Line of Control - Tom Clancy [73]
The walls, floor, door, and ceiling of the Tank were all covered with sound-absorbing Acoustix. The mottled gray and-black strips were each three inches wide and overlapped one another to make sure there were no gaps. Beneath them were two layers of cork, a foot of concrete, and then another layer of Acoustix. In the midst of the concrete, on all six sides of the room, was a pair of wire grids that generated vacillating audio waves. Electronically, nothing left the room without being utterly distorted. If any listening device did somehow manage to pick up a conversation from inside, the randomness of the changing modulation made reassembling the conversations impossible.
"Thank you all for coming," Hood said. He turned down the brightness on the computer monitor that was set in the table and began bringing up the files from his office. At the same time. Bugs Benet was busy raising Colonel August on the TAC-SAT. In order to make sure Striker stayed in the loop, August and Rodgers were taking turns sleeping enroute to Turkey.
"No problem," Lowell Coffey said. He had been pouring water from a pitcher into a coffee machine on a table in the far corner. The percolator began to bubble and pop.
"The roads were empty. I managed to sleep on the way. Anybody think to get doughnuts?"
"That was your job," Herbert pointed out.
"You were the only one who wasn't here." He maneuvered his wheelchair into his place at Hood's right.
"I've got mid rats in my office if you're hungry," said Liz Gordon as she settled in to Hood's left.
"No, thanks." Coffey shuddered as he sat across from Hood.
"I'll stick to the coffee."
"You've got official military midnight rations?" Herbert asked.
"A three-course packet," Liz said.
"Dried apricots and pineapple, jerky, and cookies. A friend of mine at Langley gave them to me. I think you've worked with her. Captain Mclver?"
"We worked on some black ops stuff together," Herbert said. He smiled.
"Man, mid rats. I haven't had them in years. They always hit the spot in the wee small hours."
"That's because you were tired and not selective," said the admittedly dilettantish Coffey.
Hood's data finished loading a moment before Bugs Benet called. Hood sent the files to the other computer stations around the table. Liz and Coffey scanned the files as Hood's assistant informed him that he had Colonel Brett August ready to be patched through from the C-130 Hercules. Hood put the telephone on speaker and looked across the table.
"We're ready to go," Hood said to the others.
Everyone came to attention quickly.
"Colonel August, can you hear me?" Hood asked.
"As clear as if you were in the cabin with us, sir," the Striker commander replied.
"Good," Hood replied.
"Bob, you've been talking to New Delhi. Would you please bring everyone up to speed?"
Herbert looked at his wheelchair computer monitor.
"Twenty-one hours ago there was an attack on a market in Srinagar, Kashmir," Herbert said. He spoke loud enough for the speakerphone to pick up his voice.
"A police station, a Hindu temple, and a busload of Hindu pilgrims were destroyed.
With intel from the NRO and from your NSA contact who happened to be on-site, we have reason to believe that the attack on the station was the work of the Free Kashmir Militia, a militant organization based in Pakistan. However, we suspect that the attacks against the Hindu sites may have been organized by India itself. We believe that elements in the Special Frontier Force, the cabinet, and the military may be trying to win public support for a quick, decisive nuclear strike against Pakistan."
No one moved. The only sounds were the hum of the forced air coming through the overhead vents and the crackling of the coffee machine as it finished brewing.
"What about the Pakistani terrorists?" Coffey asked.
"At this moment the cell is desperately trying to cross the Himalayan foothills-we believe to Pakistan," Herbert replied.
"They have a prisoner. She's an Indian woman who apparently coordinated SFF actions