“What did he get out of it?”
“Nothing I believe.” Tram smiled. “I think he may be afraid of Director Compton.”
Jack also smiled for the first time in what seemed ages. “Hell, we’re all afraid of the Director. Where is the Colonel now?”
“I am afraid his obligation to the Director only goes so far.”
“Henri has never been on the stupid side.”
“Colonel, we must get you out of here. Perhaps we could—”
“We do wish you would try some of your American heroics. Thus far we have been vastly disappointed after receiving warnings about your prowess as a soldier from our superiors.”
Jack was caught off guard by the voice. The Russian guard had never left. He had stationed himself by the doorway well out of sight. He took a step away from the bars as the largest Russian Collins had ever seen approached. He tracked him by the guard’s heavy footfalls. Collins knew that his abilities had been diminished since he had been deprived of light and sound for so long.
“But, we will be moving very soon.”
“My government is well aware of what you are doing here,” Tram said, coming as close to the man beyond the bars as he could. The look in the small sergeant’s face seemed determined to make the Russian believe he was telling the truth.
“One thing we have learned about the Vietnamese, little man, is the fact that you, as a people, have no idea how to bluff an opponent. You are as alone as our American Colonel here.” The Russian stepped closer to the cell just into viewing range. “Now, small man, can you tell if I’m bluffing when I say that, when we do depart with Colonel Collins here, that you will still be breathing five minutes after?”
Silence greeted the question.
“Do not play games with Russians, my small friend. The Americans think they understand us, but as time proves repeatedly, they know little.”
The man turned on his heels and walked to the door at the far end. It opened. “As you see by the predicament that your American Colonel is in, there are very few heroes left in the world.” The laughter followed the Russian out of the door like a train of sour breath.
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Well see, Ivan.”
* * *
The drunk man stumbled toward the line of high-staked tires in the back of the safehouse. He tripped, stumbled, and then righted himself.
“What is this?” the smaller guard asked as both Russians laughed at the bumbling fool from the higher vantage point of the raised porch.
“It seems we have a European who is not used to sampling Laotian drug wares.”
“He must be Dutch. Their consulate is not that far away,” said the fattest of the two as both men laughed at the idiot who didn’t know the power of Southeast Asian drugs. They laughed far more loudly when the tall man finally lost control and fell onto his back less than thirty yards from the porch. “Come, if Yuri sees this we’ll be the ones sprawling on the ground.”
Both men took the steps down the porch and started walking while watching the man writhe in the dirt. Before they realized what was happening, the smaller of the two Russians seemed to stumble and then went to his knees holding his throat. The more rotund man laughed at his companion until in the light of the floods he saw blood spurting freely from the man’s throat. He immediately reached for his own weapon inside of his coat when another ‘pop, clack’ was heard. He felt the bullet enter his head, but his brain continued to function. His hands didn’t however, and the Makarov pistol fell from his grip as he turned and faced the threat like a disoriented zombie. The man was now standing and walking his way.
“You Russians are too stupid to realize that you have been shot in the head,” the tall, blonde man said as he stepped up to the overweight Russian and then placed his free hand over the brute’s heart, then with a gentle shove, sent the man falling backward into the dusty ground. He hit with a ‘plop’ sound as the man barely spared him a glance on his way toward the porch. He went quickly up the stairs with the still smoking and silenced pistol aimed at the doorway.
* * *
The three men finished their snack of Chinese takeout and then the large Russian looked at his watch.
“We must go. We have to meet our consulate staff at the airport for our little human smuggling operation,” he said in heavy accented Georgian. “As soon as we remove the Colonel, it will be my pleasure to shoot the little yellow man. I wish the American to witness his friend’s death. Then I can leave you men to do your very distasteful work in this backward country.”
“Yes, Yuri,” both of his subordinates said as they tossed the remains of their takeout and then followed the larger, well dressed man downstairs.
* * *
Jack and Tram heard the far-off door open and then the laughter of the men who entered. Tram backed up three steps until his back was against the damp wall. Jack took up station beside the cell door. They had both decided that they would go out in a way of their own choosing. Jack knew he would die before he allowed Tram’s life to be taken by men who were nothing but unconscionable pigs. And also, because he hated the cold and Siberia was just not in his planning.
“Colonel, please step away from the door,” came the same voice as before. Then the hallway lights flared to full brightness. Collins and Tram both knew they had just lost any edge they had before the lights came alive. Collins didn’t move.
The pistol came up and it aimed through the bars of the cell. It was sighted directly at Tram.
Three things happened at once. There was a loud popping sound, quickly followed by the ‘clacking’ of a weapon being recharged. Then another pop. Then one more. The largest of the Russians still had his pistol pointed in the cell when his eyes widened as the third pistol shot struck him in the side just below his hip. Jack quickly reached out and took the Makarov and twisted it until he heard the man’s wrist break. The Russian screamed in pain and anger as his eyes betrayed the fact that he was still confused on just what was befalling him. The Russian went to his knees as Jack aimed the pistol at him. Then they heard a man whistling.
