CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

Tuesday, 9:10 A.M., Washington, D.C.

Ishi Honda's voice was thick and slow and weighed on Rodgers from his soul out.

"Newmeyer and Sergeant Grey were rescued from the train," he said, choking, "along with a Russian officer. We… we were not able to extract Lieutenant Colonel Squires. He remained—"

Honda stopped and Rodgers could hear him swallow.

"He remained on the train, which has been destroyed. Our mission has been accomplished."

Rodgers was unable to speak. His throat, his mouth, his arms were paralyzed. His spirit, accustomed to the suddenness with which battle could snatch away life, was still deadened by what he'd just heard.

Hood asked, "How is Sergeant Grey?"

"He took a bullet in the shoulder, sir," said Honda.

"And the Russian?"

"Hit in the thigh and grazed in the arm," Honda answered. "Because of the fuel situation, we can't put him down. He'll have to come with us to Hokkaido."

"Understood," Hood said. "We'll sort all that out with the Russian Embassy."

"Private," said Rodgers, his eyes damp, "tell the team that I gave them the impossible to do, and they did it. Tell them that."

"Yes, sir," said Honda. "Thank you, sir. I'll tell them. Over and out."

Hood shut the speaker and looked at Rodgers. "Is there anything I can do, Mike?"

After a moment, the General said, "Can you get them to give Charlie back and take me?"

Hood didn't answer. He just clasped Rodgers's wrist. The General didn't seem to feel it.

"He had a family," Rodgers said. "What do I have?"

"A responsibility," Hood replied softly but firmly. "You've got to hold yourself together so you can tell that family what happened and help them through this."

Rodgers turned toward Hood. "Yes," he said. "You're right."

"I'll call Liz," Hood said. "She can help. She'll also have Striker to deal with when they get back."

"Striker—" Rodgers started, choked. "I have to see to that. If they have a mission tomorrow, someone's got to be ready to lead it."

"Get Major Shooter to start the process," Hood said.

Rodgers shook his head and rose. "No, sir. That's my job. I'll have recommendations to discuss with you by this afternoon."

"Very good," Hood said.

Bob Herbert rolled in then, braking his wheelchair and swinging toward the men. He was grinning broadly. "Just got word from the Pentagon this second," he said. "They listened to the Russian aircraft as they flew over the target area. The pilots spotted the off-loaded Russians, saw the wrecked train, and didn't catch so much as a glimpse of the extraction craft." He clapped once, as though his hands were cymbals. "How's that for 'low observability'?"

Rodgers looked at him. Herbert's smile froze as their eyes met.

"We lost Charlie," the General said.

Herbert's smile fluttered, then crashed. "Oh, man— man," he said. Lines appeared in his forehead and his ruddy cheeks paled. "Not Charlie."

"Bob," said Hood, "we need you to help us tie this up with the Russians. One of their officers is on the extraction craft. We'd prefer if he could be snuck out of—"

"Paul, are you effin' crazy?" Herbert yelled. He rolled forward menacingly. "Give me a second to swallow this shit!"

"No," Rodgers said in a firm voice. "Paul is absolutely right. We're not finished yet. Lowell has to inform Congress about what's happened, Martha has to work her charms on the Russians, the President has to be briefed, and if the press finds out about this— as I'm sure they will— Ann will have to deal with them. We can mourn later. Right now, we've all got work to do."

Herbert looked from Rodgers to Hood. The red from his face had pooled over his collar. "Yeah, right." He turned his chair around. "Gotta keep the wheels of government spinning, with blood for oil. Nobody did much for me either when I got half blown up. Why should Charlie be any different?"

"Because this is what would have made him feel like he hadn't died for nothing," Rodgers shouted at Herbert's back. "We'll honor Charlie Squires, I promise you."

Herbert stopped and his head slumped forward. "Yeah, I know," he said without turning. "It just hurts like a bitch, you know?"

"I know," Rodgers said quietly as tears finally spilled from his eyes. "I surely do know that."

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