Squires hooked the detonator to his belt, slipped on his compact respirator, then drew a flash/bang grenade from his left hip pouch. He slid the pull ring of the grenade over his right thumb, still holding the safety spoon. Then he pulled an M54 lachrymatory gas canister from its pouch and held it in his left hand, his thumb through the ring. When Newmeyer had done likewise, the two men rose slowly, in the shadows, and stood just to the right of the windows of the first and second cars.

CHAPTER SIXTY

Tuesday, 7:53 A.M.,

Washington, D.C.

"So where is he?"

Hood was thinking those exact words just as Herbert said them.

For several minutes now, everyone in his office had been silent and he'd been replaying the conversation with Orlov in his mind, trying to reassure himself that he hadn't given the Russian anything that could be used against the Strikers. Orlov already knew about both groups, and knew where they were. Hood was convinced, still, that the talk had been about how to defuse the crisis. Orlov could have used his status in Russia long before this to aggrandize himself, if that was what he wanted. He wanted to believe that the cosmonaut was a humanist as well as a patriot.

But his son is commanding the train, Hood reminded himself, and that outweighs saintly intentions.

Everyone jumped when Hood's phone beeped. He punched the speaker button and answered.

"Relay from Striker Honda," said Bugs Benet.

"Let's have it," Hood said, "and please bring up the mission map on the computer. Cut in if General Orlov gets back to us."

As he spoke, the Director slid the phone to the edge of the desk, toward Mike Rodgers. The General seemed to appreciate the gesture.

Honda's voice came through on the secure line, strong and surprisingly clear. "This is Private Honda reporting as ordered."

"This is General Rodgers. Go ahead, Private."

"Sir, the target bridge is in sight and the snows are starting to let up. Three Strikers are present at coordinates 9518-828 to secure the route for retreat, three Strikers are at train, coordinates 6987-572. The Lieutenant Colonel plans to rig the train with C-4, get all the passengers off with flash/bang and tear gas, take the train, and let it blow up farther down the track. He was afraid shrapnel from the boiler might hurt someone. He'll join us at the extraction point when the target has been neutralized."

Hood looked at the grid on the computer screen. The distances involved were tight but manageable.

"Private," said Rodgers, "did the Russians show any sign of standing down?"

"Sir, we didn't see them. The Lieutenant Colonel blew a tree across the track. We heard that. Then we heard the train coming, we heard the brakes, and we heard it stop. But we can't see it from here."

"Any shooting?"

"No, sir," said Honda.