Perilous Cargo Page 4

  “So, what is the situation here?” Vitaly asked. “Was this an inside operation?”

  “I don’t think so,” Fedar said. “I’ve interviewed all the personnel and accounted for the off-shift staff. I’ve also reviewed the security footage. Everyone was taken by surprise, and no one has gone unaccountably missing. I believe this had to have come from the outside. We found an old underground passageway that was long forgotten. That had to have been his entrance. This facility has never been breached.”

  “That’s damn sloppy guard work, Fedar,” he said. “Who else would have known about this tunnel?”

  “It’s not even on the retrofit plans,” Fedar admitted. “No one knew of its existence. This place has been left alone for so long, procedures and drills got lax. Hell, most of the people here didn’t even know what they were guarding because they weren’t allowed inside. Did you know it was here?”

  Vitaly laughed. “I did, and I warned Moscow about it, but you know the situation. Everything is political now, and everyone is so busy covering their asses and keeping their secrets, it’s a wonder we manage to do anything at all. How long until we can shut down completely?”

  “I estimate a few weeks or so, from whenever you give me the go and a direction. The locals are stirred up, and it would be a lot easier to slip out quietly, bit by bit. It will give them less to talk about.”

  “You’ve got the go,” Vitaly said. He pulled out his phone and sent a map and some additional information to Fedar. “There’s the destination, too. Put someone you trust in charge of the operation and tell him he has two weeks to get it done. I don’t want there to be a trace of our presence here after that time.”

  “And the locals on the payroll that know the truth?”

  “Arrange for them to have an accident once the warehouse is cleaned out. I think a gas line explosion or something like that will suit. Be sure to pay off their families to keep them from asking questions, and if need be, pay whatever excuse they’ve got for a police force here to keep their noses out of it. The fewer questions, the better off we’ll be.”

  “Easily handled. They’ll all want to keep working as long as possible. Work is hard to find here, so we’ll bring them in as a ‘cleaning’ crew once everything is secured.”

  Vitaly sipped more of the horrible coffee. “I’ll want you with me for the rest of this mission, along with a handful of our own men—nobody local, of course. We need men we can trust. Where do we stand with the locals?”

  “We’ve begun asking some questions, of course, but I’m afraid none of us has your special touch. There are a few people left to talk to that might be of help, but I think our best bet is a man named Li Soong.”

  “Black market or foreign intelligence?” Vitaly asked.

  “He styles himself as a professional trader, but he’s a thief through and through. He moves a lot of items on the black market, mostly into China.”

  “Have you spoken with him already?”

  “I started the conversation, but I can’t give him what he wants and eliminating him would remove a valuable asset in the region. He’s more than he seems and less than he thinks he is. He can be bought.”

  “When can I talk to him?”

  “He’s waiting for us now,” Fedar said. “I told him to expect us.”

  “Take me to him,” Vitaly said, setting down the half-full mug on the desk, grateful to be moving again—and not drinking the vile brew.

  Fedar led him off the warehouse grounds and then through the open markets of Kathmandu to a nondescript building on the edge of the more populated areas. There was a storefront selling fabric, and Vitaly made his way around the tables stacked with cloth in what appeared to be every shade of brown and gray. The young boy behind the counter watched him with suspicious eyes and the unrepentant smile of a street urchin until Fedar stepped in front of him.

  The smile faded quickly and the boy ran through a curtain and into a back room, only to return a moment later and gesture for them to follow him.

  Vitaly and Fedar eased behind the counter and through the curtain. The back room itself was sparsely furnished, with only a desk and a couple of chairs. Fedar had told him on the way that the meeting place was nothing but a front. So far, he’d been unable to determine where Li Soong’s true residence and place of business were located. It would be useful information, should they need to resort to more direct methods with the man. Li Soong himself awaited them in a chair in front of the desk.

  He was small, almost tiny compared to Vitaly, and relaxed comfortably in his seat. Nothing about him would draw the eye in a crowd, and no doubt this near-invisibility was in part what made him an excellent thief.

  “Mr. Fedar,” he said, bowing from the neck. “I see you have returned, as promised.”

  “This is the man I spoke to you about. Mr. Vitaly.”

  “A pleasure, Mr. Vitaly. I am always interested in meeting new, ah...customers. How may I help you?”

  Vitaly studied him carefully. “Fedar tells me that you are a man who knows things and sees things and hears things in the region.”

  “This is true. I know many things. The lifeblood of trade is knowledge, and one cannot make a good trade without knowing what comes in and what goes out.”

  “I’m looking for something that was stolen from our...storage facility on the northern side of the city. Something of great value.”

  Li Soong laughed softly. “Yes, I know what you seek. I don’t have it.” He shrugged. “Frankly, I am surprised that it was not taken from you sooner. The security at the warehouse over the past couple of years has been...less than conspicuous. Many would have paid a great deal for that information, but the trade was never brought to me.”

  “That’s a matter for us to deal with, and no, I don’t believe you have what was stolen,” Vitaly said. “I don’t imagine you would want the kind of attention such an item might bring, no matter how valuable it is, but Fedar seems to believe you have an idea of its location.”

