Line of Control (9 page)

    Major Puri had to make certain that as soon as the American squad arrived the search-and-identify mission went smoothly and quickly. The Americans would not be told of the capture of the Pakistani cell. They would not know that a strike was actually in the offing. That information would only be revealed when it was necessary to blunt international condemnation of India's actions. If necessary, the participation of the Striker unit would also be exposed. The United States would have no choice then but to back the Indian strike.

    Puri tugged on the hem of his jacket to straighten it. He picked up his turban, placed it squarely on his head, and headed for the door. He was glad of one thing, at least. His name was not attached to the SFF action in any way. As far as any official communiques were concerned, he had simply been told to help the Americans find the silos.

    He was just doing his job.

    He was just carrying out orders.

    

    Washington, D. C. Wednesday, 8:21 a. m.

    "This is not good," Bob Herbert said as he stared at the computer monitor.

    "This is not good at all."

    The intelligence chief had been reviewing the latest satellite images from the mountains bordering Kashmir. Suddenly, a State Department news update flashed across the screen. Herbert clicked on the headline and had just started reading when the desk phone beeped. He glanced with annoyance at the small black console. It was an outside line.

    Herbert jabbed the button and picked up the receiver. He continued reading.

    "Herbert here," he said.

    "Bob, this is Hank Lewis," said the caller.

    The name was familiar but for some reason Herbert could not place it.

    Then again, he was not trying very hard. He was concentrating on the news brief. According to the update there had been two powerful explosions in Srinagar. Both of them were directed at Hindu targets.

    That was going to ratchet up tensions along the line of control.

    Herbert needed to get more information and brief Paul Hood and General Rodgers as soon as possible.

    "I've been meaning to call since I took over at NSA," Lewis said, "but it's been brutal getting up to speed."

    Jesus, Herbert thought. That's who Hank Lewis was. Jack Fenwick's replacement at the National Security Agency.

    Lewis had just signed off on the NSA's participation in the Striker mission. Herbert should have known the name right away. But he forgave himself. He had a mission headed into a hot zone that had just become hotter. His brain was on autopilot.

    "You don't have to explain. I know what the workload is like over there," Herbert assured him.

    "I assume you're calling about the State Department update on Kashmir?"

    "I haven't seen that report yet," Lewis admitted.

    "But I did receive a call from Ron Friday, the man who's supposed to meet your Striker team. He told me what you probably read. That an hour ago there were three powerful bomb blasts in a bazaar in Srinagar."

    Three?" Herbert replied.

    "The State Department says there were two explosions."

    "Mr. Friday was within visual range of ground zero," Lewis informed him.

    "He said there were simultaneous explosions in both the police station and in the Hindu temple.

    They were followed by a third blast onboard a bus full of Hindu pilgrims."

    Hearing the event described, Herbert flashed back to the embassy bombing in Beirut. The moment of the explosion was not what stayed with him.

    That was like running a car into a wall, a full-body hit.

    What he remembered, vividly, was the sickness of coming to beneath the rubble and realizing in a sickening instant exactly what had happened.

    "Was your man hurt?" Herbert asked.

    "Incredibly, no," Lewis said.

    "Mr. Friday said the explosions would have been worse except that high-impact concussive devices were employed. That minimized the damage radius." "He was lucky," Herbert said. Hi Con explosives tended to produce a big percussive center, nominal shock waves, and very little collateral damage.

    "So why is Friday so sure the first two hits were separate blasts? The second one could have been an oil or propane tank exploding. There are often secondary pops in attacks of this kind."

    "Mr. Friday was very specific about the explosions being simultaneous, not successive," Lewis replied.

    "After the attack he also found two very similar but separate debris trails leading from the buildings. That suggests identical devices in different locations."

    "Possibly," Herbert said.

    An expression from Herbert's childhood came floating back: He who smelt it dealt it. Op-Center's intelligence chief briefly wondered if Friday might have been responsible for the blasts. However, Herbert could not think of a reason for Friday to have done that. And he had not become cynical enough to look for a reason. Not yet, anyway.

    "Let's say there were three blasts," Herbert said.

    "What do your nerve endings tell you about all this?"

    "My immediate thought, of course, is that the Pakistans are turning up the heat by attacking religious targets," Lewis replied.

    "But we don't have enough intel to back that up."

    "And if the idea was to hit at the Hindus directly, why would they strike the police station as well?" Herbert asked.

    "To cripple their pursuit capabilities, I would imagine," Lewis suggested.

    "Maybe," Herbert replied.

    Everything Lewis said made sense. Which meant one of two things.

    Either he was right or the obvious answer was what the perpetrators wanted investigators to believe.

    "Your Strikers won't be arriving for another twenty-two hours and change," Lewis said.

    "I'm going to have Mr. Friday go back to the target area and see what he can learn.

    Are there any resources you can call on?" "Yes," Herbert said.

    "India's Intelligence Bureau and the Defense Ministry helped us to organize the Striker mission.

    I'll see what they know and get back to you."

    "Thanks," Lewis said.

    "By the way, I'm looking forward to working with you. I've followed your career ever since you went over to Germany to take on those neo-Nazis. I trust men who get out from behind their desk. It means they put job and country before personal security."

    "Either that or it means they're crazy," Herbert said.

    "But thanks. Stay in touch." Lewis said he would. Herbert hung up.

    It was refreshing to talk to someone in the covert community who was actually willing to share information. Intelligence chiefs were notoriously secretive. If they controlled information they could control people and institutions. Herbert refused to play that game.

