Rodgers crossed the office lobby toward the corridor, Ani leaned over and picked up the TAC-SAT.
“Speak,” she said.
Rodgers was just going out of earshot as she said that. Fortunately, he wasn’t out of earshot for long. He hurried into the hallway and passed under the security camera.
Like Annabelle Hampton, Rodgers was a shark. But for all her bold threats and lies, for all the bluster she’d just thrown at them, he had something the young woman lacked.
Thirty years in the water.
FORTY-FOUR
As soon as Rodgers and Hood passed beyond the fish-eye lens of the security camera, Rodgers took Hood’s cell phone from his pocket. The general stopped in the corridor and listened in silence for a moment, then disconnected. He handed Hood the cell phone along with one of his two guns.
“She told him the truth?” Hood asked.
“She screwed us good,” Rodgers said.
Rodgers pulled the point-to-point radio from his jacket pocket. He pushed the transmit button on top.
“Brett?” he said.
“Here, General.”
“The bottleneck is a go,” Rodgers said. “Will you make it?”
“I’ll make it,” August replied.
“Good,” Rodgers said. “When do you want the feedback?”
“In two minutes,” August said.
Rodgers looked at his watch. “You’ve got it. I’ll get in position, north side of the building. I’ll be ready in seven minutes.”
“Understood,” August said and signed off. “Good luck.”
“Godspeed,” Rodgers said. He put the radio back in his pocket.
Hood shook his head. “You called this one right.”
“Unfortunately,” Rodgers admitted. He looked at his watch. “Listen. I’ve got to get going. Call the NYPD and have them close off this floor and take our lady into custody. She’ll probably be armed, so if she comes out before they get here, you may have to take her down.”
“I can do that,” Hood said.
All of Op-Center’s executive officers had taken extensive weapons training, since they were likely targets of terrorism. Right now, Hood didn’t think he would have any trouble firing at Annabelle Hampton. And it wasn’t only because she had betrayed them. It was because Rodgers was so completely prepared, so much in charge, that there was no questioning his orders. Which was what military leadership was all about.
“I’ll also need you to try what you suggested before.”
“Chatterjee?”
Rodgers nodded. “I know it’s a long shot, but explain what’s going to happen. If she doesn’t want to cooperate, tell her there’s nothing she can do to stop what we’ve set in—”
“I know the drill,” Hood said.
“Right,” Rodgers said. “Sorry. Tell her there’s only one thing I want from her and her people.”
“What’s that?” Hood asked.
Rodgers looked for the exit sign and then hurried toward the stairs. “To stay out of our way.”
FORTY-FIVE
Colonel Brett August moved like a leopard through the silent park. There were no helicopters positioned over this sector; their lights were all on the UN and its immediate approaches. Save for the spillover from the spotlights around the UN complex, the grounds were dark.
August’s stride was long and sure, his body bent low, his balance perfect. The high stakes energized rather than daunted him. Despite the odds against him, he was eager to engage, eager to test himself. And despite the fact that nothing was ever guaranteed in combat, he was confident. Confident of his training, his abilities, and the necessity of what he was doing.
He was also confident of the plan. What General Rodgers had said about the chaotic, quicksilver nature of combat was absolutely true. And the bottleneck gave a unit the ability to contain it somewhat.
The bottleneck operation is a classic maneuver that was first used, as far as anyone could determine, by a small, ragtag army of Russian peasants serving under Prince Alexander Nevsky. The Russians were battling heavily armed and armored Teutonic invaders in the twelfth century. The only way they could conceivably defeat the larger, better-equipped force was by squeezing them onto a frozen lake, where the ice cracked beneath the weight of their armor. Virtually all of the enemy soldiers drowned. The strategy had been adapted by Striker’s former commander, Lieutenant Colonel Charles Squires, for low-personnel offensives.
The idea was to select an area where there was sufficient cover on two sides of an enemy force — such as a gorge, a forest, or a lakeshore. Finding such a spot, the unit, however small, would split into two sections. One group would flank the opposing force, leaving the enemy between them. One part of the divided force would then advance in a tight formation, moving down the neck of a bottle, so to speak. The enemy couldn’t afford to flee, since a hidden army dogging their progress would be able to snipe at them. And if the enemy tried to counterattack, the force in the bottleneck would be able to attack to the front, left, or right. As the attack forced the enemy back, they’d find themselves surprised by the force that had moved behind them. Both sections of the divided unit would then hammer them. Done well, under cover of night or geography, the bottleneck made it possible for a small force to overcome a much larger one.
Colonel August would not have the darkness to cover his move into the chamber. Even if he could kill the lights for a second or two, that would give the terrorists a heads-up. He preferred surprise. Unfortunately, with the lights on, the enemy would know that he was just one man. They would see him come into the chamber, just as they’d seen the United Nations security team enter. If they acted quickly, the bottleneck could be broken.
If that happened, August would still have several advantages. He had been trained as a soldier, not as a security guard. The seats in the Security Council would offer him cover. Thanks to the long, open staircases, the terrorists would find it difficult to sneak up on him, especially if he kept moving low through the upper tiers. And if the terrorists tried to use hostages as a shield, the Striker leader had two other advantages. One was his eye. Brett August was one of the deadliest shots in the combined special forces, and he had the medals to prove it. Only Mike Rodgers had won more. The other advantage was that August wouldn’t be afraid to fire. If he had to risk killing a hostage to take out a terrorist, he was prepared to do that. As Mike Rodgers had said earlier, if they didn’t act decisively and soon, the hostages were going to die anyway.
The garden stretched southward for several blocks. It was actually a small, tree-filled park anchored by a towering sculpture of Saint George slaying the dragon. The statue, a gift of the former Soviet Union, was made from pieces of Soviet SS-20 and American Pershing nuclear missiles that had been destroyed under the terms of the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty of 1987. Like the UN itself, the statue was a public relations gesture: a loud, bold lie saluting peace. The Soviets knew damn well that peace didn’t work unless you had the SS-20s and Pershing missiles to back it up.
Large, gray rats were moving furtively among the rosebushes. Rats were good scouts that way. If they were
