Tom Clancy's op-center_ acts of war - Tom Clancy [63]
Having designed all of that, however, even Rodgers admitted there was no way of knowing what he or anyone would do if the ROC were ever taken. As an experienced hostage negotiator, Herbert had said that it might be worth preserving the operations if some of them could be bartered to keep hostages alive.
But all of that was speculative, Hood thought. We never thought it was ever going to happen.
Hood watched as the ROC's headlights flashed three times. Then the screen went blank.
"Whatever is happening now," Herbert said, "is anybody's guess. It's taking place in darkness. Viens gave this situation Priority A-1, and is trying to get us some infrared reconnaissance. But it'll take at least ninety minutes to reprogram the nearest satellite and turn it around."
Hood continued to stare at the dark image on the monitor. This was one of his worst nightmares. All of their planning, all of their technology had been undermined by what Rodgers called "street fighters." People who fought without rules and without fear. People, who weren't afraid to die or to kill. As Hood had learned from the legitimate strikes and bitter riots Los Angeles had endured during his mayoralty, desperation made enemies deadly.
But Hood reminded himself that adversity made strong leaders stronger. He would have to swallow his guilt and disappointment, put aside his sudden desire to kick things, including himself. He was going to have to lead his team.
"Bob," Hood said, "there's a strike force at the Incirlik Air Base, correct?"
"A small one," Herbert said, "but we can only use it inside Turkey."
"Why?"
"Because there are Turks on the team. If U.S. and Turkish troops go into an Arab nation together, that will be considered a NATO action. It'll create a firestorm with our European allies and turn even friendly Arab nations against us."
"Great," Hood said. He cleared the screen and brought up a form document. He began typing. "In that case," he said, "I'm ordering Striker into the region."
"Without prior Congressional approval?"
"Unless Martha can get it for me within the next ninety minutes, yes. Without approval. I can't wait while they diddle."
"Good man," Herbert said. "I'll order the C-141B packed for a desert operation."
"We can put Striker down at the Incirlik if the ROC stays in Turkey or northern or eastern Syria," Hood said. "If the ROC goes into southern or western Syria or Lebanon, we'll have to see about getting them into Israel."
"The Israelis would welcome anyone wanting to kick terrorist butt," Herbert replied. "And I know just the place to base our team there."
Hood picked up a light-pen and signed the screen. His signature appeared on the Striker Deployment Order No. 9. He saved the document on the hard drive, and then Emailed it to both Martha Mackall and to Colonel Brett August, the new Striker commander. He put the pen down. Then he rapped the edge of the desk slowly with his knuckles.
"Are you okay?" Herbert asked.
"Sure," Hood said. "I'm probably a hell of a lot better than Mike and those poor devils in the ROC."
"Mike will get them through this," Herbert said. "Listen, Chief. Would it make you feel any better to piggyback to the Middle East with Striker? They'll actually be getting there before you."
"No," Hood said. "I need to talk with Nasr about the Syrian strategies. Besides, you and Mike and all the Strikers have worn uniforms. I haven't. I wouldn't feel right planting myself in a seat of honor I haven't earned."
"Take my word for it," Herbert said. "A ride in a C-141B ain't no day at Disneyland. Besides, it's not like you ran from a uniform. You stayed 1A during the draft. You just weren't called. You think I would've gone if the Selective Service Board hadn't grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and said, 'Mr. Herbert, Uncle Sam wants you?' "
"Look," Hood said, "I'd be uneasy about it and that's that. Please brief Colonel August and work out the details with him. Fax the finished mission profile to our embassy in London and have them bring it to me at Heathrow. Bugs has my