Red Dragon (Winds of War Book 3)

by William Dietz

  Jangchup spoke to the woman on his left. Gray stubble covered her head, and she was dressed in a tightly cinched maroon robe. There was no mistaking the authority in her voice as she spoke to the nuns.

  “Abbess Jeetjang ordered her nuns to assist you,” Jangchup explained. “They will help to take your supplies inside.”

  Lee and his men worked side-by-side with the nuns to move the supplies. Then, and only then, did Jangchup convene a meeting with the abbess, Lee, Kwan, and Thapa. Kerosene lamps threw shadows onto the walls as they sat cross-legged on the floor. The lama translated as Jeetjang spoke.

  The essence of her story was simple. Immediately after the devastating earthquake that took place on April 24th, 2015 the Dalai Lama arrived in Hathwat. The purpose of his two-day visit was to survey the destruction and offer comfort.

  The old nunnery had been destroyed. Since then construction had begun on the building they were meeting in. And it was there, in the praying room, where Jeetjang had a vision. She saw the Dalai Lama lying in an open casket awaiting cremation, with flowers all around.

  And more than that, Dampa Tsomo had a smile on his face which, according to the abbess, signified the Dalai Lama’s acceptance of the Bhavacakra--or the Wheel of Life.

  And there was more. At Jeetjang’s request a young nun brought her a lacquered box. After opening it the abbess withdrew a piece of paper. Jangchup continued to translate as Jeetjang spoke. “The abbess says the Dalai Lama wrote a letter to the nuns back in 2015. The last paragraph reads: ‘That which appears to be destroyed isn’t, but lives on in our hearts and minds, to be reborn as the wheel turns.’”

  There was silence for a moment as Jeetjang put the sheet of paper back in the box. After the lid was closed, she spoke again. “The abbess says that the Dalai Lama traveled to the village of Kulekhani after leaving here. And that’s where the necessary signs will be found.”

  “Signs?” Lee inquired. “Such as what?”

  “The Dalai Lama is found rather than chosen,” Jangchup replied. “The process often begins with a vision or a dream. For example, if the previous Dalai Lama was cremated, a dream might reveal that the smoke was blowing north… Indicating that a search should be conducted in that area.

  “In most cases the high lamas are the ones to whom such information is revealed. But in this case, it’s necessary to take Abbess Jeetjang’s experience seriously, because her vison took place prior to Tsomo’s assassination. She tells me that Lama Nuba Khando will arrive tomorrow. He’s well respected. We’ll see what he thinks.”

  Lee’s eyes came into contact with Thapa’s. The Gurkha might be a Buddhist—but he was a staff sergeant too. And both of them understood the extent to which the group’s security had been compromised. But there was nothing he could do about it.

  “Please ask the abbess if there’s a structure we could use which is well removed from the nunnery. If the Chinese attack us the nuns will have a chance to escape. Unfortunately, that will entail moving our supplies again.”

  A fresh-faced nun led Lee and Thapa to what had been the community’s medical clinic. It had been damaged during the quakes. But thanks to light provided by Kanchan’s flashlight, Lee could see that sections of the stone walls still stood and part of the roof was intact. Lee figured the place would offer some protection during a firefight, and something was better than nothing.

  It took the better part of an hour to move the gear again, settle in, and set the two-man watches. Kwan was none too happy with the quality of their accommodations, but she wasted little time taking possession of a corner, and crawling into her bag. The doctor would have to stand watches too—but Lee allowed himself to push the confrontation off.

  Lee took the first watch along with a Gurkha named Dipprasad Pun. Hathwat was located at an elevation just over 8,000 feet. And that was the line of demarcation for what the text books referred to as “high altitude.” The oxygen was thinner, and the temperature was colder, which would make it difficult to stay warm.

  Dehydration was likely to become an issue as well. But the greatest concern, from Lee’s perspective, was the fact that Hathwat was located near Tibet, which was part of China. So, it was important to find the child, and return to India as quickly as they could.

