Line of Control - Tom Clancy [99]
"What's your assessment. Colonel?" Hood asked. His voice sounded strong, confident. It had to for August's sake.
"We'd still like to try and intercept the cell," August went on.
"Two extra guns may help them punch through somewhere along the line."
"We're behind you on that," Hood said.
"But there are a lot of infantrymen headed our way," August went on.
"Can you contact the Pakistanis and let them know what happened?" "We'll try," Hood said.
"The Pakistani leader has Friday's phone. She is not the most cooperative person we've dealt with." "Does she know we're coming?"
August asked.
"Affirmative," Hood told him.
"Has there been any arrangement with her?" August asked.
The colonel was asking who would be calling the shots once they linked up.
"The cell commander and I did not have that conversation," Hood told him.
"Use your own initiative." "Thank you," August said.
"One more thing, sir. We're looking at darkness and some heavy winds and cold coming in. I hope you have a contingency plan in place."
"We were just working on that," Hood lied.
"But we're still counting on you and Corporal Musicant to pull this one through."
"We'll do our best," August assured him.
"I know that. We also need you two to stay safe," Hood said.
August said he would. He also said he would inform Op Center if he managed to raise Mike Rodgers. Then he signed off. Hood disengaged the speakerphone. There was a long moment of silence.
"You all right?" Hood asked Herbert.
Herbert shook his head slowly.
"We had thirteen people out there," he said flatly.
"I know," Hood said.
"Kids, mostly."
"This was my call," Hood reminded the intelligence chief.
"I gave the operation the go-ahead."
"I backed you up," Herbert replied.
"Hell, we had no choice. But this is a price they should not have had to pay."
Hood agreed but to say so seemed pathetic somehow.
They were crisis management professionals. Sometimes the only barrier between control and chaos was a human shield.
As iron-willed as that barricade could be, it was still just sinew and bone.
Hood moved behind the desk. He looked down at the computer.
Logic aside, he still felt hollow. Hood and the others had known going in that there were risks involved with this mission. What galled him was that an attack from allied ground forces was not supposed to be one of those risks. No one imagined that the Indian military would shoot at personnel jumping from one of their own aircraft, suspended from the parachutes clearly identified as those belonging to the Indian air force. This phase of the operation was only supposed to pit trained professionals against severe elements.
There was going to be a chance for most if not all the Strikers to survive. How did it go so wrong?
"Colonel August was right about us needing a backup plan," Herbert said.
"We went off the play book We've got to get to work and give him-"
"Hold on," Hood said.
"Something's not right."
"Excuse me?" Herbert replied.
"Look at this satellite image," Hood said.
Herbert did.
"The terrorist cell is still moving beneath the overhanging ledges, just as they've done since sunup," Hood said.
"But they've also got a little elbow room now. They have these shadows to move in." Hood pointed at the jagged areas of blackness on the monitor.
"See how the shadows are lengthening as the sun sets behind the Himalayas?"
"I see," Herbert said.
"But I don't get your point."
"Look at the direction of the shadows relative to the sun," Hood told him.
"The cell is moving in a westerly direction.
Not northwesterly. That's different from before."
Herbert stared