The evidence was disturbing. The most intriguing piece was Captain Lu's report of hearing helicopters off to the north of the explosion area. If there were helicopters involved, that meant somebody with more resources than a group of dissidents was involved. Yang had initially suspected the students or their supporters had been behind the explosion. The helicopter report changed that suspicion. Now, much as Yang disliked considering it, the most likely culprits were revolting Chinese soldiers. Ever since the killings in Tiananmen Square, the entire country had been in a state of flux. In this region, Yang had had no killings like they had in Beijing. The students had marched in Harbin, but it had been peaceful. Yang had already dispatched three of his divisions to Beijing at the request of the Communist party secretary, Zhao Ziyang, to aid in control there.
Yang was frankly more worried about that situation than this pipeline problem. With the dispatch of those troops, he had extended his hand into the power play going on in Beijing. The whole situation down there was very murky. He didn't need trouble in his own region.
Yang evaluated the likely possibilities and figured that the troops who had done the deed were probably trying to escape. He briefly considered the possibility that foreigners were involved. He doubted it, but had to admit there was a slight chance. Either the Russians, Americans, or Japanese. He very much doubted the Japanese. They used some of the oil from the pipe. He didn't think the Americans had the guts. They were making a lot of noise about the events in Tiananmen Square, but they would never back up their words. But the Russians were another story, Yang knew from past experience along the border. He wouldn't put it past them to have done this.
Yang looked at his map. The fool Haotian had limited his search to the immediate area of the explosion. With the larger assets of the entire Shenyang Military Region at his command, Yang had the men and vehicles to correct that.
Yang swiveled his chair around to face his staff and subordinate commanders, who had been waiting quietly while he thought. "I want all aviation assets to be used in the search. Ground forces of a regiment from each division will also be used to patrol all roads. You will look in this area." He outlined an area on the map on his desk. His finger ran from Qiqihar to the Russian border in the north, down that border to North Korea in the east, and then along the North Korean border back to their present location in Shenyang.
"Somewhere in there you will find the terrorists if they are still in the country. I want the majority of forces concentrated to the east along the border with Russia."
Yang looked over his staff. "I also want the political officers of every unit to question each helicopter pilot and account for every one of our helicopters during the time of the attack. I want to know whether one of our own did this. Check with the neighboring military districts also. I will be immediately notified of any information or new development." Yang indicated they were dismissed.
Commander Lemester had been very happy to see the helicopter disappear off to the west. He was glad to be done with the whole operation. Hopefully things would get back to normal now. The only thing he didn't like was that his orders specified staying until 1500 Zulu on the tenth. He had to sit here another thirty-four hours. Lemester decided not to waste his crew's time. They could get in a lot of training before heading off to the southwest to rejoin the battle group.
The going was easier downhill, but not much. Olinski's 175 pounds were beginning to wear down the four healthy team members. Mitchell was in obvious pain. Comsky had tied the captain's right arm to his side to keep the sutures from tearing. The pilot, C.J., wasn't complaining, but the jarring downhill scramble was sending jolts of pain up his smashed right hand and arm.
Despite this, Riley pushed them unmercifully. They had to get out of the less thickly vegetated high ground as soon as possible. Having crossed the top of the mountain range at almost nine thousand feet, they slowly but steadily were dropping in altitude on their way to the North Korean border.
Riley's mind was working as they walked, trying to develop a plan. If they could find a power source for the transmitter Hoffman had rigged, Riley had to figure out what message to send. They had never considered this occurrence in their escape and evasion plan. The eastern escape route would have taken the team to the north of this part of the mountain range, up near the Russian border; that meant Riley couldn't use any of the pickup zones along the E & E eastern route.
On the ten-minute rest halts he allowed every hour, Riley pored over the map and searched the terrain ahead. He used a small monocular, which Olinski always carried in the butt pack of his combat vest, to check out the lay of the land below. While not as good as binoculars, the instrument allowed him to gain a perspective on what lay ahead.
From the map, Riley chose a tentative pickup zone twenty kilometers east of the crest they had crossed. He had to pick a terrain feature that would be relatively easy for pilots to find at night. His choice was a clearing about five hundred meters northwest of the intersection of an unnamed river, which would cut across their path, and what looked on the map to be an unimproved dirt road. With luck, a scarce commodity on this mission so far, Riley estimated they could make it there by the next night.
Riley shook his head as he considered the bigger picture. Getting to the new PZ would help them only if they could find a power source to send out the information. If the transmitter worked. And if they could come up with a frequency to send on. And if someone happened to be listening. And if that someone could get the information to the proper people in time. And if the proper people decided to mount a rescue attempt. And if the rescue attempt made it to the pickup zone. Riley tried to keep down a rising tide of despair. He'd been in bad situations before, but none had seemed as hopeless as this one.
He didn't think they could make it across the border into North Korea and then to the coast. Not in the shape they were in. Not with the wounded. They had no food, no shelter, and no warm clothes — only what was on their backs and in their vests. Riley was furious with himself for having destroyed the rucksacks. That had been a stupid mistake and was going to prove costly. Most particularly galling was having destroyed the PRC70 high-frequency radio. If there was one thing they should have taken, it was the radio. If the other helicopter had made it out — and there was no reason to think it didn't — then Trapp would have told Hossey they had destroyed the 70 on the pickup zone. Which meant the colonel would most likely not go with the backup plan to monitor the HF net.
Riley thought about that. Maybe the colonel would monitor the radio. Or if he didn't, maybe Trapp or someone else from the team would.
A tenet he and Mitchell had hammered into everyone on Team 3 was to always stick with a plan, even though the situation might appear hopeless. It was a slim chance at best.
By three in the afternoon they had progressed five kilometers from the crest and dropped almost two thousand feet in altitude. Riley called a halt and gratefully put down Olinski's makeshift stretcher. Riley knew that if he was this tired, everyone must be. He walked over to Mitchell, who was slumped against a rock. "How's it going, Mitch?"
Mitchell grinned weakly at Riley. "I could lie to you and say great, but I won't. Is good OK?"
Riley hated to see his team leader and the other members hurting so bad. He felt responsible.
Mitchell stirred. "Hey, I've been thinking. If we can get that transmitter working, you got any idea what to send?"