The young monk began to weep silently, but as Vitaly slashed through the rope holding his arms, he fell to his knees and began to sob in earnest, kissing the ground and mumbling prayers of thanks.
Vitaly knelt next to him, bringing his lips close to his ear. “I need the location of this other temple,” he said, making a quick gesture at Fedar, who produced a map and laid it out before them. “Where is it?”
The monk pointed out the monastery. “It’s there,” he said. “High up on the cliff.”
The Russian wrapped a gentle arm around the man’s shoulders as Fedar retrieved the map. “You’ve done well, my friend, and your prayers have been heard, yes?”
“Yes, yes. I prayed for mercy,” the monk said. “For a release from pain. And it was granted to me.”
“Not yet,” Vitaly said, bringing the blade around in a swift, unseen arc. The razor edge slashed through the monk’s throat, severing the artery and spraying blood everywhere. It took only a few heartbeats for the man to die. Vitaly got back to his feet and smiled. “Now you have been given a release from pain. You will feel nothing from this day forward.”
He walked to stand next to Fedar and studied the map.
“What do you want done with the rest of them, sir?” Fedar asked as he gestured to the other monks who’d been tied up, gagged and forced to watch as one of their own was tortured and killed.
“Take them back into their monastery,” Vitaly said, “and burn it to the ground. Remember, we can leave no one alive who knows even the slightest thing about what we’re doing out here.”
For a moment, it appeared as though Fedar might argue, but then he nodded crisply, turned and started shouting orders.
* * *
AS THE MORNING sun crested the top of the mountains, Bolan waited for Solomon to finish backing the old M35 cargo truck up to the rear of the monastery. The old spy had retrieved the vehicle from its hiding place in a nearby valley before dawn while Bolan and Nischal put together a small selection of ordnance and gear from Solomon’s cache.
Solomon climbed out of the truck and nudged the cases they’d assembled with the toe of his boot. “Ready to go?”
Bolan stood in front of him and waited for the older man to look at him. Solomon’s reputation was notorious—he’d been pivotal in the fall of the iron curtain and the end of the Cold War. Yet he’d vanished and supposedly was dead, and now Bolan had found him hiding out in a monastery packed with weapons and absolutely unwilling to answer questions. He was sure the man was linked to their current mission, but he didn’t have enough information to figure out how or why.
Nick’s blue eyes finally met his.
“Listen, I know all you’ve done,” Bolan said carefully. “If you tell me what’s going on, then maybe I can help. I’d like to help you, Solomon, if you’d just explain to me what you’re doing up here. With these weapons. We’re on your side.”
“What’s your name?” Solomon asked.
“Alina introduced us, remember? I’m Colonel Brandon Stone.”
“Of course I remember. I just want to know if that’s the name you’re going to stick with.”
“That name will do for our purposes.”
The old man laughed sharply. “You’re no different than I was, Stone. You’re only what you want me to see at this moment. In the end, you’ll do what you’ve been ordered to do and you’ll carry out your mission, no matter who or what gets in the way. There’s no trust in that, Colonel, just games I’ve been playing since you were a boy. I know all the tricks and all the lies you tell yourself to keep you going each day. The battles here are mine, not some government’s. Mine. And I’m fighting for the people who cared when the rest of the world melted away.” He stared at Bolan in silence for another moment. “Load up your gear and let’s get moving.”
Nischal shrugged into a field jacket and checked her pockets to make sure they were closed tight. “Did you get any more information out of him?” she asked quietly once Solomon was back in the cab.
“No,” Bolan said, “and I don’t suspect we will, either. He’s a stubborn old goat.”
“I can’t disagree with you there, but honestly, I’m worried about him. He wasn’t acting right last night. There were times when I don’t think he was all there. I don’t know—it was really strange.”
“I’m more worried about what he has planned,” Bolan said. “But for now, we’ll go along to get along. See how this thing unfolds. We’re armed again, and that’s something.”
