Asgar was beside Jon. “There’s an ancient legend about those mountains.
The Han believed the peaks were goddesses who came down to earth and fell so deeply in love with it they refused to return to heaven. The Han have moments when they aren’t so bad. But don’t tell anyone I said that.” Jon asked Asgar, as the two kept pace through the quiet night, “How do you know Fred Klein?”
“I don’t, chum, but it seems I know people who do. They relayed his message, along with considerable welcome cash in payment for said aid.”
“Who do you know who knows Klein?”
“A certain Russian engineer named Viktor.”
“He contacted you for Klein?” Jon asked.
“At first, yes. But this recent collaboration came about when I sent him a message from Captain Chiavelli, in the prison.”
Now Jon understood. “You have contact with Uighers inside.”
“The Chinese call them criminals. We call them political prisoners. In any case, they’re minor criminals with disproportionate sentences as compared to equally minor Chinese criminals.”
“One man’s patriot is another man’s terrorist.”
“Not quite that simple,” Asgar said, still making Jon feel the universe was slightly askew with the clipped Brit voice coming out of a Turkic-bandit mouth. “The crux of the matter is, does the action of the freedom fighter or terrorist benefit his cause and his people? If it doesn’t, then he’s simply an egomaniac, a fanatic for whom the ” matters more than its goal. It’s a question I often ask myself, and I’m not always as sure of the answer as I’d like to be, especially about others who’ve worked across the border for a free East Turkestan their entire lives.” “I thought it depended on what was in the self-interest of the powerful nations.”
“Ah, well. That, too, eh?”
Directly ahead was the stand of trees, thicker and deeper than Jon had been able to perceive. As soon as the band reached the grove, they skirted to the left, alongside the rice paddies. The men turned on small flashlights. As always, Jon scanned everywhere. When he gazed up, he almost stopped. In the murky tree limbs were clumps that looked like gigantic nests of wasps or bees.
“What are they?” he asked Asgar.
“Bundles of unthreshed rice. The farmers store rice up there to protect it from mice and rats.”
As they left the soft, plowed field, they broke into a lope and headed into what appeared to be the beginning of an arm of a forest. There were birch and pine and low bushes struggling to grow under a high, thick ceiling of leaves and needles.
A few hundred yards inside, Asgar gave a whispered command, and three of the men turned back, heading for the edge of the trees where the crew had entered. Mahmout was setting up a perimeter defense. The rest rounded a rock cropping into a protected dell, where they settled into resting spots as if they had used this as a stopping place before. As three more split off to vanish among the dark trees, the rest leaned back, cradling their weapons, and closed their eyes.
Asgar motioned Jon to join him. They sat near the remains of a fire.
“After you left China,” Asgar told him, “we slipped away from the beach safely, too, but it was inevitable whoever was chasing us would figure out about the Land Rover full of crazy Uighers. We sent several of the ones with residence in Shanghai back to hide in the longtangs, and I brought the rest west, to lie low until things settled down again. It’s our longtime pattern, you see.”
“So you were near here when you got the message about Viktor?”
“Yes. My contact in the prison camp had sent word that this Russian engineer, Viktor, wanted to get an American agent named Chiavelli into the camp to talk to David Thayer.”
Jon nodded. “Fred’s planning a lightning raid to rescue David Thayer.”
“Not anymore,” Asgar said. “We inserted Captain Chiavelli with the help of some excessive bribes. His report about Thayer and the situation was favorable. However — we don’t know whether the prison governor got wind of the rescue, or it’s just incredibly bad luck — Thayer’s being transferred out tomorrow morning. Captain Chiavelli gave the news to our prisoners, and they got it out to me. I sent word to Viktor, who reported it to Klein. I know that, because Viktor gave me a return message from Klein.”
“To meet me, right? That was why the sudden change of plans.”
“Right. He wants you to help break out Thayer and Chiavelli. A great deal can go wrong, and he seems to feel your skills could be immensely helpful inside the farm.”
“Inside?”
“Exactly. If it’s necessary, we’ll have to sneak in. Then you, Chiavelli, and I will bring Thayer out. Of course,” he added cheerfully, “if it goes bad, you may have to shoot your way out, which is probably the main reason Klein wants you there. You’re the backup gun.” “Swell,” Jon said. “What could go wrong?”
“For one thing, a guard or two could decide to become unbribed.”
Jon sighed. “Even better.”
“Cheer up. This will be a cupcake compared to the assignment of some of my fighters. You see, once you’re out of the prison — without, one hopes, their knowing Chiavelli and Thayer are gone until morning roll call — the real trouble begins.”
“Getting Thayer and Chiavelli out of China?”
“That’s our job, and a doozy it is. There’s an old Chinese adage that says it all: ‘ your eyes, spin in a circle, and no matter where you are or what time it is, when you look again, you’ll see a Han.’ The population’s so enormous that Westerners stand out like fish in the Taklamakan Desert.”
“Then there’d better be no gunfire. It could play hell with my primary assignment.”
“Klein’s aware of that. He said you should skip the diversion if you thought it’d damage your chances for the main mission.”
“You’ll be with me on that operation, too?”
“That we will,” Asgar said. “In force. We’ll get Thayer to the border, too.”
“You have a place to stash me tomorrow?”
He nodded. “You’ll be safe as a temple mouse.”
“When do they want us at the prison?”
“Our people inside should be ready now. The timing’s up to us. They’re waiting for our signal.”
“Then let’s go. How far?”
“Less than ten miles.”
“Any other instructions from Klein?”
“Other than making sure I knew your principal mission was to save the human-rights treaty and that we’re assured money and influence in Washington in exchange … no.” The expression on Asgar’s stoic face darkened. “Your White House wears blinders. All they’re thinking about is getting Zhongnanhai’s cooperation with the treaty. We won’t get anything more from them after that. We’re expendable, which doesn’t give us a lot of reason to help. But at the same time, your Klein realizes we have to, because of our own interests.”
“I wouldn’t count Fred’s goodwill short. He won’t forget you, and geopolitics change.”
Asgar nodded without much conviction. “After the prison, where’s the second operation?”
“The Sleeping Buddha.”
Asgar was dubious. “That’ll be crowded damn soon after dawn any day.
Tourists and vendors, you know.”
“With luck, we’ll be in and out long before they arrive.”
“You care to give me a hint what we should prepare for?”
“An ambush and a different sort of rescue mission.”
“What are we rescuing?”
“The same document I failed to get in Shanghai.”
“Which is important to the human-rights treaty?” “Yes,” Jon said. “Now I have a question … Do you have an escape route set up out of China that I can use to get the document out, too?”
“More than one. You never know what the contingencies are going to be.
Dissidents and revolutionaries without exit plans are fools. Fortunately for us, resistance is very un-Chinese, so the Han aren’t good at handling it. Are we going to need a fast bunk?”
“Probably, yes.”
