Line of Control - Tom Clancy [154]
"Morality aside, there are legal and political considerations as well as the possibility of armed resistance," Hood cut in.
"Op-Center has no jurisdiction over the FKM, and India has made no official inquiries regarding the rest of the cell. They are free to do whatever they want. If the Pakistanis wish to surrender, I'm sure they will be arrested and tried by the Indians. If they turn on you, you must respond however you see fit."
"Paul's right," Herbert said.
"The most important thing is to get you and Corporal Musicant home safely." August said he understood. He told Hood and Herbert that he would accept whatever food and water the chopper brought. After that, he said he would make his way to the Mangala Valley to find the rest of the Strikers.
Hanging up the TAC-SAT, August rose slowly on cold stiffened legs. He switched on his flashlight and made his way across the ice-covered ledge to where Musicant was stationed.
August gave the medic the good news then went back to where Sharab and her two associates were huddled. Unlike the Strikers, they had not undergone cold-weather training.
Nor were they dressed as warmly as August and Musicant.
August squatted beside them. They winced as the light struck them.
They reminded the colonel of lepers cowering from the sun. Sharab was trembling. Her eyes were red and glazed. There was ice in her hair and eyebrows. Her lips were broken and her cheeks were bright red.
August could not help but feel sorry for her. Her two comrades looked even worse. Their noses were raw and bleeding and they would probably lose their ears to frostbite. Their gloves were so thick with ice that August did not even think they could move their fingers.
Looking at them, the colonel realized that Sharab and her countrymen were not going to fight them or run anywhere.
August leaned close to them.
"General Rodgers and Nanda completed their mission," August said.
Sharab was staring ahead. Her red eyes began to tear. Her exposed mouth moved silently. In prayer, August suspected.
The other men hugged her arms weakly and also spoke silent words.
"An Indian helicopter will arrive at sunup," August went on.
"Corporal Musicant will be leaving on it. I'm going to make my way back to the valley to find the rest of my team.
What do you want to do?"
Sharab turned her tearing eyes toward August. There was deep despair in her gaze. Her voice was gravelly and tremulous when she spoke.
"Will America help us to make the case for a Pakistani Kashmir?" she asked.
"I think things will change because of what happened over the last few days," August admitted.
"But I don't know what my nation will say or do."
Sharab laid an icy glove on August's forearm.
"Will you help us?" she pressed.
"They killed your team."
"The madness between your countries killed my team," August said.
"No," she said. She gestured violently toward the edge of the plateau.
"The men down there killed them. They are godless evil."
This was not a discussion August wanted to have. Not with someone who blew up public buildings and peace officers for a living.
"Sharab, I've worked with you to this point," August said.
"I can't do any more. There will be a trial and hearings. If you surrender, you will have the opportunity to make a strong case for your people."
"That will not help," she insisted.
"It will be a start," August countered.
"And if we go back down the mountain?" the woman asked.
"What will you do?"
"I guess I'll say good-bye," he replied.
"You won't try to stop us?" Sharab pressed.
"No," August assured her.
"Excuse me, now. I'm going back to join the rest of my unit."
August looked at the defiant Pakistani for a moment longer. The woman's hate and rage were burning through the cold and physical exhaustion. He had seen determined fighters during his life. The Vietcong. Kurdish resistance fighters.
People who were fighting for their homes and families. But this furnace was a terrifying thing to witness.
Colonel August turned