Echo Six: Black Ops 7 - Tibetan Fury (5 page)

"What about this Tempa Rinpoche, is he some kind of an Agency spook?"

She looked surprised. "Tempa a spook? Of course not, he's a Rinpoche, a very holy man. He's dedicated his life to helping Tibet rid itself of the Chinese by peaceful means. He knows me well and will give us whatever help we need."

"And you know him how?"

A pause. "I was a nun. We prayed at the same temple outside Lhasa."

"A nun!"

"Yes. I left the nunnery, but I still try to follow their teachings."

She looked amused. They were all lost for words.

He wants us to take a Buddhist nun on an operation? Jesus Christ, why not the send leader of the American Girl Scout Association as well?

* * *

They broke up the briefing to allow them to strip off their camos, clean up, and grab some chow. And digest the latest bombshell, a last minute operation to Tibet. All of them were raw, tired, and demoralized after the debacle in Kashmir, and very conscious of the two men who hadn't made it. Dying in battle was not unexpected, but when it happened because of the fatal carelessness of others, that was different and hard to swallow. Reynolds was still in the infirmary where they were working hard to patch up his shoulder wound.

They sat in the canteen and wolfed down day-old stew. Buchmann still held a scowl on his hard, brutal face. After he'd eaten enough food to satisfy a platoon of men, he looked up at them.

"I don't know why I do this job." He pronounced 'this' as 'ziss'.

Guy supplied the answer, "Because it's the only way they'll let you kill people, Heinrich. Legally, anyway."

He thought about that for a second and smiled. "Z
at
is correct."

He nodded to himself and then climbed to his feet. "I go to the infirmary to see Roy. He may be ready to get out of that place. Hospitals, scheisse!"

"Is that true?" Grace Ferraro asked Guy, "The bit about legally killing people. He likes it?"

He looked at Talley. "You tell her."

"He's a good man, Heinrich, one of the best. When we're in serious trouble, we can all rely on him to get us out of it. But yes, he does enjoy the violent side of it. Killing," he ended lamely.

"I see."

"What about you? Is it true you're a nun?"

"Technically, I was a nun," she corrected him, "Now, I just follow their teachings, as much as I can in my line of work. I'm a Buddhist, and it's natural to join an order for much of your life."

"So you're not going back?"

"It's complicated. Maybe later I'll go back."

He nodded. "You have any combat experience?"

She sipped her coffee and appeared to be thinking. "You mean, actual experience? Like your German friend, killing people?"

"I mean going up against men with guns, seeing blood spilled, men screaming in agony, women, too. Having to kill the guy right in front of you, because if you don't, he'll kill you. And if he doesn't kill you, he'll kill the people who are depending on you."

She shook her head. "Nothing like that, no. Just the Agency training course."

"It won't be enough. Not for what we're up against. The Chinese are hard, brutal people."

"And you?"

"Yeah, we're even more brutal, Ma'am. That's why they send us where they do."

"It's Grace. Call me Grace. And I can take care of myself, I assure you."

She sounded tough and determined, but in that critical moment, holding a loaded gun, and about to blow out the other guy's brains? He stared at her for a moment.

"Okay, Grace. I'm Abe, Abe Talley. Listen, we'll be back in the briefing room soon. What else can you tell me about this operation, what do you know? What questions should we be asking, and what should we be looking out for?"

She shook her head. "You heard Ed Garrick. I'm just a junior Agency employee. Only very lofty, senior personnel like him have that kind of information."

He looked at her closely. There was obviously bad blood there, between her and Garrick.

Not a good start.

"One thing they haven't told us, is Garrick coming with us, too?"

She'd been sipping her coffee again. Abruptly, she heaved and almost choked, struggling not to spit out a mouthful. She stared back at him, her eyes wide.

"Garrick! You are kidding me. He stays strictly away from anything that might be dirty or dangerous. You saw the two bodyguards check out the briefing room?" Talley nodded, "He made them a condition of coming out here, to Bagram. He's normally based in the Embassy at Islamabad, ever since the Taliban mortared the American Embassy here in Kabul, strictly a deskman. He keeps his wardrobe neat and clean, too."

"We noticed," Talley smiled.

"Yeah, you couldn't miss it. He's a snappy dresser, that's for sure. You wouldn't be pleased to have him along, believe me."

What makes you think I'm pleased about taking a combat rookie along? But you're altogether too pretty to say it to your face. At least you'll be decorative.

 
She gave him a challenging look, almost as if she could read his mind. Before he could press her further, an Air Force NCO poked his head around the door.

"They want you."

* * *

Garrick gave them a sour look as they walked in, and made a show of checking his watch. Brooks had taken a seat away from him and was watching from the side of the room as if to say, 'Don't include me in your particular brand of bullshit'.

"Now that you're all back, we can get on with this." He looked at his watch again, "I really don't have time for this. Now..."

"Mister!" Talley said quietly.

"You mean me?"

"You. We just came off a hard mission that was screwed by intelligence types. Men like you. Two of my people didn't make it back. So stop looking at the watch, and cut the crap. The way they feel right now, these men will kick your ass back to Langley as soon as look at you, and don't think your CIA mercs out there will save you. We eat mercs like that for breakfast and spit out the hard bits."

The CIA man stared at Brooks for a few seconds, as if inviting him to intervene. The Admiral stayed seated. Garrick nodded; looking flustered and a little scared. After a few moments, he went on.

"Er, yes. Right, where was I?"

"You were nowhere," Brooks called to him, "Spit it all out, man, infil, exfil, what they're after, what they're up against, the works."