  “So far, that has eluded me, but I can point you in the right direction, if we can agree on an appropriate price.”

  Vitaly looked at Fedar, who shrugged, and then back at Soong. Like a striking snake, he snared Soong by his lapels and picked him up, slamming him down onto the desk. Guards raced into the room, their weapons drawn and aimed directly at him and Fedar.

  “Your guards should move back now,” he said, pitching his voice very low. “I’m not a man to make an enemy of, and I respond poorly to blackmail.”

  “Mr. Vitaly, first you must let me go.” Soong smiled. “These men are sworn to die protecting me.”

  “Then it looks like they’ll get to keep their promise,” he said, shifting his coat aside and revealing the brick of C4 that was attached on the inside. A small digital timer was counting down the seconds. “The only one that can disarm it in time is me.”

  “You would blow yourself up, as well,” Soong said. “This is not good for your business or mine.”

  “You seem to think that I would mind that outcome.”

  There was a long, pregnant pause and then Soong began to laugh. “I like you,” he said. “You play for the highest stakes of all and you are willing to bet your life for your...business.” He waved his hands at his guards, who lowered their weapons and backed off.

  Vitaly pulled Soong to his feet, his eyes asking the question.

  “I cannot help much, but your treasure was seen on the Friendship Highway, heading into the mountains. In exchange for a quantity of that pretty clay you are carrying, I might be able to come up with a name for you to hunt.”

  Vitaly glared, but Soong raised his hand. “It is not a negotiation, but there are others that I must appease to get the answers that you seek. Information comes at a price and someone must always pay it.”

  He reached into his coat and pull
ed the trigger wire out of the brick of C4 and tossed it to Soong. “There will be much more of that if you get me a name. Find me before the end of the day, or I’ll assume you’ve failed me. I don’t like being disappointed.”

  “I will not fail you, Mr. Vitaly,” he said.

  “See that you don’t, Li Soong. As you said, we’re playing with the highest stakes.” He turned on his heels and left the store.

  Once they were outside, Vitaly turned to Fedar. “Who’s next?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Both Bolan and Nischal were awake and waiting for first light before it even kissed the horizon with streaks of predawn gray. Their clothing was finally dry and they dressed in silence, then surveyed their pitifully small inventory. They quickly packed what little they had left and stepped out of the shelter of the cave into the cold, sharp wind of early morning. To Bolan’s eye, the landscape was no more welcoming in daylight than it had been at night. He unfolded the map Nischal had managed to save and studied it once again, trying to get a bearing on about where they were, given the chaos of the jump the night before.

  “At least it’s stopped snowing,” he said, looking up at the sky. “For now.”

  “Tibet is a beautiful country, but it’s not a very forgiving place this time of year,” Nischal said. “That snow can return quickly and with much more force. This is not a place to be without supplies.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” He held up the map and traced a route with his finger. “I figure if we follow the lake south, we’ll come out of this bowl in that narrow valley. Hopefully, between here and there, we’ll find where the plane went down.”

  “You know, it’s not too late,” she said. “It’s not wildly illogical to just head for the monastery and get some help. It’s not like we’re loaded down with supplies, and like I said, the weather can shifts on a dime this time of year.”

  He shook his head. “No. We need that plane.” She started to say something else, but Bolan wasn’t in the mood to keep arguing, so he turned and began to follow the shoreline. His hopes that the crate containing their supplies was either floating in the lake or washed up on the jagged rocks were rapidly dashed. Nischal must have decided to take the hint because she trudged silently in his wake. They trekked south, doing their best to avoid the worst of the brutal landscape. From the map, assuming he had their position right, they were in a bowl-shaped area that bordered the north side of the mountain range between Nepal and Tibet. There were no villages marked on the map, and given what he’d seen so far, it wouldn’t be surprising if no one really lived here.

  Their jumpsuits made for good insulation, which was at least something of a comfort. If the weather turned nasty again, they’d have some protection. Certainly, people died in this part of the world from exposure all the time. Bolan was relatively sure that if and when they found the crash site, both pilots would be dead—assuming they hadn’t ejected beforehand. Under the circumstances, he didn’t think it likely.

  After several hours of hiking, Bolan called a brief rest stop. They were about to leave the lake behind them, and in the far distance he could see the narrowing of the valley. “If we’re going to find it,” he told Nischal, “it should be along the range up ahead. That’s where I last saw the little bit of light from the B-2, anyway.”

  “As good a place to look as any,” she replied. “At the bottom of patience is Heaven.”

  “Are you suggesting you’re out of patience?” Bolan asked. “We haven’t even started yet.”

  “Not at all,” she said. “I’m reminding myself to be patient. It appears that while I’m working with you, I’m going to be relying on that particular virtue a little more than normal.”

  Bolan got to his feet and struck southward once more, deciding to let the comment pass. He was feeling a little less than virtuous himself. With limited supplies and communication, they would be lucky to survive, let alone complete their mission. And they needed to complete their mission.

