Clancy, Tom - Op Center 8 - Line of Control
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still in law school. One of his professors, Vincent Van Heusen, had been
an OSS operative during World War II. Professor Van Heusen saw in Friday
some of the same qualities he himself had possessed as a young man.
Among those was independence. Friday had learned that growing up in the
Michigan woods where he went hunting with his father for food--not only
with a rifle but with a longbow. After graduating from NYU Friday spent
time at the NSA as a trainee. When he went to work for the oil industry
a year later he was also working as a spy. In addition to making
contacts in Europe, the Middle East, and the Caspian, Friday was given
the names of CIA operatives working in those countries. From time to
time he was asked to watch them. To spy on the spies, making certain
that they were working only for the United States.
Friday finally left the private sector five years ago. He grew bored
with working for the oil industry full-time and the NSA part-time. He
had also grown frustrated, watching as intelligence operations went to
hell overseas. Many of the field agents he met were inexperienced,
fearful, or soft. This was especially true in the Third World and
throughout Asia.
They wanted creature comforts. Not Friday. He wanted to be
uncomfortable, hot. cold, hurting, off balance.
Challenged. Alive.
The other problem was that increasingly electronic espionage had
replaced hands-on human surveillance. The result was much less efficient
mass-intelligence gathering. To Friday that was like getting meat from a
slaughterhouse instead of hunting it down. The food didn't taste as good
when it was mass-produced. The experience was less satisfying. And over
time the hunter grew soft.
Friday had no intention of ever growing soft. When Jack Fenwick had said
he wanted to talk to him, Friday was eager to meet. Friday went to see
him at the Off the Record bar at the Hay-Adams hotel. It was during the
week of the president's inauguration so the bar was jammed and the men
were barely noticed. Fenwick recruited Friday to the "Undertaking," as
he had called it. An operation to overthrow the president and put a new,
more proactive figure in the Oval Office.
One of the gravest problems facing America was security from terrorists.
Vice President Cotten would have dealt with the problem decisively. He
would have informed terrorist nations that if they sponsored attacks on
American interests their capital cities would be bombed flat. Removing
fear from Americans abroad would have encouraged competitive trade and
tourism, which would have helped covert agencies infiltrate nationalist
organizations, religious groups, and other extremist bands.
But the plotters had been stopped. The world was once again safe for
warlords, anarchists, and international muggers.
Fortunately, the resignations of the vice president, Fenwick, and the
other high-profile conspirators were like cauterizing a wound. The
administration had its main perpetrators. They stopped the bloodletting
and for the time being seemed to turn attention away from others who may
have assisted in the plan. Friday's role in setting up the errori st
Harpooner and actually assassinating a CIA spoiler had not been
uncovered. In fact. Hank Lewis was trying to get as much intel as
possible as fast as possible so he could look ahead, not hack.
NSA operatives outside Washington were being called upon to visit
high-intensity trouble spots and both assist in intelligence operations
and report back firsthand.
That was why Friday left Baker. Originally he tried to get transferred
to Pakistan, but was moved to India by special request of the Indian
government. He had spent time here for Mara Oil, helping them evaluate
future productivity in this region as well as on the border between the
Great Indian Desert in India's Rajasthan Province and the Thar Desert in
Pakistan. He knew the land, the Kashmir) language, and the people.
The irony, of course, was that his first assignment was to help a unit
from Op-Center execute a mission of vital importance to peace in the
region. Op-Center, the group that had stopped the Undertaking from
succeeding.
If politics made strange bedfellows then covert actions made even
stranger ones. There was one difference between the two groups, however.
Diplomacy demanded that politicians bury their differences when they had
to. Field agents did not. They nursed their grudges.
Forever.
CHAPTER THREE.
Washington, D. C.
Wednesday, 6:32 a. m.
Mike Rodgers strode down the corridor to the office of Paul Hood. His
briefcase was packed and he was still humming
"Witch Doctor." He felt energized by the impending challenge, by the
change of routine, and just by getting out of the windowless office.
Hood's assistant, Stephen "Bugs" Benet, had not yet arrived.
Rodgers walked through the small reception area to Hood's office. He
knocked on the door and opened it. Op Center director was pacing and
wearing headphones. He was just finishing up his phone conversation with
Senator Fox. Hood motioned the general in. Rodgers made his way to a
couch on the far end of the room. He set his briefcase down but did not
sit. He would be sitting enough over the next day.
