of course, of course.” Jignesh nodded eagerly, waving the identification away. “I shall call him in. I know you must hurry. We are very concerned, of course, and wish for a quick resolution to this as much as you do. Our own forces have been alerted to the danger and are even now searching the countryside.”
McCarter had no idea whether to take that seriously, but it didn’t matter. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. Jignesh used the intercom on his desk and spoke a few words—if it was Hindi, McCarter didn’t know one way or another—before completing the call and looking at his office door expectantly. A second Indian man entered. He was tall and lean, with a beak of a nose and sharp, dark, darting eyes.
“Gentlemen,” Jignesh said, “this is Sankara Gopalan, my aide. He will accompany you. If you must interact with any of our armed personnel, he will make sure your…autonomy…is respected.”
The Briton noted that with interest. The Indians were either aware of just how potentially destructive the loss of the uranium fuel was, or they were getting heavy pressure from the State Department. Perhaps both. Brognola had definitely pulled some strings.
Gopalan nodded. “A pleasure to meet you.” His English was more thickly accented than Jignesh’s, but still quite good.
“This is potentially dangerous work.” The former SAS operative eyed Gopalan hard. “Are you armed?”
“I am not,” Gopalan replied, shaking his head. “Do not worry, sir. I am aware of the risks. But my government insists your activities be monitored.”
“Meaning no offense, of course,” Jignesh put in. “I’m sure—”
“Right, then,” McCarter said, cutting off whatever other blustering Jignesh might have been preparing to interject. “Let’s get a move on, ladies.” He waited as his teammates hustled Gopalan out of the room, following on their heels. Jignesh rushed from behind his desk and grabbed McCarter by the shoulder when the other men were through the door.
“He is not to be trusted!” Jignesh whispered. Gone was the mask of obsequious welcome. He was clearly terrified. “Your people were anticipated!”
McCarter nodded once, curtly, winking at Jignesh. Then he continued on so that none of the others, particularly Gopalan, could suspect that any words had been exchanged.
“Ears on, people,” McCarter said as the team, with Gopalan tagging along, reached the Range Rover. With a tap, each man activated the earbuds that would provide them with a secure, local, and hands-free short-range communications link with one another.
The Briton waited for Gopalan to climb into the back seat of the truck between James and Encizo. Hawkins managed to squeeze in, too, while the larger Manning took the passenger seat. As he walked around the rear of the Range Rover, he spoke quietly, knowing his words were being transmitted over the earbuds.
“Right then, listen up. Jignesh has gone squirrelly and says we’re headed for a trap. Keep a close eye on Gopalan. We’ve other targets to try, but I’m betting the most likely is also the deadfall. We’ll trip their trap and take the battle straight down their throats.”
He threw open his door and climbed into the vehicle. Manning was glaring at him, expressing what McCarter imagined was concern regarding knowingly charging a trap. He would get over it. He had before. He couldn’t argue, either, not with Gopalan there to hear. That was almost amusing. McCarter glanced at the others. James looked cool and collected, as usual. Encizo was unreadable, while Hawkins looked like he might be waiting to take a nap. Nodding to himself and knowing that his team was more than ready, McCarter fired up the Range Rover. The engine caught easily and the British-made four-wheel-drive—surely that was a good sign—lurched from its parking spot.
McCarter drove, following Gopalan’s directions to the outskirts of town, where the cement factory was located.
“There is parking near the supervisory shed,” Gopalan said.
“Familiar with the plant, are you?” McCarter looked up at the Indian in the rearview mirror.
“Oh, yes, it is my job to meet with the local businesses,” Gopalan said smoothly. “Encouraging trade and industry is the deputy commissioner’s highest priority.”
“I imagine it would be,” McCarter said insincerely. He stopped the truck well short of the main cluster of buildings, stopping to turn it around so it was nose-outward in the middle of the access road.
“What are you doing?” Gopalan asked mildly.
“Parking,” McCarter said. He motioned for Phoenix Force to exit the Range Rover. As they climbed out, Gopalan pointed up the road.
“You are blocking access to the factory,” he said. McCarter couldn’t be sure, but he thought the Indian was starting to look worried.
“Only for a moment,” McCarter said, smiling.
His grin suddenly vanished and his tone turned hard. “Gary,” he said. “Do it.”
Manning, his face stern, produced his .357 Magnum Desert Eagle. He cocked the hammer and shoved the massive triangular snout of the hand cannon under Gopalan’s chin, grabbing the Indian by the back of the head to hold him in place.
“What are you doing?” Gopalan squealed. “I am a representative of—”
“Terrorists and murderers,” McCarter finished for him. “Now, mate, you’ve got what I see as two choices. You can tell us what the ambush is all about, who put you wise to it, and who you’re working for, or you can stand there quietly and my friend here will splash your brains all over this beautiful countryside. How about it?”
“You cannot…I…This cannot…” Gopalan sputtered. Finally he started cursing in his native language.
“Gary,” McCarter said, “shoot him.”
“No!” Gopalan shrieked. “I will tell you! I will tell you!”
McCarter smirked. “That’s more like it.” He shook a cigarette from his pack and lit it, feigning boredom as he took a long drag.
“Now—” he deliberately blew smoke into Gopalan’s face as he turned to the man, “—get with it. He nodded to the other members of Phoenix Force. “Gear up.” Encizo threw open the rear door of the Range Rover and began tossing gear bags to James and Encizo.
“I was told to watch for any searching for the uranium,” Gopalan admitted. His words came out in a rush. “I monitored conversations with the deputy commissioner. I listened in when our government gave him his instructions to cooperate with the American advisers who were coming.” He gave the Briton a meaningful look. Obviously he was smart enough to grasp that Phoenix Force was something other than what the Indian government had been told to expect.
“How did you know we would come here?”
“We didn’t,” Gopalan said. “But it was a likely spot. I was given a list of locations the authorities or the military might choose to investigate. I was to give warning as soon as I knew the destination, so that we could prepare.”
“Who is ‘we’?” McCarter asked. When Gopalan did not immediately answer, the Briton nodded to Manning, who pressed the Desert Eagle more tightly under Gopalan’s chin.
