Tom Clancy's op-centre_ mirror image - Tom Clancy [122]
"I'm shaking a little myself," said Hood. "This isn't exactly standard operating procedure."
"That is right," said Orlov. "But these aren't ordinary circumstances either."
"How true," said Hood.
Herbert turned around. "We can do it," he said, his eyes imploring. "But I urge you--"
"Thanks," Hood said. "General Orlov--"
"I heard," he said. "Our audio is very good here."
"What does he think ours is?" Herbert muttered. "CIA hand-me-downs?"
"Ask your man to access channel twenty-four," Orlov said, "on what is undoubtedly a state-of-the-art communications control systems satellite dish and transmitter, Model CB7."
Hood grinned at Herbert, who wasn't in the mood. "And ask him," said Herbert, "if cosmonauts still urinate on the bus tires before they head to the launch pad."
"We do," Orlov said, his voice wafting past Hood's critical expression. "Yuri Gagarin started the tradition after drinking too much tea. But women cosmonauts do it too. In matters of equality, we have always been ahead of you, I think."
Ann and Liz both looked at Herbert, who shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair as he put in the call to the satellite room.
It took two minutes for the connection to be made, and then the General's face winked on-- the thick-rimmed black glasses, strong cheekbones, swarthy complexion, and high, unworried forehead. Looking into those intelligent brown eyes, eyes that had seen the earth from a perspective granted very few people, Hood felt he could trust them.
"Well," said Orlov, smiling warmly, "there we are. Thank you again."
"Thank you," Hood said.
"Now let us be frank," said Orlov. "We're both concerned about the train and its cargo. It concerns you enough that you sent a strike force to intercept it. Perhaps to destroy it. It concerns me enough to have posted guards to stop them. Do you know what the cargo is?" Orlov asked.
"Why don't you tell us?" Hood replied. He figured that they might as well hear it from the horse's mouth.
Orlov said, "The train is carrying currency which will be used in Eastern Europe to bribe officials and finance anti-government activities."
"When?" Hood asked.
Herbert raised a finger to his lips. Hood touched mute.
"Don't let him try and tell you he's on our side," Herbert said. "He could stop the train if he wanted. Someone in his position has to have friends."
"Not necessarily, Bob," Rodgers pointed out. "No one knows what's going on in the Kremlin."
Hood unmuted the phone. "What do you propose, General Orlov?"
"I cannot confiscate the cargo," Orlov said. "I haven't the personnel."
"You're a general with a command," Hood said.
"I've had to have an ally here scan my own line and office for bugs," he said. "I am Leonidas at Thermopylae., betrayed by Ephialtes. I am holding a very dangerous pass here."
Rodgers smiled. "I liked that one," he said under his breath.
Orlov said, "But though I can't get to the cargo, it mustn't be delivered. And you mustn't attack the train."
"General," Hood said, "that isn't a proposal. It's a Gordian knot."
"I'm sorry?" Orlov said.
"A puzzle, one that's very difficult to solve. How can we satisfy those criteria?"
"With a peaceful meeting in Siberia," Orlov said, "between your troops and mine."
Rodgers swept a finger across his throat. Reluctantly, Hood killed the speaker again.
"Be careful, Paul," Rodgers said. "You can't leave Striker out there defenseless."
Herbert added, "Especially with Orlov's son in charge of the train. The General's looking to protect his boy's butt. The Russians could gun Striker down, armed or not, and the U.N. would tell them they had every right."
Hood hushed them with his hand and got back on the phone. "What do you suggest, General Orlov?"
"I will order the officer in charge of the train to have the guards stand down and allow your team to approach."
"Your son is in charge of the train," said Hood.
"Yes," Orlov replied. "My son. But that changes nothing. This is a matter of international importance."
"Why don't you just order the train to turn back?" Hood asked.