He knelt down by the open crates and pulled out two Chinese QBZ-95 assault rifles and handed one to Nischal. The cases also contained four clips for each rifle and two QSZ-92 model Chinese handguns—not his favorite, by any means, but functional enough to get the job done. He offered one to Nischal, along with a handful of clips, and outfitted himself with the same for use as a backup weapon. Fortunately enough, he still had his Desert Eagle, but most of his ammunition had been lost in the jump. He only carried two magazines of the .44 caliber, and Solomon hadn’t had any more in his stash. The rest of the gear was an assortment of surveillance, survival and communication equipment. Properly outfitted, both of them climbed into the truck, and Solomon stopped long enough at the gate to dissuade Raju from trying to come along or follow them. “This isn’t a milk run, my boy. Stay here and look after things. We’ll be back before you know it.”
At least on the idea of not bringing the boy, Bolan agreed with the old spy. Whatever happened next, it would likely involve a lot of shooting.
The drive through the mountains was slow and daunting, and they were forced to stop several times to make room for cars and livestock. The road finally reached the valley floor, and the traveling was easier for a time. After the better part of an hour in the valley, Solomon stopped the truck. Ahead, a thick, heavy rise of hills was waiting for them.
“Why are we stopping?” Nischal asked as Solomon jumped out and began cursing.
“The warlord’s camp is on the other side,” Raju said from the back of the truck.
“Damn it, boy, I told you to stay at the monastery!” Nick cursed again. “I won’t be responsible for your getting yourself killed on my account.”
Ignoring the obvious for a moment, Bolan also climbed out and stepped up to the side of the truck. “How do you know?” he asked Raju.
“It’s where they come this time of year,” the boy said. “When full winter comes on, they will be as stuck as everyone else, but for now they can rob and steal as much as they like.” He gazed at their surroundings. “It’s a good place to work from.”
Solomon was still muttering and swearing under his breath, and Bolan gestured for Raju to come down from the truck, which the boy did.
“How can I help?” Raju asked. “I want to.”
“You could start by listening to your elders,” Bolan said. “This is no place for a child.”
“Well, he’s here now, so I say he earns his keep,” Solomon interrupted. He handed Raju a pistol and a set of binoculars, along with a small, handheld radio.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Bolan asked.
“Helping,” Solomon said. “He wants to help, you want help. Seems like a match made in heaven to me. All this help standing around, we may as well put it to use.”
“Yes, helping,” Raju agreed.
Bolan sighed. “Neither one of you is helping right now. Nischal and I will scout the area, then we’ll make a plan. Right now, I want you both to sit here and sit tight.”
“I’m not so old that I can’t help with a simple operation,” Solomon snapped. “I’ll carry my own weight, thank you very much.”
“No one called you old, Solomon, but I can’t have anyone getting in my way,” Bolan said. “If you’re up to it, I’d rather you take that sniper rifle you brought along and find a good position to play God.”
The old spy spun on his heels, grabbing up his weapons, then stumbled slightly before righting himself and stalking off in the direction of the pass.
Bolan started out after him, but Nischal caught up and grabbed him by the shoulder. “He’s a proud man. He won’t stay on the sidelines any more than you would.”
“He’s been on the sidelines,” Bolan retorted. “That’s what worries me. This isn’t the kind of work you can just jump back into. It takes constant training and field work to do well—you know that. Our skills have expiration dates when they’re not in use. I just hope his haven’t soured.”
“It’s his life,” she said softly. “Let him be.”
“Don’t worry, sir,” Raju cut in. “I’ll stay close to him.”
“Raju, he could get you killed,” Bolan said.
The boy grinned up at him. “Life is harsh here, sir. If I lose my life for another, for a good cause, then it will be interesting to see what the next turn of the wheel brings me back as. I will be elevated in the next life.”
Bolan shook his head. “I disagree, Raju, but I suppose you’re stuck with us now. No matter what, we want to keep you safe. You can come with us, but you keep tucked out of the way.”
