Caliphate

HQ, Office of Strategic Intelligence, 25 May, 2112

A hologram of a castle hovered above the table at which sat Caruthers and the deputy director of OSI for Direct Action. The picture was fuzzy, out of focus, as if the taker either had a very poor lens or was moving rapidly at the time the picture was taken.

"I think we should nuke the place right now," said Caruthers.

"The President has said no," answered the deputy director, shaking his head, "not until we've tried everything else. I asked. I insisted. He still said no. The secretary is still trying to convince him otherwise."

"Fuck. Send a battalion of Rangers?"

Again the DDDA said, "No. And you yourself know better. The preparations for any such operation will only guarantee that, instead of a company of security troops being around the place, there would be a division. That; and that if they haven't dispersed their research, they would quickly."

"I don't know that that's true," Caruthers said, "but even accepting that it is—"

"We might get them in, but we'd never get them out. Moreover, the Han insist on being in on this. They don't trust us with having what's in that castle any more than we would trust them. And we need their assistance, since they're the only ones with anyone on site."

"A small special ops team?" Caruthers asked. "Maybe one of the private outfits?"

"We thought about those," the DDDA answered. "And they might be doable. But a spec ops team would be too big to infiltrate through any of the ingresses we have. And a private contractor simply can't be trusted with something of this magnitude. The Swiss have already told us to fuck off: Neutrality über alles. We think we'd have a better chance with a two- or three-man team of our own."

"Well," Caruthers admitted with a shrug, "Old Bongo is about due to be pulled out of South Africa. And I've got another kid with the right background for the mission."

"Your baby, then," the deputy director said. "I'll see if I can't get the Han to get us some better pictures."