The Chinese Agenda (26 page)

`Hell, we've marched a thousand times that by now. And it's the only way, I think, that we have any kind of a chance of getting out of here.' •

Gillon thought about Liu's offer. He knew that if he staved with the other three, there wasn't much chance that tiny of them would get -out alive. But, on the other hand, in his estimation, Liu had even less chance of crossing nearly six hundred miles of Chinese territory to the Pakistan border than they had of marching sixty miles to the Soviet border.

`So you don't want to cross the border with us, then?'

`Hell, Bob, it's not a matter of wanting to. I just don't think that twenty people . . . especially including you four, as inexperienced as you are ... stand a chance of making it. The Reds are going to be watching too damned closely. But. if -we all go south, then I think we can do it. The Reds certainly won't expect us to leave the Tien Shan. What do you say, are you coming with us?'

Gillon pushed back his hood and scratched his head. God, he thought, I'm dirty. He shook his head. 'Sorry, old buddy, but I figure we have a better chance running for the border. Besides' – he grinned 'I need a bath too badly to wait another three or four months.'

'All right' Liu shrugged. 'It's your neck.'

Both men fell silent after that as they watched for the caravan. Gillon stamped his feet and flapped his arms in an effort to keep warm. The wind was beginning to gust up to twenty or more knots and even though the pines broke the initial force, it was still terribly cold.

The last tinges of gold had faded from the peaks when Liu touched his arm and pointed down the valley.

Gillon peered into the gloom but could see nothing. He warmed the eyepieces of the binoculars in his gloved hands and tried again. This time in the fading light, he thought he could see a line of dark figures. It was difficult to make out details, but he had the impression of a long string of animals, camels or horses, with smaller figures marching beside them that could only have been men. Liu watched for several minutes, then with a grunt of satisfaction, he took a flashlight from his pocket, pointed it toward the slope above them and flicked it on and off four times.

'That should bring the rest of them down in a few minutes.' And he went back to staring at the approaching line of men and animals.

'I just hope they are the right bunch,' Gillon said, and not without some apprehension.

'It is,' Liu replied quickly. 'Soldiers wouldn't travel with pack animals. They would come on skis or snowshoes, depending on airdrops for supplies.' He chuckled, half to himself. '

They've forgotten damned quickly what Mao Tse-tung said about living off the land. As they become more sophisticated, they become more cumbersome and we run them in circles.'

The caravan drew steadily nearer and a few minutes later Liu's men, as well as Dmietriev, Stowe and Ley-cock, filed up silently and distributed themselves among the trees.

'Expecting trouble?' Gillon asked.

Liu looked up at him quickly. 'No, but it's better to be prepared. Or at least that's what they taught us in the Boy Scouts,' he said with a grin.

'Boy Scouts . . . did they have Boy Scouts in China ?' Gillon snorted.

'What China? I grew up in Anaheim. Belonged to Troop Two Forty-Six, Sunset District.'

'Oh.' Gillon nodded vaguely. He had known Liu for nine months in Laos. And not once did he give the impression that he had been raised anywhere but on Taiwan. His English was accentless . . . almost American . . . was American, in fact . . . but that was nothing out of the ordinary these days. The American Army was

filled with so many colors and nationalities that it could sometimes be mistaken for a United Nations Army.

The caravan was close enough now that he could make out details through the binoculars even in the fading light. He counted nearly thirty men walking beside a motley collection of camels and horses in just the first section of the caravan before it faded out of sight in the trees. Everyone appeared to be on foot and Gillon was surprised to see that they were on skis or snowshoes. It had never occurred to him that these Norwegian and American Indian inventions would be used by Central Asian nomads. The ungainly camels, low-slung, swaying beasts, were much smaller than he had expected until he realized that they were the twin-humped Bactrian variety common to Asia.

