Red Dragon (Winds of War Book 3)

by William Dietz

  After examining the noncom’s ID card, Lee concluded that beyond the fact that both of them were Chinese, the corporal and he bore little resemblance to each other. Still another source of potential difficulty.

  After retrieving his M4, and giving it to Pun, Lee took possession of the corporal’s QBZ-95 carbine. It was a bullpup style rifle, which meant the curved magazine was located behind the pistol grip handle and the trigger assembly.

  Like all special operators Lee was familiar with enemy weapons, and had spent all of 15 minutes firing a QBZ-carbine. The sights were nothing to write home about, but the Chinese 5.8X42mm rounds were designed to minimize recoil, and make the weapon more accurate on full-auto.

  The corporal didn’t have a pistol. So Lee was wearing his in a shoulder holster under the Chinese overcoat. A round Ushanka hat with fold-down ear muffs completed the look. It would have to do. “Okay, Private Pun… Knock on some doors. I need some transportation. Hiking to the pass would take too long. See what you can buy for me.” Pun accepted a roll of flimsy occupation currency and left through the front door.

  Secure in the knowledge that Shrestha was guarding the prisoners, Lee left the store, and walked out into the main square. Kunar and Rai were laid out side-by-side. And, judging from the skid marks left in the snow, the Gurkhas had been dragged there. Lee knelt next to the bodies. He let the tears flow.

  And that’s where Lee was when he heard the roar of a poorly muffled engine followed by a backfire. Lee stood in time to turn and watch a strange vehicle arrive. The flatbed truck had been a car once. “It’s all I could find,” Pun said apologetically, as he got out. “But it runs.”

  “You did well,” Lee assured him. “Tell the colonel that I’m going to free Doctor Kwan, or try to, and to write both of us off if we don’t show up within 48 hours.”

  “Tell him yourself,” Pun said, as he tapped his radio.

  “So he can tell me ‘no?’” Lee inquired. “I’m not that stupid. Here’s some more money. Please hire someone to make sure that Kunar and Rai are given the kind of service they would want. Then I want you and Shrestha to take the prisoners and get the hell out of town.”

  “We will,” Pun promised, as he took the cash.

  “I’ll see you later,” Lee said. And with that he entered the truck and placed the carbine next to him. The ancient vehicle was equipped with a four-speed stick shift. Lee came close to killing the engine as he released the clutch, caught it, and felt the engine engage. Hang on Wendy, Lee thought. I’m on the way.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  PLA Special Forces Compound 12, Nepal

  A black hood had been placed over Kwan’s head during the trip to what she imagined to be the Chinese base in Sim Bhanjyang pass. And now, after being hustled into a building, Kwan was standing on tiptoes, lest the noose around her neck choke off her air supply.

  She was focused on that, plus her determination to die, rather than reveal any information about the team. So, it came as a shock when her interrogator told her what he already knew. His English was quite good.

  “Your name is Wendy Kwan. You were born in Hong Kong, but your family emigrated to the United States when you were two, and settled in Portland, Oregon. You were educated at Johns Hopkins university, and subsequently worked as an ER physician in Chicago. Then, after your country started World War III, you entered the army with the rank of captain.

  “Now you are the medical officer for an Allied special forces commando responsible for a number of atrocities, including the slaughter of peace keepers in the village of Kulekhani, and the abduction of a Nepali family. The penalty for your crimes is death.

  “But, here’s the good news,” the voice continued. “If you provide information about your unit’s current location, I can promise some leniency.”

  Kwan summoned her courage. “Fuck you.”

  The reaction was swift and deadly. Someone kicked the box that Kwan was standing on out from under her feet. The weight of her body pulled her down and tightened the noose. Kwan began to choke. Someone laughed. Everything went black.

  Lee was two miles short of reaching Sim Bhanjyang pass when he ran into the tail end of an eastbound traffic jam. All manner of vehicles, including mostly empty army trucks, had been forced over to the side of the road by the military police. And the same was true of civilian vehicles like the rat rod conversion Lee was driving.

