'Good afternoon, Mr. Ambassador,' Hood said.
'Tell me how we can help you.'
Herbert wheeled in then and shut the door behind him.
'First, Director Hood, I want to offer my condolences on the tragic loss of your Striker unit, and my government's appreciation for what they were attempting to accomplish,' Simathna said.
'Thank you,' Hood replied. The ambassador sounded a little too compassionate. He had obviously figured out that the team had not been in the region to help stop Indian aggression.
Herbert was a little more blunt. The intelligence chief made an up-and-down motion with his fist.
'Second, my government has a plan that may assist General Rodgers and his personnel,' Simathna went on.
'As I have already explained to Mr. Plummer, it will require an understanding with your government that details of the operation must remain confidential.'
'I am not in a position to speak for the government, only my small corner of it,' Hood said.
'If you tell me your idea I will immediately confer with people who are in a position to offer those assurances.'
Paul Hood was dying inside. Vital seconds and quite possibly lives were slipping away while he and Ambassador Simathna postured. But this was how the dance was done.
'The plan we propose is that your group proceed to a nuclear missile site that our military has erected in the glacier,' Simathna said.
'It is a remotely operated site with video cameras monitoring the interior. The Indian woman can make her broadcast from inside the silo.'
Hood stared at Bob Herbert. Mike Rodgers was being invited to visit one of the silos Striker had originally been sent to find. The irony of the proposal was almost painful. What was difficult to process, however, was the dangers inherent in the plan.
'Mr. Ambassador, would you excuse me a minute?' Hood asked.
'Given the situation 1 would not take much longer than that,' Simathna replied.
'I understand, sir, but I need to confer with one of my associates,' Hood replied.
'Of course,' Simathna said.
Hood punched the mute button.
'What do your instincts tell you. Bob? Are they using us?'
'Man, I just don't know,' Herbert admitted.
'My gut says that the team needs to get to the nearest, warmest refuge as soon as possible. The more I looked at photographs of the glacier the more I started thinking they'll never be able to cross it without more gear and supplies than they're carrying.
And the weather reports for the region suck. It's going to be around ten below zero before midnight. But I have to tell you, of all the places they could go. a Pakistani nuclear silo would be my absolute last choice.'
'I agree with all of that,' Hood replied.
'The problem is we also have to get Nanda Kumar on-camera as fast as possible.'
'Nanda, yes,' Herbert said.
'The problem is Mike and Ron Friday. If the Pakistanis get them on video there's no telling what bullshit story Islamabad might concoct.
They could kill the audio, release the video to the news media, and say that Mike and Friday are there as technical advisors. How's that going to play in India, Russia, China, and God knows where else? An American general and intelligence officer working closely with Pakistani nuclear missiles?'
'They'd say we were in on the Pakistani operation from the start,' Hood said.
'I'm just not seeing any other viable options.'
Herbert shook his head.
'Nothing's jumping out at me either.'
'Then let's move this along and just watch our step,' Hood told him.
'The first thing we have to do is try to get Brett on the line. Let's see if he can even contact Mike.' 'I'm on it,' Herbert said.
'I'll get the coordinates of the missile silo from Simathna,' Hood told him.
'Then I'll call Hank Lewis, Senator Fox, and the president and let them know what we want to do.'
'You won't get support from Fox or the president,' Herbert said.
'I know, but I don't think they'll shut the operation down,' Hood replied.
'We're already in this too deep. If Mike and Friday cross the line of control with the Pakistani cell, Islamabad will say the United States was helping them escape. That would be nearly as damaging.'
Herbert agreed. He turned and wheeled himself into a corner of the office and punched the TAC-SAT number into his wheelchair phone.
