Line of Control (23 page)

    Friday would not know that or the location of the target area itself until he talked to Bob Herbert or Hank Lewis.

    In the meantime, Friday reviewed maps with Captain Nazir to familiarize himself with the region. Apu was with them in the small kitchen area of his farmhouse, adding what firsthand knowledge he had of the region. He used to climb the foothills when he was younger.

    Friday plotted a course from the Srinagar bazaar to the explosion in the mountains. He also mapped a route from the farm to the Himalayan blast site. There had been more than enough time for both the cell and the man from this farm to have reached the mountain site before the detonation.

    The question was where they would move from there. The cell only had to cover roughly twenty miles to go from the mountains to the Pakistani border. But they were a mountainous twenty miles that included both the line of control and the brutal Siachin Glacier. Reaching up to some eighteen thousand feet, the glacier would be difficult to climb under the best of circumstances. Tired and presumably pursued from the ground and possibly the air, the Pakistanis would need a miracle to get across.

    The helicopter phone beeped while Friday was looking at topographic charts of the region. Nazir answered. It was Bob Herbert and Hank Lewis.

    He passed the phone to Friday.

    "We've found the cell," Herbert said.

    "Where are they?" Friday asked eagerly. He bent over the charts that were spread on the table.

    "I have seven to ten tactical pilotage charts each of the Muzaffarabad border region, the Srinagar border region, and the area from Srinagar to Kargil."

    "They're in the Srinagar border region," Herbert said.

    "Just outside of Jaudar."

    "What are the coordinates?" Friday asked as he went to that set and began flipping through the charts, looking for the village.

    "Ron, we want you to go at once to thirty-four degrees, thirty minutes north, seventy-five degrees east," Lewis said.

    "That's Jaudar," Friday said, looking at the map.

    "Is that where the cell is? In the village?" "No," Lewis said.

    "That's where you'll rendezvous with Striker."

    Friday stood up.

    "Gentlemen, I have a chopper here. I can be there in under an hour.

    Striker won't be landing for at least four hours. I might be able to get to the cell by then."

    "So would your partner," Lewis reminded him.

    "And?" Friday pressed.

    "We haven't finished our security check on the Black Cat," Lewis said.

    "We can't take the risk that he'll turn the Pakistanis over to his people."

    "That won't happen," Friday assured the new NSA chief.

    "I'll make sure of it." "You can't guarantee that," Lewis said.

    "We also agree that Mr. Kumar should go with you and we can't be certain of his actions either. Mr. Herbert and I have discussed this and we're in agreement. You will meet Striker in Jaudar.

    They will have up-to-the-minute coordinates of the cell and the resources to get you and your companions into the mountains.

    If anything changes, we'll let you know."

    "We're wasting time," Friday protested.

    "I could probably be in and out by the time Striker arrives."

    "I admire your enthusiasm," Herbert said.

    "But the leader of the cell is cagey. They've been moving in shadows and beneath overhangs wherever possible. We don't know for certain what weapons they're carrying. They may have a rocket launcher. If you come after them in an Indian chopper they will probably shoot you down."

    "If you tell us where they are we can circle wide and intercept them,"

    Friday pointed out.

    "There's also a chance that a Pakistani aircraft might try to slip in and rescue the cell," Herbert said.

    "We don't want to precipitate a firefight with an Indian aircraft. That could give the Indians even more ammunition to launch a major offensive."

    Friday squeezed the phone. He wished he could strangle the deskbound bureaucrat. He did not understand field personnel.

    None of them did. The best field ops did not like sitting still. And the best of the best were able to improvise their way in and out of most things. Friday could do this.

    More than that, he wanted it. If he could grab the cell and bring them home he would have a chance to get in with their Pakistani controllers.

    Having strong ties to New Delhi, Islamabad, and Washington would be invaluable to an operative in this region.

    "Are we on the same page?" Herbert asked.

    Friday looked down at the map.

    "Yes," he said. And as he looked he remembered something that Herbert had told him about the explosion. It had occurred at approximately eight thousand feet. That would put the cell on the southwest side of the range. Everything north of that, up through the glacier and the line of control, was at a higher elevation.

    Friday's grip relaxed. To hell with desk jockeys in general and Bob Herbert in particular.

    "We'll brief you again when we have Striker's precise ETA and location,"

    Herbert said.

    "Do you have any questions?"

    "No," Friday replied calmly.

    "Is there anything you wanted to add. Hank?" Herbert asked.

    Lewis said there was nothing else. The NSA head thanked Friday and the men hung up. Friday returned the phone to its cradle.

    "What is it?" Captain Nazir asked.

    "What we've been waiting for," Friday said.

    "They found the cell?" Nazir asked.

    Friday nodded.

    "And my granddaughter?" Apu asked.

    "She's with them," Friday said. He did not know if she was or not, of course. But he wanted Apu with them. The farmer had harbored the enemy cell. If they needed to forestall any action by India, Apu's confession would play very well on Pakistani TV.

    Friday looked at the map. Herbert had told him that the cell was sticking to the mountain ledges. That meant that if the chopper started following the line of the range at eight thousand feet and flew up one side and then down the other they were sure to encounter the cell.

    Friday glanced down at the inset come projection and smiled. The round-trip was less than two hundred miles.

    He would have them. And he would have that do-nothing Herbert.

    "Come on," Friday said to Nazir.

    "Where are we going?" the officer asked.

    "To catch a terrorist cell," Friday replied.

    

    Washington, D. C. Thursday, 4:02 a. m.

    Paul Hood's office was just a few steps away from Op Center high-security conference room. Known as the Tank, the conference room was surrounded by walls of electronic waves that generated static for anyone trying to listen in with bugs or external dishes.

