Golden Buddha (Oregon Files 1)

Then he stepped off the Antonov and began walking to the Gulfstream. The pilot and copilot were standing next to the open door. The pilot smiled at Cabrillo and motioned for the step.

“We’re ready for you, sir,” he said. “Welcome aboard.”

“There’s a box on the biplane,” Cabrillo said. “Get some help and haul it aboard.”

Cabrillo walked up the ramp, made his way to a seat, and then waited while the pilots got the crate loaded inside, shut the door, and started the engines. Two minutes later, they were airborne. The Gulfstream was still climbing to cruising altitude when they crossed over the mountains of Laos.

IN Novosibirsk, Russia, General Alexander Kernetsikov was staring at a large chalkboard inside a hangar at the airport. Troops and material continued to pour into the area at a rate of deployment seldom seen in times of peace. There were thousands of details to attend to, but there was one that bothered Kernetsikov the most.

“Have we received an answer yet?” he said to his aide. “If this is a go, I need to know which fork to take at Barnaul. We either violate Kazakhstan and enter China near Tacheng, or we need to move the troops into Mongolia, take the road toward Altaj and cross over the mountains there, then sweep quickly across the plains and pass Lop Nur.”

The aide stared at the general. Lop Nur was the home of the Chinese nuclear test base and he imagined it would be heavily defended. The other route featured mountains that we

re still covered in snow. It was like choosing between a root canal and ripping off a toenail.

“There’s been no communication, General,” the aide said, “including whether this is not merely an exercise in fast deployment and war planning.”

“It’s just a feeling,” the general said quietly, “but I think that before this is over, we’ll be crossing the mountains like Hannibal.”

The aide nodded. Every good officer under whom he had served had a strong sense of history. He just hoped the general was wrong—facing off with the Chinese, even with the firepower they had amassed, was not a welcome thought.

IN Beijing, General Tudeng Quing was offering President Jintao a possible solution.

“If we pull all but two thousand troops out of Tibet, concentrating those left only in Lhasa, we could divert the rest to U¨ rümqi in the Xinjiang Province. They could be in place starting tomorrow.”

“How many?” Jintao asked.

“Say a thousand by plane in the next few hours,” Quing said. “The tanks and armored carriers have a nine-hundred-mile journey. Running them full out at forty miles an hour with refueling and such, they could be in place tomorrow this time.”

“We don’t have any troops closer?” Jintao asked.

“Airborne, we can bring them in from anywhere,” Quing noted. “It’s the armor we need—other than Tibet, the closest armored division we require is almost twice that distance away, and the trip is over rougher terrain. My aides have calculated three or four days minimum.”

Jintao sat back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Then he turned to Legchog Raidi Zhuren, the chairman of the Tibet Autonomous Region, who had so far remained quiet.

“Will two thousand troops give you a sufficient level of security until we can replace your armor in four or five days?” Jintao asked.

“Mr. President,” Zhuren said. “Tibet has been quiet for years—I don’t see that changing any time soon. Now, if I may be excused, I should be leaving for my return to Tibet.”

Jintao turned to General Quing. “Order it done.”

Next, Jintao turned to the Chinese ambassador to Russia.

“You,” he said loudly, “figure out what the Russians have planned. If they are planning to annex Mongolia, let them know we won’t stand for that. The Mongols conquered us once—I’m not going to give them a chance to try it again.”

Within two hours of the meeting, the first Chinese transport planes began to land at Lhasa Airport and began ferrying troops north to Xinjiang Province. In the haste to counter the Russian threat, the organization of the Chinese army in Tibet would suffer. Junior officers would be placed in charge of partially staffed battalions. Weapons and ammunition would be depleted. The mission and purpose would be compromised.

CABRILLO was napping in the rear of the Gulfstream when his secure telephone buzzed.

“Go ahead,” he said, instantly awake.

“It’s me,” Overholt said, “with good news. The NSA just called the DCI, who called me. The Russian bluff is working. Transport planes are leaving the airport in Lhasa and hauling troops north. In addition, a column of tanks has just left the city and they’re traveling at breakneck speed. Everyone said it’s looking up so far.”

Cabrillo glanced at his watch. “I’ll be there in about an hour or so. Are we all set up for the meeting?”

“It’s all taken care of,” Overholt said.

“Good,” Cabrillo said. “If we reach an agreement there, I’ll continue north.”