  As the day began to wane, he spotted what he was looking for: blackened rocks higher up on the mountainside. He broke into a jog and heard Nischal keeping pace behind him. The B-2 had come down nose first into the nearby peaks, then had slid lower until it came to a stop about halfway up a climbable grade. The wreckage itself was spread over a fairly small area. Almost immediately, Bolan saw two things of concern: the cockpit appeared to be intact and two figures dressed head-to-toe in furs were examining the remains of the aircraft.

  Bolan reached for his Desert Eagle in case the pair proved to be hostile, but Nischal grabbed his arm and shook her head.

  “Give me a minute. I know the local customs.”

  They approached the two figures and Nischal gasped softly, then stopped in front of them, clasped her hands together and bowed. Bolan was surprised when he realized that one was a child and the other an older Caucasian man.

  “It’s been a long time,” Nischal said. “A very long time.”

  “What’s this about?” the old man asked, pointing to the wreckage.

  Bolan stepped forward. “Nischal, what the hell is going on here?”

  “An unexpected surprise,” she said. “Colonel Brandon Stone, may I introduce you to Nick Solomon?”

  The name registered with Bolan after a few seconds, and his eyes narrowed. “The Nick Solomon? I heard you were dead.”

  “I am dead as far as the world is concerned.” His blue eyes were sharp, and despite the lines on his face, he still seemed vigorous for a man who had to be at least in his sixties. “Which is why I don’t understand why we’re being properly introduced.” He looked at Nischal quizzically.

  “Nick, I haven’t heard from you in years, though I knew you were in the region,” she said. “Either way, given Colonel Stone’s nature and the job we’re here to do, I think it’s best if everyone knows who everyone really is.”

  “I see,” he said. “I don’t suppose the two of you are responsible for this...for what’s left of this B-2?”

  “The storm last night was responsible for that,” Bolan said. “I don’t suppose you’d care to explain why you’re not dead?”

  “Are you going to explain what you’re doing here...with a CIA field operative and a B-2 Stealth?”

  “Probably not,” Bolan admitted. “But then I don’t have to.” He eased his hand back toward the Desert Eagle. “On the other hand, I think you do. In my experience, when men like you disappear, it’s often because they’ve changed sides. Death is a convenient excuse for no one to come looking.”

  Nischal put a restraining hand on his arm. “Nick’s an old friend,” she said. “He hasn’t changed sides. He’s retired.”

  “He’s thinking that men like us don’t retire, Alina,” Solomon said. “Isn’t that right, Colonel?”

  “Something like that.”

  Nick Solomon was more than just an old spy. He was practically a legend in the circles the Executioner traveled in. Resourceful, smart, tough as nails and willing to go to any length to get the job done, Solomon had worked missions going back to the Cold War and in places that no longer even existed. He’d also done missions in Africa, wiping out human smuggling operations in Madagascar, and in South America, taking out cartels and drug operations like a vengeful ghost.

  And he was supposed to be dead. The last anyone had heard, he’d been on a mission in Egypt that went wrong and he’d been tortured and killed. That had been more than five years ago.

  “Want to tell me about Egypt?” Bolan asked quietly.

  “Not particularly,” Solomon said. “Any more than you probably want to talk about your missions...Colonel.”

  “Maybe we could do the questioning part later,” Nischal suggested. “When we’re not out in the elements dealing with the wreckage of a stealth bomber?”

  “All right,” Bolan said, and Solomon nodded. “But we wil
l be talking more later, Solomon. There are questions that need answering.”

  “There always are,” he said.

  “Who’s your friend, Nick?” Nischal asked, gesturing to the child.

  “This is Raju. He helps out around the monastery.”.

  The boy said nothing but stared at Bolan and Nischal as though they were a definite threat. Bolan grabbed hold of Nischal and pulled her aside.

  “You better start talking, and fast,” he hissed. “You knew he was here and didn’t say anything.”

  She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. As far as the agency or the rest of the world is concerned, Nick is dead. He retired, but he knew the government would never leave him alone. He moved to a monastery, but I didn’t know which one. In general, most of the monasteries in this region will help travelers in need, which is why I mentioned it. I didn’t have a clue he was in this specific area.”

  “When were you going to tell me there was a super spy in the area at all? If they’d known this back in the States, they wouldn’t have sent us—they could’ve sent him. I’ve seen his profile. He could have handled this all on his own.”

  “This guy is my friend,” Nischal said. “He’s retired, and he didn’t want to be found. I can respect that, even if you can’t. Sometimes people just want to be left in peace.”

  Bolan scanned the wreckage. “And yet, here he is.”

  “Yes, here I am...”

  Bolan turned to see Solomon standing behind him. The man was uncannily silent. Apparently, his skills hadn’t eroded much in his so-called retirement.

  “My guess,” Solomon said, “is that the Colonel here is worried about the Chinese spotting this wreckage when their satellites pass overhead in a couple of hours.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Bolan replied. “But I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. Let’s get rid of it. Nischal, you know the area. Any suggestions?”

  Nischal hesitated, then Solomon dropped his pack and pulled out several bricks of C4, tossing one to Bolan and one to Nischal.