One officer was on duty--but the others had been asleep. They threatened the noncom with a gruesome death as Tong turned the i-Pad off and put his feet on the floor. The Dalai Lama… Maybe this was it… An opportunity to not only redeem himself, but to escape Nepal, and return to Beijing where the girls were waiting for him.
Tong hurried to get dressed, gun up, and head for the helicopter pad. Shin was already there, as was the rest of the team, all amped up. “It’s a hot lead!” Shin shouted over the noise of the engine. Tong gave him a thumb’s up and followed the squad into the helicopter. “Twenty- minutes,” Shin said, as they strapped in. “That’s how long the flight will take.”
Near the Mountain View Lodge, Nepal
Lee’s lungs were on fire as he high-stepped through the snow. The trail was barely visible. And the green beret knew he was fighting a losing battle. Like Thapa’s Gurkhas, Sherpas were known for their fitness, and ability to function at high altitudes. So, there was zero chance that he was going to catch up with the Chinese agent.
But the sky was lighter in the east and the snow had begun to taper off. So maybe, just maybe, Lee would be able to spot the Sherpa when the sun rose.
If so, there was a chance that a .338 Lapua bullet could accomplish what he couldn’t. And that was to catch up with the sonofabitch and drop him in his tracks. That scenario was Lee’s only hope as he followed the zigzagging trail up past hardy shrubs, across a section of snow-covered scree, and into a grove of trees.
Does Darwa know someone is on his tail? Lee wondered. He will if he pauses to look… But, since he’s carrying a baby, and in a hurry to leave the lodge behind, maybe not.
Will he kill the Dalai Lama when he gets tired? Come to think of it, why didn’t he murder the boy to begin with? Because he’s Buddhist that’s why. Maybe someone else will kill the baby, but it won’t be him. That’s my guess. Can’t breathe… Can’t think… Can’t quit.
The Mountain View Lodge, Nepal
“Three from the LZ,” the pilot said over the intercom. “It’s going to be tight. No signs of life so far.”
Because they ran, Tong thought. We’ll find them. But we’ve got to check the lodge.
Tong left the helicopter first, because it was expected of him, and did so without any fear. The helo would be taking fire if the enemy was present. Tracks led every which-way. The front door was open. “Check for IEDs” Tong said, as he remembered Doo.
There was a short pause followed by the sound of Chau’s voice. “Clear.”
Tong passed through the entry and entered the main room. A fire crackled in the fireplace. Lanterns glowed. Bits and pieces of clothing were strewn about. All of which pointed to a hurried departure. A quick tour of the building reinforced that impression. As did the sizeable amount of food and ammo that had been left behind. They were resupplied at some point, Tong concluded. And couldn’t carry all of it.
“Follow their tracks!” Tong ordered. “They haven’t gone far.”
The Thunder God Commandos slipped out of the lodge like so many hounds. The darkness took them in.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Near the Mountain View Lodge, Nepal
Lee was lying prone, hidden within a cluster of snow laden trees. He brought the rifle up to his right shoulder, and put his eye to the scope. The sun was a sickly yellow presence in the east as Lee found his target. Though born with some high-altitude advantages, Darwa was human, and Lee could tell that the Sherpa had started to tire. His strides were shorter now, and he was bent over, as if to protect the baby he held in his arms.
Even so Lee knew he couldn’t catch up. And that left him with a simple choice. He could give up, and allow the Chinese agent to escape, or try to shoot him from what? Something like three football fields away.
No big deal for a graduate of the army’s sniper school in Arkansas. But Lee had never been to that school. So, a headshot from that distance was a big deal for him. And it had to be a headshot or he would risk killing the Dalai Lama.
And the shot had to be made soon as well… Because each step Darwa took made the range longer. Plus, the Sherpa was about to disappear around the shoulder of a snowclad slope. Shit, shit, shit, Lee thought, as he brought the stock in tight. I can’t lead him; he’s moving away from me. Wind from the west… Aim a little over.
The trigger broke under the pressure from Lee’s finger, the stock bumped his shoulder, and the bullet sped away. I missed, Lee thought, as the slug struck the back of Darwa’s skull. The impact produced a momentary blood mist and threw him forward. The Sherpa fell with the baby under his torso.
