"Fair enough," Herbert said. He smiled. He respected a man who did not pass the buck. Especially a buck this big.
"Ron," Lewis said, "I'd like you to talk to the farmer and to Captain Nazir. See if they're with you on a possible search-and-capture. I agree with Bob. Mr. Kumar can be very useful if we're able to locate his granddaughter."
"I'll do it," Friday said.
"Good," Herbert said. "Hank, you and I will talk after I've discussed this with Paul and General Rodgers. Mr. Friday — thank you for your help."
Friday said nothing.
Herbert hung up. He swore at the very thought of Ron Friday and then put him from his mind — for now. There were larger issues to deal with.
He made an appointment to see Paul Hood at once.
TWENTY-THREE
Before leaving the helicopter Ron Friday opened a compartment between the seats. He found an old backup book of charts in there. The chopper's flight plan was dictated by computer-generated maps. These animated landscapes and grid overlays were presented on a monitor located above the primary flight display screen between the pilot and copilot stations. A keypad beneath the monitor was used to punch in coordinates. Friday tore out the maps he wanted and shoved them in the pocket of his windbreaker.
As he headed back to the farm, Friday punched the air. He unleashed a flurry of strong, angry uppercuts that did not just hit the imaginary chin of Bob Herbert. The punches went through his new nemesis as he struck at the sky. Who the hell did Bob Herbert think he was? The man had been wounded in the line of duty. That entitled him to disability compensation, not respect.
The pismire, Friday thought. Bob Herbert was just a wage-slave drone in the hive.
Friday finished his flurry of blows. His heart was ramming his chest, his arms perspiring. Breathing heavily, he flexed his fingers as he stalked across the rocky, uneven terrain.
It's all right, Friday told himself. He was here, at the heart of the action, in control of his destiny. Bob Herbert was back in Washington barking orders. Orders that could easily be ignored since Lewis had not allowed him to be seconded to Op-Center. Friday put the self-pitying bureaucrat from his mind and concentrated on the work at hand.
Captain Nazir had gone inside with Apu Kumar. The Black Cat officer was looking around the house while Kumar sat quietly on the tattered couch. Both men turned as Friday entered.
"What did they say?" Nazir asked.
"The Pakistani cell is alive and well and apparently moving north through the Himalayas," Friday told Nazir. "Op-Center and the NSA are considering a joint mission to try and apprehend the cell along with Mr. Kumar's granddaughter. They want to keep them all out of the hands of the SFF. Would the Black Cat Commandos and their allies in the government have a problem with an American-run search-and-recover mission?"
"Does your government believe there is a chance for a nuclear exchange?" Nazir asked.
"If they didn't think so, they would not even be considering a covert action," Friday replied. "It looks like your friends from the Special Frontier Force wanted that cell bad enough. Our ELINT resources caught a squad of them chasing the Pakistanis through the mountains."
"Where is the SFF squad?" Nazir asked.
"Waiting in line for reincarnation," Friday replied.
"Excuse me?"
"From what I gathered the commandos were caught by a Pakistani suicide bomber," Friday told him.
"I see," Nazir said. He thought for a moment. "The SFF presence supports what we were thinking, that they set this up."
"It sure looks that way," Friday said.
"Then yes," Nazir said. "The Black Cat Commandos would help you in any way we can."
"Good," Friday said. He walked over to Kumar. "We're going to need your help, too," he told the farmer. "Your granddaughter was apparently working for the SFF. Her testimony is the key to war and peace. If we catch up to them she must be made to tell the truth."
Apu Kumar rolled a slumped shoulder. "She is an honest girl. She would not lie."
"She's also a patriot, isn't she?" Friday asked.
"Of course," Apu agreed.
"Patriotism has a way of dulling the senses," Friday told him. "That's why soldiers sometimes throw themselves on hand grenades. If your granddaughter helped the SFF frame the Pakistanis for the destruction of a Hindu temple, she has to tell that to the Indian people."
Apu seemed surprised and gravely concerned. "Do you think that is what she's done?" he asked.
"We do," Friday told him.
"Poor Nanda," Apu said.
"We're not just talking about Nanda," Captain Nazir said. "If she does not tell what she knows then millions of people may die."
Apu rose. "Nanda could not have known what she was doing. She would never have agreed to such an outcome. But I will help you," he said. "What do you want me to do?"
"For now, get some warm clothes together and wait," Friday said. "If you have extra gloves and long johns, bring them too."
Apu said he would and then hurried to the bedroom. Friday walked over to a small table and pulled the maps from his pocket.
"Captain?" he said. It was a command, not a question.
"Yes?" Nazir replied.
"We need to make plans," Friday said.
"Flight plans?" Nazir said, noticing the charts.
"Yes," Friday replied.
But that was just the start. Whatever the mission and however it turned out, Friday would be in good stead with the Black Cat Commandos and his own friends and advocates in the Indian government. He was sure Hank Lewis would allow him to remain here when this was all over. And then Ron Friday would be free to nurture his ties to the nuclear and oil industries. That was where the nation's future lay.
That was where his own future lay.
TWENTY-FOUR
The call from Commander San Hussain did not surprise Major Dev Puri. Ever since he was informed of the top-secret plan to use the Pakistani cell, the major had been expecting to hear from the Special Frontier Force director at about this time. However, what Commander Hussain had to say was a complete surprise. Major Puri sat in his bunker for several moments after hanging up. For weeks, he had been expecting to play an important part in this operation: the quick and quiet evacuation of the line of control.
But Puri had not anticipated playing this role. The role that was supposed to have been played by the SFF's MEAN — Mountain Elite Attack Nation. That was the name of the original resistance force that worked to overthrow British imperial rule on the subcontinent.
The most important role.
Puri reached into a tin box on the desk. He plucked out a wad of chewing tobacco and placed it beside his gum. He began to chew slowly. Puri had been expecting to hear that the Pakistani cell had been captured in their mountain headquarters. After that, Puri's units were supposed to begin preparing for retreat. The preparations were supposed to be made quietly and unhurriedly, without the use of cell phones or radios. As much as possible should be done underground in the shelters and low in the trenches. The Pakistanis would notice nothing unusual going on. Devi's four hundred soldiers were supposed to be finished by eleven A.M. but they were not to move out until they received word directly from Hussain.
Instead, Commander Hussain had called with a much different project. Major Puri was to take half the four hundred soldiers in his command and move south, into the mountains. They were to carry full survival packs and dress in thermal camouflage clothes. Hussain wanted them to proceed in a wide sweep formation toward the Siachin Glacier, closing in as the glacier narrowed and they neared the summit. "Wide sweep" meant that the militia would consist of a line of men who came no closer than eyesight. That meant the force could be stretched across approximately two miles. Since radio channels might be monitored, Hussain wanted them to communicate using field signals. Those were a standardized series of gestures developed by MEAN in the 1930s. The Indian army adopted them in 1947. The signals told them little more than to advance, retreat, wait, proceed, slow down, speed up, and attack. Directions for attacks were indicated by finger signals: the index finger was north, middle finger south, ring finger west, and pinky east. The thumb was the indication to "go." Those hand signals were usually enough. The commands were issued by noncommissioned officers stationed in the center of each platoon. They could be overruled by the company lieutenants and by Puri himself, who would be leading the operation from the center of the wide sweep. In the event of an emergency, the men had radios they could use.