`Come on.' Liu climbed out of the well and fastened on his skis. Gillon followed and, in the deepening dusk, they skied quickly down to the lowest part of the valley, a frozen watercourse now covered with snow, and swung to a stop to face the oncoming caravan. Gillon knew that they had been seen as the last vestiges of twilight were behind them. But even so, the caravan gave no sign and came steadily on. When less than fifty yards separated them, Liu muttered for him to follow and skied slowly toward the man walking in front, well out of the. path of the plodding animals, which strode along under their heavy loads, wide-toed feet sinking no more than a few inches into the thigh-deep snow.

.

As they approached the man to the side of the caravan, Gillon saw that he also was on skis. He coasted to a stop, unslinging a rifle as he did so and letting it rest casually in the crook of his left arm while he waited for them to come up. The light was almost gone now and as the rank-smelling beasts plodded by, Gillon felt, rather than saw, every eye turn to them. There were, he realized, a good number of rifles watching for the slightest false move on their part.

Lui stopped and bowed in the Chinese manner to the man who stood waiting for them. After a moment, the nomad bowed just as deeply and the two men clasped hands and began to talk in a high-pitched yet guttural language, one of the many Mongolian-based dialects that abounded in Sinkiang. The man spoke to Liu but never once removed his eyes from Gillon. His face, what little Gillon could see of it under his cap, was darkcomplected with a wide brow and heavy eyebrows over slanting eyes. A thin moustache straggled down either side of his mouth to meet a surprisingly heavy beard. He looked more Japanese than Mongolian, Gillon thought. The light, which in the open, away from the trees, had lasted a few minutes longer, was now almost gone. The darkness was too complete to make out any other details and Gillon waited, stamping his feet while the two men spoke, and watched the dim shapes of the pack animals and men file past.

After a moment, the nomad pushed up to him on his skis and peered into his face. Gillon met his gaze steadily and the man grunted, then was gone. Liu came back to where Gillon was staring after the man.

'I guess you've passed inspection. He's not happy about it, but he'll take you along. He expects you to stay out of the way, but if there is any fighting to be done, he wants you to pitch in. I told him that you are all very good fighters, that you personally were in Vietnam and then in Africa. That seemed to satisfy him.'

'Vietnam and Africa . . .' Gillon said in surprise . 'What do they know about Indochina or Africa?'

'Look,' Jack Liu said, his voice quietly serious. 'Don't ever underestimate these people. For over two thousand years they've managed to stay alive by using their wits. They know what's going on in the outside world. Right now he knows that the Reds will be looking for you as hard as they can because of the negotiations between the U.S. and China. He knows this will cause problems but because he owes me a favour, he will take you.

'Come on, it's too damned cold to stand around. The caravan is camping for the night in those trees. We are to follow behind into the camp. They'll give us a place to sleep and some food.'

Gillon nodded agreement and Liu led the way back up to the clearing, where he and Gillon explained the situation to the others.

`Damn,' Stowe said through chattering teeth. 'That's the most cutthroat crew I've ever seen. I hope to hell you two know what you're doing.'

'At least we will have hot food, and for a day or so a warm place to sleep,' Dmietriev murmured. 'In this cold, that's worth almost any risk . . . maybe you were right after all,'

he finished, turning toward. Gillon. A moment later, he was gone into the dusk, leaving Gillon staring after him, bemused.

The long file of men moved off at an easy pace after the caravan. The twilight had disappeared into darkness, in which the faint starlight did not penetrate the heavy pines. Liu-was using a flashlight to guide their way but the bulb furnished only a dim, yellowish light. The intense cold, which Gillon estimated at close to twenty below, even without the wind, had nearly frozen the batteries.

The caravan stopped for the night well inside the forest, not far from the head of the valley. A half-hour of slow, shuffling travel was required to reach the shielded light cast by the watch fires.

A challenge hissed from the trees in the same high, guttural language and Liu answered softly. A moment later, three men materialized with weapons leveled. Gillon suspected there were more out of sight. One of the guards stepped near and shone his flashlight into each face before he was satisfied.

A single word started them forward again, through a screen of bushes and into a firelit area some forty feet in diameter. After the darkness of the forest, the light was blinding, dim as it was, and it was several moments before they were able to see the huddle of rounded felt tents called yurts which were spaced around the circumference of the open area. Liu came back to Gillon and-motioned for Leycock, Stowe and Dmietriev and him to follow.