  That left him with no choice. He couldn’t wait, so he had to walk. It was a pain in the ass, but easy to do, thanks to his Chinese uniform. Hundreds of soldiers were out of their vehicles and milling around which made it easy to blend in.

  The sky was lighter in the east, and dry snowflakes were falling out of a lead gray sky, as Lee trudged through the slush. The road curved, and curved again. He passed brew-ups where soldiers were making tea, ditches filled with human waste and, as Lee drew closer, Nepali vendors selling hot meals.

  Then the base appeared up ahead. A perimeter fence was in place, and temporary structures had been erected, but the complex still looked like the civilian maintenance facility it had once been. Lee’s heart started to beat a bit faster as he was forced to face the reality of the situation. The corporal’s ID card wouldn’t work. So how could he get in?

  Lee knew one thing for sure though… It was important to keep moving. Armies might be different but noncoms weren’t. Any private or corporal stupid enough to stand around would be given something to do. All he could do was look for an opportunity and exploit it.

  As Lee passed the complex, he saw two gates. One for personnel and one for vehicles. Could he hitch a ride on a truck? And enter that way?

  No, Lee decided, as a troop transport entered through the larger gate. The troops loaded in back weren’t likely to accept him. And most of the trucks were sealed against the weather. So that was out.

  Then he spotted a company strength column of soldiers marching in from the east. They were carrying heavy packs, and walking heads down, like men who had come a long way. Would the sentries demand ID from each soldier? Or just the officer in command? Lee was willing to bet on the second possibility. He turned, and took a very real leak, while the company shuffled past.

  After zipping his pants Lee turned, ran a few steps, and was able to fall in at the end of the column. That was when he dropped his head and began to shuffle. You aren’t wearing a pack, Lee told himself. Will someone notice?

  No one did. The most frightening moment occurred when the column came to a stop so that a sentry could check the CO’s paperwork. That was when the soldier in front of Lee turned to look at him. “Who are you?”

  “Corporal Choo,” Lee replied in Mandarin. “I was marching up front, but had to fall back. My right knee hurts.”

  The private frowned. “That’s too bad. How come we never met?”

  “I was in the hospital in Kathmandu,” Lee answered. “That’s where they operated on my knee. I wish I was back there.”

  The private chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll bet you do. What happened to your pack?”

  “The bastards at the hospital lost it,” Lee replied. “I need a full issue of new gear.”

  Whatever the private might have said was lost as a command was given and the column began to shuffle forward. The plan was working, or so it appeared.

  But Lee felt the fear build as he neared the gate. Then he was through and faced with a new challenge. Where was Kwan being held? Assuming she was there.

  But she has to be here,” Lee thought in an attempt to reassure himself. Where else could she be?

  The obvious answer was to ask someone. Not an officer or a sergeant but someone lower. Lee faked a limp and slowed his pace. That allowed the column to pull away. As it did, Lee turned away. A private was standing next to a door cleaning a pair of muddy boots. Not his, unless they were backups, since he was wearing a pair. “Excuse me,” Lee said politely. “I’m new here. Could you tell me how to reach the detention center? I’m supposed to stand guard there.”

  The privat
e looked up. “Well it could be worse. I have to clean the captain’s boots. Go through the door next to me, take a right, and follow the corridor to another door. You’ll see a sign.”

  Lee thanked him and followed the directions. The hallway was muddy and a private was mopping it. A ceiling mounted camera stared down at him. Shit, shit, shit. It’s like Luke Skywalker said, Lee thought. “I have a very bad feeling about this.”

  Tong was a happy man. His orders had arrived! He was to make his way to Kathmandu in five days, board a plane and fly to Beijing--where the girls at the Shangri-La hotel would be waiting for him. But that was then. At the moment he was the fucking officer of the day, which meant he had to sit at a desk, and oversee all sorts of routine bullshit. Although truth be told he’d been able to delegate a lot of it to a gung-ho sergeant named Chin.

