Raju stood beside Bolan, watching and listening. The older man continued to meditate, while the bodies littering the ground steamed in the cold air. The boy began to cry quietly.
“How long has he been this way?” Bolan asked.
“Awhile now. Most times are fine, but sometimes he won’t answer to his name. Says he isn’t Nick, asks how I know that name. Can you help him, sir?”
“I can try,” Bolan said. “But first I have to know one thing. Did Nick take the weapon? Is he the one who stole it?”
“Yes,” Raju admitted. “He said it was to protect us.”
“Well, that explains how he knew it was in Kathmandu in the first place,” Nischal said. “If anyone would know where the Russians were caching weapons like this one, it would be Nick. He worked a long time behind the iron curtain. Few agents had as many contacts or as much knowledge of the workings of the Russian government.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the files,” Bolan said. “I know how important he was, but I need to find out how dangerous he is now.”
Bolan opened the door of the truck and found a satellite phone sitting inside. He flipped it open and saw both a signal and battery life. Well, that was one bit of luck.
He pocketed the phone then moved back to inspect the weapon itself. It was everything they feared and worse because, although the missile itself was decades old, the guidance system had been upgraded.
“The hardware on this...it’s newer than the original design,” Bolan said, gesturing for Nischal to come take a look. “This isn’t just a weapon that was hidden and forgotten. This was made for use today.”
“But why? They’ve already got enough nukes to blow up the world twice. Why make old missiles better when they have a whole arsenal of new ones?”
“Probably to sell to some of our Middle Eastern friends, who would be perfectly happy with old nukes with updated guidance systems. There are a lot of heavy-duty weapons missing from the USSR. Mostly ground-combat stuff, but even missiles, tanks and helicopters disappeared in the chaos. There are those inside Russia who will sell them to the highest bidder.”
“What do you think you’re doing with my weapon?” Solomon asked from behind them.
“We’re going to take it to safety,” Nischal said. “You know that’s why we’re here.”
“I need it. It’s the only way to keep the Chinese at bay. Tibet has suffered enough. Haven’t you seen that? These people won’t need to fight anymore. They need some peace.” He patted the side of the platform. “This will ensure that Tibet will finally be free.”
“Nick,” Nischal implored him. “There will never be peace in Tibet if there is a nuclear weapon on its soil. The Chinese will never stand for it. They’ll attack.”
“Then they’ll die,” he said. “And they know it.”
“Yes, some will die,” she admitted. “But if you launch this, you won’t be stopping the war—you’ll be starting it. You’ll give every trigger-happy country in the world an excuse to launch, and you’ll still be facing a billion angry Chinese soldiers storming into this country.”
“They’ll keep coming, and then even more in Tibet will die,” Bolan added. “Tibet will have lost its chance for freedom.”
“No!” the old man snarled. “With the Chinese here, Tibet will never get a chance to be free.”
“Solomon, you’re a soldier. You know how this works,” Bolan said. “The decisions get made by men a long way from the front lines. You’re talking about starting the next world war. Instead of saving lives, you’ll be throwing them away. You cannot win Tibet’s freedom this way. China has too strong a hold.”
Solomon’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Perhaps you’re right. We’ll take it to the monastery and resupply, then I’ll help you move it to your extraction point. It’s the least I can do after deceiving you.”
“Our extraction point is a long way off already,” Bolan said. “Delhi, India, to be exact. We can’t go direct from here?”
“Not unless you want to carry it on your back,” Solomon snorted. “We’ll need full fuel tanks and more supplies just to make it to Kathmandu.”
Bolan considered this, then nodded. “All right, let’s get out of here. The sooner we leave, the better off we’ll be.”
Nischal glanced around at the corpses and the wreckage in the camp. “Let’s hope so.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Fedar ordered the nearest men to drag the dead monk’s body out to the courtyard as Vitaly holstered his sidearm.
“So, the weapon was here, then, yes?” Vitaly asked.
“It was here,” Fedar confirmed. “We got positive trace readings on the Geiger counter.” He stretched his tired back. “Plus, whoever is running the show up here—and it’s not one of these monks, I’ll swear to it—has stored enough weapons in that cavern up there to start quite a war. Nothing too heavy, but he’s obviously planning something pretty big. Do you believe he’s coming back?”
Vitaly glanced up at the cliffside. “He’s coming back. No one would leave a weapons’ cache like that unattended for long.”
“I agree,” Fedar said. “He didn’t think he was leaving forever. So, do we keep questioning the monks and try to find him? How do you want to proceed?”
Vitaly smiled. “I think we can afford a little patience now. Move the rest of the monks into the dining hall and keep them under guard. Let’s get our men ready, so we can give our mysterious friend a proper homecoming.”
Fedar grinned in reply. “I’m sure that can be arranged. And then we can be done with this mess and on our way home.”
“Indeed. On our way home with plenty of extra money in our retirement accounts. Have the men empty the cavern and load the other weapons into the trucks. I’m sure Li Soong will have a way to market those for us in return for a fair share of the proceeds.”
