Ryan placed his hands on his knees as he tried to get his breath and his heart rate back under control. Charlie Ellenshaw did the same.
“I swear to God; how many times are we going to run into this crap on field assignments? My mom once told me that there were no monsters in the world, but every time we go on a mission there they are. I hate my mom.” He slid to the floor of the cave and threw his hands up in mock surrender.
They heard the laughter of Li Zheng. It was a hearty sound in the darkness of the tunnel.
“For every blessing the Gods bestow on us, there is also a curse.” He laughed again and then quickly calmed. “There are many more undesirable curses far below in the depths, Commander Ryan.” Again, the laughter came.
Professor Lee looked down at Jason to see if he was all right. He finally caught his breath. The small man helped the even smaller Ryan to his feet.
“Your father has the most bizarre sense of humor I have ever seen.”
“You should see the old man on a good day. And evidently, your very own mother had the same traits.”
Charlie smacked Ryan on the back as he moved past him in the dark.
“Don’t you just love this job?”
Chapter Seven
One Hundred Sixty-Eight Miles
East of the Altai Mountains
To keep out of the sixty mile an hour slipstream headwind that slowed its progress, the United States Air Force C-130 Hercules lowered its altitude to only eleven thousand feet. The Mongolian government sanctioned flight from Hanoi had been a bumpy one, but luckily for the twenty-two Air Force commandos, and for Master Chief Jenks and Carl Everett, the flight crew had just returned from a tour in Afghanistan, where flying a Hercules was one of the more dangerous professions in the world, as blasts of winds across a runway were the least of your problems, as heat seeking missiles were quite often chasing you through those winds.
Jenks was sleeping and, sitting next to him, Carl was in deep thought about the circumstances that led him to be flying over Mongolia. If what Henri Farbeaux said was true, the problems the Event Group faced were far beyond the pale of the attempted murder of himself by a man he thought he knew above all others. However, if true, what were the plans of this Siberian group as far as the field team in Mongolia was concerned? Was it Jack, or an imposter that tried to kill him? Everett suspected the man responsible for him ending up in the Mekong River was on a mission to discredit operations in the Gobi or possibly just a kill raid against Department 5656 personnel. He was so deep in thought, he failed to hear the signal tone from the Europa link left to them by Will Mendenhall at the train platform in Hanoi before he left for home.
“Hey, are Toads deaf?” Jenks asked without raising the Air Force baseball cap from his eyes.
“What?” Carl asked as he looked around and saw nothing but dozing commandos.
“The nerd brigade at Nellis is trying to get a hold of you.”
Carl looked to his right and saw the small flashing light on the larger than normal laptop on the canvas seat next to him. He reached for it as a few of the Air Force Special Operations men roused as the Hercules climbed back up to two thousand feet more of altitude after discovering a patch of smoother air. He waited until the men turned their attention to waking, and then as they began opening the box lunches the Air Force supplied the team for their long flight. He finally picked up the link much to Jenks’ liking. The Master Chief looked none too concerned about the reasons for the call from Group. Everett opened the top and entered his coded response and scramble. A face soon appeared, and it wasn’t who he had expected.
“Virginia.”
“Captain, its good to see you active once more.”
“Okay, it’s not Niles yelling at me for disobeying orders, so it’s the old sugar before the bad tasting medicine thing, huh?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment if the meaning being I am the sugar aspect to your query.”
“Always.”
“Well, to a point you’re right. Niles is not happy with your decision to risk the flight to Mongolia. We both thought the sacrifice of the Master Chief would have been sufficient.”
“I heard that, Skinny,” Jenks said without moving the cap from his eyes.
“Yeah, well you should have had the common sense to keep Carl out of it. He’s been shot, you know.”
Finally, the Master Chief raised the baseball cap from his eyes and was about to retort to Virginia’s verbal abuse but stopped when he saw her arched eyebrows. She was just waiting to cut into him, but he knew that look very well. He decided to let it go.
“Any news from Sergeant Tram?”
“Not since Will reported that he left you at the train station in Ho Chi Minh City. Doctor Morales and Europa are monitoring every channel for any news.” Virginia hesitated a moment and then said, “There is a reason for my call. Carl, you may be heading into a full-blown international incident. Minutes after you left Hanoi, the government of Mongolia officially closed its borders.”
“Why would they revoke our status?” Everett asked, sitting up a little straighter. “They do know we have a sanctioned field team in the mountains, don’t they?”
“Our good friends the Russians are gathering a strike team along Mongolia’s northern border.”
“Yes, Major Mendenhall informed us in Hanoi. Its about what we expected them to do. Does the Mongolian government know the difference between saber rattling and the real thing?”
“If its saber rattling, they know how to rattle. The 59th Black Sea Regiment has been joined at the border by the Russian Special Operations Command. Those are the boys credited with taking control of eastern Ukraine during the Russian’s non-invasion.”
“Yeah, we’ve heard about them,” Everett said recalling the dossier he and Jack had pored over after the Simbirsk mission. These were the men that they suspected of eliminating the Russian cruiser crew. “The operational standard of those yahoos doesn’t scare me much, but their usual support elements do.”
