Red Dragon (Winds of War Book 3)
Page 16
A lieutenant was on duty, and Tong told his men to wait, as he went over to speak with the man. “Excuse me… I’m looking for the Thunder God Commando.”
The lieutenant came to attention and rendered a salute. “Over there, sir. Through the gate.”
Tong returned the salute and took note of the fact that the ritual no longer felt strange. Would he return to Beijing? Or forever be trapped in the army? He said, “Thanks,” turned, and waved his squad forward.
The sentries were under strict orders to check IDs, which to their minds meant every ID. Not just Tong’s. And the fact that Eng had lost his somewhere along the way meant it was necessary to call the sergeant-of-the guard, who summoned an officer, who gave the necessary approvals.
The commando’s headquarters were situated in a low-slung building that had formerly been home to the Highway Maintenance Engineer with responsibility for that sector. Tong paused outside. “Sergeant Shi… Tell the men to take a break, but to remain here. Poke around. See if you can find a billet. I will rejoin you as soon as possible.”
Shi nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Tong tried to find a reason for hope as he turned toward the entrance of the building. Maybe Major Wang had been transferred to Bangladesh. Maybe Major Wang was in a good mood. And maybe the Wangtze river would flow uphill.
After identifying himself to a corporal who already knew who he was, Tong was told to take a seat, and advised that, “The Major will see you shortly.”
Tong felt a vague emptiness in the pit of his stomach as he waited for the summons. Finally, after a 15-minute wait, a private appeared. “Is Captain Tong present?”
Tong was the only person in the waiting area. He sighed. “I’m Captain Tong.” The corporal grinned.
Tong followed the private down a short hallway to a door to which a piece of brown cardboard was affixed. Major Wang’s name and rank were written on it. The private knocked and a familiar voice said, “Enter!”
The private opened the door and withdrew. Tong took three steps forward, came to attention, and saluted. “Captain Tong, reporting for duty sir.”
Wang was seated behind a desk. He was silent for a moment, and that forced Tong to hold the salute. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Wang returned the courtesy with a wave of his swagger stick. Tong dropped his arm.
“So,” Wang said. “Here you are.”
There had been no invitation to sit, so Tong continued to stand. “Sir, yes sir.”
“Tell me about the unmitigated disaster west of Kulekhani.”
Wang already knew what had occurred. That much was obvious. So, the recital was to be a form of punishment. But since the helicopter crew was dead, and the other witnesses reported to Tong, the agent was free to shade the truth--which he did.
Wang waited until the report was over. “There’s drone footage you know… And some of what you told me is so slanted it comes damned close to being a lie.
“The truth is that you bungled the battle on the ground. And your decisions resulted in the loss of three aviators, plus one of my men, and the needless destruction of an aircraft worth 113-million-Yuan. If you were a real captain, I would break you to lieutenant, and put you in the first wave of troops to attack the Allies.”
Wang tapped the top of his desk with the swagger stick. “But you aren’t a real captain. And, to be fair, you did a good job where Colonel Hu was concerned. So, I’m going to give you an opportunity to redeem yourself. Our intelligence people have reason to believe that the fake Dalai Lama remains in Nepal. So,” Wang continued, “You will function as the hammer, with the Thunder God Commando as the anvil. I will move elements of my command west, where they will establish checkpoints on the major trails, and inspect each baby for the lotus birthmark which the Allied lamas make so much of.
“Meanwhile, you and your team will harry the fugitives like hunting dogs, pushing, pushing, and pushing some more. You understand?”
Tong understood all right. Wang’s so-called “special forces” troops would wait for his team to deliver the Dalai Lama into their arms. Meanwhile he and his men would be required to climb every mountain in Nepal. And then, when victory came, the credit would accrue to the Thunder God Commando.
Unless Tong found the fugitives first, killed the baby, and sent its left foot to Madam Zang in Beijing. Then she would take credit for the kill, and order him back to Beijing. “Yes, sir,” Tong replied. “I understand. May I ask a question?”
“Yes.”
The intelligence you spoke of… Was it human intelligence?”
“You have no need to know that,” Wang replied.
