"Okay, Domingo." Clark managed a smile, finally. "Give her a kiss for me."
"Roge-o, Mr. C." And Chavez headed for the door.
"The timing on this thing is never good, is it?" Tawney observed.
"Well, at least something good is happening today." John rubbed his eyes. He even accepted the idea of becoming a grandfather. It beat the hell out of losing people, a fact that had yet to hammer all the way into his consciousness. His people. Two of them, dead. Several Tore wounded. His people.
"Okay," Clark went on. "What about the information leak? People, we've been set up and hit. What are we going to do about it?"
"Hello, Ed, it's Carol," the President's Science Advisor said.
"Hi, Dr. Brightling. What can I do for you?"
"What the hell happened in England today? Was it our people our Rainbow team, I mean?"
"Yes, Carol, it was."
"How did they do? The TV wasn't very clear, and-
"Two dead, four or so wounded," the DCI answered. T-' Nine terrorists dead, six captured, including their leader."
"The radios we got to them, how'd they work?"
"Not sure. I haven't seen the after-action report yet, but I know the main thing they're going to want to know."
"What's that, Ed?"
"Who spilled the beans. They knew John's name, his wife and daughter's names, identities, and place of work. They had good intel, and John isn't very happy about that."
"The family members, are they okay?"
"Yeah, no civilians hurt, thank God. Hell, Carol, I know Sandy and Patricia. There's going to be some serious fallout over this one."
"Anything I can do to help?"
"Not sure yet, but I won't forget you asked."
"Yeah, well, I want to know if those radio gadgets worked. I told the guys at E-Systems to get them out pronto, 'cuz these guys are important. Gee, I hope they helped some."
"I'll find out, Carol," the DCI promised.
"Okay, you know where to reach me."
"Okay, thanks for the call."
It was everything he'd expected-not knowing what to expect-and more, and at the end of it Domingo Chavez held his son in his hands.
"Well," he said, looking down at the new life that would be his to guard, educate, and in time present to the world. After a second that seemed to last into weeks, he handed the newborn to his wife.
Patsy's face was bathed in perspiration, and weary from the five-hour ordeal of delivery, but already, as such things went, the pain was forgotten. The goal had been achieved, and she held her child. The package was pink, hairless, and noisy, the last part assuaged by the proximity of Patsy's left breast, as John Conor Chavez got his first meal. But Patsy was exhausted, and in due course a nurse removed the child to the nursery. Then Ding kissed his wife and walked alongside her bed as she was wheeled to her room. She was already asleep when they arrived. He kissed her one last time and walked outside. His car took him back onto the Hereford base, and then to the official home of Rainbow Six.
"Yeah?" John said, opening the door.
Chavez just handed over a cigar with a blue ring. "John Conor Chavez, seven pounds eleven ounces. Patsy's doing fine, granpop," Ding said, with a subdued grin. After all. Patsy had done the hard part.
There are moments to make the strongest of men weep, and this was one of them. The two men embraced. "Well," John said, after a minute or so, reaching into the pocket of his bathrobe for a handkerchief with which he rubbed his eyes. "Who's he look like?"
"Winston Churchill," Domingo replied with a laugh. "Hell, John, I've never been able to figure that one out, but John Conor Chavez is a confusing enough name, isn't it? The little bastard has a lot of heritage behind him. I'll start him off on karate and guns about age five… maybe six," Ding mused.
"Better golf and baseball, but he's your kid, Domingo. Come on in."
"Well?" Sandy demanded, and Chavez gave the news for the second time while his boss lit up his Cuban cigar. He despised smoking, and Sandy, a nurse, hardly approved of the vice, but on this one occasion, both relented. Mrs. Clark gave Ding a hug. "John Conor?"
"You knew?" John Terrence Clark asked.
Sandy nodded. "Patsy told me last week."
"It was supposed to be a secret," the new father objected.
"I'm her mother, Ding!" Sandy explained. "Breakfast?"
The men checked their watches. It was just after four in the morning, close enough, they all agreed.
"You know, John, this is pretty profound," Chavez said. His father-in-law noted how Domingo switched in and out of accents depending on the nature of the conversation. The previous day, interrogating the PIRA prisoners he'd been pure Los Angeles gang kid, his speech redolent with Spanish accent and street euphemisms. But in his reflective moments, he reverted to a man with a university master's degree, with no accent at all. "I'm a papa. I've got a son." Followed by a slow, satisfied, and somewhat awestruck grin. "Wow."
"The great adventure, Domingo," John agreed, while his wife got the bacon going. He poured the coffee.
"Huh?"
