'Of course, the Indians will certainly claim that Ms. Kumar was brainwashed by the Pakistanis. But General Rodgers will help to dispel that propaganda.'
'General Rodgers will tell the truth, whatever that turns out to be,' Hood said diplomatically.
As Hood was speaking the other phone beeped. Simathna excused himself and answered it.
The ambassador's smile trembled a moment before collapsing.
His thin face lost most of its color. Ron Plummer did not dare imagine what the ambassador had just been told.
Thoughts of a Pakistani nuclear strike flashed through his desperate mind.
Simathna said nothing. He just listened. After several seconds he hung up the phone and regarded Plummer. The sadness in his eyes was profound.
'Mr. Hood, I'm afraid I have bad news for you,' the ambassador said.
'What kind of bad news?' Hood asked.
'Apparently, the slab on top of the silo was removed or significantly damaged during General Rodgers's actions.'
Simathna said.
'Don't say it,' Hood warned.
'Don't you frigging say it.'
Simathna did not have to. They all knew what that meant.
The defensive explosives around the silo had been automatically activated. Without someone inside the silo to countermand them, they would detonate in just a few minutes.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX.
Washington, D. C. Thursday, 6:24 p. m.
Paul Hood could not believe that Mike Rodgers had gone this far, worked whatever miracle he had conceived, only to be blown up for something that could be prevented. But to prevent it they would have to reach him.
Though Hood, Herbert, and Coffey sat in silence, frustration under the surface was intense. Despite the technology at their disposal, the men were as helpless as if they were living in the Stone Age.
Hood was slumped in his leather seat. He was looking down, humbled by this uncharacteristic sense of helplessness.
In the past there had always been another play in the book.
Someone they could call for assistance, time to move resources into position, at the very least a means of communication.
Not now. And he suspected that Mike or Nanda or the others had used up their guardian spirit quota stopping a nuclear war. Hood did not think it would help to pray for their salvation now. Maybe their lives and the lives of the Strikers were the price they had to pay. Still, Hood did ask quietly that whatever Christian, Hindu, or Muslim entities had gotten them this far would see them a little further. Paul Hood was not ready to lose Mike Rodgers. Not yet.
'Maybe Mike and the girl did their business and left the area,' Coffey suggested.
'it's possible,' Herbert said.
'Knowing Mike, though, he would continue to broadcast for a while. They may have no way of knowing that their message got through.'
Coffey scowled.
'Even if they did leave, I'm not sure they would have gone far enough,'
Herbert went on.
'What do you mean?' Coffey asked.
'It's dark, dead-of-night where they are,' Herbert said.
'My guess is that after all they've been through, Mike would have wanted to find a place to bunk down until well after sunrise. Let the area warm a little. If anyone was wounded, in whatever went on out there, Mike might have wanted to take time to perform first aid. The bug in the juice is we don't know exactly how much time is left before the blast.
Obviously, Mike accessed the silo somehow to make the transmission. The explosives were armed when he moved the slab. That means we're well into the countdown.'
'I can't believe those bastards in Pakistan can't shut the process down,' Coffey said.
'I do,' Herbert replied.
'And I'll tell you what's happening right now. I've been thinking about this. I'll bet they put together a network of underground silos out there, all linked by tunnel. Right now the missile is automatically shifting to another site.'
'You mean like an underground Scud,' Coffey said.
'Exactly like that,' Herbert replied.
'As soon as it's out of range the silo and whoever found it go kablooey.
No evidence of a missile is found among the residue. They can claim it was some kind of shelter for scientists
