Net Force - Tom Clancy [41]
Which meant Howard and his troops wanted to be in place an hour and a half before then, by 1000. It was a fifteen-minute drive to the warehouse district where the meeting was set. Allow twice that for traffic problems, plus a half hour for X-factor, which meant they should roll at 0900. Most of the troops were already outside the embassy compound and assembled at the takeoff point.
Which meant that they had at least forty minutes before they should crank up.
Time flowed as it did when undergoing a root canal-slow. Very, very slow
Fortunately, Howards appearance wasnt going to be a problem. A local bus had been secured, of the kind used to ferry workers to and from various industrial sites in the area. He and Fernandez would leave the compound in a limo and meet the bus, and he could sit in an aisle seat where nobody would notice him from outside, if they bothered to look. And since everybody inside the bus was working for him-about twenty-five troops-that wouldnt be a problem. Combat gear was on the bus. The troops would wear civilian coveralls. They would be just another group of workers going to a construction site in the warehouse district on the river. In theory, there should be no problems. The CIA chief, Hunter, had the routes laid out, and the local police were supposed to be advised to turn a blind eye. It ought to run like warm oil on clean glass.
There was no reason for Howard to feel as nervous as he did, but that didnt matter. He had already paid two visits to the bathroom, and a third would be likely. The idea of eating made his stomach queasy, and the coffee he had already drunk had only added to his jitters. It might not be a major firefight in a jungle somewhere, but it was very possible bullets would fly and men would die. And it was his responsibility. He most assuredly did not want to foul it up.
Oh-eight-two-two, sir, Fernandez said.
This time, Howard didnt reprimand the sarge. They knew each other too well. The colonel nodded. He picked up one of the H&Ks magazines and checked the loads. Didnt want to overfill it, jam the rounds in so tight they wouldnt strip off and feed. That would be bad. Of course, he had counted them twice already. Probably the number hadnt changed since the last count.
Dentist-chair time, moving as slowly as five oclock rush-hour traffic on the Beltway.
The way he felt right now, a root canal would be almost welcome.
13
Monday, September 20th, noon Grozny
Vladimir Plekhanov sat on a mossy rock next to an old-growth tree, drinking cool water from the bottle he carried, enjoying a shaft of early sunshine that had angled in under the thick fir canopy. He took a deep breath, smelling the sharp scent of evergreen tree sap. He saw ants scurrying up and down the Douglas fir, and watched them swerve to avoid the sticky ooze. One of the ants blundered too close and the rosin caught him. The ant struggled.
Given another few million years, some creature that had once been human might find a bit of amber with that ant in it and wonder about its life.
Plekhanov smiled, reached over and using his fingernail, carefully freed the struggling ant. The creature hurried along its way. What would it think, if it did think, about the giant finger that had come from nowhere to spare its life? Would it speak of it to its fellows? Of how the hand of a giant god had saved it from the deadly trap?
His musings were interrupted by the arrival of the Ukrainian. The man appeared muscular, fit, dressed in hiking shorts and boots and a tight T-shirt. His footsteps made no sound on the soft path, but he did not look at ease as he moved. He spotted Plekhanov and nodded. Greetings, he said in Russian.
The older man returned