Tom Clancy's Op-Center: Games of State by Tom Clancy

Author:Tom Clancy [Clancy, Tom]
Format: epub
Tags: Action & Adventure, Mystery & Detective, Espionage, Fiction - Espionage, Fiction, General, Suspense, Intrigue, Thriller, Crisis management in government, Adventure stories, Government investigators, Germany, International intrigue
ISBN: 9780425151877
Publisher: Penguin Group
Published: 1996-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

Herbert had to rely on himself to bring these people to justice.

Herbert was surprised when the phone beeped just six minutes after he'd called. It took five times longer than that to move a satellite eye from where it was to someplace else.

Alberto said, "You're in luck. The NRO was already watching your area for Larry, who's looking into the kidnapping of the film intern. He wants to beat Griff on this one. And it's a good thing too. All our other satellites have been pressed into service watching a developing situation in the southern Balkans." Larry was CIA Director Larry Rachlin. Griff was FBI Director Griff Egenes. Their rivalry was old and relentless.

Like Op-Center, both organizations had access to NRO data.

However, Egenes hoarded information like squirrels hoarded nuts.

"What's the NRO got?" Herbert asked. He was uncomfortable talking to Alberto on an unsecure line, but there wasn't any choice. He just hoped no one was listening.

"For Larry, nothing. No sign of the van, no sign of the girl. Darrell says Griff hasn't got anything either, though.

None of his regular police sources seem to be around." "I'm not surprised," Herbert said. "They're all in the field riding herd on neo-Nazis." "Better that than riding with them," Alberto observed.

"True," said Herbert. "Now what about the van, Alberto? You stalling or something?" "As a matter of fact, I am," he said. "Boss, you're just one man with zero backup. You shouldn't be going---" "Where is it?" Herbert demanded.

Alberto sighed. "Stephen found it, and it's a definite match. It's banged up just where you said it'd be. It's headed west on one of the Autobahnen--- though from just the photo, I can't tell you which one." "That's okay," said Herbert. "I'll find it on the map." "I know it's a waste of breath to try and talk you out of it---" "You got that right, son." "---so I'll just tell General R. what you're doing. Is there anything else you need?" "Yes," Herbert said. "If the van gets off the autobahn, give me a jingle." "Of course," said Alberto. "Stephen knows you, Bob. He said he'll have his people keep an eye on it." "Thank him," Herbert said, "and tell him he gets my vote for this year's Conrad. On second thought, don't. That'll get his hopes up." "Aren't his hopes always up?" Alberto asked as he signed off.

Herbert hung up and grinned; after what he'd just been through, it felt good to smile. As he checked his map to find the roads to the east-west running Autobahn, he thought about the Conrads and his smile broadened. They were a fun, unofficial award given at a very private dinner each year by America's leading intelligence figures. The daggerlike trophy honored the government's top intelligence figure and was named in honor of Joseph Conrad. The author's 1907 novel, The Secret Agent, was one of the first great espionage tales, about an agent-provocateur who worked the back streets of London. The dinner was just five weeks away, and it was always a blast--- thanks in no small part to poor Stephen Viens.

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