by Fritz Galt
“I’m sure this’ll work,” Brad said.
“How do you know? We have to go to China. We have to find Shangri-la. And we have to get my father. Only then can we marry.”
“What you just said.” He pecked her chastely on the cheek.
If only she had his confidence. Everything had to work perfectly.
Then she felt his lips press against hers. This time, they were firm and warm. He pulled her sleek, white blouse tight against his chest. She couldn’t hold back a low, animal-like moan. With such manly determination, maybe Brad could make it happen.
In the tents behind her, she heard clapping. Under cover of the airmen’s whoops and applause, she attempted to climb up on Brad. That sent him staggering backward. They landed with a bump against a pile of clothes drying beside a wash bucket.
There, she mounted his torso until she cradled his head in her arms.
The cheers and whistles went on, and for a brief, shining moment, it occurred to her that Brad and all the rest of those confident Yankees just might pull off whatever they wanted.
Chapter 37
“Change of plans,” Jade said.
It took a moment for May to adjust to the reflected light in Saddam’s personal terminal and for her head to clear after some passionate moments with Brad.
Jade held up a computer printout. “I just asked air traffic control to check on Liang’s plane. It has been diverted to Kunming.”
“Kunming?” Earl emerged from the restroom wiping his lips and chin. “Did Liang hijack his plane?”
Jade approached him and threw her arms around him. “That sort of information wouldn’t appear on the ATC screen.”
He gave her a peck on the lips. “So, either the plane’s pilot requested the new destination or the Chinese authorities did.”
May straightened her blouse and speculated, “President Qian’s men may be waiting for Liang in the wrong city.”
“Wrong city?” Jade said. “Wrong province.”
It was true. Kunming was in far western China, whereas the president’s troops would be waiting in the eastern city of Shanghai.
“Even if I fly at maximum speed,” Jade said, “Liang would still beat us there.”
“I will call Qian.” May pulled her phone out and prayed to her ancestors that Baghdad still had cell phone service. It did. The call went through to Beijing.
After several operators, a sleepy President Qian answered.
“I have bad news to report,” May launched in. “Liang is landing in Kunming, not Shanghai. You have to rush troops over to the airport right away to apprehend him.”
Qian groaned. “My grandson again.” Liang seemed destined to be an acupuncture needle in his side forever. “You know that the Southern Command is always the slowest to react.”
She was well aware of the problem. Intransigence coupled with incompetence often made the region south of the Yangtze seem reluctant to follow Beijing’s orders.
“Well, do your best,” May urged. “He is due to land in a couple of hours. We won’t get there before he does.”
“Don’t worry,” he said with a yawn. “I will call the Defense Ministry. I’m sure they’ve had enough sleep for the night.”
May put the phone away. “Now, we have to get going.”
“With all due respect, ma’am,” the captain said. “Considering the latest ground fire, I don’t see how you can fly out of Baghdad tonight.”
“We flew in,” Jade said, and brushed past him. “We will fly out.”
“Yeah, dude,” Brad told the captain. “Lighten up. These chicks can fly through whatever the Iraqis throw at us.”
He grabbed his buddy Earl, who gave a final longing look at the john.
Chapter 38
Wednesday
The Air France flight was descending toward Kunming in the mountainous southwest of China. Liang opened Dr. Yu’s shade and let the morning light in. It washed out the landscape and all he could see were the ridges of hills.
“Wake up, old man.” He slapped Yu on both cheeks and handed him a hot, moist towel.
Still savoring a dream, the old scientist took the towel and draped it over his balding head.
“How can you get us from Kunming to Shangri-la?” Liang wanted to know.
Yu thought about it. “I guess we’ll have to take a smaller plane.”
“Fine. We’ll charter one at the airport. I can fly us both.” He imagined landing on a snowfield high in the Himalayas.
The airliner banked for its final approach to the airport, and Liang caught a view of the wide plain on which Kunming sat. They flew low over a giant lake, then a sooty industrial area. At last they broke through the haze and could see the airport in the center of the city. A last glance out the windows gave him a view of green hills in the distance.
Soon he would be flying back west to Shangri-la.
Kunming was a busy tourist hub. Taxiing down the runway, they passed flights leaving for Hainan, Dali, Lijiang, the Three Gorges and other highlights of southwestern China.
More importantly, no military vehicles waited on the tarmac.
They had a gate assignment and the pilot rolled right up to the terminal. Beyond a glass walkway, travelers watched them with blank expressions. All seemed normal in Kunming that day.
Fellow passengers were grousing. This wasn’t their intended destination, and they remained in their seats. Liang took the opportunity to jump into the aisle and pull the old guy with him.
They stood waiting by the exit before the jetway rolled up. At last they could open the door, and Liang stepped out onto Chinese soil. What a relief.
He tried to read the faces of the airport crew as they walked through the jetway. It was difficult for a Han Chinese to read emotions in the small ethnic eyes. It seemed like a more exotic place than China. Perhaps they were already halfway to Shangri-la.
He walked toward the terminal with Yu struggling to keep up.