They started in the direction Solomon had taken. Raju jogged ahead to catch up with the old man, and Nischal paced beside Bolan. Several miles later, they reached a small crest. Bolan knelt and took out his binoculars. A camp spread out below them—the base of Jian Chen, regional warlord and, hopefully, the man who’d stolen the nuke.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The camp reminded Bolan more of a temporary town than a rest stop for a nomadic band of soldiers. He scanned the area carefully, noting a parked convoy of large vehicles on one side of the camp, several of the trucks sporting camouflage tarp coverings.
It was still early in the day, and although there were guards on duty, the camp was fairly quiet. Most of the people who were up and about were gathered around large fires, drinking tea and eating breakfast. Bolan quickly formed a plan of attack in his mind, wanting to minimize casualties. This was very much a get in, get what they came for and get out situation. Chen had too many men for a pitched battle, and there appeared to be too many noncombatants, including Raju, who could end up injured or dead in a full-scale firefight.
Bolan outlined his thoughts to the others, then sent them to their positions. They crept down the hillside, moving from boulder to boulder, using what scrub brush there was for cover. Bolan breathed a sigh of relief as they reached their appointed spots, but it quickly changed into an exasperated snarl. Solomon didn’t stop at his mark but continued moving closer to the camp. The old man paused and looked back up at Bolan, offering him a jaunty salute before disappearing over a rocky crag. The old man was going off-mission already and they hadn’t even fired a shot.
After viewing the camp, Bolan had chosen to keep the one sniper rifle they had, a JS 7.62mm Chinese model, to himself. He brought the scope of the rifle up and scanned the ridgeline Solomon would be following down into the camp. He zeroed in on the first sentry, who appeared to be asleep at his post. Then he realized that the man wasn’t sleeping. He’d been propped up with his own weapon. A small trickle of blood leaked from beneath the man’s fur hat. Solomon had already passed that way.
Bolan knew the old spy’s presence couldn’t go undetected for much longer. He adjusted the scope to his first target, preparing to fire on the prearranged signal, when he heard the report of Solomon’s pistol. What was he thinking? Bolan gritted his teeth, half rising to risk another look at the camp.
Every one of Chen’s guards was now scanning the hillsides...and spotting him. Bolan quick-scoped the first sentry and the round took him center mass, even as the guards opened up. The Executioner hit the ground rolling. More shots rang out, ricocheting off the rocks behind him. Nischal was at his left flank, and he gave up entirely on the original plan. “Move!” he yelled, dropping the sniper rifle and bringing up his Desert Eagle as they worked down toward the trucks.
Bolan spotted the man in the closest cab seconds before he opened fire at Nischal, whose sudden appearance had startled the man into shooting. She leaped sideways as bullets shattered the large stones she was using for cover, sending slivers of rock spraying in all directions.
Bolan knew he had only a microsecond before she’d be dead. He fired the Desert Eagle twice from his prone position. The first round shattered the gun in the man’s hand, and the second took him in the chest. He slumped back into his seat.
Bolan signaled to Nischal that it was time to head toward the other side of the camp. The camp was circular, so if they kept advancing, it would be hard for Chen’s men to pin them down without putting their own people in the cross fire. Nischal laid down cover fire as he made his way to the truck and hauled the dead man out, using the open door as cover while he used the assault rifle to rain bullets on anyone who was targeting Nischal as she began to move forward.
A hail of bullets from a tightly clustered group of tents shattered the glass above him and he dived underneath the truck and positioned himself near the back tire. The rifle was really no use at this range, so he drew his Desert Eagle and waited for a shot. It came a moment later when a booted foot appeared beside the truck. Bolan fired, and the toe of the man’s boot exploded. As he screamed and hopped into view, Bolan fired a second shot, killing him instantly.
