Line of Control - Tom Clancy [152]
Everything from Rodgers's legs to his spirit to his brain felt as though they had been given a shot of adrenaline. He kept running, leaping cracks and dodging mounds of ice.
Either Ron Friday had gotten to him with a hell of a sell job or the man was telling the truth. Whichever it was, Rodgers was going with it.
There did not seem to be another option.
Looking ahead, Rodgers watched as Nanda reached the entrance. She continued on toward the light. Rodgers arrived several moments later.
The Indian soldier, a sergeant, got there at the same time he did. His rifle was slung over his back. There were no weapons in his gloved hands.
"We must hurry," the Indian said as they ran into the entrance.
"This area is a Pakistani time bomb. An arsenal of some kind. You triggered the defenses somehow."
Possibly by tinkering with the uplink, Rodgers thought. Or more likely, the Pakistani military wanted to destroy them all to keep the secret of their nuclear missile silo.
"I can't believe there were just two of you," the sergeant said as they raced through the narrow tunnel.
"We thought there were more."
"There were," Rodgers said. He looked at the chopper ahead. He watched as soldiers helped Nanda inside and he realized Friday had deserted them.
"They're dead now."
The men left the entrance and ran the last twenty-five yards to the chopper. Rodgers and the sergeant jumped into the open door of the Mi-35. The aircraft rose quickly, simultaneously angling from the hot Pakistani base.
As the helicopter door was slid shut behind him, Rodgers staggered toward the side of the crowded cargo compartment.
There were no seats, just the outlines of cold, tired bodies.
The general felt the adrenaline kick leave as his legs gave out and he dropped to the floor. He was not surprised to find Nanda already there, slumped against an ammunition crate.
Rodgers slid toward her as the helicopter leveled out and sped to the north. He took her hand and snuggled beside her, the two of them propping each other up. The Indians sat around them, lighting cigarettes and blowing warmth on their hands.
The cabin temperature inside the helicopter was little higher than freezing, but the relative warmth felt blissful.
Rodgers's skin crackled warmly. His eyelids shut. He could not help it.
His mind started to shut down as well.
Before it did, the American felt a flash of satisfaction that Samouel had died on something that was nominally his homeland. Silo, arsenal, whatever Islamabad called it, at least it was built by Pakistanis.
As for Friday, Rodgers was also glad. Glad that the man was about to die on the opposite side of the world from the country he had betrayed.
Joy for a terrorist. Hate for an American.
Rodgers was happy to leave those thoughts for another time.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT.
The Siachin Glacier Friday, 4:07 a. m.
Ron Friday had been confused, at first, when he saw the chopper leave the clearing.
His plan had been simple. If Eagle Scout Rodgers had managed to come out on top of this, Friday would have told him that he had gone off to the side to watch for an Indian assault. If the Indians had won, as Friday expected, he would have said he had been trying to reach them to help end the standoff.
Friday had not expected both sides to reach some kind of sudden detente and leave together. He did not expect to be stranded on the far side of the clearing where the drumming of the chopper drowned out his shouts to the men. He did not expect to be stranded here.
But as Ron Friday watched the chopper depart he did not feel cheated or angry. He felt alone, but that was nothing new. His immediate concern was getting rest and surviving what remained of the cold night. Having done both, he could make his way back to the line of control the next day.
Where he had wanted to go in the first place.
Accomplishing that, Friday would find a way to work this to his advantage. He had still been a key participant in an operation that had prevented a nuclear incident over Kashmir.
Along the way he had learned things