  So, Tong was leaning back in his chair with his boots up on the duty desk. They were spotlessly clean and a wonder to behold. “Captain!” Chin said, as he arrived at the desk. “We have a Class Five intrusion!”

  A Class Five intrusion meant that a known enemy was inside the wire. And Tong didn’t believe it. He frowned. “What makes you think so?”

  “The facial recognition system produced a positive match for an American soldier.”

  Tong felt something akin to electricity sizzle through his nervous system. Of course! The doctor… The Americans were trying to rescue the doctor! He jumped to his feet. “Show me.”

  Chin led Tong into the operations center where most of the personnel were busy managing traffic on the Tribhuvan Highway. The so-called “Alert Desk” was located in a corner. Photos of two men were visible on the side-by-side monitors. The face of a Chinese soldier filled one—and a photo Captain Jon Lee the other. The men were identical.

  “Ask the major to join us,” Tong ordered. “Tell him it’s urgent.” Chin hurried away.

  Tong turned to the duty tech. “Where was the intruder when the shot was taken?”

  “In the hall that leads to the detention center, sir.”

  It was Lee all right… And Tong was thrilled. “Give me a tour of the cameras beyond.”

  The next shot showed the American passing through a door where a guard ordered him to stop. Lee shot him with a pistol, stepped over the body, and kept going. “Shall I sound the alarm, sir?” the tech wanted to know.

  “No,” Tong said. “Not yet.”

  Wang arrived wearing a bath robe. “What the hell is so urgent that I can’t take a shower?”

  “The American from Kulekhani is in the building, sir… He shot one of the guards and appears to be searching for Doctor Kwan.”

  “Then what the hell are you waiting for?” Wang demanded. “Kill the bastard!”

  “We can do that,” Tong agreed, as another camera shot appeared. “Or we can let him rescue the doctor and follow the two of them to their base.” The new image showed Lee inside the detention area opening a chicken wire cage. A soldier was dead on the floor.

  Wang stared. “That’s brilliant… Absolutely brilliant. But how many soldiers will he kill?”

  “That’s hard to say,” Tong replied. “But how badly do you want to find the Dalai Lama? And eradicate Captain Lee’s command?”

  Tong knew what Wang was thinking. Here, on a plate before him, was an opportunity to rack up an accomplishment so profound that he would move up to lieutenant colonel within a matter of weeks. “Call the next guard,” Wang ordered. “Call all of the guards. Tell them to let the soldier and the woman leave, and they are to remain silent.”

  “But sir,” the tech objected. “He…”

  “Do it!”

  The tech did as he was told. “This had better work,” Wang grated.

  “It will, Tong said confidently. “But we need to get organized.”

  Lee saw the door, knew he would have to kill another guard, and was prepared to do so as he helped Kwan walk. But, when he pushed through and into the room beyond, the guard nodded.

  Lee’s pistol was fitted with a suppressor and mostly hidden in his left pocket. So the shots had gone unnoticed. And this particular guard saw no reason to question a fellow soldier’s actions. Not in an army that fostered unquestioning obedience.

  The next door opened into the outdoors. Lee’s head was swimming, his heart was beating like a trip hammer, and his breath came in short gasps. “Let go,” Kwan said. “I can stand on my own. We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

  “Yes,” Lee said. “We are.”

  “Give me a gun.” Lee passed the pistol over.

  “Thank you, Jon. I love you.”

  “And I love you,” Lee said, as he freed the Chinese carbine.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Walk through the gate.”

  “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Don’t shoot if you don’t have to.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good.”

  Together, walking side-by-side, they made for the gate. Three guards were on duty. And Lee was waiting for a challenge. But as they neared the portal a sergeant waved them through.

  Lee felt lightheaded. And, as they walked toward the highway, he expected to receive a bullet in the back. But the shot never came. As the snow closed around them, Lee knew they were momentarily safe.