Damn it, Lee thought, as he struggled to his feet. What if the Dalai Lama was injured? What if he can’t breathe?”
Lee’s knees rose and fell like pistons as he bulled his way through the snow. He was fighting to get enough oxygen, and as the distance began to close, it felt like a pound of liquid lead was pooled in his stomach. Then Lee heard a muffled wail and knew Bhadrapala was still alive. But had he been injured?
Now that Lee was closer, he could see the blood splatter on the snow, and hear the rasp of his breathing as he hurried to roll Darwa over. The weight of the Sherpa’s body had pushed Bhadrapala down into the snow. But, thanks to the cushioning effect, the Dalai Lama appeared to be okay. Kwan would examine the child, but Lee had to reach her first.
He held Bhadrapala cradled in his arms and tried to quiet him. It didn’t work. Lee swore, put the heavily swaddled baby down, and forced himself to search the body.
Lee didn’t expect to find anything more than some pocket litter. But, while probing the right-side pocket on the Sherpa’s parka, his fingers felt something cold and smooth.
Lee pulled the object out to discover that he was holding a plastic vial. And there, floating in a clear liquid, was a finger. Not just any finger but a little girl’s finger, judging from the size of the digit, and the lavender fingernail polish.
Lee felt his stomach flip-flop. What kind of monster lay next to him? A psychopath? He put the grisly trophy in a pocket, gathered Bhadrapala into his arms, and began to walk.
Tong was on the radio, as Sergeant Shi led the squad away from the lodge, and uphill. “Hammer-One to Anvil-One, over.”
“This is Anvil-One actual,” Wang replied. “Give me a sitrep.”
Tong explained the situation. “I hope to engage the enemy,” he concluded. “And kill the target. Over.”
“Break it off,” Wang replied. “One of our agents has the target in custody. So, there’s no need to follow the Gweilos into what could be a trap. Two Q-5s are inbound to your location. They will tidy up. Over.”
Tong was off the hook. He felt a sense of relief. It would be stupid to share that however. “Understood. Over and out.”
Tong changed channels. “Hammer-One to Hammer-Two. Break it off and return to the helicopter. Over.”
Staff-Sergeant Thapa was far from happy. He didn’t trust LT. Colonel Smith-Peet, not in the wake of Darwa Sherpa’s betrayal, yet he had to obey the officer’s orders. And that meant following Smith-Peet upslope.
“I know the area,” Smith-Peet claimed. “We can take shelter in an ice cave located at about 8,600 feet. If the Chinese follow, which I hope they will, we’ll be waiting for them. Let’s get cracking.”
So, with Smith-Peet breaking trail, the column wound its way up through outcroppings of snow-crusted rock and low-lying shrubs. The green berets were immediately behind him followed by Binsa and Ishya who were walking side-by-side.
Ishya couldn’t stop sobbing. And no wonder. Her husband had been killed--and her newborn had been kidnapped. “Kill me,” she pleaded. “Kill me so I can find peace.”
“Captain Lee went after Darwa,” Binsa reminded her. “There’s reason to hope.”
That was when the call came in. “Viper-Six to Viper-Five. Over.”
“This is five,” Thapa said. “Go. Over.”
“I have him,” Lee said. “And he’s crying. Tell his mother. Over.”
; The news caused Ishya to cry even more, but out of relief this time, as Kwan moved forward to help.
Colonel Smith-Peet got on the radio at that point, and gave Lee directions to the ice cave. “Meet us there,” he said. “And well done. Over.”
Most of Lee’s attention was focused on the baby, and the task of crossing the snow field in front of him. So, he wasn’t aware of the ground-attack fighter plane until it opened fire. He saw a flash up ahead, and heard a boom, followed by the roar of a jet engine. Then the plane was gone.
But not forever. Lee knew the pilot would circle around, line up, and attack again. There was no place to hide. All he could do was keep going and hope for the best. He was a very small target after all… And the plane would be traveling at hundreds of miles an hour as it made its run.
Lee heard the Q-5 coming this time but didn’t turn to look. The key was to keep his eyes on the tree line ahead and maintain a steady pace. Having failed to hit the target with a 90mm unguided rocket--the pilot went to the fighter’s Norinco Type 23-2K guns.
