“Go with Allah.”
“And you too.”
Haaris shut down his phone, but this time he did not remove the SIM card. There was no need for it now.
Within three minutes a pair of Bell gunships materialized from the northwest, and swooping fast and low, opened fire with their GAU-17/A 7.62-millimeter machine guns. In a single pass the vehicles parked on and off the road had been reduced to little more than burning sheet metal, and the Taliban fighters little more than blood mist and scattered body parts.
The choppers made tight arcs and came back, the gunners looking for targets, but there were none and the pilots peeled off and headed back the way they had come.
At the bottom of the hill, Haaris had to take care to avoid the carnage until he could get up on the highway and race to the airport. Passing the signs to the arrivals and departures terminals, he drove around to the military aviation side, no one coming out to challenge him.
The Gulfstream was on the tarmac in front of one of the closed hangars, its engines running, the hatch open and stairs lowered.
Gwen stood at the open hatch and when Haaris pulled up and got out of the pickup, she came down with the copilot, Dan Francis, and together they propped him up and helped him aboard.
“Get us the hell out of here,” he croaked. The pain in his mouth was bad, but he made it sound worse.
“Get him strapped down,” Ed Lamont said.
Francis helped with that, and then he raised the stairs and closed the hatch as they started to roll.
“We thought for sure that they had killed you,” Gwen said.
“They wanted to,” Haaris said.
“I’ll get the trauma kit.”
“First I need a large brandy, and as soon as we’re out of Pakistan’s airspace get me Mr. Page on the secure phone.”
ELEVEN
Walter Page’s call came into the White House Situation Room, his image up on the flat-panel monitor. It appeared as if he was still in the Watch at CIA headquarters.
“Madam President, Dave Haaris is in the air and on the way out of Pakistan. I just talked to him on an encrypted phone. They’ve been given permission to fly over Saudi Arabia and Egypt to our air force base at Incirlik, Turkey.”
“Why there, why not Ramstein and then home?” Miller demanded, her impatience rising. There was always a certain rhythm and meter to crisis situations, a metronome that could not be altered without bad effects.
“They weren’t allowed to refuel at Gandhara, so they’ll have to make the stop. And Haaris was banged up.”
“How badly?”
“His says that his injuries are uncomfortable but not life-threatening.”
“I want to talk to him.”
“As soon as they’re safely on the ground in Incirlik a secure circuit can be arranged,” Page said.
“Now,” the president said.
“They haven’t cleared Pakistan’s airspace yet.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“He needs medical attention.”
“And I need to talk to him,” Miller insisted. “I know Haaris. He’s a good man who’s been in the middle of a situation for which I need more information. Doing nothing at this moment is not an option, but neither is doing the wrong thing.”
“As you wish,” Page said. “May I listen in?”
“Of course,” Miller said. Several moments later Haaris’s image came up on the split screen, Page to the left.
“Madam President,” he said, his voice distorted. His face was red and swollen.
“Where are you at this moment?”
“We haven’t been in the air very long. I suspect we’re about one hundred miles south of Islamabad en route to Karachi, where we’ll fly up the Gulf of Oman to Saudi Arabia.”
“How are you?”
“I’ve been better, but I’ll live. The bastards aren’t terribly civilized, you know.”
“You can save your full report until you get home, but I need to know what the situation on the ground is. Do you know about this Messiah who showed up out of nowhere?”
“Only what General Rajput told me. Is it true that he murdered President Barazani?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Incredible,” Haaris said. “And let me guess, he admitted openly that he killed the president and probably that the Taliban are in reality Pakistan’s friends.”
“Yes, did you see the broadcast?”
“No, but the group that captured me suddenly got up and left. Five minutes later a squad of ISI security showed up and got me out of there.”
“What else can you tell me?”
“There were many explosions and a great deal of gunfire, but from where they took me I couldn’t say if it was more concentrated in Islamabad or Rawalpindi. But it stopped just before my captors took off. I can tell you that they were happy. One of them wanted to shoot me, but another one — I think he was probably the leader — said something to the effect: ‘Why bother?’”
“You had no trouble taking off from the airport? No one challenged you?”
“No. I think it must have been the ISI’s doing, but frankly I don’t see how they’ll be able to hang on. They used to be friends of the Taliban, but that relationship hasn’t existed for several years.”
The president looked around the table at the others. They were grim-faced. “I’m in the Situation Room.”
“Yes, I can see that, Madam President.”
“I’m considering launching our NEST people. They’re standing by now.”
Haaris sat forward. “Have there been any reports yet of missing weapons?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“There’ll be more. Launch the teams immediately.”
“More? How can you be sure?”
“If this Messiah claims that the Taliban are friends of Pakistan, his first move will be to get as many WMDs into their hands as quickly as possible. It’s no secret that our intention is to neutralize as many as we can.”
“Yes,” Miller said. “My concern is an Indian preemptive strike. The entire region could go up in flames. The loss of life would be nothing short of catastrophic.”
“Telephone Mr. Singh,” Haaris said. Manmohan Singh was India’s prime minister, who held the actual executive power. “He’ll listen to reason. And have you spoken with Sabir?” Nasir Sabir was Pakistan’s PM.
“Not yet.”
“Then, Madam President, I strongly suggest that you send the teams in immediately. And once they have accomplished their mission, contact both PMs to let them know what you have done and that the U.S. will continue to stand by as an ally to both nations.”
“It’s possible that India will strike as soon as they find out I’ve launched the teams.”
“Not while our personnel are on the ground there. But every minute that you delay could mean the loss of more weapons to the Taliban.”
“They wouldn’t have the means to launch them.”
“If they have the cooperation of the air force they will,” Haaris said.
“Thank you, David. Have a safe trip home.”
Page remained on screen after Haaris was off.
“Let me know as soon as he clears Pakistan’s airspace,” Miller said.
“Okay.”
Miller cut the connection.
Everyone around the table stared at her, their expressions even darker than before, their mood easy to read.
“Discussion,” she said.
“There’s no question but we launch now,” Kalley said. “Haaris was right, we mustn’t delay.”
“He’s a CIA analyst.”
“Whom everyone trusts,” Secretary of State Fay said. “Haaris is the last word on the Pakistan question. The agency has built an entire desk around him.”