by Bobby Akart
They resented the PLA outpost built just outside Gangga. The soldiers who occupied the facility were arrogant and looked down upon the Tibetans with disdain. Babu was one of the young men who’d grown up in the small villages that dotted the Tibetan landscape around Gangga. His family, like so many others, lived by farming and ranching. Apart from the great priesthood, these were the main occupations of the locals. They weren’t subjected to the stress and strain of city living. They rarely traveled to Lhasa, relying upon the land and one another for sustenance.
Few were politically active. The younger people aligned with the Free Tibet movement. They believed Tibet to be an independent state under illegal occupation by China’s Communist government. However, they would never say that in the presence of a stranger for fear of imprisonment and loss of their family’s rights to farm.
Babu directed the others to the westernmost side of the small village town while he parked the car behind an open-air market. The temperatures were considerably cooler in Gangga than they were in the lower elevations of Lhasa.
Harper immediately noticed the moist chill in the air as she exited the vehicle. She joined Yeshi and Babu at the back of the car as they opened the trunk. Kwon had already wandered off, anxious to get started on the task at hand.
“We have clothes for you,” said Babu as he rummaged through the trunk space. There were sweaters, down-filled jackets, wool tights, and waterproof climbing apparel.
Harper studied the hodgepodge of apparel and smiled. “Nice stuff. North Face. Eddie Bauer. Athleta. Do they sell this in Lhasa?”
Babu reached into the trunk and pulled out a black cable-knit sweater and held it up in front of Harper to check it for size. “No. These are throwaway clothes. The new climbers always bring too much gear. They find themselves loaded down and begin to empty their packs as they climb up the mountain. We pick up after them on the way back. Sometimes, we sell the clothes in the village to other climbers. However, with the mountain closed, there are no customers.”
“Lucky for me,” quipped Harper, who took the sweater from Babu and slipped it over her head. “It’s a great fit. I’m going to need another layer.” She glanced into the truck in search of a down-filled jacket.
Kwon reappeared and approached the group. “The outpost is much bigger than I expected. The complex sprawls into the hills behind the main road.”
Babu gestured for Kwon to pick from the clothing. “Yes. The snowmobiles and Arctic Cats are stored near the maintenance depot at the back. It provides direct access to the valleys leading toward the mountains. The machines are rarely used except for training by the Siberian Tigers.”
Kwon glanced at Harper. She picked up on his reference. Another connection to the four dead men in Las Vegas.
“Babu, are you sure of this? Are they here now?” Kwon was concerned that his foes might be more formidable than the PLA soldiers regularly assigned to the remote region.
“Not likely,” he replied as he handed Kwon a jacket. Kwon declined and reached for a vest instead. He would need a full range of motion for what he had in mind. “They come for training under the most extreme conditions during January and February.”
“Is it possible to walk the perimeter of the outpost without being detected?”
“Yes. There is a yak trail used by my people to travel to the monastery located up the mountain. The trail circles both sides of the outpost and then joins at the back.”
“Let’s get started,” said Kwon.
“Not yet. We cannot go dressed like this. The patrols will be suspicious. Stay here. I will get my friends and one more layer of clothing.”
Babu closed the trunk lid and rushed to get into his car. He pulled away in the slushy snow, spinning his tires slightly, leaving Yeshi and the two Americans standing alone.
Harper turned to Kwon, who handed her the Sig Sauer rifle along with two magazines. “I need to see everything to come up with a plan. We’re going to need a distraction, and it can’t be one that threatens the outpost.”
“Whadya mean?”
“If they suspect they’re under attack, then those trucks we passed earlier will be back. It has to be more of an annoyance, one that pulls their attention away from the back of the outpost.”
“Like what?” she asked, wandering away from Kwon to get a look at the main street of the village.
“We’ll ask Babu and the others when they return. Maybe there’s some type of public interaction with the outpost we could take …” His voice trailed off as the low rumble of a truck approached. The tires crunched the ice and snow as it turned toward the back of the building.