Through the windows, he took in the grandeur of the sky. At high elevation, Yunnan Province was never too hot in summer and given its southern location, it was never too cold in winter. People called it the land of eternal spring. And after the gray skies of Paris, Kunming’s chroma key blue looked straight out of a movie.
He listened to the sounds of travelers. Children were antsy, people tossed trash away, escalators creaked, and flies buzzed against windows trying to get out.
A hand caught him by the elbow and steered him to one side.
“Come with me.”
The man stepped out of the shadows. He was a military officer, likely one of General Chen’s men.
Liang put a hand on Yu’s back and propelled him with the officer down a long glass walkway, where signs read “Immigration,” “Customs,” and “Baggage Claim” in both Chinese and English.
A door at the end took them to a wide set of stairs that led downward. The bright new interior of the terminal gave way to a boarded up interior still under construction.
In the gloom, he made out a team of military guards waiting at the bottom of the steps. That was slightly unnerving, but not unexpected. As he knew from years in the military, Chinese troops moved in groups.
A captain stepped forward and extended a hand to Liang. Strange that the guy wasn’t throwing a salute. But, of course, Liang wasn’t in uniform. He reached out to shake hands and thank them for showing up.
But instead, the captain slapped a handcuff on his wrist.
Weren’t these Chen’s men from the Southern Command? “Who sent you?”
“We are here under orders of President Qian,” the captain said almost apologetically. “I’m sorry, but we were told to detain you.”
“Detain?” He was livid. “For what?”
“These are my orders, sir.” The other handcuff was already strapped to the captain’s wrist, binding the two men together.
Meanwhile, Yu stared distrustfully from face to face. He didn’t seem to know whether to bolt or turn himself in.
&nbs
p; “I am Dr. Yu Zhaoguo,” he finally said to the captain.
“Greetings, sir. May we escort you home?”
Yu’s eyes flicked up at Liang with a trace of fear. Then he raised his white eyebrows. “I’ll take the code now.”
Liang reached for the inner pocket of his jacket, and instantly drew a wall of brandished weapons. The captain pulled Liang’s hand out of his jacket. There was no gun. A soldier wrenched his arm behind his back in a painful maneuver.
Doubled over, Liang felt a handcuff clasp his other wrist. The pressure lifted from his bent arm and he straightened up, handcuffed to a second guard.
The unit hustled him through the darkened corridor toward an open area. Just beyond, he could see immigration booths.
Yu seemed to be in a quandary. Clearly, he didn’t want to leave without the document. So he followed the soldiers.
They took a route that circumvented immigration. Soon they were walking past conveyer belts full of luggage. Small clusters of passengers paused to gawk at him.
This was unacceptable. Where were Chen’s men?
Chapter 39
Shortly after the air traffic controller at Kunming Wujiaba International Airport gave Liang’s wayward jetliner from Paris permission to land, Jade radioed in for the same clearance. Kunming was one of only five international airports in China, so they would have to let her land.
The tower copied her request and gave her a flight path to follow, which she did.
Judging from the airwaves and from 20,000 feet, all looked normal on the ground. Compared with Iraq, China seemed a bastion of tranquility. She tried to forget her harrowing arrival in Baghdad, and her equally tense departure. Her decision to ignore the American’s advice to spiral her way up and out of the airport had paid off. The so-called “protective perimeter” didn’t seem all that safe to her, so she had opted for a low and fast escape from the city. Before gunmen could pull out their pistols and shoulder-mounted rockets, she was gone.
Now, if all went according to plan, forces on the ground would welcome her. Qian’s men would take Liang into custody upon his arrival. But China was vast, and troops could not be everywhere.
So as she concentrated on landing the Citation X, a feeling of uncertainty crept into her.
She had never been to Kunming before. They flew over modern skyscrapers. It seemed like any large Chinese city, with wide, straight streets. It certainly had beautiful weather.
The landing went smoothly, and she switched the radio over to ground control.
“Taxi to exit 21.”
She could do that. But she needed to park next to Liang’s plane.
“This is Citation 349 Charlie requesting the gate next to Air France flight 112 from Paris.”
“Permission denied, Citation 349 Charlie. Proceed to exit 21.”
Taxiing toward the large terminal, she could see why she was being directed so far away. Every gate was occupied. Many planes came from other Southeast Asian countries. This was some hub.
An army jeep was waiting beside exit 21. She turned in and gave the soldiers a salute. How nice that Qian had sent an escort.
A minute later, she pulled up to a spot on the tarmac a hundred meters from the terminal. There, a small convoy of army trucks waited for her.
She did her final instrument checks and turned off the power. “We have a welcome committee,” she told her small entourage.
May spruced up the two young men and lowered the airstairs.
Jade followed them into the bright sunshine. The air was warm and dry. And the military would escort them to the terminal.
With weapons drawn, soldiers jumped from the rear of the trucks and surrounded them.
“Lie face down with hands behind your heads,” an officer shouted harshly in Chinese.
