Line of Control - Tom Clancy [62]
"Help avowed terrorists make it home safely?" "Why not?" Friday said.
"That might win us allies in the Muslim world. We can use them."
"America doesn't 'win' allies in the Muslim world. If we're lucky we earn their forbearance," Herbert said.
"A smart man knows how to work that too," Friday said.
"Maybe you'll get to show us how it's done," Herbert replied.
"Maybe," Friday replied.
The intelligence chief had worked with hundreds of field ops over the years. He had been one himself. They were a tough, thorny, independent breed. But this man was more than that. Herbert could hear it in his voice, the edge to his words and the confidence of his statements.
Usually, men who sounded like Friday were what spy leaders called HOWs-hungry old wolves. Working on their own year after year they began to feel invisible to the host government and beyond the reach of their own government. They'd been out in the cold so long that they tended to bite anyone who came near them.
But Friday had not spent a lot of time on his own. He had come from an embassy post. That suggested something else to Herbert: an I-spy. The espionage game's equivalent of a bad cop, someone who was in this for themselves. Whatever Striker ended up doing in the field, if it involved Ron Friday Herbert would tell Mike Rodgers to watch him very, very closely.
"Bob?" Viens said on the speakerphone.
"You still there?" "I'm here," Herbert said. He told Lewis and Friday to hold the line.
"Are you looking at the monitor?" Viens asked.
"I am," Herbert said.
"You see that?" Viens asked.
"I do," Herbert replied.
There were footprints. And they were made during the previous night.
The sun had not had a chance to melt and refreeze them. The cell had definitely left the cave and was heading north, toward Pakistan.
Unfortunately, they could not tell from the jumble of footprints how many people were in the party.
"Good work, Stephen," Herbert said. He archived the image with the rest of them.
"Have you got time to follow them?"
"I can track them for a bit but that won't tell you much," Viens said.
"I looked at one of the overviews. We're going to lose the trail behind the peak about a quarter of a kilometer to the northwest. After that all we've got is a shitload of mountain to examine." "I see," Herbert said.
"Well, at least let's make sure they went as far as the turn. And see if we can get a better idea of how many people there were and maybe what they were carrying."
"I'm guessing they weren't carrying much," Viens said.
"Three inches or so of snow cover, two inches of print. They look about the right depth for an average hundred-and-sixty pound individual.
Besides, I can't imagine they'd be carrying much more than ropes and pitons trekking through that region."
"You're probably right," Herbert said.
"But I'll see if we can't get a head count for the group," Viens said.
"Thanks, Stephen," Herbert said.
"Anytime," Viens replied.
Herbert clicked off the speakerphone and got back on with Hank Lewis and Ron Friday.
"Gentlemen, we've definitely got the cell heading north," he said.
"I suggest we table the political debate and concentrate on managing the crisis. I'll have a talk with Paul. See if he wants to get involved with this or whether we should abort the Striker mission altogether and turn the problem over to the State Department. Hank, I suggest you and Mr.
Friday talk this over and see what you want your own involvement to be.
Whether we stick to the original mission or work out a new one, it could get ugly out there."
"We'll also have to talk about what to tell the president and the CIOC,"
Lewis said.
"I have a suggestion about that," Herbert told him.
"If you tag Mr. Friday as a loan-out to Striker as of right now, the NSA doesn't have to be involved in making that decision." "That's a negative," Lewis told him.
"I'm new on the job, Bob, but I'm not a novice. You let me know what Paul's thinking is and I'll make the call on our end."
"Pair enough,"