Geysers of snow shot up into the air to the right and left as 23mm shells blew divots out of the snow. “Fuck you!” Lee shouted, as he neared the trees, and the Q-5 banked away.
“I can see you,” Smith-Peet said over the radio. “Go through the trees, turn left, and head uphill. Over.”
Lee’s lungs were on fire, his legs felt like lead, and the Dalai Lama was screaming as the trees closed around him. He would be less visible but only for a moment before he entered the open area beyond.
Lee had barely cleared the evergreens when what he judged to be a second fighter roared overhead. There was a loud explosion as a bomb went off and Lee felt warm air wash around him. “Turn uphill!” Smith-Peet ordered. “Help is on the way.”
Lee willed himself up the hill. Then he fell, struggled to stand, and fell again.
Suddenly Corporal Rama Shekhawat was there along with Private Rai. After securing grips on Lee’s webbing the Gurkhas dragged him upwards. Shells exploded all around as a plane flashed overhead, but none of the soldiers were hurt.
LT. Colonel Smith-Peet was stationed at the entrance to the cave as the party arrived and urged them inside. Ishya was there and uttered a cry of joy as Bhadrapala was returned to her arms.
Lee sat on a pack, and was gasping for air, when the missile struck. The explosion was muffled. “They’re trying to trigger an avalanche,” Smith-Peet said, as he tilted his head back. The ceiling was too high for his headlamp to reach, but bits and pieces of ice fell, and landed all around.
An ominous rumble was heard. “That’s it,” Smith-Peet said. “The snow is coming down.”
And come it did. Light was flowing in through the entrance one moment and gone the next as tons of snow sealed the cave off from the world beyond.
“We’re safe,” Smith-Peet said. “And we’re trapped. Both at the same time.”
The baby continued to wail as a dozen headlamps came on. “What about Darwa?” Smith-Peet wanted to know. “Did you kill him?”
“Yes,” Lee replied, as he managed to stand. “And, when I searched his body, I found this.”
The light from Smith-Peet’s headlamp lit the vial and the finger floating within. He looked stricken. “In his pocket you say.”
“Yes,” Lee replied. “And judging from the size of the finger, and the nail polish, it belonged to a little girl.”
Smith-Peet looked ashen. His voice was hoarse. “That makes sense unfortunately. There’s no way to be sure—but I suspect that’s his daughter’s finger.
“The Chinese have her… That’s why Darwa came. He wanted to find and free her. I knew that much… But no more. It looks like the Chinese were in contact with Darwa--and forced him to kidnap Bhadrapala.”
Smith-Peet’s headlamp panned across the faces around him. “Please accept my apologies for allowing Darwa to come. Looking back, I realize I used poor judgement. I will notify Major Raj. Who was Darwa communicating with? They’ll want to know.”
No one spoke. Smith-Peet smiled wryly. “Yes, I would be angry as well. I assure you—it won’t happen again.”
Then, turning to Ishya, Smith-Peet opened his arms. “Now,” he said. “Please allow me to hold my old friend.”
Lee frowned. “You knew the Dalai Lama?”
“I know the Dalai Lama,” Smith-Peet replied.
Though clearly reluctant Ishya surrendered the infant. Smith-Peet took Bhadrapala into his arms. “It’s me your holiness,” he said. “Fredrick Smith-Peet. I’ll be staying with you for a while.” The Dalai Lama stopped crying, looked up into Smith-Peet’s face, and smiled.
PLA Special Forces Compound 12, Nepal
Major Wang was standing a few feet away from the helipad as the helicopter landed. The downdraft from the helo’s rotors caused snowflakes to whirl around him, yet his hair remained unaffected, as if immune to the elements. Tong went over to salute.
“Welcome back,” Wang said. “I’m happy to inform you that, thanks to the brave pilots of the People’s Liberation Army Air Force, the fake Dalai Lama and the people who wanted to use him, are buried under a hundred tons of snow.
“Follow me… A helo loaded with hot meals came in from Kathmandu half an hour ago. Two of them are waiting in my office.”
Tong knew that such flights came in once a week and suddenly realized how hungry he was. “What about my men?”
