Line of Control - Tom Clancy [153]
Friday was slightly northeast of the center of the clearing when the light of the rising chopper disappeared behind the peaks. He had only seen two people join the Indians. That meant one of them, probably Samouel, was dead near the entrance to the silo. The Pakistani would no longer need his clothing. If Friday could find a little niche somewhere, he could use the clothes to set up a flap to keep out the cold.
And he still had the matches. Maybe he could find something to make a little campfire. As long as life remained, there was always hope.
A moment later, in a chaotic upheaval of ice and fire, hope ended for Ron Friday.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE.
The Hemachal Peaks Friday, 4:12 a. m.
Crouched against the boulders on the edge of the plateau, Brett August and William Musicant were able to see and then hear a distant explosion.
It shook the ledge and threw a deep red flush against the peaks and sky to the northeast. The light reminded August of the kind of glow that emerged from a barbecue pit when you stirred the dying coals with a stick.
It was a wispy, blood-colored light that was the same intensity on all sides.
August watched to see if a contrail rose from the fires. He did not see one. That meant it was not a missile being launched. The blast came from the direction in which Mike Rodgers had been headed. August hoped his old friend was behind whatever it was rather than a victim of it.
The inferno remained for a few moments and then rapidly subsided.
August did not imagine that there was a great deal of combustible material out there on the glacier. He turned his stinging, tired eyes back to the valley below. Down there were the men who had killed his soldiers. Shot them from the sky without their even drawing their weapons. As much as the colonel did not want the situation to escalate, part of him wanted the Indians to charge up the peak. He ached for the chance to avenge his team.
The ice storm had stopped, though not the winds. It would take the heat of the sun to warm and divert them. The wind still swept down with punishing cold and force and a terrible sameness. The relentless whistling was the worst of it. August wondered if it were winds that inspired the legends of the Sirens. In some tales, the song of the sea nymphs drove sailors mad. August understood now how that could happen.
The colonel's hearing was so badly impaired that he did not even hear the TAC-SAT when it beeped. Fortunately, August noticed the red light flashing. He unbuttoned the collar that covered his face to the bridge of his nose. Then he turned up the volume on the TAC-SAT before answering.
He would need every bit of it to hear Bob Herbert.
"Yes?" August shouted into the mouthpiece.
"Colonel, it's over," Herbert said.
"Repeat, please?" August yelled. The colonel thought he heard Herbert say this was over.
"Mike got the message through," Herbert said, louder and more articulately.
"The Indian LOC troops are being recalled.
You will be picked up by chopper at sunrise."
"I copy that," August said.
"We saw an explosion to the northeast a minute ago. Did Mike do that?"
"In a manner of speaking," Herbert said.
"We'll brief you after you've been airlifted."
"What about the Strikers?" August asked.
"We'll have to work on that," Herbert said.
"I'm not leaving without them," August said.
"Colonel, this is Paul," Hood said.
"We have to determine whose jurisdiction the valley-"
"I'm not leaving without them," August repeated.
There was a long silence.
"I understand," Hood replied.
"Brett, can you hold out there until around midmorning?" Herbert asked.
"I will do whatever it takes," August said.
"All right," Herbert told him.
"The chopper can pick up Corporal Musicant. I promise we'll have the situation worked as quickly as possible." "Thank you, sir," August said.
"What are my orders regarding the three Pakistanis?"
"You know me,"
Herbert said.
"Now that they've served their purpose I'd just as soon you put a bullet in each of their murderous little heads. I'm sure my wife