'It is for me,' Herbert insisted.
'A few calls, some promises, a little intel exchange usually gets me what I want. It lets me check up on people, make sure there isn't a double cross on the other end. Not this time. I can't even get anything on Captain Nazir.'
'To tell you the truth, I'm actually relieved that there's tight security for once,' Rodgers laughed.
'Tight security is when the opposition doesn't know what is going on,' Herbert said.
'I get worried when our own people can't tell me exactly what is going on.' 'Cannot or will not?' Rodgers asked.
'Cannot,' Herbert said.
'Why don't you call Mala Chatterjee,' Rodgers suggested.
'I bet she would be delighted to help.'
'That's not funny.' Herbert said.
Chatterjee was the young Indian secretary-general of the United Nations. She was a career pacifist, the most vocal critic of Op-Center and the way they had taken over and resolved the crisis.
'I talked to my people at the CIA and at our embassies in Islamabad and New Delhi,' Herbert went on.
'They don't know anything about this operation. That's unusual. And the National Security Agency does not exactly have things under control. The plan has not gone through the usual com-sim.
Lewis is too busy housecleaning for that.' 'I know,' Rodgers said.
'The usual com-sim' was a computer simulation that was run on any plan that had been approved for the field. The sponsoring agency typically spent days running the simulations to find holes in the main blueprint and also to give backup options to the agents heading into the field.
But the National Security Agency had recently been shaken up by the resignation of their director. Jack Fenwick. That occurred after Hood had identified Fenwick as one of the leaders of a conspiracy to help remove the president from office. His replacement, Hank Lewis, formerly assistant to the president, coordinator of strategic planning, was spending his time removing Fenwick loyalists.
'We'll be okay,' Rodgers assured him.
'Back in Vietnam my plans were always held together with spit.'
'Yeah, but there at least you knew who the enemy was,' Herbert pointed out.
'All I want you to do is stay in touch.
If something seems out of whack I want to be able to let you know.'
'I will,' Rodgers promised. They would be traveling with the TAC-SAT phone. The secure uplink would allow Striker to call Op-Center from virtually anywhere in the world.
Herbert left and General Rodgers picked up the files and diskettes he wanted to take. The hall outside the door was getting busier as Op-Center's day crew arrived. It was nearly three times the size of the skeletal night crew. Yet Rodgers felt strangely cut off from the activity. It was not just the focused 'mission mode' Rodgers went into before leaving the base. It was something else. A guardedness, as if he were already in the field. In and around Washington that was not far from the truth.
Despite Rodgers's assurances, what Herbert said had resonated with him.
Herbert was not an alarmist and his concerns did worry Rodgers a little. Not for himself or even his old friend Colonel Brett August.
August would be commanding Op-Center's elite Striker unit. Rodgers was worried about the young multi service members of Striker who would be joining him in Kashmir. Especially the ones with families.
That was never far from any commander's mind. Herbert had helped to give it a little extra volume.
But risk came with the uniform and the generous pension.
Rodgers would do everything he could to safeguard the personnel and the mission. Because, in the end, there was one inescapable truth about actions taken by men like Mike Rodgers and Brett August.
The goal was worth the risk.
CHAPTER TWO.
Srinagar, India Wednesday, 3:51 p. m.
Five hours after giving a false name to officials at the Foreigners' Regional Registration Office at Srinagar Airport, Ron Friday was walking the streets of what he hoped would be his home for the next year or two. He had checked into a small, cheap inn off Shervani Road.
He'd first heard about Binoo's Palace the last time he was here. There was a gaming parlor in the back, which meant that the local police had been paid to keep the place secure. There, Friday would be both anonymous and safe.
The National Security Agency officer was happy to have gotten out of Baku, Azerbaijan. He was happy not only to get out of the former Soviet Republic but to be here, in Srinagar, less than twenty-five miles from the line of control.
He had been to the capital of the northern state before and found it invigorating. Distant artillery fire was constant. So were the muted pops of land mines in the hills. During early morning there was the scream of jets and the distinctive whumping sound of their cluster bombs and the louder crashes of their guided missiles.
Fear was also in the air day and night. The ancient resort city was governed and patrolled by Indian Hindu soldiers while commerce was controlled by Kashmiri Muslims. Not a week went by without four or five deaths due to terrorist bombings, shoot-outs, or hostage situations.