  Once the hour-long watch ended, two Gurkhas took over, which left Lee free to enter his mountain bag and get five hours of sleep. Then it was time to get up and perform his morning absolutions. Water was available from a large urn. Lee made use of it to wash up and brush his teeth. There was no reason to shave since facial hair would help him fit in.

  Thanks to his Jetboil it was easy to heat water and pour it over Blue Tokai instant coffee. Lee took a sip as he looked around. Steep hills rose on all sides. They were cut by ravines, which would almost certainly channel snowmelt in the spring.

  The valley had been occupied for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, and was largely deforested. But grasses and shrubs led upwards to places where stands of hardy trees still stood. Beyond them the snow-topped Himalayan mountains loomed to the east.

  A female voice interrupted his thoughts. “I need hot water to make tea.”

  It was a demand rather than a request. Lee turned. There were dark circles under Kwan’s eyes. But she was still one of the prettiest army captains he’d ever seen. “The Indian army issues heat tablets you can use to heat a metal cup filled with water. I’ll arrange for you to get some. You can use my Jetboil in the meantime.”

  Kwan was familiar with Jetboils and used a ladle to fill it. “Thanks.”

  Lee nodded. “You’re welcome. How’s it going with Evers?”

  “He knows his stuff,” Kwan replied. “You’re lucky to have him.”

  “We’re lucky to have him. But remember, he’s a green beret first and foremost. And, if we see action, a lot of the first aid will fall to you.”

  Kwan eyed him over the rim of a ceramic mug. “Is that likely?”

  Lee looked away and back again. “You want the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s damned near certain. The abbess and Lama Jangchup have been running their mouths. And that brings me to the following. “You’re carrying a pistol and an M4 carbine. Have you fired either one of them?”

  “Yes,” Kwan replied. “During my officer training course.”

  “And since?”

  “No.”

  “I’m going to ask Cato to give you some lessons,” Lee said. “I wouldn’t want to risk making that much noise under normal conditions but, as I said earlier, our security is blown.”

  Kwan frowned. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes.”

  Thapa appeared. “More people have arrived, sah… Lama Jangchup would like you to meet them.”

  “Thank you, Staff Sergeant. Please find Sergeant Cato and ask him to provide the doctor with some target practice. Then, if you would be so kind as to join us, I want you to join the meeting. Not just to listen, but to participate. Understood?”

  “Sah!”

  “Good. I’ll see you shortly.”

  Lee turned to Kwan. “Learn to shoot, Doctor… It could save your life. Or mine.”

  A well-trod path led back to the nunnery where a small crowd was waiting. The abbess was present, as was Jangchup, and a squad of chattering nuns.

  The newcomers included a man with a shaved head, mustache, and goatee. “This is Lama Nuba Khando,” Jangchup said eagerly. “He will help us find the Dalai Lama.”

  Lee shook hands with Khando. And that was when he noticed the calluses on the lama’s hands. They were the size of large raisins. Three of them marked knuckles and two were on finger joints. Those being on the lama’s index and middle fingers.

  Though not a student himself, Lee knew with the signs. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir… Did you train at the Shaolin temple in Henan province?”

  Khando’s eyes widened slightly. As if he was surprised by the extent of the American’s knowledge. “Yes, I did. But that was many years ago, before my spi
ritual journey brought me to Nepal. Do you practice Kung Fu?”

  “No,” Lee replied. “I prefer to shoot people.”

  Jangchup cleared his throat. “And this,” he said, “is Niu Yu. Once we find the Dalai Lama, she will help protect him.”

  Lee turned to look at Yu. She wore her black hair gathered behind her head. A pair of watchful eyes were set into a long narrow face. She was dressed in male clothing and offered a slight bow. “You took the name of Niu Yu,” Lee said. “She was thought to be the best swordsman or woman of the spring and autumn periods that ran from 770 BC to 221 AD. Niu Yu bested over three-thousand swordsmen during a seven-day contest. Are you that good?”

  Yu stared at him. “You are well educated.”

  Lee bowed. “And the answer to my question is?”

  “No,” Yu said. “There’s no need to be that good.”

  Lee laughed. “That’s true. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And this is Sam Waller,” Jangchup said. “The Dalai Lama’s second bodyguard.”