“This way!” said Kwon in a loud whisper. The three of them raced behind a lean-to shed full of oil drums and wooden crates.
The truck entered the open space behind the market. Kwon peered through the wooden slats of the lean-to and immediately recognized Ghosh behind the wheel. He, like the group of young men in the back of the large farm truck, were dressed in oversized furry coats.
Harper recognized them as well. “Look at those fur coats!” she exclaimed as she broke cover and rounded the shed.
“Yak wool,” offered Yeshi. “They are made from the wool the yaks shed naturally each spring. There is nothing warmer.”
“I want one,” said Harper as she led the way to greet Ghosh and Babu, who waved from the truck bed.
“Yeah, me too,” added Kwon. He saw the coat from a different perspective from Harper’s fashion perspective. The coats would allow them to blend in with the locals while providing a way to conceal their weapons during their surveillance of the outpost. Apparently, Ghosh and Babu had had the same idea.
The group of eight young men exited the truck along with two local girls, who turned out to be relatives of Babu. They presented Kwon and Harper with their own yak coats, who immediately slipped the voluminous jackets on over their existing clothes.
“Now you are true Himalayans!” exclaimed Ghosh.
Harper lifted the sleeve up and sniffed it. She reflexively wrinkled her nose.
Babu laughed. “It smells like yak, yes?”
Harper managed a smile. She suddenly had fond memories of playing in a friend’s barn as a child. They’d built forts out of hay bales, and she’d helped groom the horses for a few dollars an hour.
“I don’t mind,” she said, taking another whiff.
Kwon turned to Ghosh. “Can everyone here help us?”
“That’s why Babu recruited his cousins. We will be your army.”
Kwon slowly nodded as he surveyed his soldiers. They were loyal, but certainly not fighters. He looked toward the sky. Clouds were building again, and it was apparent snow was on the way. There was plenty of daylight left, but a sense of urgency had pervaded his psyche since they’d stepped off the plane in Urumqi.
“Good. Here’s what I want to do first.”
Chapter Eight
PLA Outpost
Gangga, Tingri County, Tibet
Babu led Harper and Yeshi around the east side of the PLA outpost while Kwon, Ghosh and one of Babu’s cousins traversed the rocky cliffs overlooking the compound to the west. Kwon had received assurances from Ghosh that all of the Sherpas were willing to take considerable risks to help the Americans, although they refused to use weapons or violence. Subterfuge was fair game, and one they’d enjoyed playing since they were children.
“We have always enjoyed taunting the soldiers,” Ghosh explained to Kwon as they made the final climb to the back of the outpost. “Once America and the United Nations took an active role in protecting the human rights of all Tibetans against the Communist Party, we learned they would not retaliate out of anger.”
“Weren’t you concerned with retaliation?” asked Kwon.
“Yes, at first. Then we learned the soldiers suffered severe punishment for violating their orders. They were instructed to maintain discipline and not react to us. Honestly, after we learned that our efforts to aggravate them did not produce a reaction, we stopped.
”
“Oh.” Kwon’s utterance reflected his concern. He wondered if the young Himalayans had lost their edge.
The streetwise, astute Ghosh picked up on his change in demeanor. “Do not worry, friend. As you Americans say, it is like riding a bicycle. You never forget.”
Kwon nodded and pointed ahead to where Harper and Babu waited. A minute later, the group was exchanging their observations. There were two roving patrols of two men who followed the inner perimeter of the outpost. The facility was completely surrounded by ten-foot-tall chain-link fencing except where the rocky cliffs created a natural wall. However, because the rock outcroppings were nearly vertical, they would be nearly impossible to climb out.
“Getting into the outpost using the rock cliffs will not be a problem for us,” suggested Babu. “We can use our rappelling gear to drop down, and the others can retrieve the ropes after we are in.”
