Equipped with under-nose, four-barrel large-caliber machine guns and six antitank missiles, it is tasked with stopping all surface force operations, from full-scale attacks to infiltration.

The aircrew was pushing the chopper to move as quickly as possible. The men did not want to stay out any longer than necessary. Even at this relatively low level the cold on the glacier was severe. Strong, sudden winds whipping from the mountains could hasten the freezing of hoses and equipment.

Ground forces were able to stop and thaw clogged lines or icy gears.

Helicopter pilots did not have that luxury.

They tended to find out about a problem when it was too late, when either the main or the tail rotor suddenly stopped turning.

Fortunately, the crew was able to spot 'the likely target' just seventy minutes after taking off. The copilot reported the find to Major Puri.

'There are five persons running across the ice,' the airman said.

'Running?' Major Puri said.

'Yes,' reported the airman.

'They do not appear to be locals. One of them is wearing a high-altitude jump outfit.' 'White?' Puri asked.

'Yes.'

'That's one of the American paratroopers,' Puri said.

'Can you tell who is with him?'

'He is helping someone across the ice.' the airman said.

'That person is wearing a parka. There are three people ahead. One is in a parka, two are wearing mountaineering gear. I can't tell the color because of the night-vision lenses.

But it appears dark.'

'The terrorist who was killed in the mountain cave was wearing a dark blue outfit,' Puri said.

'I have to know the color.'

'Hold on,' the airman replied.

The crew member reached for the exterior light controls on the panel between the seats. He told the pilot to shut down his night-vision glasses for a moment. Otherwise the light would blind him. The pilot and copilot disengaged their goggles and raised them. The copilot turned the light on. The windshield was filled with a blinding white glow reflected from the ice. The airman retrieved his binoculars from a storage compartment in the door. His eyes shrunk to slits as he picked out one of the figures and looked at his clothing.

It was dark blue. The airman reported the information to Major Puri.

'That's one of the terrorists,' the major said.

'Neutralize them all and report back.'

'Repeat, sir?' the airman said.

'You have found the terrorist cell,' Major Puri said.

'You are ordered to use lethal force to neutralize them--'

'Major,' the pilot interrupted.

'Will there be a confirming order from base headquarters?'

'I am transmitting an emergency command Gamma-Zero Red-Eight,' Puri said.

'That is your authorization.'

The pilot glanced at his heads-up display while the copilot input the code on a keyboard located on the control panel.

The onboard computer took a moment to process the data.

Gamma-Zero-Red-Eight was the authorization code of Defense Minister John Kabir.

'Acknowledge Gamma-Zero-Red-Eight authorization,' the pilot replied.

'We are proceeding with the mission.'

A moment later the pilot slid his goggles back into place.

The copilot switched the exterior lights off and replaced his own night-vision optics. Then he descended through one hundred feet to an altitude of fifty feet. He flipped the helmet-attached gun sights over his night-vision glasses, slipped his left hand onto the joystick that controlled the machine gun, and bore down on the fleeing figures.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR.

The Siachin Glacier Friday, 12:55 a. m.

Mike Rodgers's arm was hooked tightly around Apu's back as he looked out on terrain that was lit by the glow of the helicopter's light. The American watched helplessly as Nanda fell, slid, and then struggled to get up.

'Keep moving!' Rodgers yelled.

'Even if you have to crawl, just get closer to the peaks!'

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