  Waller was a large man, who wore his hair long, and was dressed in black. His voice was deep and resonant. “Hey Captain, where you from? Cali?”

  “The bay area,” Lee replied, as they shook hands. “And you?”

  “Huntington City,” Waller replied.

  “How did you wind up here?”

  “One thing led to another,” Waller replied vaguely. “I went looking and this is what I found.”

  “I see,” Lee said, as he turned to Jangchup. “Until such time as we find the Dalai Lama, I’d like to include Yu and Waller on my team. Do you have any objections?”

  Jangchup shook his head. “No, security is your responsibility.”

  The final person to be introduced was a young woman called Binsa. She had black hair, a round face, and a pleasant demeanor. “Binsa means fearless,” Abbess Jeetjang said. “And she’s a wet nurse.”

  Binsa smiled shyly and brought her hands together. “Namaste.”

  Thapa arrived at that point. Once the Gurkha had been introduced, Khando cleared his throat. “I understand that we’re headed to Kulekhani.”

  “Yes,” Jangchup replied. “That’s where Abbess Jeetjang says we should look.”

  “Then we must hurry,” Khando replied. “Before the Chinese learn that the Dalai Lama is there.”

  Distant shots were heard. There were expressions of alarm. Thapa was wearing a headset. “There’s no need to be alarmed,” the Gurkha said. “It’s target practice. Nothing more.”

  “So, what about Kulekhani?” Khando demanded.

  “We need packhorses,” Lee replied. “To move our supplies.”

  “I can get them for you,” Jeetjang said.

  Lee eyed her. “How long?”

  “Tomorrow. Early in the morning.”

  “How many?”

  “Ten, maybe twelve.”

  “Okay… More would be better, but we’ll make do.”

  The meeting broke up after that and Lee took Thapa aside. “What, if anything, can you tell me about Kulekhani?”

  Thapa shrugged. “It’s a farming community. I’m not sure of the population… Maybe 2,500 people if I had to guess. About 500 homes. Something like that.”

  “Are the Chinese there?”

  “It seems likely,” Thapa replied. “Why wouldn’t they be there?”

  “Yeah,” Lee agreed. “I think we should send two men ahead to scout the trail all the way to Kulekhani. Cato would be a good choice because of his com skills. Who would you recommend?”

  “Corporal Shekhawat,” Thapa said without hesitation. “He knows the ground, he’s sniper qualified, and he speaks the local dialects. Not Chinese though.”

  “Cato speaks Mandarin,” Lee said. “So, we’re agreed?”

  “Yes, sah.”

  “Good. Find a moment to speak with them. Tell them to gear up in private, and depart during the night. Maybe people will notice, and maybe they won’t.”

  Thapa eyed him. “You’re worried about spies.”

  “Yes. I don’t trust Jangchup, this Khando guy, Yu, or Waller. Have someone search their gear if the opportunity presents itself. Let’s see who, if anyone, is carrying a radio.”

  “Sah,” Thapa said. “We will do our best.”

  “So, you’re not going to stop the sir thing.”

  Thapa grinned. “No, sah.”

  The rest of the day was spent dividing gear up into 200-pound packs ready to be loaded onto horses once they arrived. And there were man-packs too, each limited to a total of thirty pounds, because some members of the party weren’t physically prepared for high-altitude trekking.

  During the preparatory process the Gurkhas kept a sharp eye out for radios. They didn’t spot any but Lee took small comfort from that. Any one of the people he was worried about could be carrying a small transceiver under their clothes. And the politics of the situation being what they were, the green beret didn’t think he could get away with searching what amounted to the Dalai Lama’s personal staff.

  Cato and Shekhawat slipped away at 0200 in the morning. And, once the sun rose, none of the group mentioned their absence. Or, if they did, Lee wasn’t close enough to hear.

  True to Abbess Jeetjang’s promise, the string of sturdy mountain horses arrived at about 0900. The animals were equipped with pack saddles, and were under the care of two Nepalese men, who insisted on arranging each load themselves--never mind the fact that the Gurkhas and the green berets had the necessary skills. In fact, Lee and his men were graduates of the Special Forces Advanced Mountain Operations School in Colorado’s Mountain National Park.