“Well, it should. The whole gang is lining the border. They are bringing with them the MI-8MTV transport support helicopter group. And, I’m afraid, the entire 23rd Aviation assault Regiment.”
“That means over thirty-five MI-8AMT-Sh armed assault choppers. Jesus, those are ground troop killers. What in the hell are they playing at, a full-scale invasion of a neighbor?”
“Its not like they haven’t done it before.”
“The Mongolian response?”
“The better question to ask is about the Chinese response. Something just short of a division is moving into place. Including an entire armored regiment.”
“Damn. All of this for that mineral Sarah and her team uncovered?”
The silence on the other end of the Europa link disturbed Carl to no end. His military hackles rose.
“Oh, God, what is the Pentagon’s stance?” he finally asked, terrified of Virginia’s answer.
“They are seeking permission from Uzbekistan for overflight permission for our stealth bombers to supply support for you and your team. The find in the Gobi Desert is that important to every government on the planet.”
“I suspect the Mongolians won’t give their permission, thank God. This thing could escalate beyond all control if we start using strategic weaponry. Has anyone explained that to the brass-hats at the Pentagon?”
“Niles has been in conference since four A.M. this morning with the President. After the Simbirsk incident in the North Atlantic, the President isn’t keen on losing anyone in Mongolia. But as of right now, we have no alternative but to match move for move with the Russians and Chinese. Even our cousins, the British are moving in several Chindit Special Operations units from India. No orders to move in yet, but that could change at any moment.”
“Well, we have no choice but to figure this thing out in the Gobi.”
“Carl, can Tram track down Jack?” Virginia asked with worry on her face.
“It’s his part of the world, Virginia. If
anyone can, he can.”
“Captain, I know Niles is mad at you for not following orders, but inside he knows you’ll bring everyone back home. He’s counting on it.”
“Oh, now you have the all the confidence in the world now that Captain America is on the job, is that it?”
Everett glanced to his left and then gave the Master Chief a dirty look.
“You’re nearing your destination. Don’t you special-operations-types usually lighten the planes load before landing. You know, jettison excess weight? Like about two hundred pounds of Master Chief?”
“Let us know of any changes, Virginia.” Carl closed the laptop’s lid before the love spat could gain any more momentum. He fixed Jenks with that angry look again. “You know, some night she’s going to just lean over while you’re sleeping and slice your throat?”
Jenks placed the ball cap back over his eyes. “What makes you think she hasn’t already tried?”
Everett was about to say how lucky the Master Chief was that any woman could even tolerate him in the same room, much less love him, when the Hercules unexpectedly went into a nose dive, and then just as rapidly turned to the left. Carl quickly placed the headphones over his ears as Master Chief Jenks went flying from his seat. The rest of the commandos were attempting to grab handholds for support against the forces now pulling at them.
“…we are under attack, I repeat, we are under air attack!” came the calm voice of the co-pilot as he tried to get off a radio message. “Four missiles are tracking. Radar and heat guided!”
“Paint my ass red and call me an orangutan, those sons of bitches are as brazen as they come!” Jenks cried out as he too was fighting to get back into his seat.
The C-130 banked hard to the right when Carl heard the chaff and flares go off in the tail boom of the Hercules, spreading a line of burning flares to distract the heat seekers, and aluminum chaff strips to confuse the radar guided missiles. Everett knew that when those things popped off, missiles were in very close proximity. He also knew from Ryan that missile deterrents never usually worked.
Everyone inside the cargo hold was hanging on for dear life as the giant Hercules fought to out-maneuver missiles that were designed specifically to kill them.
The impact of the first missile strike must have been a heat-seeker. They felt the strike against the left side of the C-130 as several panels of aluminum skin tore free, and the next thing they knew the aircraft was filled with every imaginable piece of debris. Carl had a hard time seeing as he tried to pull the Master Chief back onto the canvas seat. Luckily the pilot already had the Hercules below eleven thousand feet or they would now either be suffocating for lack of oxygen, or many of them that hadn’t been strapped down in their seats would have been sucked out of the gaping hole that took up most of the aft side of the aircraft.
Just as the Master Chief managed to get into his seat, another, heavier impact happened toward the back of the aircraft. The loading ramp was now partially blown off its hydraulics. Three men and a pallet of equipment flew from the damaged area and into the blue skies of Mongolia.
“Beijing Center, this is American Air Force Flight Bravo 210, we’re going down, I repeat we are going down! Our position is—”
The transmission was cut off as the headphones were ripped free of Everett’s head by the forces of wind and turbulence.
“I knew the damn Air Force would kill me someday! It wasn’t enough the bastards sent me to space, now they’re going to attempt to kill me in bum-fuck Mongolia!”
Carl failed to hear the Master Chief as the first contact with the ground came suddenly. He closed his eyes and waited. The wait was blessedly short in duration.
