“The border is many hundreds of miles long. How would one find two individuals in all of that?”
“Don’t be obtuse,” Zhilan said, her voice taking on a harder edge. “You have under your command fourteen Harbin Z-9 helicopters equipped with infrared radars, night-vision cameras, and missiles, both anti-air and anti-tank.”
Feng sighed. “You are extraordinarily well informed.”
“Your command also maintains seventy-nine observation posts along the border. Is this also correct?”
“Yes.”
“We suspect the people will have to use a helicopter to transit some of the more remote areas. There are a limited number of charter companies in Nepal that offer such services. In order to make your task easier, we will be monitoring these companies.”
“Then why not intercept these people before they board?”
“We will allow them to . . . complete their mission before you take action against them.”
“What is their mission?”
“They are looking for something. We want them to succeed.”
“What are they looking for?”
“You do not need to know that. General, I have explained what is required of you; I have given you all the information you need to make a decision. So decide, please.”
“I accept. I will need information on the targets.”
Zhilan reached into the front pocket of her parka and withdrew an SD card. She slid it across the table to Feng, then stood up. “Make sure you are ready when I call.”
28
JOMSOM, NEPAL
Acutely aware that, in Charles King, they’d enraged a lion that had thus far only been annoyed, Sam and Remi had instructed Selma to find them an alternate route to Mustang.
Everyone involved knew the Theurang was somewhere in the Himalayas, and King now knew that the Fargos, possessing a significant lead in the race, would have to return to Nepal. Sam and Remi had no doubt that Russell and Marjorie King, along with their mother, Zhilan Hsu, would be on the lookout for them. Only time would tell what other forces King would bring to bear, but they intended to walk very carefully until this odyssey was over.
A series of marathon flights eventually took them to New Delhi, India, where they drove two hundred fifty miles southeast to the city of Lucknow, where they picked up a single-engine charter flight another two hundred miles northeast to Jomsom. They’d left the trekker’s hub less than a week earlier, and as the plane’s wheels squealed on the airstrip tarmac both Sam and Remi felt a sense of deja vu. This sensation was only heightened as they headed for the terminal amid throngs of trekkers and guide service reps vying for their business.
As Jack Karna had promised, they slipped through customs unmolested or questioned. Waiting for them at the curb outside the terminal was another blast from the past: a Nepali man standing beside a white Toyota Land Cruiser and holding a sign bearing their name.
“I think you’re looking for us,” Sam said, extending his hand.
The man shook both their hands. “I am Ajay. Mr. Karna asked me to tell you, ‘Selma’s newest fish is called a Apistogramma iniridae.’ Have I pronounced that correctly?”
“You have,” Remi replied. “And its name is?”
“Frodo.” In their lengthy discussions, Selma and Jack Karna had discovered they were both avid fans of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. “Yes? Okay?” Ajay asked with a smile.
“Okay,” Sam replied. “Lead on.”
Not surprisingly, Ajay was not only a better tour guide than their previous one but he was also a better driver, negotiating the Kali Gandaki’s innumerable twists, turns, and hazards with expertise. A mere eight hours after leaving Jomsom they were standing before Jack Karna’s door in Lo Monthang.
He greeted them each with a warm hug. Hot tea and scones were ready and waiting in the cushioned seating area. Once they were settled and had warmed themselves, Sam and Remi retrieved the Theurang disks and placed them on the coffee table before Karna.
For a full minute, he simply stared at them, eyes agog, and a half smile on his face. Finally he picked up each disk in turn, examining it carefully. He seemed only slightly less impressed by the model.
“Aside from the symbols, it’s almost identical to the genuine article, isn’t it? Your Selma . . . she is quite a woman, I must say.”
Remi gave Sam a sideways glance and smile. Her woman’s intuition had told her there was a bit of spark growing between Selma and Jack. Sam had dismissed the idea. Now he gave her a nod of recognition.
“She’s one of a kind,” Sam said. “So, you think these will work?”
“I have no doubt. To that end, Ajay will be taking us to the caves tomorrow morning. With any luck, by the end of the day we will have found a match. From there, it will simply be a matter of following the map to Shangri-La.”
“Nothing is ever that simple,” Remi said. “Trust us.”
Karna shrugged. “As you say.” He poured them more tea and passed around the plate of scones. “Now, tell me more about Selma’s love of tea and tropical fish.”
They were up before dawn the next morning for a full English breakfast served by Karna’s houseboy: streaky bacon, eggs, black pudding, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, fried bread, sausages, and seemingly bottomless mugs of tea. When they could take no more, Sam and Remi pushed away their plates.
“Is this your regular morning fare?” Remi asked Karna.
“Of course.”
“How do you stay trim?” Sam said.
“Lots of hiking. Not to mention the cold and the altitude. You burn calories at a massive rate here. If I don’t consume at least five thousand a day, I start shedding weight.”
“Perhaps you should start a fitness boot camp,” Remi suggested.
“There’s a thought,” Karna said, standing up. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Right! Ten minutes until departure. Ajay will meet us at the gate!”
True to his word, Karna was ushering them out the door a few minutes later, and soon they were in the Land Cruiser heading southeast toward the foothills. Two miles out of the city, as they topped a crest, the landscape began to change dramatically. The rolling hills steepened, and their outline grew more jagged. The soil slowly morphed from grayish to an olive brown, and what little scrub brush dotted the terrain grew even more sparse. The Land Cruiser began jostling from side to side as Ajay navigated the now boulder-strewn tract. Soon Sam and Remi’s ears began popping.
From the front seat Karna said, “There are two cases of bottled water in the cargo boot. Make sure to stay hydrated. The higher we go, the more fluid you’ll need.”
Sam grabbed two pairs of bottles, handed one to Remi and two to Karna in the front seat, then asked Karna, “How far from the Tibetan border are we?”
“Seven miles or so. Try to remember: along with most of the rest of the world, we may think of it as the Tibetan border, but the Chinese do not. It’s a distinction they zealously enforce. The official name may be the Tibet Autonomous Region, but as far as Beijing is concerned it’s all China. In fact, if you keep a sharp eye out, you’ll begin to see outposts on the ridges. We may even encounter a patrol or two.”
“A patrol?” Sam repeated. “As in, the Chinese Army?”
“Yes. Both ground units and aircraft routinely wander into Mustang, and not by accident. They know Nepal can do nothing but lodge a formal complaint, which means nothing to the Chinese.”
“And what happens if someone strays over their side of the border? A lost trekker, for example.”
“Depends on the place. Between here and the northern tip of Myanmar there are almost two thousand miles of border, much of it over remote and rugged terrain. As for here, on rare occasions the Chinese not so politely shoo wayward souls back across the border, but usually interlopers are arrested. I know of three trekkers in the last year who were snatched up.”
In the driver’s seat, Ajay silently held up four fingers.
Karna said, “I stand corrected: four trekkers. All but one of them was eventually released. Have I got that right, Ajay?”