“Yes, sir. Sorry sir.”
“We will use the call signs ‘“Hammer’ and ‘Anvil.’” Wang said. “Dismissed.”
Tong performed a good imitation of an about face, and marched out of the room. There was no way to know for sure but, based on the nature of Wang’s response, Tong thought he knew where the Intel was coming from: A spy.
Near Nalu, Nepal
Several days had passed since the fight at Bhimphedi. Thanks to their newly acquired vehicles, the fugitives had been able to travel to the vicinity of Nalu, which put them closer to the border with India--and the possibility of a helicopter extraction.
Most of the trip had taken place during the hours of darkness, when the PLA was less active, but that made the already difficult task of driving even worse. The twisting-turning roads were narrow, covered with slushy snow, and frequently bordered by drop-offs.
On the second night the vehicles were making their way down a steep grade when lights appeared up ahead. Lee ordered the convoy to stop long enough for Ishya, Binsa, Yu, Kwan, and the green berets to exit the vehicles. Lee led them forward on foot as the vehicles continued downhill. Two PLA utility vehicles were parked at the center of a crossroads. Soldiers ordered the vehicles to stop.
Jangchup went forward to talk. A sergeant was in charge. “Who are you?” he demanded. “And where are you going?”
Jangchup offered his fake ID and a story about taking much needed supplies to a mountain village devastated by a landslide. Meanwhile PLA troops were searching the trucks which, consistent with Jangchup’s story, were loaded with boxes. Gurkhas stood ready to kill the Chinese soldiers should they attempt to open one of the containers.
“We’re on the lookout for a family of three, including a baby,” the soldier told Jangchup. “A special baby with a mark on his left foot.”
“We don’t have any women or babies with us,” Jangchup replied in Mandarin.
“Good,” the sergeant replied. “I’m tired of looking at babies.”
Once the vehicles had been searched the sergeant waved his men into their 4 X 4s and the patrol pulled out. That allowed the women and the green berets to leave the shadows.
It was a close call. Had the PLA checkpoint been located around a blind curve, of which there were many, they would have been forced to fight.
Lee had learned something. The Chinese were using checkpoints to search for the Dalai Lama. And, if they continued to travel in the vehicles, it would be only a matter of time before they encountered another roadblock. Besides, two of the three trucks were low on fuel. And it would be difficult to obtain gas without rationing cards.
So, when Lee spotted a sign for the Mountain View Lodge, he ordered the drivers to turn off. The chances that the guest house was open seemed slim given the war. And, if a caretaker or two were present, then so be it. There was bound to be a room where the team could house prisoners.
But as the beams from the lead vehicle’s headlights swung back and forth across the steep driveway, and the trucks mostly bald tires fought for traction, Lee noticed the absence of tracks. So, if the lodge was occupied, the owners didn’t venture out very often. An impression that was reinforced when they arrived in an empty car park.
The lodge was a sprawling affair and only one story high. There were no lights—and no boot marks in the snow. Thapa was behind the wheel. “I see a garage, sah.”
The other vehicles were ordered to pull in as well. “Send some men to break and enter,” Lee ordered. “And tell them to take prisoners if the place is occupied.”
“Sah!”
Lee went person-to-person while the lodge was being cleared. He told all of them the same thing. “Follow the Gurkha tracks back and forth between the garage and the lodge. Crisscrossing tracks might attract attention from above.”
It wasn’t long before the report came in. The lodge was empty. “Cover the windows,” Lee instructed over the radio. “Then you can start a fire and light some lanterns.”
Lee turned to Thapa. “Let’s move the supplies inside. That will make it easier to divide everything up.”
The horse wranglers had been paid off back at Bhimphedi. So, the food and ammo would be carried on their backs from that day forward.
More than an hour was required to hump all the supplies into the lodge. A crackling fire was burning by then. And the glow from half-a-dozen kerosene lanterns threw shadows onto the walls.
Once the supplies had been dealt with Thapa posted sentries, one of whom was stationed near the road. Lee had the 0200 to 0400 slot along with Sergeant Kunar, and rose to find that a mug of instant coffee was waiting for him, along with a crying baby.
