"That's absolute horseshit," Herbert said. "The guys who blew my wife up are still hanging out in a rat hole in Syria somewhere. Terrorists of warring nations don't get extradited. And the guys who help terrorists don't even get their names in the papers."
"That only happens to guerrillas who are sponsored by terrorist nations," Coffey replied. "The United States has a different form and level of accountability. Even if Striker succeeds in getting the cell to Pakistan, India will be within its rights to demand the extradition of everyone who had a hand in the attack on the bazaar, on the SFF commandos, and in the escape. If New Delhi can't get the FKM they will go after Striker."
"Lowell, India doesn't have any kind of moral high ground here," Herbert said. "They're planning a goddamn nuclear strike!"
"No, a rogue element in the government is apparently planning that," Coffey said. "The lawful Indian government will have to disown them and prosecute them as well."
The attorney rose angrily and got himself a cup of coffee. He was a little calmer as he sat back down and took a sip. Hood was silent. He looked at Herbert. The intelligence chief did not like Lowell Coffey and his disgust with legal technicalities was well known. Unfortunately, Hood could not afford to ignore what the attorney had just said.
"Gentlemen?" August said.
"Go ahead, Colonel," Hood said.
"We are talking about a possible nuclear conflagration here," August said. "The normal rules do not seem to apply. I'll poll the team if you'd like, but I'm willing to bet they say the same thing I'm about to. Given the stakes, the downside is worth risking."
Hood was about to thank him but the words snagged in his throat. Bob Herbert did not have that problem.
"God bless you, Colonel August," Herbert said loudly as he glared across the table at Coffey.
"Thank you, Bob," August said. "Mr. Coffey? If it's any help, Striker can always pull a Lone Ranger on the Pakistanis."
"Meaning what, Colonel?" Coffey asked.
"We can drop them off then ride into the sunset before they can even thank or ID us," August said.
Herbert smiled. Hood did, too, but inside. His face was frozen by the weight of the decision he would have to make.
"We'll get back to you later on all of this," Hood said. "Colonel, I want to thank you."
"For what? Doing my job?"
"For your enthusiasm and courage," Hood said. "They raise the bar for all of us."
"Thank you, sir," August said.
"Get some rest," Hood said. He clicked off the phone and looked across the table. "Bob, I want you to make sure we've got someone at the NRO watching the Pakistani border. If a chopper does come looking for the cell we have to be able to give Striker advance warning. I don't want them to be mistaken for a hostile force and cut down."
Herbert nodded.
"Lowell, find me some legal grounds for doing this," Hood went on.
The attorney shook his head. "There isn't anything," Coffey said. "At least, nothing that will hold up in an international court."
"I don't need anything that will work in court," Hood said. "I need a reason to keep Striker from being extradited if it comes to that."
"Like claiming they were on a mission of mercy," Coffey said.
"Yeah," Herbert interjected. "I'll bet we can find some UN peacekeeping status bullshit that would qualify."
"Without informing the United Nations?" Coffey said.
"You know, Lowell, Bob may have something," Hood said. "The secretary-general has emergency trusteeship powers that allow her to declare a region 'at risk' in the event of an apparent and overwhelming military threat. That gives her the right to send a Security Council team to the region to investigate."
"I'm missing how that helps us," Coffey said.
"The team does not have to consist of sitting Security Council personnel," Hood said. "Just agents of Security Council nations."
"Maybe," Coffey said. "But no one will accept the presence of a team consisting solely of Americans."
"It won't," Hood said. "India's a member of the Security Council. And there are Indians out there."
"Captain Nazir and Nanda Kumar," Herbert said. "Her own countrymen."
"Exactly," Hood replied. "Even if she's a hostile observer, at least she's present."
"Yeah. Since when does the Security Council agree on anything?" Liz pointed out.
"We may have to bring Secretary-General Chatterjee in on this once Striker is on the ground," Hood said. "Then we'll tell her what we know."
"And what if she refuses to invoke her trusteeship powers?" Coffey asked.
"She won't," Hood said.
"How can you be sure?" Coffey asked.
"Because we still have a press department," Hood said. "And while we do, I'll make sure that every paper on earth knows that Secretary-General Chatterjee did nothing while India prepared to launch nuclear missiles at Pakistan. We'll see whose blood the world wants then. Hers or Striker's."
I wouldn't bet the farm on that plan," Coffey warned.
Give me an option," Hood countered.
Coffey and Herbert agreed to have a look at the United Nations charter and brief Hood. Hood agreed to hold off contacting Chatterjee. Herbert left to follow up on the intel reports. Only Liz stayed behind with Hood. Her hands were folded on the table and she was staring hard at them.
"Problem, Liz?" Hood asked.
She looked at him. "You've had some run-ins with Mala Chatterjee."
"True," Hood said. "But forcing her hand or embarrassing her is not on the agenda. I'm only interested in protecting Striker."
"That isn't where I was going with this," she said. "You fought with Chatterjee, you fought with Sharon, and you've shut Ann Farris out." Her expression softened. "She told me about what happened between you."