“Translation, please?” Brad said. But he seemed to get the idea when Earl and the others dropped to their stomachs.
“What is the meaning of this?” Jade shouted angrily from her prone position. A pair of handcuffs was slapped on her wrists.
“You will come with us,” the officer said.
Clearly these men had gotten their orders confused. They were supposed to capture Liang. Or maybe they were being extra cautious. Such mix-ups were common in the military, as she had seen during her days in the People’s Air Force.
Still, she had to be sure there wasn’t some other factor. “Under whose orders were you sent here?” she called over her shoulder.
“General Chen of the Southern Command,” the man said proudly.
She looked across at May. Their eyes locked in dreadful realization. General Chen had worked on Liang’s behalf in the past.
The soldiers pulled the men away from the women and marched them into a separate truck. They were being treated like terrorists, or worse: traitors.
She watched glumly out the back flap of the personnel carrier as the Citation X that had saved their lives grew smaller in the distance. How ironic that they had successfully escaped the police in France and survived SAMs in Iraq, only to be captured by their own troops.
The roar of jet engines increased and soon fuel trucks and baggage carts zoomed around them. They passed under one jet’s wing and plunged into the shadows of the terminal.
Grunting at them in various dialects, the soldiers prodded May and her from the back of the truck. It was difficult for Jade to keep her balance as she jumped down in handcuffs. The guys were already waiting at the terminal, with worried looks. They seemed to be looking to her for help.
Shortly, they trooped single file past baggage wagons. They were entering the baggage claim area through the back. Although she had been a pilot for years, she always flew out of military airbases and had never witnessed a ground operation like that before.
The lead officer took them through the far door, and they marched into the semi-brightness of the passenger area. Travelers turned to watch.
“Glad they didn’t ask for my passport,” Brad said.
“Don’t have mine either,” Earl admitted.
Halfway across the baggage claim area, the lead officer halted abruptly. The string of prisoners skidded to the wax floor and crashed into each other.
Another set of soldiers was just prodding a prisoner toward the other end of the room. They had Liang, in handcuffs.
Lagging behind the soldiers was a wiry old man.
“Baba!” May cried across the empty space.
Dr. Yu’s face lit up. He began to scoot across the gulf that separated the two parties, but was restrained by one of the soldiers holding Liang.
Liang took in the situation and let out a laugh. It had the ring of vindication.
The officers in charge of the two parties glared at each other. Neither recognized the other’s authority or superiority. Jade cringed and waited for the weapons to come out.
Chapter 40
Handcuffed and sandwiched between a pair of military policemen, Liang had never been so humiliated. And the idea of being detained in the land of his birth was too much to bear.
So by the time he heard the familiar voice shout out “Baba,” he was ready to burst. Until he saw that May was held captive by an even more robust force.
May was calling for her father. The little female weasel was still alive. How had she survived the insurgents in Iraq?
The captain responsible for Liang had an air of arrogance about him, and the captain with his hand clutching May’s long hair took a defensive posture, as if she were a human shield.
Jade looked cool as always. Then there was that insult to humanity, Brad West, with that he-man rhetoric backed up by the constitution of a flea. And then came Earl, the most repulsive of all, the kind of ethnic mongrel that was ruining America.
But Liang and the foursome shared a common fate. They were prisoners of war.
Peng’s captain holding the four prisoners was no higher rank than the officer holding him. For that matter, Liang was a captain in the PLA reserve. Certainly that gave him some authority.
“Those are the ones you want,” Liang told the officer cuffed to him. He pointed with his shoulder at May’s group. “Why are you holding me?”
The captain came nose to nose with Liang. His teeth were bad and his breath was even worse. Nevertheless, Liang had to make a friend.
“The president wants you in custody,” the man explained.
Well, Liang could hardly outrank the president. But there was the matter of Interpol.
“I believe there might be a search warrant out for their arrest,” Liang said, resorting to the last arrow in his quiver. At least the president’s minions would have some respect for international agreements.
“That young lady in the sexy white outfit is Yu May Hua, the famous pilot. She is wanted by the French Police,” Liang said. “And the young man with the piss-colored hair is wanted as well. Check it out.”
Maybe if he could show who the real criminals were, the soldiers would let him go.
The captain who had apprehended Liang called across to his military colleague. “Why are you holding those men and women?”
The captain who clutched a resisting May held out a piece of paper with a red banner at the top. “They are wanted by Interpol.”
Liang’s captor told an underling to go across to the other group and retrieve the notice.
Weapons whipped out and safety catches clicked on both sides. Passengers dropped their bags and scrambled to the outer walls. Looking around cautiously, a private began to cross the fifteen-meter gap.
A woman sobbed in the corner.
A man in a white shirt and polished shoes ran past, grabbed an oversized suitcase, and dragged it to the exit.
Boxes and baggage began to bunch up on the carousels.
The private reached the other side and took the warrant. He made it back safely to Liang’s side in half the time and handed the piece of paper to his superior.
The captain examined the Red Notice. It looked legitimate to the untrained eye. “I will need further authorization.”