"We need to learn from Ulysses’ experience with the Cyclops," Vance said, clicking back into the real world. "The one-eyed giant had trapped him and his crew and was devouring them one by one. So how did they overcome him? They got him plastered on some good Greek wine, then put out his eye with a burning post. That done, they proceeded to exploit his disability."
"What are you saying?" She frowned.
"This guy is killing off your people, right? Pierre is coming in with his crew to try and take this place down, but in the meantime it would be good if we took a shot at putting out their eyes."
"Put out their eyes?" She was still puzzled.
"It's a metaphor. It would be extremely helpful if we could blind them enough that they didn't know ARM was coming in. Couldn't 'see' the team. Maybe shut down the radars, something."
"Michael"—it was the first time she had used his name, and she liked it—"that's why we're in this mess in the first place. There are no radars that could spot an insertion. That's how these bastards got in here in the first place. Bill gets the Saddam Hussein Military Preparedness Award. There is no radar to monitor the shore."
He laughed. "Okay, but now that oversight has turned into a plus. What's good for the goose is good for the you- know-what. If there are no peripheral radars, then they're not going to know where Pierre and the boys make their insertion."
"Right. The bad guys are already blind. It's got to make a difference."
'Then what we need to do"—he was thinking aloud—"is to get them all together in one place."
'They're not going to let it happen." She was questing, too. "Unless . . . unless we can make it happen. Something . . ."