The Secret Cardinal (35 page)

Donoher nodded. “Please ask Sister Deborah to set up a video conference with him in an hour. In the meantime, I need to enlist Cardinal Velu for some help.”

55

TIBET
November 1

The first hint of dawn painted a line of deep blue across the eastern horizon and erased the faintest stars from the heavens. The waxing crescent moon hung just above the jagged mountains to the west as if waiting for sunrise before dropping from view. Kilkenny was at the controls, piloting BAT-1 over some of the world's most breathtaking scenery, regretting that his view was filtered through the greens and blacks of night vision.

“I have the new numbers,” Han announced.

“How bad?” Kilkenny asked.

“We took a big hit from that headwind over the plateau.”

“I know,” Kilkenny said. “We're supposed to be in India by now. Any good news?”

“We're starting to make up some of the lost time.”

“Enough to get us across the border before dawn?”

“It will be close, but if we get some good wind on our tail in the last valley, we might make it.”

“You ready to take the stick again?” Kilkenny asked.

“Yeah, and thanks for the break,” Han said. “My shoulders were sore as hell after fighting that wind.”

“Get us across that border, and I'll find a nice Indian masseuse to work you over,” Kilkenny promised.

“I always work better with an incentive.”

“Can I have one too?” Gates squawked from BAT-2, his request parroted by the rest of the warriors.

“Gentlemen, as we are in a very real sense ‘on a mission from God'”—here Kilkenny did his dead-on imitation of Dan Aykroyd's mantra in
The Blues Brothers
—“I cannot in good conscience promise you an all-expense-paid trip to the Kama Sutra Spa and Fornicatorium.”

Low groans filled Kilkenny's ears.

“I will, however, gladly authorize a real masseuse to remove the damage inflicted on our joints and muscles by these long flights and an open bar to provide nourishment of a spiritual nature.”

“Hoo-yah!” bellowed Gates, Chun, and Chow above the chorus of other positive if not profane responses.

Kilkenny knew the feeling. The men were getting excited as the mission neared completion.

“Comm, two-way Kilkenny,” Tao said.

The voices in Kilkenny's ears faded.

“Nolan,” Tao said, “take a look at Yin.”

Kilkenny looked over his shoulder and saw Yin reclined in his seat, arms folded across his chest, still and quiet.

“Is he—”

“Sleeping,” Tao cut him off. “I checked and he's sound asleep. He hasn't stirred in hours.”

“Good for him.”

“So we're close to the border?” Tao asked.

“Yeah, I just hope we cross it before dawn. Otherwise we'll have to put down.”

“When will you know?”

“Within the hour. If he were awake, I'd ask him to pray for a steady tailwind.”

56

Woo Sun studied the landscape below, a mixture of sharp peaks and undulating forms rendered even more surreal by the night-vision goggles that allowed him to fly so close to the ground in low light. His right hand was on the pickle stick of a Harbin WZ-9 attack helicopter—a Chinese variant of the Eurocopter Dauphin II. It was one of sixty flown by the PLA's Aviation Corps, and nearly all of them had been rushed into service along the western border the previous day.

To Woo's right sat his weapons operator, Gong Yuan. The two men had trained together for three years, logging thousands of hours in a variety of flight conditions. They knew every sound the WZ-9 made and could tell how the twin turboshaft engines were performing by their vibration through the airframe.

Both men scanned the valley, searching for three low-flying aircraft with fixed wings scalloped like those of a bat. Woo had laughed at the description of their quarry, but not at their orders should they locate them. The enemy aircraft were to be shot down and all aboard killed.

The intelligence officer who briefed the crews of Woo's squadron reported that the enemy aircraft was designed for stealthy insertion and removal of special forces personnel. It was a lightweight, slow-moving craft that featured an open fuselage and a negligible radar cross-section. To Woo's and Gong's satisfaction, their prey was also reportedly unarmed.

Woo and Gong had flown out of Tianshuihai and were patrolling a section of the border where China abutted the Indian state of Jammu and Kashmir, including the disputed region of Askai Chin that was under Chinese control.

