The Eye of Shiva (31 page)

"
Nick, you hear me?"

"I hear you, Steph."

"Cobra has landed. He's got eight men I can see. The pilot and co-pilot, too."

"Describe what you see."

"There's a wide, flat space where he landed, by the side of a mountain. That would be the staging area. There's another helicopter there. Four sentries visible. Cobra's men are talking with a couple of them or standing around nearby."

Getting ready to take them out
, Nick thought.

"What else?"

"That's it. The tunnel entrance is to the left as you come in from the highway. A soldier came out of the mountain and met Cobra. They went inside."

"Any sign of the missiles?" Nick asked.

"Not yet."

"Good. We've still got time."

"At your present rate of speed, you'll reach the target area in about fifteen minutes."

"Is there someplace near the tunnel where we can set down? We come in direct, they'll start shooting."

"There's one road to the site. It follows a valley to the left of the main highway. There's a field where it turns off from the highway. You could set down there. No houses. There's a guard post and gate about three miles in from the road. It's another mile to the tunnel after that. Everything else looks pretty steep."

Four
miles was too far on foot when time was short.

"What happens when the road gets to the site?"

"There's a short entry road to the staging area to the left as you come in. I'm sending a real time shot now."

Nick's phone vibrated against his chest. He
pulled it out and looked at the screen. Steph had sent a wide aerial view of the tunnel complex and the road. He saw the guard post, the staging area and two helicopters. He could see Cobra's men and the tunnel sentries, tiny figures casting tiny shadows on the ground, unaware they were being watched. The road continued past the missiles and ended a mile away at a structure on the side of a hill.

"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 underst
and," 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.

Rao turned his pistol on a man coming at him with a wrench and shot him. Ijay ran forward and let off a burst at the last
two men in the detachment. It had taken less than a minute to kill everyone at the complex.

Ijay
ejected the spent magazine from his gun and inserted a fresh one. He wiped the metal down with a cloth he pulled from his pocket.

It was important to keep your weapons clean.

CHAPTER 62

Akron kept the Huey low and fast, flying a few hundred feet above the valley floor. They followed a narrow stream toward the tunnel complex. Nick listened to the old, familiar tune of the helicopter blades as the sound echoed from the mountains,
chopchopchopchop...

...and he was back in Afghanistan, back in the village and the brown dust and the heat, the helicopters lifting away, beating up a blinding storm of dust and grit.
He signaled his Marines forward. They trailed out behind him as he moved along the deserted main street, the only street. Somewhere a baby was crying. He could smell the sour scent of his fear.

He held his M4 up close
to his face, the selector on three round burst, safety off, his finger laid along the side of the receiver. He came to the market. Strips of stringy meat glistening with gristle hung in the open air of the butcher's stall. Flies buzzed in clouds around the stall, a nasty, irritating sound.

Men with thick beards rose up
from a flat rooftop across the street and cut loose with AKs. The bullets shattered the flimsy market stalls, ricocheted off the walls, kicked up dirt at his feet. He ducked into a doorway and began firing at the roof. His men were shouting, firing, the noise deafening. Someone screamed in pain. Dozens of automatic rifles spat out their messages of death. Russian Kalashnikovs, American M4s. All the guns spoke the same language.

From across the way, a young boy ran
toward him, screaming about Allah. He had a grenade in his hand. He cocked his arm back to throw.

A boy, no more than ten or eleven.
Just a child. Nick's finger paused on the trigger.

The boy threw the grenade.
Time slowed. Nick fired, one, two, three, the rifle kicking back against his shoulder. The first shot knocked the boy backward. The second took him in the throat. The third blew open his head like a ripe melon. Nick watched the grenade float toward him. He watched it tumbling in the air, unable to move, Then everything went white...

Akron was shaking him by the shoulder. "You all right, man? You don't look so good."

They were in India, not Afghanistan.
He'd been lost in a flashback. It hadn't happened for a while.

Shit,
Nick thought.
How long?

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Ahead of them the guard post on the road was coming up.
So, not too long. A minute or two.
Two men stood looking up at the approaching helicopter.