    Hood entered after everyone was already there. The heavy door was operated by a button at the side of the large oval conference table.

    Hood pushed it when he sat down at the head of the table.

    The small room was lit by fluorescent lights hung in banks over the conference table. On the wall across from Hood's chair the countdown clock was dark. When they had a crisis and a deadline, the clock flashed its ever-changing array of digital numbers.

    The walls, floor, door, and ceiling of the Tank were all covered with sound-absorbing Acoustix. The mottled gray and-black strips were each three inches wide and overlapped one another to make sure there were no gaps. Beneath them were two layers of cork, a foot of concrete, and then another layer of Acoustix. In the midst of the concrete, on all six sides of the room, was a pair of wire grids that generated vacillating audio waves. Electronically, nothing left the room without being utterly distorted. If any listening device did somehow manage to pick up a conversation from inside, the randomness of the changing modulation made reassembling the conversations impossible.

    "Thank you all for coming," Hood said. He turned down the brightness on the computer monitor that was set in the table and began bringing up the files from his office. At the same time. Bugs Benet was busy raising Colonel August on the TAC-SAT. In order to make sure Striker stayed in the loop, August and Rodgers were taking turns sleeping enroute to Turkey.

    "No problem," Lowell Coffey said. He had been pouring water from a pitcher into a coffee machine on a table in the far corner. The percolator began to bubble and pop.

    "The roads were empty. I managed to sleep on the way. Anybody think to get doughnuts?"

    "That was your job," Herbert pointed out.

    "You were the only one who wasn't here." He maneuvered his wheelchair into his place at Hood's right.

    "I've got mid rats in my office if you're hungry," said Liz Gordon as she settled in to Hood's left.

    "No, thanks." Coffey shuddered as he sat across from Hood.

    "I'll stick to the coffee."

    "You've got official military midnight rations?" Herbert asked.

    "A three-course packet," Liz said.

    "Dried apricots and pineapple, jerky, and cookies. A friend of mine at Langley gave them to me. I think you've worked with her. Captain Mclver?"

    "We worked on some black ops stuff together," Herbert said. He smiled.

    "Man, mid rats. I haven't had them in years. They always hit the spot in the wee small hours."

    "That's because you were tired and not selective," said the admittedly dilettantish Coffey.

    Hood's data finished loading a moment before Bugs Benet called. Hood sent the files to the other computer stations around the table. Liz and Coffey scanned the files as Hood's assistant informed him that he had Colonel Brett August ready to be patched through from the C-130 Hercules. Hood put the telephone on speaker and looked across the table.

    "We're ready to go," Hood said to the others.

    Everyone came to attention quickly.

    "Colonel August, can you hear me?" Hood asked.

    "As clear as if you were in the cabin with us, sir," the Striker commander replied.

    "Good," Hood replied.

    "Bob, you've been talking to New Delhi. Would you please bring everyone up to speed?"

    Herbert looked at his wheelchair computer monitor.

    "Twenty-one hours ago there was an attack on a market in Srinagar, Kashmir," Herbert said. He spoke loud enough for the speakerphone to pick up his voice.

    "A police station, a Hindu temple, and a busload of Hindu pilgrims were destroyed.

    With intel from the NRO and from your NSA contact who happened to be on-site, we have reason to believe that the attack on the station was the work of the Free Kashmir Militia, a militant organization based in Pakistan. However, we suspect that the attacks against the Hindu sites may have been organized by India itself. We believe that elements in the Special Frontier Force, the cabinet, and the military may be trying to win public support for a quick, decisive nuclear strike against Pakistan."

    No one moved. The only sounds were the hum of the forced air coming through the overhead vents and the crackling of the coffee machine as it finished brewing.

    "What about the Pakistani terrorists?" Coffey asked.

    "At this moment the cell is desperately trying to cross the Himalayan foothills-we believe to Pakistan," Herbert replied.

    "They have a prisoner. She's an Indian woman who apparently coordinated SFF actions to make the attack on the Hindu sites look like the work of the Pakistani Muslims. It is imperative that they reach Pakistan and that their hostage be made to tell what she knows."

    "To defuse the outraged Indian populace that will otherwise be screaming for Pakistani blood," Liz said.

    "Correct," Herbert said.

    "So far, the first attempt to capture the Pakistanis failed. SFF commandos were sent into the mountains. They were all killed. We do not know what other pursuit options are being considered or whether the cell has contacted Pakistan. We don't know what rescue efforts Islamabad may be attempting to mount."

    "They'd probably be chopper HAP searches," August said.

    "Explain," Hood said.

    "Hunt and peck," August told him.

    "The cell would not risk sending a radio beacon to Pakistan or suggesting a rendezvous point. That would be too easy for an Indian listening post at the line of control to pick off. Pakistan doesn't have the satellite resources to spot the cell so they would have to fly in and crisscross suspected routes of egress. And they'd use helicopters instead of jets, to stay below Indian radar."

    "Good 'gets," " Herbert said.

    "Paul, there's something that's bothering me," Coffey said.

    "Do we know for certain that the NSA operative was an observer and not a participant? This action may have been planned a couple of weeks ago, timed to draw attention from their attempted coup in Washington."

    Coffey had a point. The former head of the NSA, Jack Fenwick, had been working to replace President of the United States Michael Lawrence with the more militant Vice President Cotten. It was conceivable that Fenwick may have helped to orchestrate this crisis as a distraction from the anticipated resignation of President Lawrence.

    "We believe that Friday is clean, though right now we have him quarantined with an Indian officer," Hood replied.

    "I suspect that if Friday were involved with this he would be trying to get out of the region and keep us out as well."

    "Which could also mean he is involved," Liz pointed out.