Military Orders

by Martin Roth

  Then Wang looked at Harel. “Sit down next to the man,” he commanded.

  Fear flooded through Harel. He looked at Wang, holding the boy, who was now crying. “What’s happening?” was all he could think of saying.

  “On the floor,” shouted Wang. “Next to the man.”

  Harel saw that Tenzin’s gun was trained on him. He knelt on the floor, next to the director, who almost certainly was no longer alive. Tenzin was pointing the gun at his head.

  “I don’t know why you had to keep interfering,” said Wang. “We didn’t have anything against you. It was your brother who wouldn’t stop asking questions.”

  “So you killed him,” said Harel, looking straight at Tenzin. The young man nodded.

  “And now,” said Wang, “he has to kill you.”

  Chapter 47

  Burumarri Creek, Central Australia

  Harel, kneeling in a pool of blood, his hands still tightly bound, watched in horror as Tenzin held up the pistol, pointing it straight at his head. But then his dread turned to astonishment as Tenzin turned and pointed the gun at Wang.

  “Put down the boy,” he said.

  “What are you saying?” said Wang, who was moving towards the door. “I’ll put the boy in the car.”

  “Put down the boy.”

  “We’re going,” said Wang. “You have compensated for your error of yesterday. We have the boy. You have succeeded in your mission. Well done. Now we can go. You should be on a flight out of Australia by this evening.”

  “Put down the boy or I shoot.”

  “Tenzin, my friend. Don’t be ridiculous. You are too tense. Everything is over. Now finish off the professor, and then we hide the bodies and leave. I’ll put the boy in the car.” He made a move to the door.

  “No,” shouted Tenzin. He lowered the gun, so it was not directed at the boy, and he shot Wang in the thigh. Wang screamed and let go of the boy, who fell to the ground.

  “What are you doing?” screamed Wang. Blood appeared on his trousers, around his right thigh. But then in a swift movement that demonstrated much training, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his own gun and shot at Tenzin.

  Tenzin screamed and crashed back against the wall. But then he shot twice more at Wang, who slumped to the floor.

  Harel struggled to his feet and ran to a corner of the room, by the kitchenette. His hands were still tied behind his back. He crouched down as Tenzin plugged Wang’s lifeless body with three more shots. He waited. The boy was screaming in terror.

  Then Tenzin shouted to Harel, “Come here. Right now.”

  Harel stood and surveyed the scene. Wang was slumped by the door, eyes closed, blood flowing freely from his body. On the other side of the room Tenzin leaned against the wall, clutching his leg. Near Wang stood the boy, crying loudly.

  “He got me in the leg,” said Tenzin. He seemed to be pressing one hand against his lower leg, just below the knee. “I need some towels.”

  Harel regarded him with suspicion. “Not easy to help you with my hands tied behind my back.”

  “Get a knife. I’ll cut that cord.”

  Harel looked around. He was standing in the kitchenette, and on a bench was a bread knife. He turned around and then, his hands behind him, he raised his arms and moved his fingers across the bench feeling for the knife. Clutching it, he walked to Tenzin. He turned around and felt the young Tibetan man take it.

  “I’m going to cut your cords,” said Tenzin. “But I still have the gun. If you try anything - if you try anything at all - I’ll shoot. You have to understand that I’m serious.”

  Yes, actually I do understand that, thought Harel. He felt the man cutting through his bindings, and winced as the bread knife also sliced through some skin.

  “Move away,” said Tenzin. “Look for some towels and throw them to me.”

  Harel went back to the kitchen area. He opened a couple of drawers and found some towels. He threw these to Tenzin. “Can I hold the boy?” he asked.

  Tenzin looked up. “Yes.”

  Harel walked to the boy, still standing by the door, and picked him up. The boy wrapped his small arms around his neck, but continued to cry. Then Harel watched as the young man tied towels around his leg to stop the blood. Next he took a cellphone from his pocket.

  Then, “There’s no signal here.”

  For a little while he continued to lean against the wall, clearly weighing his options. Harel watched as he struggled to stand. He tested his leg. It was clear that he would be able to walk only with difficulty. For a further while he was silent.

  “I need to get to a place with a phone signal,” he said at last. “I have people who can help. You will have to drive.” He pointed to the door with his gun. “Take the boy and walk to the car. Put him in the back seat. Walk very slowly. If you try at all to run I shall shoot. Really. I will shoot.”

  Harel carried the boy and placed him in the back seat. The young man was right behind, limping heavily, but with his gun still trained on Harel. Then the man took keys from his pocket and threw them on the ground. “You are driving,” he said.

  Harel got into the driver’s seat. The man sat in the back with the boy.

  “We’re going to that town where this boy lives,” said Tenzin. “It’s the nearest place where I know there’s a phone signal. Start driving. I’ll direct you.”

  They drove down a series of narrow roads.

  Harel could not help thinking that this drive simply meant a postponement of his death. Tenzin had killed his brother Matt, along with his own boss and the Bollywood director. He was a man on a mission. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill one more.