"Okay," Hood said with a trace of annoyance. "What's your point?"
"I know what you think about psychobabble, Paul, but I want you to make sure you keep all of this on an issues level," Liz said. "You're under a lot of pressure from women. Don't let that frustration get transferred from one woman to another to another."
Hood rose. "I won't. I promise."
"I want to believe that," Liz said. She smiled. "But right now you're pissed at me, too."
Hood stood there. Liz was right. His back was ramrod straight, his mouth was a tight line, and his fingers were curled into fists. He let his shoulders relax. He opened his hands. He looked down.
"Paul, it's my job to watch the people here and point out possible problem spots," Liz said. "That's all I'm doing. I'm not judging you. But you have been under a lot of pressure since the UN situation. You're also tired. All I'm trying to do is keep you the fair, even-handed guy I just saw working things out between Bob Herbert and Lowell Coffey."
Hood smiled slightly. "Thanks, Liz. I don't believe the secretary-general was in danger, but I appreciate the heads-up."
Liz gave him a reassuring pat on the arm and left the room. Hood looked across the room at the crisis clock.
It was still blank. But inside, his own clock was ticking. And the mainspring was wound every bit as tight as Liz had said.
Even so, he reminded himself that he was safe in Washington while Mike Rodgers and Striker were heading into a region where their actions could save or doom millions of lives--including their own.
Next to that, whatever pressure he was feeling was nothing.
Nothing at all.
TWENTY-NINE
New Delhi, India Thursday, 2:06 P.M.
Sixty-nine-year-old Minister of Defense John Kabir sat in his white-walled office. The two corridors of the Ministry of Defence offices were part of the cabinet complex housed in the eighty-year-old Parliament House Estate at 36 Gurdwara Rakabganj Road in New Delhi. Outside a wall-length bank of open windows the bright afternoon sun shone down on the extensive lawns, small artificial ponds, and decorative stone fountains. The sounds of traffic were barely audible beyond the high, ornamental red sandstone wall that enclosed
the sprawling complex. On the right side of the grounds Kabir could just see the edge of one of the two houses of Parliament, the Lok Sabha, the House of the People. On the other side of this ministry annex was the Rajya Sabha, the Council of States. Unlike the representatives in the Lok Sabha, which were elected by the people, the members of the Rajya Sabha were either chosen by the president or selected by the legislative assemblies of the nation's states.
Minister Kabir loved his nation and its government. But he no longer had patience for it. The system had lost its way.
The white-haired official had just finished reading a secure e-mail dispatch from Major Dev Puri on his army's movements into the mountains. Puri and his people were frontline veterans. They would succeed where the SFF commandos had failed.
Kabir deleted the computer file then sat there reflecting on the crossroads to which he had brought his nation. It would be either the triumph or the downfall of his long career. It was a career that began with his rise through the military to captain by the age of thirty-seven. However, Kabir was frustrated by the weak social and military programs of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. He was particularly upset when India defeated Pakistan in the 1971 war and failed to absolutely solidify their hold on Kashmir by creating a demilitarized zone beyond the line of control. He drew up a plan calling for a "zone of security." He wanted to use the villages on the Pakistani side for routine artillery, gunship, and bombing practice. He wanted to keep them unoccupied. What was the purpose of winning a war if the victor could not maintain security along its borders?
Not only was his plan rejected, but Captain Kabir was reprimanded by the minister of defence. Kabir resigned and wrote a book, What Ails the Irresolute Nation, which became a controversial best-seller. It was followed by A Plan for Our Secure Future. Within three months of the publication of the second book he was asked to become general secretary of the Samyukta Socialist Party. Within three years he was chairman of the national Socialist Party. At the same time he was appointed president of the All India Truckers' Federation. He led a strike in 1974 that crippled the highways and even railroad crossings, where trucks "broke down." That helped to trigger the establishment of Prime Minister Gandhi's "Emergency" in June 1975. That declaration enabled her to suspend civil liberties and incarcerate her foes. Kabir was arrested and held in prison for over a year. That did not stop him from campaigning for reform from his jail cell. Supported by union members and by Russian-backed socialist groups, Kabir was pardoned. The Russians in particular liked Kabir's advocacy of a stronger border presence against China. Kabir drew on his widespread grassroots support to have himself named deputy minister of industry. He used that post to strengthen his support among the working castes while restoring his ties to the military. That led to his appointment as minister of Kashmir affairs and his membership on the Committee on External Affairs. That was where he became good friends with Dilip Sahani. Sahani was the officer in charge of the Special Frontier Force in Kashmir. The men discovered they had the same concerns regarding the threat posed by both Islamic Fundamentalists and the nuclear research being conducted by Pakistan.