“I was thinking twenty-five,” Fedar said.
Vitaly shook his head. “I was thinking zero, but we’ve got a little time. Perhaps you can convince me to let him live.”
“I can only try.”
* * *
XIU FENG STOOD on the rim of the crater and watched as his men created havoc below. This village was the last place to procure supplies before they trekked into the true high country, where the weather and the land often conspired to kill the prepared and unprepared alike. The natural crater created a fortress-like wall for the settlement, which consisted of a small Buddhist shrine, a monastery and a handful of buildings set into terraced steppes in the rock face. The men were mostly charging through houses and knocking things over. He’d told them to keep the actual violence to a minimum and bring him anyone who might have information.
Two of his soldiers moved toward the monks who sat in silent meditation in front of the shrine.
“No,” Feng said, holding out his hand to stop his men. “Leave them and the monastery alone. Spread the word.”
“Vitaly said to question everyone,” one of the soldiers reminded him. “He does not seem like the kind of man who is used to being disobeyed.”
“Vitaly,” Feng said quietly, “does not have to live in these hills after this is over. Only a fool forgets that. The people will answer our questions because we have shown restraint, and Vitaly will take whatever answers we find. He cannot do this without us.”
“Sir, look.” The man pointed to the jagged road at the base of the mountains.
Feng didn’t need binoculars to recognize the gift that was heading his direction. “You see, when you are patient, good things come to you,” he said. “Move the men into position. Let’s go and get our reward.”
Feng paused long enough to turn to the shrine and offer a silent prayer and a nod of acknowledgment to the monks, who maintained their silent, meditative poses. Still, he knew they’d heard what he’d said, and the word would spre
ad that he had withheld when he could have used force.
Such an action would ensure better cooperation in the future with the tough locals in the region. Feng turned back around and headed down the steppes toward the road. A gift should be received properly, and this was one he didn’t dare miss out on.
* * *
LI SOONG TRACED his fingers across the Ming vase. The moon flask was so beautiful and rare that Soong wouldn’t display it. He kept it in his vault with the rest of his true treasures. He liked what Kathmandu had done for him and, more important, what it had done for his collection. He carefully replaced the flask on the shelf. The last one auctioned on the open market had sold for more than a million dollars and it was a great deal smaller and less intricate than this one. Someday, perhaps, his son would sell it, but Soong would not; the acquisition of the piece was his prize, and its financial value was only a way of keeping score.
He stepped out of his vault, locked the heavy door carefully behind him and saw one of his spies was waiting silently, his head bowed.
“What have you heard?” Soong asked.
The man raised his head. “Exactly what you suspected, sir. These men—Vitaly and Fedar—are not on any of the Kremlin’s protected lists and not appointed or elected officials of any kind. According to our sources, Vitaly leaves no witnesses to report his activities or results. So that gives you an idea of what kinds of missions he gets sent on.”
“But you’re certain he works for the Russian government?”
“Yes, he works for the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service. He’s ex-military, too.”
Soong paced through his store, running his fingers along the merchandise as he walked. He was a wealthy man already, but men like Vitaly threatened his business and, more important, his collection. Worse, a man like Vitaly would consider Soong a definite loose end and would no doubt be back to tie it up before he left the area.
He turned back to his spy. “I think we must take some precautions.”
“What do you want me to do, sir?”
“This warehouse of theirs...we’ve been watching it for a long time, but I think there are too many people working there. We should help Vitaly with this situation. Move our people into the warehouse and get the others out, except any Russians they’ve left behind. Do it quietly.”
“I don’t understand, sir. How will this help us with Vitaly?”
“Vitaly will understand,” Soong said. “After all, he would hate for the contents of that warehouse to fall into the wrong hands or, worse still, land on the evening news in Beijing. I suspect having our people in play will go some way toward ensuring his cooperation in the future.”
“And if he isn’t cooperative?”
“Then we’ll try something else. A wise man once said that necessity is the mother of invention.”
* * *
THE TRUCK ROCKED back and forth on the pitted track that passed for a road in this part of the world. Bolan drove with Solomon by the passenger window and Nischal and Raju squeezed between them.
Bolan watched Solomon out of the corner of his eye. The old man appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. Something about him intrigued Bolan. Perhaps it was the years of dedicated service to similar causes. They’d fought different wars at different times, but their missions had been essentially the same in purpose: stop the bad guys any way possible and make the world safer for everyone else.
No matter what the cause of his fascination, Bolan knew one thing for certain—Solomon was not functioning at a hundred percent. And he was still keeping secrets from them. Secrets that could make or break this mission if Bolan didn’t wrest them out of the older man soon.
“You know, Nick,” Bolan said carefully, “I’d like to help you if I can. If you tell me what you were really trying to accomplish, perhaps there’s something I can do. Were the warlords threatening the monastery? If so, I’m certain we can create a deterrent that doesn’t include a nuclear device.”