Solomon appeared suddenly, taking advantage of the moment to shoot another assailant in the belly. He dropped his weapon and fell to the ground clutching his bleeding abdomen and howling in agony.
“Where’s Chen?” Bolan yelled at Solomon.
“Heading for the nuke,” Solomon yelled back. “It’s here!” He gestured to the largest of the tarp-covered vehicles.
Bolan rolled out from underneath the truck and came up laying down cover fire and scanning for Nischal. She’d taken up her new position, popping off hostiles as they came into her line of sight.
Bolan maneuvered himself around the truck, then popped a fresh magazine into his rifle, tossing aside the empty one. He heard two quick shots and realized Solomon had taken out two men trying to sneak up on him from behind. Stubborn or not, old as dirt or not, apparently the man could still handle himself in a fight.
Bolan nodded his thanks for the save. Solomon gave a quick nod back and they stormed into the fray.
“We need to get to that nuke,” Bolan said.
“I’ve got just the thing.”
He dropped the rifle and pulled out a crossbow. Bolan quirked an eyebrow.
“Ever heard of nitroglycerin?”
“The stuff they used to use in dynamite.”
“That’s it,” Solomon said, locking the crossbow in place.
“Are you saying that arrow is filled with nitro?” Bolan asked.
“No, just the tip.”
He let the bolt fly and Bolan pulled him down just as it hit the rocks. The explosion rocked the valley, sending debris flying. He glanced at Solomon, who shrugged.
“Of course the rest of the bolt was lined with C4, so that added a little kick.”
“A little!”
Bolan stood and saw that Chen and his men were hightailing it in the opposite direction, leaving the truck for the taking. Nischal was moving toward them, her eyes wide with surprise at the explosion, and Raju was bouncing down the hill from his hidden perch.
“What the hell was that?” Nischal asked.
“Some cocktail Robin Hood here cooked up.” Bolan reached for the quiver of bolts and placed it on the ground.
“Do you want to go after Chen?” she asked.
&nbs
p; “No. We can deal with him later. What matters now is the weapon. If we spend all of our time chasing warlords through the Himalayas, we’ll never get out of here.”
Bolan inspected the truck as he counted their blessings that Solomon’s improvised explosive hadn’t damaged the mobile launching platform.
“It looks intact,” he said. “Let’s move out.”
“Those idiots would never harm my little toy here,” Solomon said.
A cold chill ran down Bolan’s spine. There were times to scramble your words, but right now wasn’t one of them. He turned to look at Nick.
“What do you mean, your toy?”
They stared at each other for a moment, then Solomon’s expression turned from anger to resolve. Bolan heard the click of a revolver behind him as Nischal cried out and Solomon raised his pistol.
The shot reverberated in Bolan’s ears. Turning, he saw one of Chen’s soldiers flying backward, his handgun clattering to the earth. Solomon walked forward and put two more bullets into the fallen man. Bolan reached out and touched his arm. Solomon spun and pointed the gun at Bolan.
“You have no idea what they’ve done. How many they’ve killed and how many they’re going to kill. The KGB’s plans are more vast than you can possibly imagine. The damn Russians want to blow half the planet apart.”
Bolan and Nischal glanced at each other. “Nick,” Nischal said. “We’re on your side.”
Solomon’s eyes darted between them. He lowered the pistol and then looked back at the dead soldier.
“We’re fighting Jian Chen, Nick, remember?” Nischal asked softly. “These aren’t Russians or KGB agents.”
“Of course I remember! I know who I’m fighting. I just killed one, damn it! I know who I killed. I remember them all.”
Solomon shook his head and walked to a large boulder, then sat down in the lotus position. He glanced at the weapon still in his hand, set it aside and began a meditation.
“Something’s wrong,” Nischal said.
“You think?” Bolan said. “Short of Chen returning with an army at his back, I’d say this is about as bad as things could get.” He scanned the camp, but for now, everyone seemed to be keeping their heads down or regrouping. Either way, they didn’t have much time to get moving.
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