion.”
    “I understand, sir. Doesn’t that interfere with the NSA and their mission?” Hood asked.
    “You’ve met General Carew,” the president said. He looked at Sanders. “How did the vice president describe him?”
    “He said the general has brass ballistics,” she replied.
    “That’s right,” the president said. “And Vice President Perry ought to know. They served together in Vietnam. The point is, whatever Carew knows, the DoD will know.”
    “That doesn’t answer my question, sir,” Hood said. “How will General Carew take my being here?”
    “He will like it about as much as General Rodgers liked serving under a civilian,” the president replied. “But he will have to live with that. Your only contact with the general will be when you require information from the NSA. You will not be at their disposal.”
    “I see. What about staff, sir?”
    “We have budgeted two assistants, both off premises,” Lorraine Sanders replied. “We felt it best to have your telephones and computers located in a less trafficked area. We have assigned them space in the renovated basement of the Winder Building at 600 Seventeenth Street.”
    “The U.S. trade rep has offices there,” Hood said.
    “Correct.”
    “But the basement,” Hood said. “Isn’t that also where they held prisoners during the Civil War?”
    “As I said, it’s been renovated,” Sanders replied.
    “Right.” Hood had gone from one basement to another. “Have you already hired the staff?”
    “No,” Sanders replied. She smiled. “We want you to be comfortable with your associates.”
    “This office will not be looking over your shoulder,” President Debenport assured him. “What do you say? I need my own intelligence resource, my own confidant. I need Paul Hood.”
    Damn him, Hood thought. Damn the president for making something expedient sound desirable . And damn him for leaving Hood unemployed if he declined the offer. He had alimony and child support. Hood would not let indignation over the process affect his responsibilities.
    “I accept the post,” Hood told him.
    “Thank you,” the president replied, rising.
    Debenport sounded sincere, which was something. It made Hood feel marginally better about having been shanghaied. Besides, the president was right. This was Washington, and Hood would have been lucky to make a lateral move, let