Line of Control - Tom Clancy [10]
"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.
Out here men and women were about to buy their way into India using their lives as collateral.
The day that became routine was the day Rodgers vowed to hang up his uniform.
Stepping briskly, proudly, Rodgers made his way toward the shadow of the plane and the sharp, bright salutes of his waiting team.
CHAPTER FOUR.
Kargu, Kashmir Wednesday, 4:11 p. m.
Apu Kumar sat on the old, puffy featherbed that had once been used by his grandmother. He looked out at the four bare walls of his small bedroom. They had not always been bare. There used to be framed pictures of his late wife and his daughter and son-in-law, and a mirror. But their houseguests had removed them. Glass could be used as a weapon.
The bed was tucked in a corner of the room he shared with his twenty-two-year-old granddaughter Nanda. At the moment the young woman was outside cleaning the chicken coop. When she was finished she would shower in the small stall behind the house and then return to the room.
She would unfold a small card table,