“Could you imagine being posted to this place?” Gong asked.

“I'd give a city boy like you a week before you sucked on your pistol.”

“
Qin wode pigu,
” Gong replied, profanely suggesting that Woo kiss his posterior.

Woo followed a valley southwest out of Changmar heading toward Bar—a village on the northern shore of the Tibetan lake of Bangong Co. There, mountain streams collected in the narrow strip of briny water that stretched one hundred and thirty kilometers. The western quarter of the long, thin lake lay on the Indian side of the border, where it was called Pangong Tso. Water flowed from Bangong Co into the Shyok River, then on to the Indus River before turning south through Pakistan toward the sea.

 

 

“CROSSING EIGHTY DEGREES EAST LONGITUDE,” Han announced, “and in a few moments you should see the eastern end of Bangong Co. As we begin our descent into India, I remind you that smoking on this flight is prohibited and to please put seats and tray tables in the upright position. Again, thank you for flying Night Stalker Air.”

Yin looked around trying to determine how to adjust his seat as Han requested.

“It's a joke,” Tao explained. “The kind of thing you would hear every time you flew in a commercial jet. Those planes have a few more amenities than our BATs.”

“Maybe, but our view is better,” Han countered.

More stars had faded from the predawn sky, and the moon winked at them from behind passing mountain peaks as they flew low through the valley. Numbers flicked by on Kilkenny's heads-up display—speed, position, distance to waypoint, and time—and the moment for a decision had arrived.

“Team comms on,” Kilkenny said. “Bad news, people. Looks like we're going to spend another day in China. We've got a clear sky and about an hour of flying time before we reach the border. Sunup's in twenty and we're losing dark fast.”

A chorus of disappointed groans answered Kilkenny's report.

“You heard the man,” Gates barked. “Same drill as before. Let's find a good place to hole up. No sense getting this far only to have our asses shot off while trying to jump the border in broad daylight.”

“Check it out,” Han said.

The valley ahead narrowed where it formed the basin of the glacial lake. A thick white fog floated above the still surface of the lake, a distinct mass like a cloud that had fallen from the sky.

“Let's cut around it and look for an LZ on the southern shore,” Kilkenny said.

“You got it, boss.”

 

 

AT BAR, WOO TURNED the helicopter southeast into the canyon that cradled the narrow lake. He flew above the fog, the wash from the four main rotor blades churning the upper layers of the mist. The canyon widened into a bowl at the eastern end of the lake, and the fog spread out like a blanket over the water below.

“I got something,” Woo said.

“Where?” Gong asked.

“One o'clock. Moving to intercept.”

Gong scanned the horizon and spotted three distinct forms gliding above the mist.

“Too solid to be a flock of birds.” Gong switched on the radio. “Dragon One Five to Base.”

“Base. Over Dragon One Five.”

“Report probable contact. Zero three three point five north by zero eight zero point two east. Moving to intercept.”

“Roger, Dragon One Five.”

 

 

“I THINK I HEAR A CHOPPER,” Han said. “And it's hauling ass toward us.”

“Bogey at three o'clock,” Gates reported from BAT-2.

“That scrubs the landing,” Kilkenny called out. “Get into the fog and run like hell for the border.”

Han put BAT-1 into a sharp dive toward the white cloud of mist. The other BATs followed his lead as the Harbin rapidly closed the distance.

“Nuts!” Gates cursed, then he opened the Velcro seal on the pouch beneath his seat and fished out a pistol.

“What do you think you're going to do with that?” Shen asked, his hands wrapped tightly on the flight stick.

“Hey, I might get off a lucky shot.”

 

 

“BASE, WE CONFIRM positive ID of target aircraft. Preparing to engage.”

“Roger, Dragon One Five. Good hunting.”

Once in range, Gong activated the weapons system and tried to acquire a target.

“There's nothing to lock onto,” Gong reported. “I'll have to do it manually.”

“We'll take the one in the middle of the flight, scatter them like birds.”

Woo dropped down, the underside of the Harbin skimming across the fog. Gong selected the Harbin's fixed twenty-three-millimeter cannons and opened fire. Tracer rounds drew bright lines through the air, allowing Woo to adjust his angle of attack.