“Yeah,” Nischal chimed in, catching on to Bolan’s strategy. “Nick, whatever it is, we can help. We can keep your name out of the report. As far as Washington is concerned, the weapon was stolen by a warlord or someone looking to make a profit. They won’t care about anything else once the nuke is recovered and the stockpile revealed.”
“You like your proverbs, Alina,” Solomon muttered. “So let me put it this way—better than the young man’s knowledge is the old man’s experience. I’m old, and neither one of you would understand.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “But I’d remind you that goodness speaks in a whisper, while evil shouts. A nuke is a very loud shout, Nick. If you give us a chance, explain things, then maybe that would help us to understand.”
“I think you should...” He trailed off, staring out the window at the passing mountains.
“What?” Bolan asked.
“Drive faster,” he said. “Much faster!”
Solomon pointed up the hill just as bullets began to rain down on the truck.
Nischal peered out the window. “Shit. It’s Xiu Feng, a local warlord. Brutal reputation. Drive!”
“Just another day in Tibet,” Nick said, laughing.
Bolan downshifted, trying to force a little more torque out of the neglected old engine. The truck lurched forward as another hail of bullets shattered the driver’s side window. Bolan shifted again as two jeeps caught them at the top of a rise, slamming into the side of the truck. Bolan gripped the steering wheel hard, trying to keep the truck on the tight road. He pulled out the Desert Eagle and fired off two quick shots, hitting his first target. The man flew off the side of the jeep and tumbled under the rear wheels of the truck.
The second jeep rammed them again, from behind, while more bullets were flying from the vehicle next to them.
“Take the wheel!” Bolan yelled at Nischal.
She leaned over and did as he said, and Bolan popped open the door, slamming it into the man who was in the midst of making a leap from the jeep to their truck. He flew backward, landing in his own vehicle.
“Stay down, Raju!” Solomon shouted into the cabin.
“Nischal, take over,” Bolan said, then he jumped into the jeep beside them.
The man he’d hit with the door earlier popped back up, delivering a hard uppercut to Bolan’s jaw. Nearly toppling over the open side of the jeep, Bolan grabbed at the edge, then used his own momentum to reverse direction and plant a sidekick into the man’s chest.
He screamed once as he fell onto the hard-packed road.
The driver turned, a revolver in his hand, and fired. Bolan dodged sideways, narrowly avoiding taking a bullet. He reached out, striking like a snake, and put a bone-crunching wrist lock on the arm holding the weapon. A sharp reverse and twist, and the wrist broke easily.
The driver screeched and dropped the gun. The jeep began to swerve wildly, losing speed, as they fought for control. They were no longer keeping pace with the truck, and the second jeep passed them by.
This was no place to get pinned down in a firefight.
Bolan maneuvered around his opponent, reached down and snapped the driver’s neck, then flung the door open and pushed the man’s body out as he dropped into the seat he’d just occupied.
Bolan floored the gas, quickly closing the distance between himself and the second jeep. They saw him coming, but there was little to be done on the narrow road as he slammed into them. One of the gunmen swung around and began firing, forcing Bolan to swerve to keep the damage to a minimum and avoid getting hit. He sent two shots from the Desert Eagle in their direction, causing them to duck for cover. He hit the gas and rammed them a second time, then forced his jeep around and smashed into them sideways. The sounds were atrocious—metal against metal, the rough banging of a vehicle bouncing over rocks and pits in the road.
They shoved back against
Bolan, trying to jam him into the hillside. Ahead, Nischal had managed to create some distance and the truck pulled around a bend in the road. Bolan slammed into the other jeep once more, and this time, there was no room to swerve. As Bolan floored his own brakes, the other jeep plummeted over the side of the cliff.
He sped up once more, feeling certain that whatever lay ahead would be just as dangerous, if not more so.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Vitaly peered at the mountain road through binoculars as his prey approached. Although it was unclear exactly why this mysterious man had stolen, then lost and was now returning with his nuclear weapon, what mattered was that he was within reach. In a short time, Vitaly would recover the weapon, clean up any witnesses and be on his way back to Kathmandu. So far, the hunt had been relatively straightforward and little had gone wrong.
Which was why, when he saw Feng and his men interfering, he cursed under his breath. The lack of communication between them was an unforeseen problem, but phones and radios were essentially useless out here. Nonetheless, even Feng should have realized it would be better to follow the truck and take it when it stopped than attempt to force it off the lousy road in a running gun battle. Vitaly would make certain Feng paid for his stupidity. He gestured for Fedar to come and watch.
The battle unfolded below. There was nothing ordinary about these people, Vitaly realized, as the driver of the truck jumped into one of Feng’s jeeps. These were professional, combat-trained operatives of some kind. There was no way to say for certain how many were involved, but it was clear that he was going to be dealing with more than half-wit, untrained locals.
As Feng’s men lost control of the situation, Vitaly shook his head and turned to Fedar. “Gather the men together. We’re going to have to go down there and intercept them before this gets completely out of hand.”
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