Wang smiled. “You’ve come a long way. From loner to leader. It does my heart good. Yes, your men will receive hot meals too. Come.”
It felt stuffy in Wang’s office after being outside. But the meal waiting on Wang’s desk made up for that. Wang removed tinfoil covers to reveal a feast that included Mutton stew, rice and cold vegetables. The men ate in near perfect silence, interrupted only by the need to ask for a condiment, or to comment on the food--which was surprisingly good.
Then Wang opened a drawer, removed a bottle, and placed it on the desk. Two glasses followed. “I think we owe ourselves a glass of Huangiiu [yellow wine]” Wang said. “Please help yourself.”
Tong poured wine into both glasses. Wang raised his. “As Sun Tzu would say, ‘Confusion to the enemy.’” Each man took a sip.
“Rice rather than wheat,” Tong said. “And it’s delightfully dry.”
“I agree,” Wang replied. “Men of perception are rare. I will be sorry to lose you.”
Tong sat up straight. “I’m going back to MSS?”
“Yes,” Wang replied. “As soon as I get a captain to replace you.”
“And how long, if I may ask, will that take?”
Wang smiled. “Captains are in short supply. The Allies continue to kill them. So, it could take a month. But never fear… I will keep you busy in the meantime.”
Tong felt his spirits plummet. A month was an eternity in Nepal. “Sir, yes sir.”
“That’s the spirit,” Wang said. “You performed well today. Get some sleep.”
Tong stood, and was about to salute, when Wang offered a manila folder. “This arrived on the same helo as the food. I think we can assume the American is dead. But you may find the information interesting nevertheless.”
Tong took the folder, delivered a salute, and left. The room where he slept was empty, since all of his brother officers were on duty, which meant he had a moment alone.
Following a lukewarm shower Tong changed into some clean underwear and flopped onto his bunk. The Manila envelope had been opened by Wang. So, all Tong had to do was dump the contents into his lap.
The word “Fenlei” (Classified) was stamped on the first page. A photo of a Chinese male wearing American combat gear topped the first page. He was bathed in white light and staring up into the camera lens. The still frame had been lifted from the drone footage Tong had seen in Kulekhani. The caption read, “U.S. Army Captain Jon Lee.”
The second photo showed Lee wearing a green beret and a dress uniform. A special operator then… And one who, according to the following summary, had a BA and MFA from
UCLA.
Lee had been an athlete prior to being called up for active duty. But rather than play football, or basketball, Lee had been a multi-year contestant on the American Ninja Warrior TV program, which was very similar to “Saskuke China: X-Warrior.” And according to Lee’s bio he’d been a highly respected contestant.
Lee was, among other things, right-handed, 5’ 11” tall, and weighed 156. He had no known tattoos or birthmarks.
There were other photos too: Lee graduating from high school, Lee accepting an award, a selfie of Lee standing next to a pretty girl. Not that it all mattered, because Lee was dead.
Tong slid under the covers, pulled a sleep mask over his eyes, and went to sleep. There were dreams. He shot An Ba all over again. Ba turned and laughed.
An ice cave near the Mountain View Lodge
Lee was sipping some hot chocolate. It was cold inside the ice cave and, except for the firefly-like head lamps worn by members of the group, it was pitch black.
Thapa figured they had enough batteries to get through three or four days before the final darkness closed in. But only if the effort to tunnel out failed. There was no telling how much snow was blocking the entrance, but the escape tunnel was 10-feet long, with no sign of a break-through yet.
“There you are,” Smith-Peet said, as he appeared out of the gloom. “May I join you?”
“Of course,” Lee replied. “Pull up a chair.”
Smith-Peet lowered himself onto a frosty rock. “Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.”
“So, what’s up?” Lee inquired, fully expecting some sort of directive about food rationing.
“We’ll be out of here within 18 hours or so,” Smith-Peet predicted. “And we’ll need to get cracking. With that in mind I’d like to brief you on our mission.”
“We have a mission?” Lee inquired. “Other than getting the Dalai Lama out of Nepal?”
“Of course, we do,” Smith-Peet replied. “The extraction is important, but you have that in hand, and don’t need any help from me.
Red Dragon (Winds of War Book 3) Page 17