Clancy, Tom - Op Center 8 - Line of Control
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cell."
"That doesn't mean they were involved in the destruction of the temple,"
Herbert said.
"The Free Kashmir Militia are known terrorists. According to Indian
radio they already took credit for the bombing--"
"Whoever made that call may not have known the extent of the attack,"
Friday said.
"That could be," Herbert agreed.
"I'm still not ready to declare them innocent. Maybe someone in the
group betrayed them and rigged the extra explosions. But let's assume
for the moment you're right, that the SFF organized the bombing to
advance an agenda. What is that agenda?"
"My Black Cat partner believes it's a holy war," Friday said.
"Possibly a nuclear holy war."
"A preemptive strike," Hank Lewis said.
Again, Herbert was encouraged by the fact that Ron Friday and the Indian
Black Cat officer reached the same conclusions that he and Rodgers had.
It meant there might be some truth to their concerns. But he was also
discouraged for the same reason.
"We think the SFF forces used gas against the Pakistani stronghold,"
Herbert said.
"Which would mean they wanted to try and capture them alive."
"A perp walk and confessions," Friday said.
"Probably. But I've got to believe the main reason the cell is running
is not to save their own lives," Herbert said.
"Even if they get back to Pakistan no one in India is going to take
their word that they're innocent."
"They need the girl." Friday said.
"Exactly," Herbert said.
"If she worked with the SFF to stage the attack, they need to get a
complete public statement from her. One that doesn't look or sound like
it's a forced confession."
"I'm missing something here," Lewis said.
"If we suspect that this is going on, why don't we just confront the SFF
or someone in the Indian government? Get them involved."
"Because we don't know who may already be involved in this operation and
how high up it goes," Herbert said.
"Talking to New Delhi may just accelerate the process." "Accelerate it?"
Lewis said.
"How much faster can it possibly go?"
"In a crisis like this days can become hours if you're not careful,"
Herbert said.
"We don't want to panic the people in charge. If we're right, the SFF
will still try to capture the cell." "Or at least Nanda," Friday said.
"Maybe she's the one they're really after. Think about a teary-eyed
Hindu woman going on television and telling the public how the FKM
plotted to blow up the temple, not caring how many Hindu men, women, and
children they killed."
"Good point," Herbert said.
"What about the girl's grandfather?
If the cell is alive and we can find them before the SFF does, do you
think he'd be willing to talk to her? To convince her to tell the public
what she knows?"
"I'll make sure he's willing to talk to her," Friday said.
As they spoke the satellite camera stopped on what looked like it might
be several footprints. Viens began zooming in.
"What are you thinking of doing. Bob?" Hank Lewis asked.
"We've already got two men on the ground and a field force on the way,"
Herbert said.
"If I can get Paul to sign off on it, I'm going to ask General Rodgers
to try and intercept the cell." "And do what?" Lewis demanded.
"Help avowed terrorists make it home safely?" "Why not?" Friday said.
"That might win us allies in the Muslim world. We can use them."
"America doesn't 'win' allies in the Muslim world. If we're lucky we
earn their forbearance," Herbert said.
"A smart man knows how to work that too," Friday said.
"Maybe you'll get to show us how it's done," Herbert replied.
"Maybe," Friday replied.
The intelligence chief had worked with hundreds of field ops over the
years. He had been one himself. They were a tough, thorny, independent
breed. But this man was more than that. Herbert could hear it in his
voice, the edge to his words and the confidence of his statements.
Usually, men who sounded like Friday were what spy leaders called
HOWs--hungry old wolves. Working on their own year after year they began
to feel invisible to the host government and beyond the reach of their
own government. They'd been out in the cold so long that they tended to
bite anyone who came near them.
But Friday had not spent a lot of time on his own. He had come from an
embassy post. That suggested something else to Herbert: an I-spy. The
espionage game's equivalent of a bad cop, someone who was in this for
themselves. Whatever Striker ended up doing in the field, if it involved
Ron Friday Herbert would tell Mike Rodgers to watch him very, very
closely.
"Bob?" Viens said on the speakerphone.
"You still there?" "I'm here," Herbert said. He told Lewis and Friday to
hold the line.
"Are you looking at the monitor?" Viens asked.