BAT-2 shuddered when the first rounds punched through its wings. With the pistol gripped tightly in both hands, Gates lined up his shot and squeezed the trigger. His nine-millimeter response ricocheted harmlessly off the Harbin. The dogfight was a lopsided mismatch.

The Harbin slowed to nearly a hover and Gong fired again. One round pierced the nacelle, shattering the lightweight turbine engine. Tiny shards of the ceramic blades exploded in all directions, and the crew compartment was engulfed in a halo of shrapnel.

“Son of a bitch!” Chun swore as razor-sharp debris sliced through a few unprotected areas of his uniform.

Fragments pierced arms and legs, other pieces lodged in the warriors' helmets and body armor. Seated up front, Shen and Gates caught the worst of the damage, their bodies peppered with dozens of tiny
wounds. Deprived of power, BAT-2 fell from the sky. Shen fought his pain, struggling to guide the battered aircraft safely to the ground.

“Look sharp, people!” Gates shouted. “As soon as we touch down, haul ass for some cover.”

BAT-2 struck the ground hard just as the first rays of dawn lit the mountain peaks. They landed on a rocky slope, and the four warriors released their harnesses and raced toward the fog. The Harbin swooped down to block their way, and Gong switched to the twelve-point-seven-millimeter gun pods and opened fire.

Xaio swung BAT-3 around, approaching the helicopter from behind. All three men with him took aim on the Harbin's tail rotor, but turbulence from the helicopter buffeted their craft and their shots flew wide.

“This fucker is picking off our guys down there!” Jing shouted.

“And we're next,” Xaio added bitterly. “We're dead one way or another. But if we can take down this bastard right now, Yin gets out alive.”

“Do it!” Jing urged.

Agreed to a man, Xaio guided BAT-3 into a steep climb above the Harbin.

“You guys know what sound shit makes when it hits the fan?” Xaio asked.

Proud members of the Corps and familiar with the old joke, Sung and Tsui answered in a yell, “
Mareeeeeene!
”

BAT-3 swooped straight down like an eagle after a river salmon. Xaio aimed for the center of the Harbin's main rotor and called for as much power as the nacelle could deliver. The warriors aboard BAT-3 survived just long enough to know they had saved the lives of some of their company, then their aircraft disintegrated in the blur of the helicopter's rotating blades.

The collision snapped the Harbin's main shaft just below the hub, tilting the rotor assembly forward. One after another, the four long blades pounded into the side of the helicopter. Gong lost his arms and legs as the first blade sliced into the cabin. Slowed as they cut into the fuselage, the composite blades broke into large and lethal projectiles. Gong and Woo died instantly, their bodies torn apart.

Deprived of lift, the two fatally entangled aircraft obeyed gravity and plummeted to the ground. The knot of metal struck the bare, rocky slope and tumbled over. The twin engines, still racing furiously, tore free of their mounts, severing the fuel lines. Fumes and liquid ignited, detonating the half-empty fuel tanks. An expanding fireball tore through the fog, rising into the air like a beacon.

57

“Report!” Liu demanded.

“We've lost contact,” the communications officer replied. “Everything is operational on this end. Dragon One Five is not responding.”

“
Gou shi!
Peng, where are they?”

Peng stood at a large wall map of the region, estimating the intersection of the Harbin's reported sighting.

“The last reported position was in western Tibet,” Peng replied, “near Bangong Co. The nearest village is Rutog.”

“Captain, do you have any other aircraft in that area?”

The officer checked the current status of all aircraft assigned to this mission. “The closest are near the end of their range. They don't have enough fuel to make it to Rutog and back. We do have one being refueled now that can be there in little more than an hour.”

“Peng and I will be on it.”

 

 

HAN PILOTED BAT-1 in a wide arc around the wreckage, careful to remain upwind of the plume of oily, black smoke. Kilkenny and Tao surveyed the ground below while Yin prayed for the lives just lost. Two-thirds of their company lay either dead or wounded around the burning hulk of the Chinese helicopter.