Free Jack Ryan 8 - Debt of Honor by Tom Clancy Page A

access to literally everything generated by the
    
    
     U.S.
    
    
     intelligence community. “But what you just showed me says a lot.”
    All you had to do was look at the display, where the water was, where the land was, where the ships were. The Indian Navy was cruising in such a way as to position itself between
    
    
     Sri Lanka
    
    
     and anyone who might approach from the south to come to
    
    
     Sri Lanka
    
    
    . Like the U.S. Navy, for example. It had practiced an attack on such a force. To that end, it was clearly prepared to remain at sea for a long time. If it was an exercise, it was an expensive one. If not? Well, you just couldn't tell, could you?
    “Where are their amphibs?”
    “Not close,” Dubro answered. “Aside from that, I don't know. I don't have the assets to check, and I don't have any intel on them. They have a total of sixteen LSTs, and I figure twelve of them can probably operate as a group. Figure they can move a heavy brigade with them, combat-loaded and ready to hit a beach somewhere. There's a few choice sites on the north coast of that island. We can't reach them from here, at least not very well. I need more assets, Robby.”
    “There aren't more assets to give, Mike.”
    “Two subs. I'm not being greedy. You can see that.” The two SSNs would move to cover the
    
     Gulf of Mannar
    
    , and that was the most likely invasion area. “I need more intelligence support, too, Rob. You can see why.”
    “Yep.”
    
    
     Jackson
    
    
     nodded. “I'll do what I can. When do I leave?”
    “Two hours.” He'd be flying off on an S-3 Viking antisubmarine aircraft. The “
    
    
     Hoover
    
    
    ,” as it was known, had good range. That was important. He'd be flying to
    
    
     Singapore
    
    
    , the better to give the impression that Dubro's battle group was southeast of
    
    
     Sri Lanka
    
    
    , not southwest.
    
    
     Jackson
    
    
     reflected that he would have flown twenty-four thousand miles for what was essentially a half hour's worth of briefing and the look in the eyes of an experienced carrier aviator.
    
    
     Jackson
    
    
     slid his chair back on the tiled floor as
    
     Harrison
    
     keyed the display to a smaller scale. It now showed Abraham Lincoln heading northeast from Diego Garcia, adding an additional air wing to Dubro's command. He'd need it. The operational tempo required to cover the Indians—especially to do so deceptively—was putting an incredible strain on men and aircraft. There was just too much ocean in the world for eight working aircraft carriers to handle, and nobody back in
    
    
     Washington
    
    
     understood that.
    
    
    
     Enterprise
    
    
    
     and Stennis were working up to relieve Ike and Abe in a few months, and even that meant there would be a time when
    
    
     U.S.
    
    
     presence in this area would be short. The Indians would know that, too. You just couldn't conceal the return time of the battle groups from the families. The word would get out, and the Indians would hear it, and what would they be doing then?
     
     
    “Hi, Clarice.”
    
    
     Murray
    
    
     stood up for his luncheon guest. He thought of her as his own Dr. Ruth. Short, a tiny bit overweight, Dr. Golden was in her middle fifties, with twinkling blue eyes and a face that always seemed on the edge of delivering the punch line of a particularly good joke. It was that similarity between them that had fostered their bond. Both were bright, serious professionals, and both had elegant intellectual disguises. Hearty-fellow and hearty-lady-well-met, the life of whatever party they might attend, but under the smiles and the chuckles were keen minds that missed little and collected much.
    
    
     Murray
    
    
     thought of Golden as one hell of a potential cop. Golden had much the same professional evaluation of
    
    
     Murray
    
    
    .
         “To what do I owe this honor, ma'am?” Dan asked in his usual courtly voice. The waiter delivered the menus, and she waited pleasantly for him to depart. It was