Tom Clancy's op-center_ acts of war - Tom Clancy [119]
"Coward!" Rodgers roared.
Sondra pulled at her chains. "Traitor!" she hissed.
"Don't listen to them," the commander said to Katzen. "You've rescued them all, including yourself. That is loyalty, not treason."
"I don't need your stamp of approval," Katzen said.
"What you need is a firing squad," DeVonne said. "I played your game because I thought you had a plan." She looked at the commander. "He doesn't know anything about the van. And I'm not a scientist."
The commander walked up to her. "You're so young and so talkative," he said. "After we see what the gentleman does know, my soldiers and I will come back and speak with you."
"No!" Katzen said. "If any of my friends are hurt, the deal is off!"
The commander turned suddenly. In the same motion, he slapped Katzen with a vicious backhand. "You do not say no to me." He regained his composure at once. "You will show me how to operate the vehicle. You will do so without any further delay!" He slid his left hand behind Sondra's head and held it tightly. Then he seized her jaw with his right hand and squeezed her mouth into an O. "Or will you work better hearing her cry as we use a knife to pry out her teeth one by one?"
Katzen held up his hands. "Don't do that," he said as the tears began to flow again. "Please don't. I'll cooperate."
The commander released Sondra as a man pushed Katzen from behind. He stumbled ahead. As he walked past the Striker, her eyes felt more lethal than the gun at his back. Dark slits, they cursed him to his soul.
Katzen winced as he walked through the cave into the sunlight. Tears continued to flow. He wasn't a coward. He'd protected harp seals by shielding them with his own body. He simply couldn't let his friends suffer and die. Even though, after this day, he knew that these people who had been so important to him for over a year would be his friends no more.
* * *
THIRTY-EIGHT
Tuesday, 12:43 p.m.,
Tel Nef, Israel
Shortly after noon, the C-141B landed in the fields outside the military base. Colonel August and his seventeen soldiers were already dressed in their desert takedown fatigues and camouflage face scarves and flop hats. They were met by Israeli troops who helped setup tents which would conceal their cargo.
Captain Shlomo Har-Zion met Colonel August with a typed message. It was written in matte gray-ivory ink on a white background which reflected the sun. August had experience with these kinds of field documents. The medium guaranteed that the information would not be read by reconnaissance personnel who might be positioned in the surrounding hills. The details were not spoken of. Electronic surveillance and lip-readers were used extensively by Arab infiltrators.
August tempered the reflectivity by moving the paper around as he read the message. It indicated that Op-Center had found a likely location for the ROC and the hostages. An Israeli operative had been dispatched to the area and would reconnoiter ahead of Striker. He would contact Captain Har-Zion directly. If the intelligence proved correct, then Striker was to move in at once. August thanked the superior officer and told him he'd join him shortly.
August helped as the Strikers and the Israelis off-loaded and prepped the vehicles. The six motorcycles were rolled out under a camouflage canopy and stored in the tents. The four Fast Attack Vehicles came next. Engine connections were checked to make sure that nothing had shaken loose during the flight. The.50-caliber machine guns and 40mm grenade launchers were also carefully examined to make sure that the mechanisms and sights were clean and aligned. The C-141B left quickly after refueling, lest it be spotted from the hills or by Russian satellites. The information would be relayed quickly to hostile capitals in the region and used against Washington at a later date.
While the team examined their equipment, August and Sergeant Grey went to a secure, windowless building at the base. With Israeli advisors the two Strikers reviewed maps of the Bekaa region, and talked with