Kwon stepped away and studied the back of the compound. The metal fabricated buildings were open on both sides. He counted a dozen snowmobiles pointing toward the rear gate, the only other point of ingress or egress into the camp other than the main entry.
“How many of you are necessary to climb the East Face in order to reach the body?”
Ghosh glanced from Kwon to Harper. “Are you both coming?”
“Yes,” Harper firmly replied, simultaneously with Kwon’s likewise adamant response of no.
“No. Just me.”
“Kwon, I need to examine the body,” argued Harper.
“We’ll bring it down to you.”
Harper turned to Ghosh. “Can you guarantee that?”
“Maybe. I don’t think so. It is a very dangerous climb. I am not sure either of you can do it.” He turned to Kwon to gauge his expression. As was typically the case, Kwon’s face revealed nothing.
“I’m capable of making the climb and obtaining the samples if we can’t retrieve the body,” he said matter-of-factly. His tone of voice indicated the discussion was over. “How many of you are necessary to get to the ledge where the body is located?”
“Three.”
Kwon thought for a moment. “Which of you are willing to use a weapon? Anyone?”
Yeshi raised his hand. “I will to defend myself.”
Kwon pointed to Harper. “Will you defend her?”
Yeshi made eye contact with her. “Yes, absolutely. Without fear.”
The group concocted a plan and took up positions around the perimeter. The PLA soldiers, it appeared, were lax during the patrols, most likely because their fences had never been breached. They began their rounds like the opposite hands of a clock. Like a clock that’s right twice a day, the patrols, who began their rounds from the front gate at the same time, left the same location unprotected twice. After they both passed the most vulnerable parts of the compound, the unfenced cliffs, there was plenty of time for Kwon and five Sherpas to rappel down the rocks and drop into the compound.
Harper and Yeshi were instructed to take up secured positions on the cliffs at the rear of the compound to provide cover fire as the group of six escaped with the snowmobiles.
Babu’s two female cousins and the last two Sherpas got to have all the fun at the main entrance protecting the outpost’s administration building.
They waited for their moment, and then with the efficiency of experienced climbers, the Sherpas set up the rappelling equipment and dropped down the thirty-foot cliff one at a time. Kwon was the next-to-last to arrive at the bottom, impressing his new friends.
“We have a job for you if you would like to enjoy the simple life,” quipped Ghosh as he disconnected the gear and gave the signal for the Sherpas at the top of the cliff to retrieve it.
“Sorry, too cold,” Kwon was quick to respond. He removed his silenced weapon from off his shoulder and pointed to a series of buildings in the center of the compound. “This way.”
Ghosh was confused. “The snowmobiles are at the rear.”
“We need to hide from the patrols as they come back around. Also, something caught my eye. Let’s go.”
The six men raced across the open and immediately sought cover in between several transport trucks and pallets of crates marked with black and red stenciling. Kwon approached the crates first and ran his hand along the slightly snow-covered wood.
“What are these?” asked Ghosh.
Kwon responded by reading the sides aloud. “PF-97, 93 millimeter. Type 93, 60 millimeter. Type ninety-ones.”
“They are coming,” one of the Sherpas whispered loudly.
Kwon and Ghosh lowered themselves to a crouch. They rushed around the stacks of crates and hustled toward the nondescript concrete building at the center of the outpost.
Kwon issued his instructions. “Wait here. Listen for their radio and watch the movements of the guards.”
“Where are you going?”
“Shopping,” he replied as he dashed across a clearing toward the entrance to the building. Kwon reached a block half-wall that created a semicircular courtyard. In the center of the building was a steel-door entrance flanked by bar-covered windows. He slowly rose out of his crouch to check for movement inside the building. Through the windows, he observed a single soldier sitting behind a desk just inside the entrance.
Kwon shouldered his weapon and pulled out a hunting knife given to him by Babu. He walked low to the ground, keeping his head below the half-wall. Then he waited for the ruckus to commence.
