'You don't know that,' Rodgers said.
'Correct,' Friday said.
'But I do know that if we go to Islamabad, as Americans who saved Pakistan from nuclear annihilation, we create new avenues of intelligence and cooperation in that world.'
'Mr. Friday, that's a political issue, not a tactical military concern,' Rodgers said.
'If we're successful then Washington can make some of those inroads you mention.'
With Apu still clinging to him, Rodgers started moving around Friday.
The NSA operative put out a hand and stopped him.
'Washington is helpless,' Friday said.
'Politicians live on the surface. They are actors. They engage in public squabbles and posturing where the populace can watch and boo or cheer.
We are the people who matter. We burrow inside. We make the tunnels. We control the conduits.'
'Mr. Friday, move,' Rodgers said.
This was about personal power. Rodgers had no time for that.
'I will move,' Friday said.
'With Nanda, to the line of control. Two people can make it across.'
Rodgers was about to push past him when he felt something.
A faint, rapid vibration in the bottoms of his feet. A moment later it grew more pronounced. He felt it crawl up his ankles.
'Give me the torch!' he said suddenly.
'What?' Friday said.
Rodgers leaned around Friday.
'Samouel--don't turn on the light!' 'I won't,' he said.
'I feel it!'
'Feel what?' Nanda said.
'Shit,' Friday said suddenly. He obviously felt it too and knew what it meant.
'Shit.'
Rodgers pulled the torch from Friday. The NSA agent was surprised and did not struggle to keep it. Rodgers held the torch above his head and cast the light around him. There was a mountain of ice to the right, about four hundred yards away. It stretched for miles in both directions. The top of the formation was lost in the darkness.
Rodgers handed the torch to Nanda.
'Go to that peak,' he said.
'Samouel! Follow Nanda!'
Samouel was already running toward them.
'I will!' he shouted.
'My grandfather--!' Nanda said.
'I'll take him,' Rodgers assured her. He looked at Friday.
'You wanted power? You've got it. Protect her, you son of a bitch.'
Friday turned and half-ran, half-skated across the ice after Nanda.
Rodgers leaned close to Apu's ear.
'We're going to have to move as fast as possible,' he said.
'Hold tight.'
'I will,' Apu replied.
The men began shuffling as quickly as possible toward the peak. The vibrations were now strong enough to shake Rodgers's entire body. A moment later, the beat of the rotors was audible as the Indian helicopter rolled in low over the horizon.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE.
The Siachin Glacier Friday, 12:53 a. m.
The powerful Russian-made Mikoyan Mi-35 helicopter soared swift and low over the glacier. Its two-airman crew kept a careful watch on the ice one hundred and fifty feet beneath them. They were flying at low light so the chopper could not be easily seen and targeted from the ground.
Radar would keep them from plowing into the towers of ice. Helmets with night-vision goggles as well as the low altitude would allow them to search for their quarry.
The Mi-35 is the leading attack helicopter of the Indian air force.