  Kwan was shivering, and no wonder, since she was dressed in nothing more than a baggy shirt, pants, and her boots. Lee removed his greatcoat and hung it over her shoulders. “No,” Kwan said. “You shouldn’t.”

  “Yes, I should,” Lee replied. “The last thing I need is a hypothermic doctor. Come on, we’re going to hitch a ride.”

  The sun was up and traffic was grinding west as Lee led Kwan across the slushy highway, through the gap between two tanker trucks, and onto the verge.

  They were in dire need of shelter. But they had to be picky. Lee let three troop trucks pass, spotted what he was looking for, and turned to Kwan. “See the tractor-trailer rig? The one loaded with utility vehicles? That’s our target. Get ready.”

  “What if the driver spots us?”

  Lee shrugged. “Let’s hope he doesn’t.”

  Lee estimated that the truck-trailer combo was moving at about two-miles per hour. And the lowboy trailer was no more than a foot off the ground. The next vehicle, a tank transporter, was half visible through a veil of blowing snow. “Get ready,” Lee said as the tractor growled past. “Now!”

  Kwan attempted to jump onto the slow-moving trailer but wasn’t able to put enough energy into it. She started to fall, felt Lee give her a push, and landed on her knees. Lee made the necessary leap and paused to help. “Stay low… Follow me!”

  Lee led her onward, past two UAZ-452 off-road forward control vans, to a third machine sitting up front. He paused to look around. And, having seen no reaction, Lee turned to the van.

  The side door was unlocked and opened smoothly. Lee motioned for Kwan to get in, then followed. A bank of radios and radio related equipment occupied the left side of the van. And two chairs were strapped to the deck.

  But, while a bit warmer than the air outside, Lee could still see his breath. And there were none of the blankets, sleeping bags, or coats that he’d been hoping for.

  Lee freed a chair for Kwan to sit on. Then, in hopes of finding something useful, he went forward. It was bare too… Except for one important item, and that was the key in the ignition.

  It made sense. PLA supply officers had no idea which soldier would be ordered to back the van off the trailer. So, the key was where he could find it.

  Lee slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine came to life and, according to the gas gauge, the tank was half full.

  Would the truck driver hear the van’s engine over the roar of his own? That seemed unlikely. As for the van’s exhaust that was lost in the blue cloud surrounding the convoy.

  Lee turned the heater on, switched the fan to “High,” and smiled as warm air began to enter the cabin. Then he went back to where Kwan sat bundled in his c
oat. “I can feel the heat already,” she said, pointing at a vent. “Did the parking lights come on?”

  Lee said, “Crap,” opened the door, and got out. The van’s running lights were on all right, but not for long, as Lee used the rifle butt to smash them. The interior was even warmer by the time he returned. “Good call,” Lee said. “The lights were on. So, how bad was it?”

  “Bad,” Kwan answered. “They beat the shit out of me, put a noose around my neck, and kicked the box I was standing on out from under my feet. The rope cut my air supply and I passed out. When I awoke, I was in a cell.”

  “Damn,” Lee said, as he sat on the second chair. “I’m sorry. What, if anything, did you tell them? Understanding that I’m not going to judge.”

  “I told them to fuck off,” Kwan replied. “That’s when they kicked the box.”

  Lee grinned. “You’re amazing. Well done. We might have a problem though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “In retrospect our escape was way too easy.”

  “You think they’re tracking us?”

  “I don’t know,” Lee replied. “But it’s a possibility. I think we should wait for a village to come up, get off and find a store. Then, once we have enough warm clothes, we’ll look for a place to hide. The last thing we want to do is lead them to the tunnel.”

  “They knew my name, rank, and personal history,” Kwan told him.

  “The Chinese government is very good at facial recognition,” Lee told her. “The international internet is down. But odds are they have tons of stuff on their servers. If so, they know you were a cheerleader.”

  Kwan frowned. “I was a cheerleader… How did you know that?”

  “You look like a cheerleader,” Lee replied.

  “Are you hitting on me?”