The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

'Of course.'
The eight men waited in a small room while the bags were collected. There could
be evidence in them, and there wasn't that much of a hurry. The Mexican police
lieutenant examined their faces closely, but saw nothing more or less human than
what he'd seen in the faces of a hundred murderers. It was vaguely disappointing
even though he was a good-enough cop to know better. The luggage was searched,
but aside from some prescription drugs – they were checked and determined not to
be narcotics – there was nothing unusual. The police borrowed a courtesy van for
the drive to the Gulfstream.
'I hope you have enjoyed your stay in Mexico,' the lieutenant said in parting.
'What the hell is going on?' the pilot asked. Though in civilian clothes, she
was an Air Force major.
'Let me explain it like this,' Clark said. 'You Air Scouts are going to drive
the airplane to Andrews. Mr Chavez and I are going to interview these two
gentlemen in back. You will not look, not hear, not think about anything that's
going on in back.'
'What – '
'That was a thought, Major. I do not want you to have any thoughts about this.
Do I have to explain myself again?'
'No, sir.'
'Then let's get the hell out of here.'
The pilot and co-pilot went forward. The two communications technicians sat at
their consoles and drew the curtain between themselves and the main cabin.
Clark turned to see his two guests exchanging looks. That was no good. He
removed Qati's tie and wrapped it around his eyes. Chavez did the same to his
charge. Next both were gagged, and Clark went forward to find some earplugs.
Finally, they set both men in seats as far apart as the airplane's cabin
allowed. John let the plane take off before he did anything else. The fact was
that he despised torture, but he needed information now, and he was prepared to
do anything to get it.
***
'Torpedo in the water!'
'Christ, he's dead aft of us!' Ricks turned. 'Best possible speed, come left to
two-seven-zero. XO, take the return shot!'
'Aye! Snapshot,' Claggett said. 'One-eight-zero, activation point three
thousand, initial search depth two hundred.'
'Ready!'
'Match and shoot!'
'Three fired, sir.' It was a standard tactic. The torpedo fired on the
reciprocal heading would at least force the other guy to cut the control wires
to his weapon. Ricks was already in sonar.
'Missed the launch transient, sir, and didn't catch the fish very soon either.
Surface noise . . .'
'Take her deep?' Ricks asked Claggett.
'This surface noise may be our best friend.'
'Okay, Dutch . . . you were right before, I should have dropped the outboard.'
'ELF message, sir – SNAPCOUNT is cancelled, sir.'