  He wanted to ask more about the circumstances of his brother’s death, but decided this was not the time. Instead he asked, “What was that all about? Why did you shoot those guys?”

  “That Indian man took our new Dalai Lama. This little boy. I want him.”

  “But that other man. Was he Chinese? What about him?”

  Tenzin hesitated. Harel wondered if was treading dangerously by asking such questions. But then the man spoke. “The last Dalai Lama went astray. It started with the Chinese. They invaded our country. They destroyed our temples, our monasteries, our culture. They committed genocide against our people. The Dalai Lama had to escape. He had no choice. But then he was seduced by the West. Instead of working to strengthen the religion of the Tibetan people, those in exile and those living under Chinese dictatorship, he started reaching out to the West. He became a friend of Hollywood movie stars and of pop singers and of all kinds of celebrities. But now he has died, and we have found the new Dalai Lama. Our people are going to raise him properly.”

  “Properly?”

  “Yes, he will learn the true spirit of the Buddha’s teachings, and he will work to uplift and strengthen the Tibetan peoples.”

  “Where? How?”

  “We have people around the world. Many in Tibet itself. This little boy will be sent to them and raised in accordance with the true teaching.”

  “In which country?”

  “I cannot reveal that.”

  “But how are you going to even get him out of Australia?”

  “That has all been arranged. Mr Wang had passports all set up.”

  “And Mr Wang? Who is he?”

  “He is the enemy. He is from the Chinese government.”

  “The enemy? He certainly seemed to be your friend there, for a while.”

  “The Chinese want to have the Dalai Lama in their custody. They want to stamp out Tibet. Stamp out our culture and our religion. They were waiting for the Dalai Lama to die, so they can control the new one.”

  “But why are you out here in Australia? Were you sent here by the Chinese?”

  “Yes. And I found out that the head of my temple is in the pay of the Chinese. But I always had my own plans.”

  “Which are?”

  “I told you - to educate this little boy in the true teachings of the Buddha.”

  Harel felt
more strongly than ever that this young man planned to eliminate any and every witness to his deeds.

  He was about to ask some questions about his brother Matt, but saw they were approaching some houses. Almost certainly they were entering Burumarri Creek.

  As if to confirm his thoughts the man muttered, “We’re starting to get a phone signal.” And then, “Yes, now it’s strong. I want you to stop by those trees up ahead,”

  Harel had planned his next move. He knew precisely what he was going to do. He drove towards the trees, slowing slightly. But as he got nearer he first braced himself, and then pushed his foot to the floor, accelerating with a screeching of tires. Pointing the car directly at the trees he crashed straight into them with an enormous metallic clattering. His body lurched forward, but his seatbelt restrained him.

  Then he opened the car door, leapt out and sprinted as fast as could through the trees.

  Chapter 48

  Burumarri Creek, Central Australia

  Harel was able to weave his way between the trees, knowing the leg-damaged man in the car was certainly unable to follow. He at least expected some gunshots, but none came. He kept running until he came to a street and some houses.

  He looked around. This was the township of Burumarri Creek. He had been here twice - once when Uncle Barra directed him to the home of Eddie Poulis, the artist, and once when he came to the home where the kidnapped boy lived. Two homes at opposite extremes of the town. He wanted to try to find the latter house again, to tell the people there what he knew, and to summon the police. His cellphone had been taken by Wang, so he needed to find a phone.

  He knew that Burumarri Creek did not have a large population, but, nevertheless, it was a large, sprawling place, with homes dotted over a wide area, rather than in a modest cluster. Right now he could see houses and some parkland with trees, but he did not recognize this particular part of the town.

  He approached a couple of ladies sitting in the park, watching their kids playing. “Look, this will sound vague, but I’m looking for the parents of a little boy named Toby. I’m from America. I’m supposed to be at their house, but I’m totally lost.”

  To his relief one of the ladies was able to give precise directions. He walked through a grove of towering eucalyptus trees, and immediately found himself in the right street.

  He knocked on the door. An Aboriginal lady answered.

  “I was here yesterday,” he said. “My name is Rafa Harel. I’ve got news of your son. I know where he is. And I need to call the police. Can I come in?”

  Sunhee appeared. “You’re Matthew’s brother. Rafa. Come in, come in.”

  “I know who has Toby,” he said. “Please call the police, and I’ll tell you what’s happened.”

  They made a quick call, and he detailed the events of that day.

  A couple of police officers arrived with impressive speed, and he told again his story.

  “Where do you think he’s taking the boy?” asked one.

  “The plan seemed to be that they would be heading overseas. And I’m pretty sure the plan was also to eliminate me. It seems he has some contacts. As I told you, he said he knew some people who would be helping him. But I don’t know who, or where.”

  “And he apparently has a false passport and money.”

  “Yes, apparently.”

  “Well, they aren’t going to help him much. A small, red-faced Tibetan with an Aboriginal kid…he’s not going to make it through any airport. I’d say he’s in trouble. He’s going to need some pretty good contacts, if you ask me. This is big - a double murderer with a kidnapped child.”