"I am," Herbert said.
"You see that?" Viens asked.
"I do," Herbert replied.
There were footprints. And they were made during the previous night.
The sun had not had a chance to melt and refreeze them. The cell had
definitely left the cave and was heading north, toward Pakistan.
Unfortunately, they could not tell from the jumble of footprints how
many people were in the party.
"Good work, Stephen," Herbert said. He archived the image with the rest
of them.
"Have you got time to follow them?"
"I can track them for a bit but that won't tell you much," Viens said.
"I looked at one of the overviews. We're going to lose the trail behind
the peak about a quarter of a kilometer to the northwest. After that all
we've got is a shitload of mountain to examine." "I see," Herbert said.
"Well, at least let's make sure they went as far as the turn. And see if
we can get a better idea of how many people there were and maybe what
they were carrying."
"I'm guessing they weren't carrying much," Viens said.
"Three inches or so of snow cover, two inches of print. They look about
the right depth for an average hundred-and-sixty pound individual.
Besides, I can't imagine they'd be carrying much more than ropes and
pitons trekking through that region."
"You're probably right," Herbert said.
"But I'll see if we can't get a head count for the group," Viens said.
"Thanks, Stephen," Herbert said.
"Anytime," Viens replied.
Herbert clicked off the speakerphone and got back on with Hank Lewis and
Ron Friday.
"Gentlemen, we've definitely got the cell heading north," he said.
"I suggest we table the political debate and concentrate on managing the
crisis. I'll have a talk with Paul. See if he wants to get involved with
this or whether we should abort the Striker mission altogether and turn
the problem over to the State Department. Hank, I suggest you and Mr.
Friday talk this over and see what you want your own involvement to be.
Whether we stick to the original mission or work out a new one, it could
get ugly out there."
"We'll also have to talk about what to tell the president and the CIOC,"
Lewis said.
"I have a suggestion about that," Herbert told him.
"If you tag Mr. Friday as a loan-out to Striker as of right now, the NSA
doesn't have to be involved in making that decision." "That's a
negative," Lewis told him.
"I'm new on the job, Bob, but I'm not a novice. You let me know what
Paul's thinking is and I'll make the call on our end."
"Pair enough," Herbert said. He smiled. He respected a man who did not
pass the buck. Especially a buck this big.
"Ron," Lewis said, "I'd like you to talk to the farmer and to Captain
Nazir. See if they're with you on a possible search-and-capture. I agree
with Bob. Mr. Kumar can be very useful if we're able to locate his
granddaughter." "I'll do it," Friday said.
"Good," Herbert said.
"Hank, you and I will talk after I've discussed this with Paul and
General Rodgers. Mr. Friday-thank you for your help." Friday said
nothing.
Herbert hung up. He swore at the very thought of Ron Friday and then put
him from his mind--for now. There were larger issues to deal with.
He made an appointment to see Paul Hood at once.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.
Kargil, Kashmir Thursday, 7:43 a. m.
Before leaving the helicopter Ron Friday opened a compartment between
the seats. He found an old backup book of charts in there. The chopper's
flight plan was dictated by computer-generated maps. These animated
landscapes and grid overlays were presented on a monitor located above
the primary flight display screen between the pilot and copilot
stations. A keypad beneath the monitor was used to punch in coordinates.
Friday tore out the maps he wanted and shoved them in the pocket of his
windbreaker.
As he headed back to the farm, Friday punched the air.
He unleashed a flurry of strong, angry uppercuts that did not just hit
the imaginary chin of Bob Herbert. The punches went through his new
nemesis as he struck at the sky. Who the hell did Bob Herbert think he
was? The man had been wounded in the line of duty. That entitled him to
disability compensation, not respect.
The pis mire Friday thought. Bob Herbert was just a wage slave drone in
the hive.
Friday finished his flurry of blows. His heart was ramming his chest,
his arms perspiring. Breathing heavily, he flexed his fingers as he
stalked across the rocky, uneven terrain.
It's all right, Friday told himself. He was here, at the heart of the
action, in control of his destiny. Bob Herbert was back in Washington
barking orders. Orders that could easily be ignored since Lewis had not
allowed him to be seconded to Op-Center. Friday put the self-pitying
bureaucrat from his mind and concentrated on the work at hand.
