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"Of course not, sir."

Nikita left, wondering where Rossky had gone and whether, absent the Colonel's orders, he could allow the crates to be turned over to his father.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Tuesday, 6:45 A.M.,

Washington, D.C.

"Another message from NRO," Bugs Benet said as Hood and the rest of the Op-Center officers sat around the conference table in the Tank.

"Thanks," Hood said to the video image of his assistant. "Put it through."

Viens's voice came on, but his picture did not. Instead, a black-and-white image was constructed on the screen at fifty lines a second.

"Paul," said Viens, "we picked this up just three minutes ago."

Hood swung the screen partly toward Rodgers, then watched as the white, hazy, moonlike terrain appeared, followed by the train, which occupied roughly one-third of the center of the image. The image was extremely hazy because of the falling snow, but what should have been an unbroken expanse of white on top of the cars was not. There were shadows.

"Sorry for the quality," said Viens. "It's snowing a hell of a lot. But we're certain those shapes on top are soldiers. They're in camouflage whites, so you can't see them per se-- though you can make out the shadows."

"Those are soldiers, all right," Rodgers said tensely as he pointed a finger to the screen. "You can tell by the way they're arrayed. Last one facing forward toward the left, next one facing back to the right, next one forward right, and so on. These shapes here-- he traced a small line near one of the smudges-- "appear to be a rifle. "

Viens said, "That's how we figured it, Mike."

"Thank you, Stephen," Hood said, then switched the NRO chief off. The room was silent, save for the faint hum of the electronic grid surrounding it. "Can they know that Striker is on the ground?"

"Very possible," Bob Herbert said as the phone on the desk beeped.

"For you," Rodgers said as he glanced at the code number.

Because of the electronic field, Herbert couldn't be reached on the cellular phone attached to his wheelchair. He picked up the phone built into the side of the conference table, punched in his code number, and listened. When he hung up, his face looked waxen.

"The 76T is being escorted home by a pair of MiGs," Herbert said. "They'll start leaking oil and head for Hokkaido, but it won't be going back into Russia."

Rodgers looked at his watch, then reached for the phone near him. "I'm going to have the Mosquito go in from Hokkaido."

Herbert slapped the desktop. "No good, Mike. That's a round-trip of one thousand miles. The Mosquito's range is seven hundred--"

"I know what her range is," Rodgers shot back. "Seven hundred and ten-point-two miles. But we can get a cruiser up from the Sea of Japan. She can land on the deck--"

"We didn't get committee permission for the Mosquito to fly in solo," Martha Mackall said.

"We also didn't get approval for them to exchange fire with Russian soldiers," Lowell Coffey added. "This action was supposed to be reconnoitering only."

"I care about my soldiers," Rodgers replied, "not about those blowhards."

"Let's see how we can try to please everyone," Hood said, "and disappoint them all. Mike--"

"Yes, sir?" he said, breathing deeply.

"What do we do with Striker if we abort now?"

Rodgers took a long, deep breath. "The Mosquito goes in anyway," he said. "The nearest Agent-in-Place who could possibly sneak them out of Asia is in Hegang, Heilongjiang, about two hundred miles away, and I won't have them make that trip."

"In China?" Coffey said. "No one in Russia?"

"Our people in Vladivostok became repatriated when the Iron Curtain came down," Rodgers said. "We haven't had the resources to recruit others."

"What about lying low until things quiet down," Phil Katzen asked. "The terrain is survivable--"

"The Russians know Striker's there, dammit!" Rodgers said. "They've got satellites too, and they'll find them!" He looked at Hood. "Paul, the best way out of this is straight ahead, as planned."

"Straight ahead," said Martha, "to a showdown with Russian soldiers at a time when the country's