  “Triple murderer,” muttered Harel.

  “Not too many people want to give shelter to people like that. If anything they want to get rid of them as fast as they can.”

  The other officer brought a large map from their car and laid it out on the table. He asked Harel to try to locate the site of the murders that morning. With so few roads in the region that proved an easy task.

  After the police had left, Harel sat down with Sunhee.

  “This can’t be good for you,” he said. “A murderer on the run with the boy you were supposed to be caring for.”

  She paused. “They’ve called the operation off.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’ll phone my church right now and tell them what you’ve just told me. That’ll be another - how do you say it in English? - nail in the coffin?”

  She made the call, speaking for about ten minutes. Then she looked at Harel. “I’m being recalled to Korea.”

  Harel could not think of what to say. He thought of Matt. He thought of Sue, and his conversation with her the previous evening. He thought of her new baby.

  “There’s only one thing I can do,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I have to find that boy.”

  Chapter 49

  Burumarri Creek, Central Australia

  “Isn’t he beautiful.” Tenzin was cradling the sleeping child on his lap. His two companions looked on. “So beautiful.”

  Actually, Tenzin did not think this child was especially beautiful. His fat, black face was pock-marked with several blotches, like miniature moon craters. His eyes were too big and his strange black and blonde hair looked like an animal’s. But this child was the Dalai Lama. That’s all that mattered.

  The late Dalai Lama had become corrupted by the West, and maybe he made an error of judgment when he selected the new parents for his rebirth. But he had a beautiful heart, and Tenzin and his colleagues would make sure that as he grew older it would be a heart that remained pure and unadulterated by the filth and corruption of today’s world.

  Tenzin was still shaken by the events of that day - the confrontation with Wang and the movie director, and then the car crash with the Christian’s brother. Again the Christian’s brother had humiliated him.

  It had taken a long time to calm the child after the trauma of the shootings and the car crash. But he was the Dalai Lama, after all. Some orange soda, cookies and ice cream had helped, and the child was now fast asleep.

  Tenzin was feeling intense pride, despite what had gone wrong. It was not just that he was now with the new Dalai Lama. It was also the way in which he had planned this mission so that all the problems hadn’t really mattered. His friends had leased this cottage as their base, and were quickly available to come and pick him up when the Christian’s brother deliberately crashed the car.

  He looked down at the child, then stroked his hair. He whispered the first lines of his prayer.

  I plead with you from the bottom of my heart, Oh Mighty Being,

  Please may the teachings of our dear founder bloom and spread,

  May all the wonderful teachers enjoy long lives,

  And may all the dharma communities be loyal to the teachings of the dharma.

  “Soon you will know that prayer,” he said, a tender smile on his face. “I am going to teach you so much. Do not worry. I will be there for you always. You can trust me. I will never leave you. I am your servant.”

  Chapter 50

  Burumarri Creek/Uluru, Central Australia

  “I might know how to find the boy,” said Harel. “I couldn’t tell it to the police. They wouldn’t believe me. And I’m not really convinced myself.”

  Sunhee looked at him. “How do we find him?”

  “Do you have a car?”

  “Yes.”

  “We can drive there now.”

  They set off to the home of Uncle Barra, the elderly Aboriginal artist, healer and shaman. He was at home.

  “I asked you before about the new Dalai Lama being around here...”

  “I show you where he is.”

  “I actually couldn’t find him.”

  “Your fault.”

  “Yes, probably.”

  “Your fault.”

  “The thing is, the boy has disappeared.”

  “Where does he go?”

  “Well, n
ot so much disappeared. He’s been kidnapped. And” - he shrugged - “this isn’t at all scientific. But maybe you can see where he is.”

  “Dalai Lama boy?”

  “Yes.”

  “I show you once.”

  “But he’s gone. Someone has kidnapped him. I’m hoping you might somehow be able to see where he is.”

  “Kidnap not good.”

  “Would you mind trying?”

  The man said nothing. For a couple of minutes he did his dance again in the bright sunlight. Then on the dusty ground he made the same picture.

  “This looks just the same as before.”

  “He there.”

  “I looked already.”

  “You look wrong place.”

  “I guess we’ll have to try again.”

  They drove back, past the gigantic hulk of Uluru and ended up back where Eddie lived. There was no doubt that this was the place indicated in Uncle Barra’s map. Harel stopped the car, but they did not even bother to get out.

  “Something is wrong,” said Harel. “I think Uncle Barra must be in touch with the wrong spirits.”

  “It may not be Uncle Barra’s fault,” said Sunhee.

  “What do you mean?”

  There was a long pause. “I think I need to tell you a little about what is going on.”

  “I would certainly love to hear that.”

  “You know my church, New Joy Gospel Church.”

  Harel nodded.

  “We’re huge. Really enormous. And we are able to act on a big scale if necessary. Well Bishop Lee, you know him.”

  “I understand that my father knew him. So I know that as a kid growing up in South Korea I’ve probably met him myself. And he even phoned me once - a while back when I was in Japan. He asked if I could help his church.”