Though Hood was forty-five, nearly the same age as Rodgers, there was
something much younger-looking about the man. Maybe it only seemed that
way because he smiled a lot and was an optimist. Rodgers was a realist,
a term he preferred to pessimist. And realists always seemed older, more
mature. As an old friend of Rodgers's. South Carolina Representative
Layne Maly, once put it, "No one's blowin' sunshine up my ass so it
ain't showin' up between my lips."
As far as Rodgers was concerned that pretty much said it all.
Not that Hood himself had a lot to smile about. His marriage had fallen
apart and his daughter, Harleigh, was suffering from post-traumatic
stress disorder, a result of having been taken hostage at the United
Nations. Hood had also taken a bashing in the world press and in the
liberal American media for his guns-blazing solution to the UN crisis.
It would not surprise Rodgers lo learn that Senator Fox was giving Hood
an earful for that. The goddamn thing of it was nothing helped our
rivals more than when we fought among ourselves.
Rodgers could almost hear the cheering from the Japanese, from the
Islamic Fundamentalists, and from the Germans, the French, and the rest
of the Eurocentric bloc.
And we were arguing after saving the lives of their ambassadors.
It was a twisted world. Which was probably why we needed a man like Paul
Hood running Op-Center. If it were up to Rodgers he would have taken
down a few of the ambassadors on his way out of the UN.
Hood slipped off the headphones and looked at Rodgers.
There was a flat look of frustration in his dark hazel eyes.
His wavy black hair was uncharacteristically unkempt. He was not
smiling.
"How are you doing?" Hood asked Rodgers.
"Everything set?"
Rodgers nodded.
"Good," Hood said.
"How are things here?" Rodgers asked.
"Not so good," Hood said.
"Senator Fox thinks we've gotten too visible. She wants to do something
about that."
"What?" Rodgers asked.
"She wants to scale us back," Hood said.
"She's going to propose to the other members of the COIC that they
recharter Op-Center as a smaller, more covert organization."
"I smell Kirk Pike's hand in this," Rodgers said.
Pike was the newly appointed head of the Central Intelligence Agency.
The ambitious former chief of navy intelligence was extremely well liked
on the Hill and had accepted the position with a self-prescribed goal:
to consolidate as many of the nation's intelligence needs as possible
under one roof.
"I agree that Pike is probably involved, but I think it's more than just
him," Hood said.
"Pox said that Secretary General Chatterjee is still grumbling about
bringing us before the International Court of Justice. Have us tried for
murder and trespassing." "Smart," Rodgers said.
"She'll never get the one but the jurists may give her the other."
"Exactly," Hood said.
"That makes her look strong and reaffirms the sovereign status of the
United Nations. It also scores points with pacifists and with
anti-American governments.
Fox apparently thinks this will go away if our charter is revoked and
quietly rewritten." "I see," Rodgers said.
"The CIOC acts preemptively to make Chatterjee's action seem bullying
and unnecessary." "Bingo," Hood said.
"Is it going to happen?" Rodgers asked.
"I don't know," Hood admitted.
"Fox hasn't discussed this with the other members yet."
"But she wants it to happen," Rodgers said.
Hood nodded.
"Then it will," Rodgers said.
"I'm not ready to concede that," Hood said.
"Look, I don't want you to worry about the political stuff. I need you
to get this job done in Kashmir. Chatterjee may be secretary general but
she's still Indian. If you score one for her side she'll have a tough
time going after us."
"Not if she passes the baton to Pike," Rodgers said.
"Why would she?" Hood asked.
"Back-scratching and access," Rodgers said.
"A lot of the intel I have on Kashmir came from the CIA. The Company
works very closely with the Indian Intelligence Bureau." "The domestic
surveillance group," Hood said.
"Right," Rodgers said.
Under the Indian Telegraph Act, the Indian Intelligence Bureau has the
legal authority to intercept all forms of electronic communication.
That includes a lot of faxes and email from Afghanistan and other
Islamic states. It was IIB that blew the whistle on Iraq's
pharmaceutical drug scam back in 2000. Humanitarian medicines were
excluded from the United Nations sanctions. Instead of going to Iraqi
hospitals and clinics, however, the medicines were hoarded by the health
minister. When shortages pushed up demand the drugs were sold to the
black market for hard foreign currency that could be used to buy luxury
goods for government officials, bypassing the sanctions.
