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women, I could find one, but no. Not me. Must be my looks.”
    “Right.”
    “What else could it be?” he asked.
    “Molly? Could you give me a hand?” Dillon called out.
    She stood up and headed for the door. “What?”
    “Could you carry that tray, please?” he said handing her one full of dip and cut vegetables as he carried another with chips and pretzels.
    The familiar voice of Johnny Hines, the ACC basketball announcer, filled the room. The crowd in Charlottesville was yelling so loudly the announcer was pressing his headphones against his head to hear himself. Molly placed the tray with vegetables and guacamole next to the chips.Dillon carefully removed the sagging cellophane from the bowl.
    “What’s with the soggy cellophane?” Bobby asked.
    “Keeps the air out,” Dillon replied. “Air turns guacamole brown.”
    “What are you, the guacamole expert?” Bobby asked.
    “Sure. We had avocado trees in our backyard the whole time I was growing up.”
    “Where’d you find avocados in February in D.C.?” Molly asked.
    “You can find anything in D.C. if you’re willing to pay enough for it.” Dillon heaped guacamole onto a large potato chip. His eyes fixed on the television as the Virginia point guard hit a three-point shot from the corner. The crowd screamed its approval.
    The phone rang and Dillon reached for it without looking away from the television screen. He punched the button on the portable phone and grunted with his mouth full, “Umhm.”
    He suddenly stood up and grabbed his beer, taking a deep gulp to wash down his food. After a pause, he blurted, “Yes, sir. Sorry, I had my mouth full…. No, sir, just watching the basketball game.” He covered the phone with his hand and mouthed to the others: “ The Speaker! ”
    Molly and Bobby looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.
    “Yes, sir. Any military nearby?…What did…” He listened. His face became more and more serious, then angry. “Damn. Yes, sir…I don’t know, sir. Whatever you say. Want me to call…okay. I’ll see you then.” He looked at the phone, then pressed the button to hang up. He walked over and turned off the television. The eerie silence accented the grim look on Dillon’s face.
    “What?” Molly said.
    He spoke reluctantly, “You know that ship that was hijacked?”
    They nodded.
    “Well the Navy had an entire battle group nearby, includingan Amphibious group with SEALs, Marines, the whole thing. The SEALs went to take the ship back, and they found it booby-trapped with dozens of mines or bombs. Every member of the crew was executed. Murdered. Shot in the head.”
    “Holy shit, ” Bobby said.
    “The SEALs tried to disarm the mines. One of the SEALs was killed. He got blown up. The rest of them got off the ship. The mines exploded and the ship sank.”
    Molly sat back stunned. “What are we going to do about it?”
    Dillon breathed deeply, “Don’t know. Up to the President. I’m sure we’ll have to do something. Probably something pretty drastic. Especially with that much force already in the area.”
    “Who did this?” Bobby asked.
    Dillon shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know if we can’t tell, or I just don’t have all the info. One other thing,” he said remembering. “They took the captain hostage.” He sighed and put his hands on his hips. “You guys can stay here if you want, but I’m going to the Hill. Speaker wants the whole staff there to explore the options.”
    Molly stood up. “I’m sure there’ll be some midnight oil at the White House. I’d better go, too. I left the President some material on international law before coming over here, but that may not be enough now.” She stood up and started toward the hallway, then stopped. An angry frown clouded her face, “Why do people do these kinds of things? It never accomplishes anything .”
    “Sure it does,” Dillon answered bitterly. “Terrorism pays big dividends. Look at the PLO. They blew up people all