Tom Clancy's Op-Center: Line of Control by Tom Clancy

Author:Tom Clancy [Clancy, Tom]
Format: epub
Tags: Crisis management in government - United States, Action & Adventure, Espionage, Fiction - Espionage, Government investigators - United States, Fiction, War & Military, Intrigue, Thriller, Crisis management in government, Pakistan, India, Adventure stories, Military, National Crisis Management Centre (Imaginary place)
ISBN: 9780425180051
Publisher: Penguin Group
Published: 2002-01-11T05:00:00+00:00

"Ron," Herbert replied.

"All right," the woman said.

"What do you want with us?"

"We want to get you home alive," Herbert said. He weighed his next words with care in case anyone was listening.

"We know what happened in Srinagar. We know what your group did and did not do."

He did not have to say more. She would know the rest.

There was a short silence.

"Why do you want to help us?" the woman finally asked.

"Because we believe there will be extreme retaliation," Herbert informed her.

"Not against you but against your nation."

"Does your person Friday know about this?" she asked.

"He knows about that and more," Herbert informed the woman.

"And he is not alone." "Yes," the woman said.

"We rescued an old farmer--" "That is not what I mean," Herbert said.

There was another brief silence. Herbert could imagine the woman scanning the skies for other choppers.

"I see," said the woman.

"I will talk to him. American intelligence, I do not know if I can take this radio with me," the woman went on.

"If there is anything else I need to know, tell me now."

Herbert thought for a moment.

"There is one more thing," he informed her. He spoke clearly and strongly so she would not miss a word.

"We are helping you because inaction would result in unprecedented human disaster. I have no respect for terrorists."

"American intelligence," she said, using that as if it were Herbert's name.

"I have lost nothing. If the world respected us before now, there would be no need for terrorism."

With that, the line went dead.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE.

Mt. Kanzalwan Thursday, 4:16 p. m.

Sharab could barely feel her fingers as she put the receiver back inside the radio. Despite the heavy gloves and the constant movement, the cold was beyond anything she had ever experienced. Her hands were numb when they were still, like dead weight. They burned when she moved them and blood was forced to circulate. It was the same with her feet. Her eyes were wind-blasted dry. Each blink of her icy lashes was agony.

But the worst pain was still the one inside. It had been strongest in those moments when the powerful winds slowed and the overhanging rock receded and the sun burned through the murderous cold. When survival was not a moment-to-moment concern and she had time to think.

Sharab had let herself be outsmarted by Indian security forces. She had let her nation, her people, and her fellow patriots down. That failure had cost brave Ishaq his life. And it had brought her and her small loyal militia to this precipice, to this flight. Her failure had made it unlikely that they would escape these mountains and tell the world the truth, that India and not Pakistan had been responsible for attacking the Hindu sites.

And yet, as it said in the Koran, "the wrongdoers shall never prosper."

Perhaps Allah forgave her. It seemed as though He was looking out for her when this man dropped from the sky. Sharab did not like or trust Americans. They made war on Muslims around the world and they had traditionally curried favor with New Delhi instead of Islamabad.

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