"What's that building farther on?" he asked.
"It's a deserted temple. It used to be a tourist spot before they put the missiles in."
Stephanie's voice sounded in his ear. "Nick, the satellite is moving out of range. We're going to lose visual in a minute."
"Thanks, Steph. We're going to be busy for a while. I'll call in later. Out."
He tapped Akron on the shoulder and held up the phone with the satellite photo for him to see.
"Here's the complex," he said, pointing at the flat area. "There's a sentry post here, below. Go up the valley beyond it and touch down here." Nick pointed to a point on the road past the entrance to the complex. It couldn't be seen from the staging area.
"We'll jump off. You keep going, toward this old temple. Make them think you're taking tourists sightseeing."
"You really think they'll go for that?"
"It's worth a shot. Or do you want to try coming in on a hot LZ?"
Akron shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."
They were flying along the highway. Nick saw the turnoff and pointed. "There's the road. Follow it up the valley."
The chopper banked left.
Nick hoped they'd be in time.
CHAPTER 61
Inside the tunnel, General Naitik Chatterjee stood next to one of the massive transporters, talking with a sergeant. Chatterjee was tall for an Indian man, almost six feet. His uniform was crisp and neat. Ribbons from the last three wars with Pakistan adorned his chest. Chatterjee had been badly wounded during the Kargil War in 1999. His left hand was missing two fingers and he was unable to use his left arm for anything except light duty.
"That will be all, Lieutenant," Chatterjee said.
"Sir." Chandra saluted and left.
"Hello, Naitik. It's good to see you. May I introduce Major Gupta?" Rao said.
Ijay saluted Chatterjee. "Sir."
"Major."
"Major, please give us some privacy," Rao said to Ijay.
"Sir." Ijay saluted again and moved off toward a group of men working on one of the transporters.
"Ashok," Chatterjee said. "I was surprised to get your call. Come to check up on us, eh?"
The two men shook hands. "Let's go where we can talk in private."
"Certainly. Sergeant, tell Lieutenant Chandra we're not to be disturbed."
"Sir." The sergeant saluted and walked away.
"Over here," Chatterjee said.
They stepped into an office with a window looking out on the missiles and transporters. Rao looked through the window. There were six units on this base. Six missiles, any one of which could eliminate a major city. Rao saw three men working on one of the trucks toward the back of the tunnel.
"Where are the rest of your men?" Rao asked.
"We're a bit short handed at the moment, I'm afraid. Lieutenant Chandra informed me that three men were sent to hospital yesterday with food poisoning. Another six were rotated out. Their replacements haven't arrived yet."
"But you still have enough to man the missiles."
"Of course. It's a straightforward process. All the men are trained to position the transporters."
For Rao, things had just gotten easier.
"I wanted to talk with you about Pakistan," Rao said. "Lanka seems unwilling to act. Islamabad is bringing up heavy armor, artillery and troop transports. They're getting ready to invade."
"The Prime Minister is a fool," Chatterjee said. "We should have done something years ago about those dogs in Islamabad. Now they're barking at our door again. Yet he still holds back."
"I think we need to take things into our own hands," Rao said, "since Lanka will not."
"Surely you don't mean a coup," Chatterjee said, surprised. "War's a certainty. Now isn't the time for that, even if it were possible. Even if there were enough people to go along with it. Which I doubt."
"Not a coup," Rao said. "More specific than that. Let me show you something."
He took the Eye of Shiva from his pocket, uncovered it and set it on the desk. The jewel glittered with a deep, red glow in the bright glare of the fluorescents overhead.
Chatterjee's eyes widened in recognition. "Is it…it can't be."
"It is," Rao said.
"The Eye. You have found the Eye."
"You remember the prophecy?"
"Of course. Where did you get this? How?"
"It's a long story, Naitik. A Muslim had it, a pawn of Islamabad. I took it back."
Krivi's drugs coursed through Rao's veins. He felt as if his body was almost transparent. His mind was clear, his thoughts sparkles of light. He shifted on his feet and watched the general.
Chatterjee stared at the sacred jewel. "The divine fire," he whispered.
"That is why I'm here," Rao said.
Chatterjee looked at him with sudden realization. "You want me to send a missile against Pakistan, don't you?"
"Think of it, Naitik. One blow, and Islamabad will trouble us no more. No more of their constant provocations, their endless attempts to subvert Jammu and Kashmir. Their contempt for everything we value."
"They would retaliate," Chatterjee said.
"They won't have time," Rao said. "The Agni VI is on line, as you know. You command the missile forces. We can knock out their bases before they have a chance to respond. Even if they get a few missiles into the air, our defense systems will blow them out of the sky before they land. At worst, some casualties. But Pakistan will cease to exist. Mother India will be whole again."
"Lanka will never authorize a first strike."
"You don't need his authorization. You have the codes. You are one of the few who can do this."
There it was. The moment of truth. Rao waited to see how Chatterjee would respond.
Chatterjee was a patriot. He'd given years of his life and shed his blood in the service of Mother India. He had been brought up in a Hindu culture, taught that Pakistan and Islam were India's mortal enemies. He'd seen first hand the results of Pakistan's treachery and ambition.
Now Rao wanted him to act, to unleash the nuclear fires under his command. It was tempting. Sometimes he'd thought about it, in the dark hours of the night. But he'd sworn an oath when he entered the military. In Sanskrit, the name Naitik meant "one who follows the correct path." There was only one possible response to Rao's proposal. Chatterjee looked at Rao and knew this was the end of their friendship.
"I cannot," he said. "I'm sorry."
"You disappoint me, Naitik," Rao said, "but I understand. You are a soldier. You have a duty to obey your superiors."
Chatterjee looked relieved. "You do understand," he said. "Good. I would hate to have anything get in the way of our friendship."
"I have always valued our friendship," Rao said. "I always will."
He took a 9 mm pistol from his pocket and shot Chatterjee twice in the chest, right through the rows of brightly colored campaign ribbons. The shots echoed in the hollow interior of the cavern.
Chatterjee stumbled backward. He looked down in disbelief at the blood welling out through his uniform. Then he fell to the ground. His legs kicked in a final spasm and he was still. His bowels let go. Rao stepped back in distaste from the stench.
Inside the tunnel, Lieutenant Chandra and the sergeant came running out of one of the offices.
"What…"
Rao shot them. They spun and fell and died.
Farther down the tunnel, Ijay raised his weapon and opened fire, cutting down the group of men he'd been chatting with.
The shots were the signal to act if Chatterjee proved uncooperative. Ijay's men were positioned by the sentries. Knives came out. The guards never had a chance.