Two years ago, high-ranking officers and government officials who respected Kabir's Zone of Security plan got together and pressed the prime minister to name him minister of defence. Kabir asked the national commander of the SFF to come and work for him and then arranged for Dilip Sahani to take over that post. Together, the men plotted in secret. New Delhi was content to build its own nuclear arsenal as a deterrent and collect intelligence to assess the across-the-border threat. Kabir and Sahani were not. They wanted to make certain that Islamabad never had the opportunity to mount the very real threat of a jihad of mass destruction. With the unwitting help of the FKM cell and a young member of the SFF's Civilian Network Operatives, they were on the verge of realizing their dream. If the field commandos had succeeded in their efforts to capture and destroy the FKM, the goal would be just days if not hours away. Now they had to wait.
Major Puri would not fail them. He would close in on the terrorist cell and then kill them in a firefight. The CNO operative who was with them would tell the story as she saw it from the inside. Even if she died in the fight, she would reveal to Major Puri with her dying breath how the FKM attacked the temple and the bus. How the lives of those Hindus were the first sacrifices of the new jihad. The people of India would believe her because in their hearts they knew she was telling the truth. Her grieving grandfather would back up everything that she said. And then the Indian government would respond.
Of course, the president and prime minister would attack Pakistan as they usually did. With words. That was how nuclear powers were supposed to act. If they replied with weapons the results would be unthinkable. Or so the common wisdom went.
What the rest of the world did not realize was that Pakistan's leaders were willing to endure annihilation. They would sacrifice their nation if it meant the utter destruction of India and the Hindu people. Islam would still have tens of millions of adherents. Their faith would survive. And the dead of Pakistan would live on in Paradise.
Kabir was not going to give Pakistan the chance to attack India. He was, however, perfectly willing to send them to Paradise. He intended to do that with a preemptive strike.
The team that was in charge of the Underground Nuclear Command Center was loyal to Minister Kabir. The key personnel had been carefully selected from among the military and SFF ranks. They would respond to dual commands issued by Minister Kabir and Commander Sahani. When those orders came, nothing on earth could turn them back.
Kabir's plan was to hit Pakistan before they had fully deployed their nuclear arsenal. He would use a total of seventy-nine Indian SRBMs. The short-range ballistic missiles each had a range of eight hundred kilometers. They constituted one-half of India's nuclear arsenal and were housed in silos located just behind the line of control. Eleven of those would hit Islamabad alone, removing it from the map and killing nearly 20 percent of the nation's 130 million people. In the days and weeks to come, radiation from the explosions would kill another 40 million Pakistanis. The rest of the SRBMs would strike at Pakistani military facilities. That included seven suspected silo locations in the Himalayas. Maybe the American team coming into the country would have found them. Maybe they would not. Regardless, their presence would be a powerful public relations tool for Kabir. It would show the world that India had reason to fear Pakistan's nuclear proliferation. The deaths of the Americans would be unfortunate but unavoidable.
Minister Kabir brought the remaining targets up on his computer. In addition to the mountains, SRBMs would be launched at each of Pakistan's air bases. Ten Pakistan Air Force bases were operational full-time. These were the "major operational bases" PAF Sargodha, PAF Mianwali, PAF Kamra, PAF Rafiqui, PAF Masroor, PAF Faisal, PAF Chaklala, PAF Risalpur, PAF Peshawar, and PAF Samungli. They would all be hit with two missiles each. Then there were eleven "forward operational bases" that became fully operational only during wartime. All of these would be struck as well. They were PAF Sukkur, PAF Shahbaz, PAF Multan, PAF Vihari, PAF Risalewala, PAF Lahore, PAF Nawabshah, PAF Mirpur Khas, PAF Murid, PAF Pasni, and PAF Talhar. Finally, there were the nine satellite bases used for emergency landings: PAF Rahim Yar Khan, PAF Chander, PAF Bhagtanwala, PAF Chuk Jhumra, PAF Ormara, PAF Rajanpur, PAF Sindhri, PAF Gwadar, and PAF Kohat. These were little more than landing strips without personnel to man them. Still, they would all be razed. With luck, the PAF would not be able to launch a single missile or bomber. Even if Pakistan did manage to land a few nuclear blows, India could absorb the loss. The leaders would have been moved to the underground bunkers. They would manage the brief conflagration and recovery from the UNCC.
When it was all over, Kabir would take the blame or praise for what happened. But however the world responded, Kabir was certain of one thing.
He will have done the right thing.
THIRTY
Ankara, Turkey Thursday, 11:47 A.M.
The Indian air
force AN-12 transport is a cousin of the world's largest aircraft, the Russian Antonov AN-225 Mriya. The AN-12 is half the size of that six-engine brute. A long-range transport, it is also one-third smaller than the C-130 that had brought Striker as far as Ankara. With the cargo section in the rear and an enclosed, insulated passenger cabin toward the front, the IAF aircraft is also much quieter. For that Mike Rodgers was grateful.
Rodgers had caught five solid hours of sleep on the final leg of the C-130 flight. He did that with the help of wax earplugs he carried expressly for that purpose. Still, the small downclick in sound and vibration was welcome. Especially when Corporal Ishi Honda left his seat in the rear of the small, cramped crew compartment. He ducked as he made his way through the single narrow aisle that ran through the center of the cabin. The team's grips, cold-weather gear, and parachutes were strapped in bulging mesh nets on the ceiling over the aisle.
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