"Colonel August was right about us needing a backup plan," Herbert said. "We went off the playbook. We've got to get to work and give him—"
"Hold on," Hood said. "Something's not right."
"Excuse me?" Herbert replied.
"Look at this satellite image," Hood said.
Herbert did.
"The terrorist cell is still moving beneath the overhanging ledges, just as they've done since sunup," Hood said. "But they've also got a little elbow room now. They have these shadows to move in." Hood pointed at the jagged areas of blackness on the monitor. "See how the shadows are lengthening as the sun sets behind the Himalayas?"
"I see," Herbert said. "But I don't get your point."
"Look at the direction of the shadows relative to the sun," Hood told him. "The cell is moving in a westerly direction. Not northwesterly. That's different from before."
Herbert stared for a moment. "You're right," he said. "Why the hell would they be doing that?"
"Maybe there's a shortcut?" Hood suggested. "A secret path through the glacier?"
Herbert brought up the detailed photographic overviews from NASA's Defense Mapping Agency. These photographic maps were marked with coordinates and were used to target satellites. Herbert asked the computer to mark the area that Viens was studying now. Hood leaned over Herbert's wheelchair and looked closely at the monitor as a faint red cursor began to pulse on the region the cell was crossing.
"There's no shortcut," Herbert said. "What the hell are they doing? They're actually taking a longer route to the line of control."
"Will August still intercept them?" Hood asked.
"Yes," Herbert said. The intelligence chief pointed to a region slightly north of where the cell was. "Brett came down here. He's heading southeast. He'll just be meeting them a lot sooner than we expected." Herbert studied the map. "But this still doesn't make sense. This route isn't going to take the Pakistanis through more accessible terrain. It's farther from the LOC, it's not at a lower altitude, and it doesn't look easier to negotiate."
"Maybe they've got a weapons cache or another hideout along the way," Hood suggested.
"Possibly," Herbert said. He went back to the live NRO image. "But they were relatively close to the border where they were. Why would they want to give the Indians more time to catch them?"
The interagency phone line beeped. Herbert punched it on speakerphone. "Yes?" Herbert said.
"Bob, it's Viens," said the caller. "It's getting dark in the target area. The light is now down enough for us to switch to heat-scan without being blinded. We'll be able to track the cell easier."
"Go ahead," Herbert said. He hit the mute button on the phone.
Herbert and Hood continued to look at the overhead map. Hood was studying the area at the foot of the plateau.
"Bob, if we move the satellite will we be able to look into this valley?" Hood asked, pointing at a grid marked "77."
"I don't know," Herbert told him. He glanced over at his boss. "Paul, I want to find Mike too. But we only have the one satellite in the region. Do we want to tie it up looking for him?"
"Mike could have lost or damaged his radio in the fall," Hood said. "If he's alive there might be something he can do for Brett. We need every resource we can get over there."
"Even if they're two thousand vertical miles and God knows how many as-the-crow-flies miles away?" Herbert asked.
"We don't know for certain where Mike is," Hood pointed out. "We need to find out."
Before the intelligence chief could consider what Paul Hood had said, Viens came back on the line.
"Bob, are you looking at the new satellite photos?" Viens asked.
Herbert killed the mute function. "No," he replied and immediately jumped back to the feed from the OmniCom. "Is there a problem?"
"Maybe," Viens said. "Even when the cell was under the ledge we always caught a glimpse of a head or arm so we knew we still had them. What do you see now?"
Herbert and Hood both leaned closer to the monitor as the image formed. The picture looked psychedelic, like something from the sixties. Hot, red shadows were spilling out along a field of green-colored rocks and snow.
The shadows of only three people.
"What the hell's going on there?" Herbert asked.
"I don't know," Viens admitted. "Some of the terrorists could have been lost along the way."
"It's also possible they turned on Friday and the Indian officer," Herbert thought aloud. "Maybe there were casualties. We should try and get them on the radio."
"No," Hood said. "Contact August and let him know there are three individuals ahead. Tell him they may be hostile and that he is to use discretion whether to shadow rather than engage. Stephen, can you get me a look at grid 77 on file map OP-1017.63?"
"I'll bring that map up, see if it's in the OmniCom's focal range," Viens replied. "It'll only take a minute."
"Thank you," Hood said.
Herbert shook his head. "What reason would the cell have for attacking Friday?" he asked.
"Maybe it was Friday who turned against the cell," Hood said. Then he straightened. "Wait a minute," he said. "It could be possible that none of the above happened."
"What do you mean?" Herbert asked.
"Ron Friday must have told the cell that the Indian soldiers were coming toward them," Hood said.
"Right," Herbert said.
"The Pakistanis could not know there was a threat until Friday joined them," Hood went on. "They did not know that getting Nanda to Pakistan was the only way they might be able to stop a nuclear exchange. What would you do with that knowledge, especially if you were also told that an American strike force was coming to link up with you?" Hood said. "If you were smart and bold and probably a little desperate you would try something unexpected."
"Like splitting your forces and using one group to draw the Indian soldiers away," Herbert said.
"Right. Which means that the other four people may be somewhere else, probably holding to the original course," Hood said.
"If that's true, it means we don't want August and Musicant linking up with the splinter group, since they're probably going to want to draw fire from the Indians," Herbert said.
"Correct. Bob, let August know what we're thinking," Hood said. He leaned back over the computer and returned to the NASA map. "Stephen, I need to see into that valley."
"I've got your map up now," Viens said. "I'm looking to see if the coordinates are in the OmniCom computer."
Meanwhile, Herbert punched in Striker's TAC-SAT number. "Paul, you can't be thinking what I think you are," Herbert said.
"I'm sure I am," Hood informed him.
"Assuming he's all right, you don't even know if you can talk to him," Herbert said.
"One thing at a time," Hood said.
"I can do it!" Viens shouted. "I'm sending up the order now. No guarantees about cloud cover and visibility, Paul, but I'll have you in the valley in ninety seconds."
"Thank you," Hood said.
"What are we looking for?" Viens asked.
"A parachute," Hood said. "One that may have Mike Rodgers on the end of it."
THIRTY-NINE
During the Strikers' descent, the AN-12 had made a quick turn to the south. A powerful downdraft from the fast-departing transport had driven Mike Rodgers toward the center of the parachutists. As a result, he was protected from the main thrust of the flak attack. But Rodgers had heard the explosions. He had seen the results as his teammates fell around him. By the time the general had guided himself toward the target, only he and one other striker were still aloft. Despite the heroic efforts of one of the strikers on the ledge, Rodgers had failed to reach the plateau. He had struck his shins and then his right hip and torso on the ledge. Fortunately, his equipment vest took the brunt of the chest hit. But Rodgers was dropping too fast and was not able to hold on. He was also unable to see what happened to the last aloft teammate. At least that chute was on the correct side of the plateau. If he or she were able to disengage from the chute it would probably be all right.