Ten shots in seven seconds. Ten more for good measure.
The lead APC ground to a halt. The ones to the rear stopped also.
The sound of the helicopter was loud in Zhuren’s ears. He felt himself being pulled from inside and pushed from outside into a seat, then he felt someone slide in next to him. He sniffed the air. It was the dark-haired man, the man who had yanked him from safety into the unknown.
The helicopter lifted off.
“They will hover above us and we’ll climb inside,” King said to his Dungkar assistant.
“Mr. Sir,” the Tibetan said, “can I stay?”
“What’s your plan?” King asked.
The Tibetan pointed to where his countrymen were swarming over the disabled APC.
The helicopter was almost to the rooftop. King reached into his satchel and removed a black cloth bag. “These are hand grenades,” he said. “Do you know how they work?”
“Pull the metal thing and run?” the Du
ngkar said, smiling.
“You got it,” King said, “but keep your people back when you use them—these will shred a human like cheese in a grater.”
The helicopter was above the rooftop and lowering down. The Tibetan grabbed the bag and started for the ladder down.
“Thank you, sir,” the Dungkar soldier shouted.
“Good luck,” King shouted as a pair of hands from inside the helicopter reached for him and he stepped up onto the skid, then ducked down and climbed inside.
“How’s things?” Reyes shouted after the door was closed and the helicopter had turned back toward Gonggar Airport.
“You know what they say,” King said wearily. “We do more before lunch than most people do all day.”
43
“MR. Seng,” Cabrillo said, “excellent job so far.”
A cold wind was blowing from the north. It bore the scent of forests and glaciers, aviation fuel and gunpowder. Cabrillo zipped the leather jacket he was wearing tighter around his neck, then reached in his rear pocket and removed a carefully folded white handkerchief and dabbed his nose, which was running.
“Thank you, sir,” Seng said. “Here’s the most current situation report. Murphy and the contract pilot managed to get the charges placed and cause the avalanche at the pass. Any Chinese armor is now effectively immobilized. Even if they decided to ignore the Russian advance and try to return to Lhasa now, their only route would cost them at least forty-eight hours of transit time, and that is if the weather holds.”
“Problems with that operation?” Cabrillo asked.
“The contract pilot, one Gurt Guenther, was hit by small-arms fire,” Seng said. “The extent of his injuries is unknown.”
“You’ve dispatched backup?”
“A relief helicopter with Kasim aboard is en route,” Seng said, “but they made it to the fuel stop and managed to land, so Guenther might not be too critical. The way it stands now is that if Murphy’s team can fly themselves out, we can call back Kasim.”
“Good,” Cabrillo said. “We might just need him here.”
“Speaking of the weather,” Seng said, “we are going to catch a late spring storm this afternoon, then it will clear for tomorrow and the next few days. The estimate is two to three inches of snow, and for the temperature to go below freezing before a slow warming trend.”
“The weather has the same impact on us as on the Chinese,” Cabrillo said, “but it is a possible advantage for the Dungkar forces. We’ll score it in Tibet’s favor.”
From far in the east came the sound of an approaching helicopter. Cabrillo stared in the distance and tried to make out which type it was.
“That’s one of ours, sir,” Seng said. “It contains Reyes, King and Legchog Zhuren.”