"The IIB shares the information they collect with the CIA for analysis,"
Rodgers went on.
"If Director Pike helps Chatterjee, the Indians will continue to work
exclusively with him."
"Pike can have the trophy if he wants," Hood said.
"We still get the intelligence."
"But that isn't all Pike wants," Rodgers said.
"People aren't satisfied just winning in Washington. They have to
destroy the competition. And if that doesn't work they go after his
friends and family."
"Yeah--well, he'll have to get a task force for that one," Hood said
quietly.
"We Hoods are kind of spread out now."
Rodgers felt like an ass. Paul Hood was not living with his family
anymore and his daughter, Harleigh, spent a lot of time in therapy. It
was careless to have suggested that they might be at risk.
"Sorry, Paul. I didn't mean that literally," Rodgers said.
"It's all right," Hood replied.
"I know what you meant. I don't think Pike will cross that line, though.
We've got pretty good muckrakers and a great press liaison. He won't
want to take any rivalry public."
Rodgers was not convinced of that. Hood's press liaison was Ann Pan-is.
For the last few days the office was quietly buzzing with the rumor that
the divorcee and Paul Hood were having an affair. Ann had been staying
late and the two had been spotted leaving Hood's hotel together one
morning.
Rodgers did not care one way or the other as long as their relationship
did not impact the smooth operation of the
NCMC.
"Speaking of family, how is Harleigh doing?" Rodgers asked. The general
was eager to get off the subject of Pike before leaving for India. The
idea of fighting his own people was loathsome to him.
Though the men did not socialize very much, Rodgers was close enough to
Hood to ask about his family.
"She's struggling with what happened in New York and with me moving
out," Hood said.
"But she's got a good support system and her brother's being a real
trouper."
"Alexander's a good kid. Glad to hear he's stepping up to the plate.
What about Sharon?" Rodgers asked.
"She's angry," Hood said.
"She has a right to be."
"It will pass," Rodgers said.
"Liz says it may not," Hood replied.
Liz was Liz Gordon, Op-Center's psychologist. Though she was not
counseling Harleigh, she was advising Hood.
"Hopefully, the intensity of Sharon's anger will diminish," Hood went
on.
"I don't think she and I will ever be friends again. But with any luck
we'll have a civil relationship."
"You'll get there," Rodgers said.
"Hell, that's more than I've ever had with a woman."
Hood thought for a moment then grinned.
"That's true, isn't it? Goes all the way back to your friend Biscuit in
the fifth grade."
"Yeah," Rodgers replied.
"Look, you're a diplomat. I'm a soldier. I'm a prisoner to my scorched
earth nature."
Hood's grin became a smile.
"I may need to borrow some of that fire for my dealings with Senator
Fox."
"Stall her till I get back," Rodgers said.
"And just keep an eye on Pike. I'll work on him when I get back."
"It's a deal," Hood said.
"Stay safe, okay?"
Rodgers nodded and the men shook hands.
The general felt uneasy as he headed toward the elevator.
Rodgers did not like leaving things unresolved--especially when the
target was as vulnerable as Hood was. Rodgers could see it in his
manner. He had seen it before, in combat.
It was a strange calm, almost as if Hood were in denial that pressures
were starting to build. But they were. Hood was already distracted by
his impending divorce, by Harleigh's condition, and by the day-to-day
demands of his position.
Rodgers had a feeling that the pressure from Senator Fox would become
much more intense after the CIOC met. He would give Bob Herbert a call
from the C-130 and ask him to keep an eye on Op-Center's director.
A watcher watching the watcher, Rodgers thought. Op Center intelligence
chief looking after Op-Center's director, who was tracking Kirk Pike.
With all the human drama gusting around him the general almost felt as
if it were routine to go into the field to search for nuclear missiles.
But Rodgers got his perspective back quickly. As he walked onto the
tarmac he saw the Striker team beginning to assemble beside the Hercules
transport. They were in uniform, at ease, their grips and weapons at
their feet. Colonel August was reviewing a checklist with Lieutenant
Orjuela, his new second-in-command.
Behind him, in the basement of the NCMC, there were careers at risk.