Free Mission of Honor by Tom Clancy, Steve Pieczenik, Jeff Rovin Page B

white arts,” the doing of good deeds, and how it spread light on those whom the practitioner loved. And Thomas spoke of the strength and character that was indigenous to the people of Botswana. It was all very general and very uplifting. It sounded to Genet as if Thomas’s words could have come from any faith-Christian, Hindu, Islam.
    It was only upon his return to Antwerp that Henry Genet discovered what Thomas Burton was talking about. Who and what he really was. As Genet drifted into sleep, he recalled how, over dinner, he had been discussing the speeches with five other businessmen. When Genet was finished, one of the men, Albert Beaudin, sat back and smiled. Beaudin was a seventy-year-old French industrialist who had his hand in a variety of businesses. Genet’s father had invested heavily in several of his enterprises.
    “Do you have any idea what you witnessed?” Beaudin asked.
    “I don’t understand,” Genet told him.
    “Do you know what you saw in Botswana, Henry? You saw a papa giving a sermon about Bon Dieu,” the elderly industrialist explained.
    “Who was doing what about whom?” asked Richard Bequette, one of the other merchants.
    “A papa is a priest, and Bon Dieu is his supreme deity,” Beaudin said.
    “I still don’t follow,” Genet said.
    “What you heard were lectures in Vodunism, the religion of white and black arts,” Beaudin said. “Of good magic and evil magic. I read about it in National Geographic.”
    And suddenly Genet understood. Vous Deux was better known by its Anglicized name, voodoo.
    Henry Genet and the other men at that meeting also understood something else. That what the Belgian had witnessed was like the mines he visited. The voodoo faith was deeper, older, and richer than most people knew. All it needed was for someone to tap its wealth. To speak directly to its traditional adherents and potential converts. To unleash its power.

TEN
    Washington, D.C. Tuesday, 8:00 P.M.
    The Watergate was Bob Herbert’s favorite hotel. And not just his favorite in Washington. His favorite in the world.
    It was not only because of the history of the hotel. The infamy attached to Richard Nixon and the break in. Herbert actually felt sorry for the man. Virtually every candidate did what Nixon’s staff had done. Fortunately or unfortunately, he got caught. That was bad enough. What affected Herbert was this smart man’s too-slow uptake in the nascent art of spin control.
    No, Herbert had a more personal connection with the hotel. It happened in 1983. He was still getting accustomed to life in a wheelchair, to life without his wife. His rehabilitation facility was several doors down from the hotel. After one frustrating session, Herbert decided to go to dinner at the Watergate. It was his first time out alone.
    The hotel, the world, were not yet wheelchair-accessible. Herbert had a difficult time getting around. It was made more difficult by the fact that he was convinced everyone was giving him the “you poor man” look. Herbert was a CIA agent. He was accustomed to being invisible.
    Herbert finally made it into the hotel and to a table. Almost at once, the diners at the next table engaged him in conversation. After a few minutes, they invited Herbert to sit with them.
    The diners were Bob and Elizabeth Dole.
    They did not talk about disabilities. They discussed the value of growing up in a rural area. They talked about food. They compared notes on TV shows, movies, and novels. It was one of those moments of kismet that transcended the practical value of what had transpired. The act of being asked to join the Doles made Herbert feel whole.
    Herbert had come back often after that. The Watergate became a touchstone for him, a place that reminded him that a man’s value was not in his mode of mobility but what was inside.
    Of course, it did not hurt that they had installed ramps since then.
    Herbert did not go directly to the elevators. He went to the house phones. There, he swung his