Chapter Nine
PLA Outpost
Gangga, Tingri County, Tibet
Babu’s cousins ditched their yak jackets and changed into body-hugging sweaters and tights. Each of them carried an open can of chhaang, a Nepalese and Tibetan beer brewed from rice. The Himalayan people considered chhaang to be the best remedy to ward off the severe cold of the mountains, as well as having healing properties for the cold and accompanying fever. Its alcohol content was also potent, creating the perfect accessory for two inebriated young women.
They wandered up and down the street opposite the outpost’s main gate. As they drank, they became increasingly boisterous, eventually garnering the attention of the two bored gate guards. The women immediately became flirty.
They stumbled across the road, which was devoid of traffic, and began a conversation with the guards. Then, by design, their pretend jealous boyfriends suddenly appeared from down the street. They immediately called for the women to join them. As planned, the girls laughed at the guys and called them names before swigging more of the chhaang.
“We have new boyfriends!” one of the women shouted.
“Yes. They both have real jobs and uniforms.”
One of the women stumbled toward the soldiers, who were now standing next to the movable blockades. She drunkenly waved at them and came closer, pretending to sniff them.
“Awww. Clean and fresh. Not like river dogs!” She said it loudly so their co-conspirator boyfriends could hear her.
“I will show you how a river dog makes love!” one of them shouted angrily as he crushed his beer can and tossed it against the perimeter fence. He began to storm toward the woman, who inched closer to the guards.
“Please protect me. He is brutish.”
“Me too. I want a real man for a boyfriend,” said the other.
The soldiers swelled with pride. They turned toward the young men, who were walking with purpose, fists balled up and jaws set. The soldiers were very much aware of their limited rules of engagement and had strict orders not to engage the locals in the event of a conflict.
The Sherpas knew this as well. The girls cowered near the soldiers. Their boyfriends marched closer. Then the yelling between the four of them began in earnest. As planned, it was designed to draw the attention of the other soldiers remaining at the outpost—including the perimeter patrols and the unsuspecting desk clerk of the camp’s munitions depot.
Kwon heard the desk clerk’s radio squawk to life. He eased his head above the wall to observe the young man’s movements. The b
aby-faced soldier stood and placed the radio closer to his ear to listen. He had a single holstered sidearm strapped to his utility belt. Frustrated, he began to adjust the dials on the handheld radio before slamming it down on his desk.
The chaos at the main gate grew louder as the women’s shrill shouts filled the valley. Kwon inched closer, waiting for his opportunity. He didn’t want to waste time, but he hoped to find a weapon that might provide him an edge.
The soldier emerged from the building and Kwon pounced, catching the young man off guard. With a stunning blow, he smacked the back of the soldier’s head with the butt end of his knife, knocking him unconscious. Leaving him lying on the snow, he rushed inside the building. His eyes quickly searched for his next target.
He switched weapons, sheathing his knife and leading his search with the silenced MPX. Satisfied that the building was empty, he retrieved the soldier and dragged him inside and shoved his unconscious body under the desk. Kwon doubted the soldier would report what happened when he awoke for fear of punishment. He took the soldier’s radio and clipped it to his belt.
Kwon raced through the munitions depot, searching for useful weapons. The Sig Sauer rifles were bulky and therefore not easily concealed. He located a cabinet full of pistols and chose two QSZ-92s chambered in nine-millimeter ammunition. He shoved them in his pockets and then made his way to the deepest recesses of the building. That was where he found his most important prize.
“Arrggh!” the soldier groaned loud enough for Kwon to hear him. He bolted for a side door he’d observed as he approached the entrance. With the Sig Sauer in his right hand, he shouldered his new weapon and burst into the cold air caused by the increasing cloud cover.
Ghosh was already positioned at the back of the munitions crates, and he waved to grab Kwon’s attention. The group met up and then began to dash to the rear of the compound.