To Dmietriev he whispered, 'Say nothing about being a Russian. If they find out, they might hang your head on a pole. These people hate Russians even more than Chinese.'

Liu led them across the open area to the line of tents, where several Mongolians with slung rifles waited. They

exchanged a few words with Liu. Liu started in surprise and began arguing angrily, but the men cut him off and stalked toward a yurt several feet away.

'All right,' Liu said wearily. 'It seems there's been a problem. The caravan master has been overruled. They are going to give us a chance to talk to the full council before a final decision is made.'

'What the hell?' Gillon roared. 'What is this? I thought you said everything was settled.'

Liu spread his hands. 'I thought it was too. But it looks like they feel the risk is too great. The council wants to talk it over.'

'And if they decide against us, what then? Do they shoot us first, or turn us over to the Chinese?'

A shadow of worry passed across Liu's face. 'Neither, I think. They have offered you hospitality by inviting you into their camp. According to their customs, they must abide by that offer. If they say no, they'll ask you to go . . . probably. But, you will be considered fair game if they meet you again. Also, they might try and contact the government . . . but that's doubtful since it would give them away as well.'

'Great idea you had there,' Stowe sneered. 'Unspoiled nomadic natives helping the white hats. Crap! Let's get, the hell out of here before they decide to shoot us all.'

'You can't leave now,' Liu said. 'Look around. There must be twenty guns watching us right now. I did these people a big favor last winter and they pay their debts . . . so the only thing to do is to find out what's making them so edgy.'

Gillon snapped, 'Let's get at it then. If they turn us down, I want to put as much distance between us as possible before the sun comes up.'

At the very thought of having to travel more that night, his knees began to shake. He knew they were in no shape to do so; their food was almost exhausted and so were they. The intense cold and Liu's speculation that it was the prelude to the major blizzard to come made him doubt strongly that they could survive.

'Okay, let's go then.' Liu nodded. 'All of you, keep your mouths shut. I don't think anyone here speaks

English, but you can never tell. I'll do the talking .. . understand?'

They all nodded and Liu led them to a large yurt that had been erected on the edge of the cleared space. It was fully six feet high in contrast to the low profile of the other yurts scattered about. Gillon was surprised to see that it had a door, rather than a hanging flap of felt; a much scarred wooden door, but a wooden door nevertheless. It was beaten and weathered and tied into place with ropes, but it served its function. One of the guards shoved it open and motioned them into the smoky interior. A bluish haze filled the dome to trickle lazily out a round hole cut into the top of the tent. A small fire of dried camel dung flickered in a small brazier in the center of the yurt. The floor had been covered with reed mats, which were already becoming saturated with slush and melted water from the snow beneath. The floor squished unpleasantly at every step. An old man was spreading what looked to be plastic tarpaulins and as he shuffled about he waved them impatiently out of the way while he completed the task. Over the tarps he dragged some none-too-clean sheepskins and, satisfied with his job, rubbed his hands briskly together, stared at them with a sneer and disappeared through the door. The five men gazed around them for a moment and then Liu began to walk slowly around the walls, studying them closely.

'Looking for microphones?' Stowe asked sarcastically. 'Shut up,' Gillon snapped.

'Crap . . . these gooks ..

Liu stepped quickly across the tent and shoved Stowe back with a stiffened hand. 'Shut your mouth, you fool!'

Stowe started to reply but an angry hiss from Gillon stopped him and he subsided into sullen silence.

Before anything further could happen, the door whipped open and five Kalmucks followed by the caravan master crowded in and silently took up positions facing Gillon, Liu, Stowe, Dmietriev and Leycock across the fire. Their faces, barely seen in the narrow gap left by close-fitting hats and jackets, showed nothing. Twelve dark eyes stared unwinkingly, more than half shrouded in shadow.

`These people are Kalmucks . . . the fiercest and smartest of all the Mongolian peoples,'

Liu whispered.* 'The great khans were Kalmucks and they have never forgotten they once ruled the greatest empire in the world. So mind your manners.'