“I seem to come upon you in the strangest of places, Colonel.”
Jack felt his limbs almost go weak at the voice he so readily identified. He shook his head and then tossed the Makarov pistol to Tram.
“And you always seem to take your good time in deciding if you’re a good guy or bad guy, Henri.”
“The jury is still out on that one. You and your associates seem to have an adverse effect on my personality,” Henri was finally seen in the full light as came forward into view and easily reached down and felt through the angry and hurt Russian’s coat pockets until he came up with the key. He kneed the man away who yelled at the pain in his wrist and hip as he sprawled onto the filthy floor. “Excuse me,” Farbeaux said as he inserted the key in the ancient lock and then opened the door. “Shall we go?”
“Henri, did you happen to notice there are more men up there?” Jack said as he awaited Tram to exit.
“Oh, they were hungry, at the moment they are both eating dirt.” Farbeaux’s smile came.
“I do love your attention to detail, Colonel.” Collins looked down at the man on the floor hissing in pain over the hole in his upper leg and at his broken wrist. Jack’s eyes met those of Sergeant Tram. The unspoken thoughts of both were very apparent as the Colonel turned and shook Henri’s hand as both men turned for the door.
Tram stood over the man that had only an hour before clubbed him in the head and tried to humiliate him. He felt the weight of the heavy Makarov in his hand, and then turned his back on the Russian, who closed his eyes in silent relief. Then they widened when Tram turned back to him with the pistol raised.
“You are right, we Vietnamese are only just now learning to bluff. For instance, like when you thought just now I was leaving you here to live a full and meaningful life.” He fired twice into the large Russian’s head, blowing the back of his skull away. “That is a Vietnamese bluff.” He turned to follow Jack and
Henri toward freedom. “We do learn quickly.”
Farbeaux paused at the door and looked from a smiling Tram to Collins.
“What was that about?”
“Karma, Henri, Vietnamese Karma.”
* * *
United Nations, New York
Since the democratic wave of 1990 ousted the long standing communist rule of law inside the borders of Mongolia, the new state had struggled to maintain their sovereignty against its larger neighbors—Russia to the north, and China to its south. Its small armed forces have tried to join the modern part of the world in joint operations that mutually benefitted them. They were heavily involved in the United Nations effort to oust terrorism from the world. They had gained massive support from the west and had thrown relations with its neighbors into turmoil.
Now, on the floor of the United Nations, Mongolia was asserting its right as a new nation, and several security council signatories were trying to flex their veto power after Mongolia’s address to the world on the main floor, which had called for all foreign entities to leave the borders of Mongolia. The most discouraging part of the day was the fact that, after Mongolia placed its dissent over its own border security, they were left out of the United Nations Security vote on the matter.
“We have very strong evidence that Mongolia has been, and is even now, in the process of developing a possible weapon of mass destruction inside an Altai Mountain research complex,” said the man representing the Russian delegation. “This we cannot allow.”
“We have gathered the same evidence as your government and our findings tell us we have yet to come to that same conclusion. A possible beneficiary ore, maybe, until our science teams examine the find, we just don’t know. But a weapon of mass-destruction? That’s broadening the picture a little too much. Assumption, sir, is the mother of all miscalculation.” There were several hand slaps on the table tops by mainly western powers.
“You are out of order, sir, the representative from the Russian state still has the floor,” said the Indian chairman at the head of the large conference table. Still, the Ambassador from the United Kingdom continued.
“Of which he will continue to pontificate their so-called findings until we all die of either lack of oxygen, or dare I say, boredom,” said Sir Jeffery Kinsley.
“Russia does not have to sit here and be bombarded by British humor, or lack thereof. We have a right to defend our southern border, and no entity on the face of the Earth can deny us that!”
“And yet we still await this so-called Russian evidence,” interjected the representative of China.
“Gentlemen, you are all out of order!” called out the chair from India.
“What is in order is the fact that the United States is more than willing to defer our lost field team and its safety, to the government of Mongolia, and we also call for the cessation of saber-rattling from all parties before the situation becomes untenable. I believe that China will concur on the point of standing down all activities inside of Mongolia and allow the government of that nation to conduct a search for our missing field elements. Only then can we talk about the benefits or the dangers of what will be found as far as the new discovery is concerned,” said Ambassador Fred Whiting of the United States.
“Until such a time, China must concur with the ruling body about standing all forces down until an agreement can be reached on this new material,” he paused with a skeptical look at the Russian team, “if there is this magical ore that all nations seem to now know about, but few have evidence of.” All eyes went toward the usually quiet representative of China. “China must insist that Russia stand its forces down and withdraw from the border with their neighbor. If not, we are building a sizable force in the south to confront any and all incursions into the nation of Mongolia.”
The gavel slammed down three times to regain order, as the Russian delegation stood from the council table. The ambassadors from the United Kingdom and the United States exchanged worried looks over the comment by China. On the outside, it looked as if the largest nation in the world was siding with them, but they knew China was also playing the situation to their advantage. In other words, they were using Russia’s actions as an excuse to carry forward with their own goals in the matter—the possible procurement of the new material for China could be their end game.
