The Teeth of the Tiger - Tom Clancy [97]
"So, all of our defenses are neutralized-by us?"
"For all practical purposes, yes. Until CIA has a lot more field assets to identify them before they get here, we're in a reactive mode, not a proactive one. What the hell," he grimaced, "my bond trading has been going great the last two weeks." Tom Davis had found the money business to be rather to his liking-or, at least, easily mastered. Maybe going into CIA right out of the University of Nebraska had been a mistake? he asked himself every so often.
"Any follow-up on the CIA report?"
"Well, somebody over there has suggested another talk with our asset, but it hasn't cleared the Seventh Floor yet."
"Jesus!" Hendley swore.
"Hey, Jerry, why are you surprised? You never worked there like I did, but down on The Hill, you must have seen this sort of thing before."
"Why the fuck didn't Kealty keep Foley as DCI?"
"He has a lawyer friend he likes better, remember? And Foley was a professional spook, and therefore unreliable. Look, let's face it-Ed Foley helped some, but a real fix will take a decade. That's one of the reasons we're here, right?" Davis added with a smile. "How are our two hit-men trainees doing down at Charlottesville?"
"The Marine is still having a conscience attack."
"Chesty Puller must be rolling over in his crypt," Davis opined.
"Well, we can't hire mad dogs. Better to ask questions now than out in the field on an assignment."
"I suppose. What about the hardware?"
"Next week."
"It's taken long enough. Testing phase?"
"In Iowa. Pigs. They have a similar cardiovascular system, so our friend tells us."
How appropriate, Davis thought.
Small Stone turned out to be not much of a navigation problem, and after dipping southwest on I-40, now they were going northeast. Mustafa was now back at the wheel, and the two in back were dozing after filling up on roast beef sandwiches and Coca-Cola.
It was mostly boring now. Nothing can remain captivating for more than twenty hours, and even dreams of their mission a day and a half in the future could scarcely keep their eyes open, and so Rafi and Zuhayr were sleeping like exhausted children. He motored northeast with the sun behind his left shoulder and started to see signs indicating the distance to Memphis, Tennessee. He thought for a moment-it was hard to think very clearly after being in a car so long-and realized that he had only two more states to go. Their progress was steady, if slow. It would have been better to take a plane, but getting their machine guns through the airports would probably have been difficult, he thought with a smile. And as overall mission commander he had more than one team to worry about. That was why he'd selected the most difficult and distant target of the four, to set the example to the others. But sometimes leadership was just a pain in the ass, Mustafa told himself, as he adjusted himself in the seat.
The next half hour passed quickly. Then came a bridge of considerable size and height, and a sign that announced the Mississippi River, followed by a sign that welcomed them to TENNESSEE, THE VOLUNTEER STATE. His mind wandering from so much driving, Mustafa started to wonder what that might mean, but the thought died aborning. Whatever it meant, he had to cross Tennessee on the way to Virginia. Rest would not come for at least fifteen more hours. He'd drive about a hundred kilometers east of Memphis, then turn the car over to Abdullah.
He'd just crossed a great river. His entire country had no permanent rivers, just wadis that flooded briefly with a rare passing shower and soon went dry again. America was such a rich country. That was probably the source of their arrogance, but his mission, and that of his three colleagues, was to take that arrogance down a few pegs. And that, Insh'Allah, they would do, in less than two more days.
Two days to Paradise, was the thought that lingered in his mind.
CHAPTER 12-ARRIVING
Tennessee passed quickly for