* * *
The C-130 struck a sand dune and then rebounded into the air. The starboard engines were ripped free of the wing as the giant aircraft nearly started to cartwheel before the second impact with the Gobi sent it sliding to the right. Then the right wing was torn free as the aviation fuel exploded, taking out six more of the Air Force commandoes seated on that side. Again, the C-130 rebounded into the air after leaving the starboard wing behind this time. Finally, the Hercules came to rest on the sparse scrub of the oldest desert in the world. Then the remaining fuel in numbers one and six fuel tanks erupted.
The C-130 Hercules was left to burn on the desert floor thirty-four miles short of their destination.
* * *
Pi Biehn, Laos
Tram was unceremoniously thrown into the darkened cell. He hit the slime covered floor and slid into the cinderblock wall. He immediately came to his feet and tried to charge the large Russian who awaited the challenge at the cell door. Just as Tram reached it, the large gun was produced, stopping the small Vietnamese sergeant cold in his tracks.
“You should have stayed home, small man,” the Russian said with a menacing look. Then he quickly reached out and popped Tram on the forehead, sending him once more to the cold and damp floor. The cell door closed and Tram, wiping a smattering of blood from the gash in his head, continued to stare at the retreating form of the brute.
“You have to learn to pick your moment,” came a voice from the darkness.
Tram wiped some of the blood from his head to his trousers as he peered into the blackness of the cell. The voice had a familiar ring to it and Tram took a tentative step forward. He saw a grey form lying on a shabby bunk with no mattress. His eyes went wide as he could not believe his luck. He immediately charged the prone man who jumped to his feet to defend himself from the new visitor to his imprisoned world. He raised both fists and took up a defensive stance. Instead of a series of blows, of which he expected, the smaller stranger wrapped his arms around him. The man tried to step back but was held firm.
“Hey, hey, take it easy.” The man was finally able to push a small space between him and the newcomer that was trying to squeeze the breath out of him.
“You have many friends worried about your situation, Colonel.”
Jack Collins had always tried to keep any surprise with orders or circumstance from his initial demeanor or response, but when he realized who it was that was thrilled to see him, he smiled and patted Tram on the back.
“What in the hell are you doing here?”
Tram finally released Jack. He shook his head and then wiped more blood from it. “Looking for you.”
“Well, sergeant, you seemed to have found me.” Again, Jack showed his affection by taking Tram by the shoulders. “Where are the others?” he asked with hope highlighting his question.
Tram became quiet as he tried to get a good look at the Colonel in the dim light being cast from the end of the hallway outside the cell.
“You’re alone?” Collins asked as he finally released him.
Tram only nodded his head. “This was a gamble. I have heard rumors of this house from my contacts in the drug enforcement bureau. I came alone.”
“Have you heard from Carl?” Jack asked as the worry was evident in his voice.
“He is well. We found him in Ho Chi Minh City.” Tram became silent and turned away for the briefest of moments before he turned back and asked the question that many wanted to know. “The Captain says that you shot him.”
“Shot him?” Collins asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“He believes that?” Jack asked as he turned and then sat on the bare springs of the cot.
“He is not sure on many points but is quite sure on that one.” Tram sat next to Collins and then shook his head. “I don’t believe it. He must be mistaken.”
“To tell you the truth, Sergeant, I don’t remember much after someone cracked me over the head. We were just following a lead on a Russian Group out of Siberia. We had no idea we had walked right into a nest of the same bastards we were hunting.”
“You should have contacted me. I could have been beneficial to your search,” Tram said, finally looking over at Collins.
“I’m not in the habit of getting friends shot for aiding a foreign power, Sergeant.”
Jack slapped him on the left leg. “Especially very good friends.”
Tram felt his heart warm over the comment that the Colonel thought that highly of him. He was never sure because of the history of the Collins family line about how the colonel really felt about he and his countrymen. He knew Jack’s father never returned home after his final tour during the Vietnam war. He watched in the dark as Jack stood and paced to the cell door in thought.
“Colonel, why do they keep you here?”
“From what I understand, I won’t be here that much longer. It seems I’m in for a debrief in Siberia.”
“Do these backward people believe that your Group would ever stop looking for you?”
Jack didn’t answer as he thought out the question as posed to him. He turned and faced the sitting Van Tram. “You say Carl was convinced that I am the one who shot him?”
“I believe ‘convinced’ is too strong of a word. He was almost as confused as you were when I informed you.”
“But he’s all right?”
“Yes, I believe he is now on his way back to the States.” Tram stood and paced, as Jack had a moment before, to the other side of the small cell. “Colonel, I am a fool. No one knows of my activities on this matter. I thought it best to continue covertly. Captain Everett, besides one other, are the only people who know about my quest. My government cannot help us as they know nothing of this incident.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Sergeant, we all think we can go it alone sometimes. If you were under my command I would chew your ass off and then we would move on. If you noticed throughout my career I have left pieces of my ass all over the world.”
“Still, I should have been better prepared.”
“You mentioned two people knew your intention?”
Tram again shook his head. “Yes, Colonel Farbeaux assisted me in locating Captain Everett.”
“Henri?”
“Yes, he was very helpful.”
Empire of the Dragon Page 20