Tom Clancy's op-center_ acts of war - Tom Clancy [114]
"Are all of these people coming or going?" Hood asked Nasr. He had to shout to be heard over persons who were crying for family members or yelling instructions to friends or assistants.
"They all appear to be going!" Nasr shouted back. "But I've never seen it like this! Something must have happened--"
Hood elbowed sideways through the mob at the gate entrance. He thought he felt a hand reach for his inside jacket pocket. He stepped back against Nasr. His passport or wallet would both be valuable if people were trying to leave Syria. His arms tight at his sides, he got on his tiptoes. A white piece of cardboard with his name written in black was bobbing above heads about five yards away.
"Come on!" Hood shouted at Nasr and Bicking.
The men literally pushed their way to the black-suited young man who was holding the sign.
"I'm Paul Hood," he said to the man. He wormed his arm behind him. "This is Dr. Nasr and Mr. Bicking."
"Good afternoon, sir. I'm DSA Agent Davies and this is Agent Fernette," the young man yelled, cocking his head toward a woman standing to his right. "Stay close behind us. We'll take you through customs."
The two agents turned and walked side by side. Hood and the others fell in, following closely as their escorts alternately shouldered, elbowed, and pushed their way through the crowd. Hood wasn't surprised they didn't have a Syrian security contingent. He wasn't high-ranking enough to merit one. Still, he was surprised that there were so few police here. He was dying to know what had happened, but he didn't want to distract their escorts.
It took nearly ten minutes to push through the main terminal. The baggage area was relatively empty. While they waited for their luggage, Hood asked the agents what had happened.
"There's been a confrontation at the border, Mr. Hood," Agent Fernette replied. She had short brown hair and a clipped voice, and looked about twenty-two.
"How bad?" Hood asked.
"Very bad. Syrian troops surrounded Turkish troops which had crossed the border looking for the terrorists. The Syrians were fired upon and fired back. Three Turkish soldiers were killed before the rest of the border patrol managed to work their way back into Turkey."
"There's been worse," Nasr said. "This panic is for that?"
Fernette turned her dark eyes on him. "No, sir," she said. "For what followed. The Syrian commander pursued the Turks into Turkey and wiped them out. Executed the soldiers who surrendered."
"My God!" Bicking cried.
"What is his background?" Nasr asked.
"He's a Kurd," Fernette replied.
"What happened after that?" asked Hood.
"The commander was dismissed and the Syrians withdrew," the woman said. "But not before the Turks moved some of their regular army troops and tanks to the border. That's where it sits the last we heard."
"So everyone's trying to get out," Hood said.
"Actually, not everyone," said Fernette. "Most of the people here are Jordanians, Saudis, and Egyptians. Their governments are sending in planes to evacuate them. They're afraid that their countries may come in on the side of the Turks and they don't want to be here if they do."
After gathering their bags, Hood and the others were led to a small room on the far northern side of the terminal. There, they were hurried through customs and taken to a waiting car. As he climbed into the stretch limousine with its American driver, Hood smiled to himself. The President had to fly him to the other side of the world to get him into one of these.
The ride north into the city was quick and easy. Traffic on the highway