'No one is to leave, understand?' Bolan told them. 'If anyone tries, shoot.'
The two Meo nodded nervously.
They stepped out, Bolan leading. The square was empty. They descended the stone steps, avoiding the slippery blood, and Bolan motioned for the monk to go first. They went around the side of the pagoda.
The sky was still cloudy, obscuring the moon, the monks inside the pagoda were chanting, and the Tiger soldiers in the building were still laughing away. Everything was going like clockwork.
Bolan spun around and ducked as a muzzle flashed. The monk was thrown against the wall by the impact of the bullets.
Bolan returned fire and a man screamed. Bolan fired again, a long, lateral burst. A second voice cried out and something crashed into the bushes.
The compound burst into life. Shutters banged, doors flew open, soldiers ran out. From the hill where the Meo headman was positioned, a whistle blew.
A musket fired dryly. An automatic rifle replied with a burst. A Meo war cry filled the air, followed by a fusillade of musket fire. The chanting continued.
Bolan dropped to the monk's side, then ran to the rear of the pagoda, found the door, and felt for the lock. There was no lock. The door was false.
He sprinted back past the body of the monk, feeling not at all sorry for him now that he knew the guy had tried to trick him. He bounded up the steps and pounded on the door.
'Open up!' he shouted.
The door remained closed.
'Open the door!' Bolan yelled over the gunfire outside and the chanting inside. 'It's me — the white man!' He banged on the door with his fist.
There was the sound of a bolt being withdrawn, then the door opened and Bolan strode inside. This time there was no
'Silence!' he called out.
The chanting stopped.
Raising his voice above the din outside, Bolan said, 'The head monk is dead. He tried to deceive me, the door is false. Where is the white man?'
The monks remained silent, eyes straight ahead.
Bolan walked up to the assistant. He placed the muzzle of his gun against the man's bare shoulder, and repeated his question.
'The white man is in a chamber under the pagoda,' replied the monk.
'How does one get there?'
The monk rose, walked quickly to the side of the Buddha, and pushed a panel. A section of the wall swung open.
'Get a light and take me down there,' Bolan ordered.
The monk took a torch from a wall, and they descended a long flight of steps into a large cave. On a mat, chained to the wall, lay a tall man with a mustache.
'It's me,' said Bolan. 'John.'
'How come they're letting you keep your weapon?' asked Nark, squinting.
'I didn't come as a prisoner,' said Bolan. 'I came to free you.'
'They told me you'd been captured,' said Nark. 'I knew they'd be on the drop zone. I was in the radio shack when Stony Man Farm radioed your time of arrival. How come your people fell for it? I specifically left out the true check to let you know I was transmitting under duress.'
'The operator must have missed it,' said Bolan, picking the lock on Nark's chains.
'How can anyone miss a check?'
'Routine, boredom, people get careless. It happens.'
'Not in the NSA,' said Nark.
'In the NSA too,' Bolan assured him. 'A few years back — this was before your time — the NSA agent in Tangier left out the true check to tell control he had been captured. Guess what control replied? 'Next time, please remember to include your true check.''
They heard the sound of feet descending the stone steps, and the headman appeared. 'Fight finished,' he announced. 'Hello, Mr. Nark.'
'Hi, Major,' said the tall, rail-thin American.
The headman held out a ball-shaped rocket attached to a small launcher. 'You know this?' he asked. 'Never see before.'
'A RAW,' Bolan replied. 'Like an RPG but makes a bigger hole, and you fire it from a rifle.'
'You want?' said the headman.
'Sure, I'll take it,' said Bolan. It was of no use to him — the launcher only fitted an M-16 — but to refuse a gift would be rude.
'Major,' said Nark, 'could you send someone to the shack to pick up my radio? Also, the ge-gene.' That was what the Montagnards called the hand-pedaled generator used to provide current for the set. When pedaled it made a
'I go myself,' said the headman.
'While you're there, put a few bullets through the Tiger radio. The big set on the table.'
'Yes, sir,' said the headman and ran up.
Bolan continued to pick the lock. It was a complicated mechanism. He signaled to the Meo who had replaced the bonze as torch holder to come nearer so he could see better.
'What did you tell Tiger?' Bolan asked Nark.
'I told them what I was supposed to tell them,' said Nark, his pale features showing some amusement.
'They bought the cover?'
'They even suggested it. From the start they kept saying, 'You're Russian, aren't you?' Well, it was obvious, wasn't it? Russian weapon, Russian radio, Russian clothes. I must say, John, your tailors are tops. Even the stitching on my buttonholes was Russian. You know, crossed instead of parallel? I saw them check.'
'I'll pass on the compliment,' said Bolan. After a while he added, 'But if they bought the cover, how come you were tortured?'
'In the beginning I refused to talk. I figured if I talked too early, they'd get suspicious.' He grinned. 'After all, a hardened KGB agent is a tough nut to crack, no?'
The cover for Galloping Horse was that it was a Russian operation. Nark was a pathfinder for a KGB team coming to stir up a rebellion among Montagnards in Burma and Thailand. Objective: to destabilize the two countries in preparation for a pro-Moscow Communist takeover. The Soviet Union wanted Burma and Thailand as satellites to complete its
The lock finally snapped open. 'There,' said Bolan. He removed the chains and helped Nark to his feet. The man swayed, hand going to his head. 'What's wrong?' asked Bolan.
'They were very fond of the sock,' said Nark, massaging his head. 'I never realized such a simple technique could be so painful.'
'Yeah,' said Bolan. 'It can really knock you around.'
'I'll be all right,' Nark replied, his long legs becoming more steady as he crossed the room.
They went up to the pagoda. The torches flickered in silence; the monks had gone. They crossed the floor and came out. The square milled with black-clad figures, some loading booty on captured Tiger horses. Occasionally a shot rang out as some Montagnard finished off a wounded Tiger soldier. The Montagnards did not take prisoners.
Nark sniffed the air. 'Tobacco?'
'They used bundles of tobacco to smoke out the troops,' Bolan explained. 'With our muskets and crossbows, Tiger could have held us off forever.'
