their way in and out of most things. Friday could do this.
More than that, he wanted it. If he could grab the cell and bring them home he would have a chance to get in with their Pakistani controllers. Having strong ties to New Delhi, Islamabad, and Washington would be invaluable to an operative in this region.
'Are we on the same page?' Herbert asked.
Friday looked down at the map.
'Yes,' he said. And as he looked he remembered something that Herbert had told him about the explosion. It had occurred at approximately eight thousand feet. That would put the cell on the southwest side of the range. Everything north of that, up through the glacier and the line of control, was at a higher elevation.
Friday's grip relaxed. To hell with desk jockeys in general and Bob Herbert in particular.
'We'll brief you again when we have Striker's precise ETA and location,' Herbert said.
'Do you have any questions?'
'No,' Friday replied calmly.
'Is there anything you wanted to add. Hank?' Herbert asked.
Lewis said there was nothing else. The NSA head thanked Friday and the men hung up. Friday returned the phone to its cradle.
'What is it?' Captain Nazir asked.
'What we've been waiting for,' Friday said.
'They found the cell?' Nazir asked.
Friday nodded.
'And my granddaughter?' Apu asked.
'She's with them,' Friday said. He did not know if she was or not, of course. But he wanted Apu with them. The farmer had harbored the enemy cell. If they needed to forestall any action by India, Apu's confession would play very well on Pakistani TV.
Friday looked at the map. Herbert had told him that the cell was sticking to the mountain ledges. That meant that if the chopper started following the line of the range at eight thousand feet and flew up one side and then down the other they were sure to encounter the cell. Friday glanced down at the inset come projection and smiled. The round-trip was less than two hundred miles.
He would have them. And he would have that do-nothing Herbert.
'Come on,' Friday said to Nazir.
'Where are we going?' the officer asked.
'To catch a terrorist cell,' Friday replied.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.
Washington, D. C. Thursday, 4:02 a. m.
Paul Hood's office was just a few steps away from Op Center high-security conference room. Known as the Tank, the conference room was surrounded by walls of electronic waves that generated static for anyone trying to listen in with bugs or external dishes.
Hood entered after everyone was already there. The heavy door was operated by a button at the side of the large oval conference table.
Hood pushed it when he sat down at the head of the table.
The small room was lit by fluorescent lights hung in banks over the conference table. On the wall across from Hood's chair the countdown clock was dark. When they had a crisis and a deadline, the clock flashed its ever- changing array of digital numbers.
The walls, floor, door, and ceiling of the Tank were all covered with sound-absorbing Acoustix. The mottled gray and-black strips were each three inches wide and overlapped one another to make sure there were no gaps. Beneath them were two layers of cork, a foot of concrete, and then another layer of Acoustix. In the midst of the concrete, on all six sides of the room, was a pair of wire grids that generated vacillating audio waves. Electronically, nothing left the room without being utterly distorted. If any listening device did somehow manage to pick up a conversation from inside, the randomness of the changing modulation made reassembling the conversations impossible.
'Thank you all for coming,' Hood said. He turned down the brightness on the computer monitor that was set in the table and began bringing up the files from his office. At the same time. Bugs Benet was busy raising Colonel August on the TAC-SAT. In order to make sure Striker stayed in the loop, August and Rodgers were taking turns sleeping enroute to Turkey.
'No problem,' Lowell Coffey said. He had been pouring water from a pitcher into a coffee machine on a table in the far corner. The percolator began to bubble and pop.
'The roads were empty. I managed to sleep on the way. Anybody think to get doughnuts?'
'That was your job,' Herbert pointed out.
'You were the only one who wasn't here.' He maneuvered his wheelchair into his place at Hood's right.
'I've got mid rats in my office if you're hungry,' said Liz Gordon as she settled in to Hood's left.
'No, thanks.' Coffey shuddered as he sat across from Hood.
'I'll stick to the coffee.'