“Until such a time that this body regains its senses, Russia uses its veto power over the proposal by the United Kingdom. The State of Mongolia has twenty-four hours to produce the material that has caused this problem, so it can be determined of its weaponization possibilities.”
The ambassador from the United States stood, along with the representative from the United Kingdom, and, over the slamming of the gavel, stated their response.
“At the request of the Mongolian nation, the United States will assist that nation in repelling any incursion by outside influences into the Gobi.”
The security council flew into shouts of anger and yells of righteous indignation over the Russian stance and the outright declaration of the west to meet them in the field. It seemed many more politicians than first thought had taken the claims of Department 5656 and that of MI-6 far more seriously than even Niles Compton had assumed. The turmoil was so great inside the chamber that few noticed the Chinese representative step aside and gesture to an assistant with a preconference signal. The aid pushed a single button on what looked like a normal cell phone. Looking normal was the optimum point. The coded signal went all the way to Beijing. Twenty minutes later, the entire 15th Chinese Peoples Liberation Airborne Corps went on full alert. The material the Chinese governments had been searching for the past two thousand years was now found. The decision had been made, three days before, that this motherload of fortune would not go anywhere but into Chinese hands. That meant that the 15th Airborne division and its six airborne brigades would kill any foreign entity trying to recover it.
The world’s governing bodies were being forced to war on rumor, greed, an outlandish legend, and innuendo.
* * *
Event Group Complex,
Nellis Air Force Base, Nevada
Alice Hamilton watched the tired eyes of Niles Compton as he slowly hung up the phone. He removed his glasses and, for the fiftieth time that night, rubbed the bridge of his nose before placing the eyewear back on. Virginia Pollock and Alice exchanged worried looks over the director’s short and brutal conversation with the President.
“The Russians will not withdraw,” Niles said, and then he looked straight down the table at the youngest member of the hierarchy of the Department 5656 management, Xavier Morales. “Doctor, please tell me that Europa has had success in establishing contact with the field team’s location and health and welfare implants?”
“None. Here’s what we have, the situation is changing rapidly, and we are close to losing control from the standpoint of searching here in Nevada. It seems the transponders for Captain Everett and Master Chief Jenks are signaling that they are on the ground. Far short of their destination. Their health and welfare signals are intermittent and inconclusive. This coincides with the Mongolian air traffic report of a Mayday that was sent by the C-130 that they were under aerial attack.”
Niles looked over to his left at Virginia, whose face remained neutral at the news that Master Chief Jenks may either be dead, or at the very least hurt.
“Jack?”
“Better news on that front. It seems Sergeant Tram and Colonel Farbeaux secured Colonel Collins inside a Russian safehouse in Laos. While we didn’t speak to the Colonel, Tram reports that the Collins and Farbeaux will be heading back to the States on the next available transport. I explained to Tram that it was of the utmost importance for the Colonel to be debriefed immediately over his situation. His explanation and debrief on what befell him and Captain Everett is of paramount importance to the theory of what government entity we are truly facing in Siberia.”
Both Alice and Virginia looked at Niles who was shaking his head in the negative. The
three highest members of Department 5656 knew Jack Collins all too well.
“And he was briefed on what’s happening in Mongolia?” Niles asked.
“Yes, sir. Although I did not speak to him, the word was passed on by Sergeant Tram,” Morales said from his wheelchair.
“And what follow-up questions did the Colonel ask through Tram?” Virginia offered.
“None, he seemed satisfied with the orders to return home, ASAP.’
Alice couldn’t hold back. The eighty-five-year-old laughed and shook her head at the naivete of the young computer genius.
“What?” Xavier asked when Virginia also smiled.
“He lied to you, Doctor. He’s going to Mongolia. Did you express concern over the fate of Captain Everett and the Master Chief, and the fates of the initial field team of Sarah, Anya, Charlie and Ryan?”
“Yes, I informed Tram and he in turn filled the Colonel in on all aspects of what we think is happening in Mongolia.”
“Jack is heading for Mongolia. You’ll learn that the Colonel will not allow what’s happening there to jeopardize any of his field teams. It’s not your fault, we just know him better than you. You’ll learn. Besides, he has the bad influence of Henri Farbeaux to mine the anger aspect of Jack’s concerns.” Niles watched as the overly-excited Morales protested.
“This time even Colonel Collins cannot lie. Europa has picked up his transponder and he is already airborne for the States.”
Silence greeted his statement.
“He’s on his way back home. Europa is not wrong about that.”
Chapter Eight
Altai Mountains,
Eastern Mongolia
Sarah and Anya were up late. Most of the citizenry had gone to sleep in their naturally carved-out cave quarters. They had no guards on duty to watch them. The only sound this late at night was the splashing of the four waterfalls surrounding the city center. The sound would have normally been a sleep-inducing treatment but, for Sarah and Anya, it only reminded them they were very far from home and the people they loved. For Sarah it was harder as the situation between her and Jack did not allow for peaceful rest of any kind. Anya’s sleeplessness sprang from missing Carl.
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