  But they were happy to let the locals handle the job, knowing that each horse has a personality and, when it comes to pack trips, it’s best to take those personalities into account.

  That part of it was fine. But the packers hadn’t been vetted by anyone other than the abbess. And that was a threat. Lee took Thapa off to one side. “One or both of the horsemen could be working for the Chinese,” Lee said. “Tell your men to watch them.”

  Thapa nodded. “Yes, sah.”

  The column of hikers and horses was ready to depart by noon. The soldiers were dressed in civilian attire. And rather than carry assault rifles, which would give them away, the long guns were secured to pack animals.

  The abbess and all of her nuns turned out to wave and heap blessings upon the travelers as they set forth on what was, to their minds, the holiest of holy missions.

  Lee saw the situation differently. What he saw was a long string of hikers, and potentially temperamental horses which, if attacked on a mountain trail, would be slaughtered in less than a minute. But thanks to Cato’s reports he knew that the way was clear for the next six miles. And while six miles didn’t sound like a lot, it was, due to the elevation gain and the thin air.

  Leather “hangars” dangled from the horses, which allowed Kwan, Binsa and Jangchup to let the ponies do some of the uphill work for them. But of more interest to Lee was the list of people who had no need for assistance.

  None of the Gurkhas or green berets made use of the straps. That was to be expected. But Lee was interested to see that neither Lama Khando nor the Dalai Lama’s bodyguards were in need of help. Was that significant somehow? Maybe, and maybe not.

  Once clear of the valley the trail narrowed and began to switchback up hill. The light blue sky was partially obscured by a layer of clouds. Lordly mountain peaks rose in the distance. Lee attempted to name them but couldn’t.

  The vegetation consisted of pines, oaks, poplars, walnuts and larch. Most were huddled in homogeneous clusters. But there were a few brave trees which had, by some accident of wind, rain and a pocket of fertile soil, found a purchase on their own.

  The biggest surprise from Lee’s perspective were the thickets of rhododendrons. They were similar to the ones in his grandfather’s garden, except larger. They were trees really… And some were in bloom. Not just a little in bloom, but outrageously in bloom—displaying pi
nk, white, red, purple, yellow, and orange blossoms. The contrast between the rich colors and the otherwise bleak hillsides couldn’t have been greater and Lee enjoyed it.

  Less pleasant was the steady uphill climb, the effort to suck a sufficient amount of air into his lungs, and the persistent feeling that the column was being watched. That doesn’t mean the enemy is present though, Lee reminded himself. Lots of people live up here—and Cato will let you know if Chinese troops appear. The thought made him feel better, but the concern lingered.

  They took a midafternoon break next to a tumble-down building from which colorful Lung ta prayer flags stretched across to a vertical pole. The flags were arranged from left to right in a specific order: blue, white, red, green, and yellow. Each represented one of the five elements and the five pure lights. They flapped gently above Lee as he made coffee and chewed an energy bar.

  Those Gurkhas who didn’t have security duty were brewing tea, Kwan was tending to Binsa’s blisters, and Jangchup sat with eyes closed and legs crossed, meditating. Or was he praying? Both activities were a mystery to Lee--who couldn’t sit still that long.

  A horse nickered, and tossed its head, as Khando returned from the privacy of some nearby boulders. He went over to speak with Waller who, Lee assumed, was well acquainted with the lama. Both would bear watching.

  The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully. A Himalayan eagle circled above them for a while. Five men carrying packs passed, going in the opposite direction. A distant helicopter flew north and disappeared. At one point the party had to cross a river on a rickety suspension bridge while the wind rattled in their ears. The horses didn’t like it—and one of them tried to bolt.

  Finally, at about 1700, they came to what the horse wranglers said was a good place to camp. It consisted of a broad ledge in the mountainside, a grove of trees, and five whitewashed homes. If the locals were surprised to see the convoy Lee saw no sign of it on their faces. And, he decided, that made sense. People who live by a freeway aren’t surprised to see cars.