chopper them near the cell or try to jump them in. Parachuting would be extremely dangerous in the mountains due to the cold, wind, and visibility.
Perhaps they could get Ron Friday out there first to plant flares. But landing would also present a problem since Striker was expected in Srinagar for an entirely different mission. It might be difficult to break away from their hosts as quickly as Op-Center needed them to.
Besides, Hood thought, the fewer people who came into contact with Striker the better it would be for security. Lowell or Herbert could come up with a reason for them to have parachuted in. The Indian air force would have to go along with that or face the mission being scrubbed.
Hood thought about Rodgers and his team. He was proud to be working with them too. Regardless of how this unfolded it would be brutally difficult for Striker if they went forward. Thinking about it did not make Hood's own problems seem less immediate or important. Relativity never worked like that. Harleigh was traumatized by what had happened at the United Nations. Knowing that other people had lost their lives there did not make it any easier to deal with her condition.
But it did do one thing. It reminded Hood what courage was. He would not forget that in the hours and days ahead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.
Washington, D. C. Thursday, 1:12 a. m.
'We may have something!' Stephen Viens declared.
Gloria Gold was leaning forward in her chair. The excitement in Stephen Viens's voice came through clearly on the computer audio link.
He was right. After methodically scanning the terrain for hours the cameras had detected a promising image.
'Hold on,' Viens said.
'Bemardo is switching us to infrared.
The changeover will take about three minutes.' 'I'm holding,' said Gloria Gold.
'Nice work,' she added.
'Hold the back-patting,' Viens said.
'It still could be just a row of rocks or a herd of mountain goats.'
'That would be a flock of mountain goats,' the fifty-seven year-old woman pointed out.
'Excuse me?' Viens said.
'Herds are domesticated animals,' she said.
'Flocks live in the wild.'
'I see. Once a professor, always a professor,' Viens teased.
'But who will have the last laugh if we find out it's goats being led around by a Sherpa with a crook?'
Gloria smiled.
'You will.' 'Maybe we should bet on it,' Viens said.
'Your micro cam against my lapel pin.' 'No go,' Gloria said.
'Why not?' Viens asked.
'Mine has the range.'
'And mine has the substance,' she replied.
The NRO recon expert had once showed her the MIT lapel pin he had customized. It contained a dot-sized microphone made of molecules that resonated one against the other. It could broadcast sound to his computer audio recorder up to two hundred miles away. Her micro cam was better than that.
It broadcast million-pixel images to her computer from up to ten miles away. It was better and it was much more useful.
'Okay,' Viens said.
'Then let's bet dinner? The loser cooks?
It's a fitting deal. Infrared image, microwave meals--'
'I'm a lousy cook,' said Gloria.
'I'm not.'
'Thanks, but no,' said the thrice-divorced woman. For some reason Viens had always had a crush on her. She liked him too but he was young enough to be her son.
'We'll make it a gentle person bet,' she said.
'If you found the Pakistanis, we both win.'
Viens sighed.
'A diplomat's deal. I accept, but under protest.'
Tall, slender Gloria Gold smiled and leaned back in her chair. She was sitting at her glass-topped desk in Op- Center's technical sector. The lights of her office were off. The only glow came from the twenty-one-inch computer monitor. The halls were silent. She took a swig from the bottle of Evian water she kept on the floor. After knocking
