Tom Clancy's op-center_ acts of war - Tom Clancy [155]
"I understand," Hood said.
"You are in my cafe," the woman said. "You were a delivery of fish. In other words, you cannot be seen outside this room. We will get you to the embassy when we close for the day. I can't spare the people until then."
"I understand that as well."
"In the meantime," she said, "you've been asked to telephone a Mr. Herbert when you arrive. If you don't have your own telephone I'll have to get you one. The call cannot appear on our bill here."
Bicking reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellular phone. "Let's see if this one's still working," he said as he flipped it open. He turned it on, listened for a moment, then handed the phone to Hood. "Made in America and good as new."
"Also not secure," Hood said. "But it will have to do."
Hood walked over to a corner and called Op-Center. He was put through to Martha's office, where she, Herbert, and members of their staff had been waiting for word about the operation. Because it was an open line, he would only use first names.
"Martha--Bob," Hood said, "it's Paul. I'm on a cellular but I wanted you to know that Ahmed, Warner and I are fine. Thanks for everything you did."
Even standing a few yards away Bicking could hear the cheers rising from the telephone. His eyes moistened as he thought of the incredible relief they all must be feeling.
"What about Mike?" Hood asked, being as discreet as possible.
"He's been found," Herbert said, "and Brett is there. We're still waiting to hear."
"I'm on the cellular," Hood said: "Call me the instant you hear anything."
Hood hung up. As he briefed the others, the doctor arrived. The three men stepped to a corner, well out of the way. Then they watched in silence as the doctor gave the wounded men injections of local anesthetics. The woman who had spoken to them knelt beside one man. She lay a wooden spoon between his teeth, then held his arms pressed to his chest to keep him from flailing. When she nodded, the doctor began cutting the bullet from his leg. The other woman used a washcloth and a basin of water to wipe away the blood.
The man began to wriggle from the pain.
"I've always found that the toughest part about being a diplomat is when you have to say and do nothing," Bicking said softly to Hood.
Hood shook his head. "That isn't the toughest part," he whispered. "What's tough is knowing that compared to the people in the front lines, what you do is nothing."
At the doctor's request, the woman stopped cleaning the wound to hold the man's leg still. Without asking, Hood handed Bicking the phone, then hurried over. He picked up the cloth, maneuvered his arm between the three bodies, and dabbed at the blood, as deftly, as possible.
"Thank you," said the woman who had spoken to them.
Hood said nothing, and Bicking could see that it was very, very easy.
* * *
FIFTY-FIVE
Tuesday, 3:52 p.m.,
the Bekaa Valley, Lebanon
The Strikers had taken only what they needed from the FAVs. They were wearing their Kevlar vests beneath their uniforms and their gas masks. Their equipment sacks were packed with neo-phosgene grenades, flares, and several bricks of C-4. They were armed with Beretta 9mm pistols with extended magazines and Heckler & Koch MP5 SD3 9mm submachine guns with additional ammunition. They were also carrying plastic thumbcuffs. These small, lightweight cuffs incapacitated individuals by locking them thumb-to-thumb, knuckle facing knuckle. The cuffs could also be used to create a daisy chain of prisoners.
The team had its orders, which had been given to them during the flight from Andrews Air Force Base. Since they knew that the target was going to be a cave or a base rather than a moving target, they would separate into two teams. The first team would muscle its way inside and incapacitate the enemy. The second team would back them up. The second team would also be responsible for preventing enemy troops from escaping or reinforcements from getting in.
If there were a difference between Colonel August