Captain Nazir had gone inside with Apu Kumar. The Black Cat officer was
looking around the house while Kumar sat quietly on the tattered couch.
Both men turned as Friday entered.
"What did they say?" Nazir asked.
"The Pakistani cell is alive and well and apparently moving north
through the Himalayas," Friday told Nazir.
Op Center and the NSA are considering a joint mission to try and
apprehend the cell along with Mr. Kumar's granddaughter.
They want to keep them all out of the hands of the SFF.
Would the Black Cat Commandos and their allies in the government have a
problem with an American-run search-and recover mission?"
"Does your government believe there is a chance for a nuclear exchange?"
Nazir asked.
"If they didn't think so, they would not even be considering a covert
action," Friday replied.
"It looks like your friends from the Special Frontier Force wanted that
cell bad enough. Our ELINT resources caught a squad of them chasing the
Pakistanis through the mountains."
"Where is the SFF squad?" Nazir asked.
"Waiting in line for reincarnation," Friday replied.
"Excuse me?"
"From what I gathered the commandos were caught by a Pakistani suicide
bomber," Friday told him.
"I see," Nazir said. He thought for a moment.
"The SFF presence supports what we were thinking, that they set this
up."
"It sure looks that way," Friday said.
"Then yes," Nazir said.
"The Black Cat Commandos would help you in any way we can."
"Good," Friday said. He walked over to Kumar.
"We're going to need your help, too," he told the farmer.
"Your granddaughter was apparently working for the SFF. Her testimony is
the key to war and peace. If we catch up to them she must be made to
tell the truth."
Apu Kumar rolled a slumped shoulder.
"She is an honest girl. She would not lie."
"She's also a patriot, isn't she?" Friday asked.
"Of course," Apu agreed.
"Patriotism has a way of dulling the senses," Friday told him.
"That's why soldiers sometimes throw themselves on hand grenades. If
your granddaughter helped the SFF frame the Pakistanis for the
destruction of a Hindu temple, she has to tell that to the Indian
people."
Apu seemed surprised and gravely concerned.
"Do you think that is what she's done?" he asked.
"We do," Friday told him.
"Poor Nanda," Apu said.
"We're not just talking about Nanda," Captain Nazir said.
"If she does not tell what she knows then millions of people may die."
Apu rose.
"Nanda could not have known what she was doing. She would never have
agreed to such an outcome.
But I will help you," he said.
"What do you want me to do?"
"For now, get some warm clothes together and wait," Friday said.
"If you have extra gloves and long Johns, bring them too." Apu said he
would and then hurried to the bedroom. Friday walked over to a small
table and pulled the maps from his pocket.
"Captain?" he said. It was a command, not a question.
"Yes?" Nazir replied.
"We need to make plans," Friday said.
"Flight plans?" Nazir said, noticing the charts.
"Yes," Friday replied.
But that was just the start. Whatever the mission and however it turned
out, Friday would be in good stead with the Black Cat Commandos and his
own friends and advocates in the Indian government. He was sure Hank
Lewis would allow him to remain here when this was all over.
And then Ron Friday would be free to nurture his ties to the nuclear and
oil industries. That was where the nation's future lay.
That was where his own future lay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.
Siachin Base 3, Kashmir Thursday, 9:16 a. m.
The call from Commander San Hussain did not surprise Major Dev Puri.
Ever since he was informed of the top-secret plan to use the Pakistani
cell, the major had been expecting to hear from the Special Frontier
Force director at about this time. However, what Commander Hussain had
to say was a complete surprise. Major Puri sat in his bunker for several
moments after hanging up. For weeks, he had been expecting to
play an
important part in this operation: the quick and quiet evacuation of the
line of control.
But Puri had not anticipated playing this role. The role that was
supposed to have been played by the SFF's MEAN--Mountain Elite Attack
Nation. That was the name of the original resistance force that worked
to overthrow British imperial rule on the subcontinent.
The most important role.
Puri reached into a tin box on the desk. He plucked out a wad of chewing
tobacco and placed it beside his gum. He began to chew slowly.
Puri had been expecting to hear that the Pakistani cell had been