"Yes, Admiral. We have a smuggler's route into Tibet; it's a track that runs over the mountains from Nepal, in the south. It's a three-hour flight from Afghanistan to Nepal, and you'll have to parachute into Nepal to avoid coming to the notice of the authorities. They're wary of the Chinese, and could well tip them off if they thought you were about to cause trouble."

"We could HAHO jump direct into Tibet," Guy Welland pointed out.

"That's true, but they've made Tibet a war zone since all the trouble they've had there lately. Constant patrols, gunships, fighter aircraft, radar, listening stations on the ground. They took the country by force, remember; they don't want someone to take it back from them. It has to be the overland route. We'll have someone meet you in Nepal, and they'll ferry you over the mountains by truck. It's a narrow track but passable, and down into Lhasa, the capital. It's a journey of about two hundred kilometers. Once inside Lhasa, we have a safe house you can use. The prison is close by, and Grace can show you everything. She knows her way around."

"How do we get into the prison to break him out?"

Garrick looked blank. "I've no idea. I was rather thinking you'd work that one out when you get there."

Talley stared at him, lost for words. Finally, he murmured, "Great."

Brooks broke the tense silence. "Men, this is a tough job. I don't say otherwise. But once you reach the outskirts of Lhasa, you'll be in and out in the same night. A fast run across the border into Nepal, and if the gods are on our side, you'll be home and dry and cleaning up ready to shake the President's hand."

Rovere managed to have the final word. "And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword sit laurel victory! And smooth success be strew'd before your feet!"

Brooks nodded. "Yeah, that's what I meant."

* * *

They walked up the ramp of the Boeing C-17, the same C-17 Globemaster that had dropped them over Kashmir. The aircraft Captain greeted them with a surprised look.

"You guys going out again. Don't they ever give you a rest?"

Talley gave him a friendly nod. "Not too often. How are we fixed for take off?"

"Fueled up and ready go. Just say the word."

He went into the cargo hold, dumped his gear bag, which contained his weapons and equipment, and found the least uncomfortable position to make the journey a fraction less painful. The crew was finishing their preflight checks when a Humvee roared across the airfield and stopped close to the ramp. They assumed it had brought their equipment, but a man climbed out, walked across to the aircraft, and up the ramp. He wore the khaki working uniform of a United States Naval officer, instead of NATO issue camos. Behind him, two men began carrying a number of wooden crates aboard.

"I thought I'd join you," Vice Admiral Carl Brooks grinned, "After you drop into Nepal, the aircraft will land in North-East India, where I have an SUV waiting to transport me across the border to our embassy in Kathmandu. I'll be controlling the operation from there. It's as near as I can make it."

"That's good news, Sir. This op looks like it's just been thrown together. We'll be working almost blind once we're inside the country."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. However," he delved into his briefcase, "I brought you these, photos of Prison Number 529. It's the MSS jail where they're holding Campbell."

He passed them over. Guy joined him, and they glanced through the package. They were grainy eight by tens, black and white, and obviously taken by clandestine means. But they were enough to show what they were up against. The first shot was an aerial view, probably taken from a satellite, a blurry image of a vast complex about a kilometer outside Lhasa. It was on a flat plain, covered in a pristine blanket of snow, and with a small village almost next to the wire, probably where some of the guards lived with their families. There'd be local stores for food and other services. A brothel, the Chinese were known to recruit local women to deal with the needs of their men. But it was the prison itself that drew their attention.

About four hundred meters square, with a high, barbed wire fence that surrounded it. Brooks saw the direction of their gaze. "Razor wire, not barbed." They nodded, "The inner fence is electrified, by the way. We're not sure of the voltage, but I guess it'll be enough. You see the guard towers?"

"Yep."

"Four of them, one on each corner. Each one mounts a Type 67 machine gun. That's the Chinese made 7.62mm belt-fed version of the Russian DP. There are always three men manning each tower, an NCO and two privates. They carry assault rifles, and the NCO will have a set of night vision binoculars."

"Dogs?" Talley asked.

Brooks shook his head. "They tried them once, but the prisoners are kept hungry, and they eat the dogs. No dogs."

"Uh huh." He was studying another photograph. "The gate, it's the only way in or out?"

"Yes."

"Okay. These huts, there are twenty of them. They look big enough for forty or fifty men apiece, so eight hundred to a thousand prisoners. What's the guard strength?"

"Correction, the total number of prisoners at Prison Number 529 stands at six thousand five hundred, give or take. They make a lot of arrests in Tibet, and they tend to pack them in."

"Jesus, over three hundred men to a hut. They must be jammed in like sardines in a tin."

"They are. As for the guard force, we estimate one hundred men. They rotate twelve-hour shifts, with fifty soldiers on duty at any one time. The other fifty can be roused out of bed within minutes if there's a problem."

"I get the picture. The vehicle park is outside the main gate. That's interesting. What's this structure, in the center? Kind of a raised platform."

"That's the execution site. They roust out the entire camp and make them watch. They also film it, and we've heard they like to replay it from time to time."

"Nice. So that's where they'd kill Campbell. Fifteen days, you said."

"Let's see. It's about fourteen days from now, but they could bring it forward, who knows? These are the Chinese. They're not like us."

"Understood. Sir, it's going to be a bastard. Everything is covered in snow. Even with our arctic camos, they'll see us coming from a mile away. Getting in there and finding Campbell among six thousand prisoners will take time, and that's one thing we won't have. Besides, the prison is close to Lhasa, and I'm willing to bet they have a few hundred troops billeted in the city."

"Ten thousand, at the last count."

He grimaced. "Ten thousand, Christ! Any other bad news?"