Kwan was up, along with Binsa, but Ishya was asleep. “She needs it,” Kwan said. “She misses Bibek, and feels guilty about leaving his body behind.”
Lee felt guilty too. Not because they’d been forced to leave Bibek’s body behind, but because he hadn’t given any thought to the man who, armed with nothing more than a knife, attacked and killed a man with a gun.
Lee sipped his coffee. “I’m sorry. Bibek was the real deal. And,” Lee added, “so are the two of you. Everything’s been so crazy I failed to thank you. Ishya would be dead, and who knows what would have happened to the baby, were it not for your actions.”
“The doctor likes you,” Binsa said slyly. “And she thinks you are very brave.”
Lee saw Kwan frown and blush at the same time. “I think everyone shares my opinion,” Binsa added shamelessly.
Kunar arrived on the scene at that moment, thereby saving Lee from further embarrassment. Binsa, who clearly saw herself as a matchmaker, had an unapologetic smile on her face. “All right,” Lee said, as he downed the last of his coffee. “Let’s do this thing.”
It was cold outside and time passed slowly. Lee had assigned the highway watch to himself, and not a single vehicle passed during his stint, a fact which boosted his morale.
The snow would stop eventually and a helicopter would be sent to pick them up. Could a Blackhawk land between the lodge and the carport? Lee would find out.
Then his thoughts turned to Kwan. If Binsa was correct Kwan had feelings for him. And how, he wondered, do I feel about her?
The answer surprised him, although it shouldn’t have, considering all the telltale signs. You watch her, Lee confessed, and you listen for her laugh. And, be honest, You like Wendy’s body. What you’ve seen of it anyway. And, if something happened to her, you would miss her the way Ishya misses Bibek.
That was a revelation. Yes, there had been girlfriends, but none with that kind of a hold on him. The relationship was, Lee decided, something worth paying attention to.
After sentry duty Lee logged four hours of additional sleep, and woke to find that the weather had improved. The snow had stopped and patches of blue were visible between the clouds. But, when Cato put in the daily call to Trishul airbase, he got the same answer as before. “Visibility is low and more snow is on the way.”
So, except for the security details, Lee gave everyone the rest of the day off, which they celebrated by taking lukewarm showers. And when evening came everyone who wasn’t on duty gathered in the dining room to eat their MREs.
The ceilings were high by Nepalese standards, and the roof was supported by rough-hewn beams. The Dalai Lama was feeling better by then, his mother managed a smile or two, and the Gurkhas were playing a card game called Jhyap when the call came in.
“We have visitors, sir,” Pun said. “A British officer named Smith-Peet, and a Nepalese national named Darwa Sherpa. That’s what they tell me, but their ID cards have other names on them. Should I send them up?”
Lee was surprised to say the least. “I’ll send two men down. Stay where you are, and keep your eyes peeled. It seems unlikely, but what if they’re meant to distract us? Over.”
“Yes, sir. Over.”
It took ten minutes for Mahto and Rai to get ready, and the better part of half an hour for them to make the trip down and back. The party’s arrival was accompanied by the stomping of boots and the squeal of an unoiled hinge as the door opened.
The first man to enter was wearing a parka and knee-high boots. And, when he threw the hood back, Lee saw a face with at least two-days of stubble on it. The man was handsome though… In an Anglo-Saxon leading man sort of way. He had piercing blue eyes, a firm mouth, and a square chin. “Well,” he said, “I see the place hasn’t changed a bit since the last time I was here.”
“You were here?” Lee inquired incredulously.
“Yes,” the man replied. “Darwa and I climbed Everest two years ago, didn’t we Darwa? And we stayed here prior to the ascent.”
Darwa’s face was tanned except for the lighter colored circles where his goggles had been. “That’s true,” the Sherpa agreed. “I was in Room 4.”
“How did you get here?” Lee inquired.
“We walked,” the Brit replied matter of factly. “And quite a hike it was. Forgive me old stick, I’m LT. Colonel Fred Smith-Peet, of the 3 Commando--Royal Marines. And you are Captain Jon Lee. You’re a Green Beret, you have an MFA, and you speak fluent Mandarin. Just the chap for this sort of job.”
