Instead, the intelligence I provided allowed the Special Frontier Force to frame the Pakistanis. The terrorists have been responsible for many terrible acts. But they were not responsible for Wednesday's bomb attack on the pilgrim bus and Hindu temple in the Srinagar market. That was the work of the Special Frontier Force."

Ambassador Simathna was still beaming as he shut the phone off and leaned toward a second speakerphone. This was the open line to Paul Hood's office at Op-Center.

"Director Hood, did you hear that?" the ambassador asked.

"I did," Hood replied.

"It's also running on CNN now." "That is very gratifying," Simathna said.

"I congratulate you and your General Rodgers. I do not know how he got the woman's message through but it is quite impressive."

"General Rodgers is a very impressive man," Hood agreed.

"We'd like to know how he got the message through ourselves. Bob Herbert tells me that Colonel August is unable to raise him. The cell phone must have died."

"As long as it is just the cell phone," Simathna joked.

"Of course, the Indians will certainly claim that Ms. Kumar was brainwashed by the Pakistanis. But General Rodgers will help to dispel that propaganda."

"General Rodgers will tell the truth, whatever that turns out to be,"

Hood said diplomatically.

As Hood was speaking the other phone beeped. Simathna excused himself and answered it.

The ambassador's smile trembled a moment before collapsing.

His thin face lost most of its color. Ron Plummer did not dare imagine what the ambassador had just been told.

Thoughts of a Pakistani nuclear strike flashed through his desperate mind.

Simathna said nothing. He just listened. After several seconds he hung up the phone and regarded Plummer. The sadness in his eyes was profound.

"Mr. Hood, I'm afraid I have bad news for you," the ambassador said.

"What kind of bad news?" Hood asked.

"Apparently, the slab on top of the silo was removed or significantly damaged during General Rodgers's actions."

Simathna said.

"Don't say it," Hood warned.

"Don't you frigging say it."

Simathna did not have to. They all knew what that meant.

The defensive explosives around the silo had been automatically activated. Without someone inside the silo to countermand them, they would detonate in just a few minutes.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX.

Washington, D. C. Thursday, 6:24 p. m.

Paul Hood could not believe that Mike Rodgers had gone this far, worked whatever miracle he had conceived, only to be blown up for something that could be prevented. But to prevent it they would have to reach him.

Though Hood, Herbert, and Coffey sat in silence, frustration under the surface was intense. Despite the technology at their disposal, the men were as helpless as if they were living in the Stone Age.

Hood was slumped in his leather seat. He was looking down, humbled by this uncharacteristic sense of helplessness.

In the past there had always been another play in the book.