    While it was good for job security it was bad for national security.

    And as Jack Fenwick had demonstrated, a secretive intelligence chief could also control a president.

    But though Ron Friday was a seasoned field operative, Herbert was not quite as willing to bet the ranch on his report.

    Herbert only believed in people he had worked with himself.

    Herbert phoned Paul Hood to brief him on the new development.

    Hood asked to be conferenced on the call to Mike Rodgers whenever that took place. Then Herbert put in a call to the Indian Intelligence Bureau. Sujit Rani, the deputy director of internal activities, told Herbert pretty much what he expected to hear: that the IIB was investigating the explosions but did not have any additional information. The notion that there had been three explosions, not two, was something the IIB had heard and was looking into. That information vindicated Ron Friday somewhat in Herbert's eyes. Herbert's contact at the Defense Ministry told him basically the same thing. Fortunately, there was time before Striker reached India.

    They would be able to abort the mission if necessary.

    Herbert went into the Kashmir files. He wanted to check on other recent terrorist strikes in the region. Maybe he could find clues, a pattern, something that would help to explain this new attack.

    Something about it did not sit right. If Pakistan were really looking to turn up the heat in Kashmir they probably would have struck at a place that had intense religious meaning, like the shrine at Pahalgam.

    Not only was that the most revered site in the region but the terrorists would not have had to worry about security. The Hindus trusted completely in their sacred trinity. If it was the will of Vishnu the preserver then they would not be harmed. If they died violently then Shiva the destroyer would avenge them. And if they were worthy, Brahma the creator would reincarnate them.

    No. Bob Herbert's gut was telling him that the Hindu temple, the bus, and the police station were struck for some other reason. He just did not know what that reason was.

    But he would.

    

    C-130 Cabin Wednesday, 10:13 a. m.

    When he first joined Striker, Corporal Ishi Honda discovered that there was not a lot of downtime on the ground.

    There was a great deal of drilling, especially for him. Honda had joined the team late, replacing Private Johnny Pucketl who had been wounded on the mission to North Korea. It was necessary for Honda, then a twenty-two-year-old private, to get up to speed.

    Once he got there Honda never let up. His mother used to tell him he was fated never to rest. She ascribed it to the different halves of his soul. Ishi's maternal grandfather had been a civilian cook at Wheeler Field. He died trying to get home to his family during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Ishi's paternal grandfather had been a high-ranking officer on the staff of Rear Admiral Takajiro Onishi, chief of staff of the Eleventh Air Fleet. Onishi was the architect of the Japanese attack. Ishi's parents were actors who met and fell in love on a show tour without knowing anything about the other's background. They often debated whether knowing that would have made a difference. His father said it absolutely would not have. With a little shake of her head, her eyes downturned, his mother said it might have made a difference.

    Ishi had no answers and maybe that was why he could not stop pushing himself. Pan of him believed that if he ever stopped moving he would inevitably look at that question, whether or not a piece of information would have kept him from being born. And he did not want to do that because the question had no answer. Honda did not like problems without solutions.

    What he did like was living the life of a Striker. It not only taxed him mentally, it challenged him physically.

    From the time he was recruited to join the elite unit there were long daily runs, obstacle courses, hand-to-hand combat, arms practice, survival training, and maneuvers. The field work was always tougher for Honda than for the others. In addition to his survival gear he had to carry the TAC-SAT equipment. There were also tactical and political sessions and language classes. Colonel August had insisted that the Strikers learn at least two languages each in the likely event that those skills would one day be required. At least Honda had an advantage there. Because his father was Japanese, Honda already had a leg up on one of the languages he had been assigned. He selected Mandarin Chinese as the other. Sondra Devon the had chosen Cantonese as one of her languages. It was fascinating to Honda that the languages shared identical written characters. Yet the spoken languages were entirely different. While he and Devon the could read the same texts they could not communicate verbally.

    Though the time the Strikers spent on the ground was rewarding, Honda had learned that their time in the air was anything but. They rarely took short trips and the long journeys could be extremely dull. That was why he had come up with constructive ways of filling his time.

    Wherever they were going, Honda arranged to patch his personal computer into the data files of both Stephen Viens at the National Reconnaissance Office and those of Op Center computer chief. Matt Stoll. The NRO was the group that managed most of America's spy satellites. Because Viens was an old college chum of Stoll's, he had been extremely helpful in getting information for Op-Center when more established groups like military intelligence, the CIA, and the NSA were fighting for satellite time. Viens was later accused of forward-funding two billion dollars of NRO money into a variety of black ops projects. He was vindicated with Op-Center's help and recently returned to duty.

    Before Striker headed to any territory, Viens set aside satellite time to do all the photographic recon that Colonel August needed. That imaging was considered of primary importance and was sent on the mission in Colonel August's files. Meanwhile, Stoll spent as much time as possible collecting electronic intelligence from the region. Police departments and the military did not share everything they knew, even with allies. In many foreign countries, especially Russia, China, and Israel, American operatives were often watched without their knowledge by foreign operatives. It was up to Op-Center to pick up whatever information they could and protect themselves accordingly. They did this by diverging from the agreed-upon routes and time schedules, using "dispensable" team members to mislead tails, or occasionally subduing whoever was following them. A host nation could not complain if the person they had sent to spy on an ally was later found bound and gagged in a hotel closet.

    The ELINT Stoll had gathered was composed of everything from fax messages and e-mail to phone numbers and radio frequencies. Everything that came to or went from official sources or known resistance and opposition forces.