Then, turning to Kwan, Smith-Peet smiled. “And this is Doctor Wendy Kwan, who if I may say so, is somewhat over qualified for this mission. Still, should I take a bullet, I will feel ever so much better knowing that a highly qualified ER doctor is sawing my leg off.”
Smith-Peet shook hands with Kwan. “Now,” Smith-Peet said. “Are there any rooms left in the inn? I can’t speak for Darwa here, but I would enjoy a nap.”
“I believe room 12 is available,” Thapa put in.
“Excellent,” Smith-Peet said. “Oh, and one more thing, I will be in command from this point on. You can confirm that by radio if you wish. There’s no need to show the way… I know where Room 12 is.” And with that he left.
It was dark in Room 3. And her bed was warm. But Ishya found it hard to sleep without Bibek lying next to her. And she was frightened. Would she and Bhadrapala survive the trip to India? And then what? Ishya feared that the lamas would all but take Bhadrapala from her, to be raised their way, leaving her to watch from afar.
The thought caused Ishya to swing her feet over onto the floor, slip her arms into a complimentary robe, and slip out into the hall. Bhadrapala was in Room 7 where Niu Yu was on duty. The bodyguard was a source of comfort as was the baby. Every time Ishya looked into Bhadrapala’s face she saw Bibek there.
The door to Room 7 was slightly ajar allowing light to spill out into the hall. And when Ishya pushed it open she saw that Niu Yu was lying face down on the floor. A pool of blood surrounded her head and Ishya could see that the bodyguard had been struck from behind. The only way an assailant was likely to overcome her.
An empty bed stood beyond. Bhadrapala had been there, surrounded by an enclosure consisting of blankets, and sound asleep the last time Ishya had seen him. And now he was gone!
Lee awoke to the sound of someone shouting. “Help! Help! My baby is gone!”
Ishya? Who else could it be? Lee rolled off the bed and rushed into the hall. Ishya saw him. “Niu is dead! The bab
y’s gone!”
Lee was incredulous at first. Niu? The baby? Impossible.
But as Lee hurried into Room 7, he saw Yu lying in the floor with blood pooled around her head. A quick check confirmed that the bodyguard was dead. And the baby’s bed was empty.
Thapa arrived. “Someone took the baby,” Lee said. “I’ll check on the colonel while you check Sherpa.”
There was no need to explain. Were someone else responsible, Jangchup for example, they would have acted much earlier.
Lee barged into Smith-Peet’s room, confirmed that he was there, and ignored the officer’s questions as he entered the hall. Thapa was there. “Darwa Sherpa is gone.”
“Shit, shit, shit. He’s a Chinese agent,” Lee said. “I’ll go after him. The Chinese know we’re here--and will attack soon. Take command. Get everyone up and out the door. Grab my bug-out bag if you can. We’ll stay in touch by radio. Go.”
Lee returned to his room, hurried to get the rest of his clothes on, and made a quick stop at the ready room where shared weapons were stored. A L115A3 suppressed sniper’s rifle was resting next to the grenade launcher. Lee took the weapon plus an extra magazine which he stuffed into a pocket. His choice of a weapon was based on a simple reality. Should he get to take a shot at Darwa it would have to be carefully aimed. Anything else and he might hit the Dalai Lama.
It was snowing outside but Darwa’s footprints remained visible. They wouldn’t be for long however, and Darwa had a significant head start. The Sherpa hadn’t killed the baby though… Not so far as Lee could tell. So there was reason to hope. Lee’s headlamp probed the darkness. The rifle felt heavy, his boots sank into the snow, and it was difficult to breathe. The chase was on.
PLA Special Forces Compound 12, Nepal
A storeroom had been subdivided into narrow cot-wide slots, each separated by a PLA issue blanket hung from a wire. Tong, who’d been increasingly horny of late, was clicking through a Russian porno site when the door slammed open. “Captain Tong!” Shin said. “We have a mission… The major wants us on a helicopter in 15 minutes.”