Line of Control - Tom Clancy [128]
And never as flagrantly as this. One of the reasons they became field operatives was the challenge of executing orders in the face of tremendous odds.
Ron Friday was more than just a loner. He was distracted.
Rodgers suspected that he was driven by a different agenda.
Like it or not, that might be something he would have to try to figure out.
"We're going to save Nanda's grandfather as well as those millions of people you're concerned about," Rodgers said firmly.
"We'll do that by going northeast from here."
"Damn it, you're blind!" Friday shouted.
"I've been in this thing from the start. I was in the square when it blew up. I had a feeling about the dual bombers, about the involvement of the SFF, about the double-dealing of this woman." He gestured angrily at Nanda.
"It's the people who pull the strings you should doubt, not a guy who's been at ground zero from the start."
Friday was losing it. Rodgers did not want to waste the energy to try to stop him. He also wanted to see where the rant would lead. Angry men often said too much.
Friday fired up his torch again. Rodgers squinted in the light. He slowed as Friday got in front of them and faced them.
"So that's it, then?" Friday said.
"Get out of the way," Rodgers ordered.
"Bob Herbert barks, Mike Rodgers obeys, and Op-Center takes over the mission," Friday said.
"Is that what this is about?" Rodgers asked.
"Your resume?"
"I'm not talking about credit," Friday said.
"I'm talking about what we do for a living. We collect and use information."
"You do," Rodgers said.
"Fine, yes. I do," Friday agreed.
"I put myself in places where I can learn things, where I can meet people. But we, our nation, need allies in Pakistan, in the Muslim world. If we stay on this glacier we are still behind Indian lines.
That buys us nothing."
"You don't know that," Rodgers said.
"Correct," Friday said.
"But I do know that if we go to Islamabad, as Americans who saved Pakistan from nuclear annihilation, we create new avenues of intelligence and cooperation in that world."
"Mr. Friday, that's a political issue, not a tactical military concern,"
Rodgers said.
"If we're successful then Washington can make some of those inroads you mention."
With Apu still clinging to him, Rodgers started moving around Friday.
The NSA operative put out a hand and stopped him.
"Washington is helpless," Friday said.
"Politicians live on the surface. They are actors. They engage in public squabbles and posturing where the populace can watch and boo or cheer.
We are the people who matter. We burrow inside. We make the tunnels. We control the conduits."
"Mr. Friday, move," Rodgers said.
This was about personal power. Rodgers had no time for that.
"I will move," Friday said.
"With Nanda, to the line of control. Two people can make it across."
Rodgers was about to push past him when he felt something.
A faint, rapid vibration in the bottoms of his feet. A moment later it grew more pronounced. He felt it crawl up his ankles.
"Give me the torch!" he said suddenly.
"What?" Friday said.
Rodgers leaned around Friday.
"Samouel-don't turn on the light!" "I won't," he said.
"I feel it!"
"Feel what?" Nanda said.
"Shit," Friday said suddenly. He obviously felt it too and knew what it meant.
"Shit."
Rodgers pulled the torch from Friday. The NSA agent was surprised and did not struggle to keep it. Rodgers held the torch above his head and cast the light around him. There was a mountain of ice to the right, about four hundred yards away. It stretched for miles in both directions. The top of the formation was lost in the darkness.
Rodgers handed the torch to Nanda.
"Go to that peak," he said.
"Samouel! Follow Nanda!"
Samouel was already running toward them.
"I