Line of Control - Tom Clancy [104]
"That's where Mike went down," August said.
"I know," Herbert said.
"Paul's thinking is if we can locate Mike he can help us find the branch cell-" A firm, low, intermittent beep began to sound in a pocket of August's equipment vest.
"Bob, hold on!" August interrupted.
"I've got an incoming point-to-point radio transmission."
"Careful, Brett." Herbert said.
The colonel set the phone down. He plucked his radio from the equipment vest and punched it on. He would not let himself hope that it was a Striker. More likely it was someone who'd found one of the radios or an Indian army communications officer cutting into their frequency.
"Atom," August said. That was the code name he had selected. It was derived from the first initial of his last name.
The Strikers used code names when they were uncertain about the origin of a call. If any of them were taken prisoner and forced to communicate they would use a backup code name based on the initial of their first name.
"Atom, it's Reptile," the caller said.
August did not feel the wind or the cold. The world that had felt so dead suddenly had a faint pulse.
"Are you okay?" August asked.
"Yeah," Rodgers replied.
"But I'm the only one. You?"
"Midnight and I are fine," he replied. As he was speaking, August pulled the area map from a vest pocket. These were specially marked with coded grids. He laid it on the ground and stepped on one end while he held the other.
"Do you have your map?" August asked.
"Getting it now," Rodgers said.
"I'm at 37-49."
"Three-seven-four-nine," August repeated.
"I copy that.
Are you secure at that location?"
"I seem to be," Rodgers replied.
"Very good," August said.
"I'm going to relay that information home. We may have new instructions."
"Understood," Rodgers said.
Colonel August set the radio on the map and picked up the TAC-SAT receiver. As he did he gave Musicant a thumbs-up. The medic smiled tightly. But at least it was a smile.
"Bob, it was Mike," August said.
"He's safe in the valley, about three miles from the foot of the glacier."
"Thank you, Lord," Herbert said.
"Other survivors?"
"Negative," August told him.
"I see. All right. Colonel," Herbert said.
"Set up your perimeter, hang tight, and tell Mike to do the same. I'll pass the update to Paul."
"Bob, keep in mind that there is some very rough terrain out here and it's going to get dark and cold pretty fast," August said.
"If we're going to send Mike on any search and-recon missions, he's only got another forty minutes or so of visibility."
"I'm aware of the situation," Herbert said.
"Tell him to get a good look at the landscape. We'll get back to you ASAP."
August hung up the TAC-SAT and briefed Rodgers. The general was his usual stoic self.
"I'll be okay down here," Rodgers replied.
"If I have to move north it's a pretty straight shot to the glacier.
I'll just follow the river."
"Good. Is your suit intact?" August asked.
"Yes," Rodgers replied.
"There's only one thing I need.
It's probably the same thing you need."
"What's that?" August asked.
Rodgers replied, "To find whoever sold us out and make them regret it."
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE.
Washington, D. C. Thursday, 8:30 a. m.
Paul Hood was on the phone with Senator Barbara Fox when the interoffice line beeped.
Now that the mission was beyond the point of recall, and politics would not get in the way of international security, Hood briefed the senator on the status of Striker and its mission.
Several years before, the senator had lost her own teenage daughter in a brutal murder in Paris. Hood had expected her to respond with compassion and to give her support to the personnel who were still in the field.
She did not. The senator was furious.
"Op-Center took too much responsibility in this operation," the woman charged.
"The other intelligence agencies should have been involved to a much greater extent." "Senator, I told the CIOC that we have a crisis requiring immediate attention," Hood said.
"I said we were involving the NRO and the NSA to the extent that time and onsite manpower permitted.