Golden Buddha

“I’ll do what I can,” Gunderson said, climbing into the side door of the cargo plane.

“Good,” Seng said, patting the side of the plane. “Now get to work—the boss is coming.”

At just that second, Adams pulled the collective and the Chinese helicopter lifted from the ground. The helicopter wobbled a little as Adams fought to get the feel, then it moved forward, broke through the ground effect, and headed in the direction of Lhasa.

Gunderson walked up the slope to the cockpit, slid into his seat, then began the engine-starting procedure. Once the pair of engines were ru

“Okay, men,” he shouted over the noise of the engines, “I’ll tell you when and where to direct the fire. For right now, we’re just taking a little flight.”

That sounded simple enough—but not one of the Tibetans had ever been inside a plane before.

ON board the Oregon, Hanley stood above the microphone and talked in a clear voice.

“I just sent word to your contact,” he said. “Watch for red strobes as your signal.”

“Same spot as we had first pla

“Yes,” Hanley said. “Now as far as Gurt is concerned, we talked to Huxley. You need to apply direct pressure to the wound as soon as possible.”

“Do you have us on satellite surveillance?” Murphy asked.

“Yes,” Hanley said, staring at the screen. “You’re about five minutes from the rendezvous point.”

“We’ll report back once we land,” Murphy said.

The radio went dead. Hanley dialed Seng and waited while it rang.

BRIKTIN Gampo checked to make sure the strobes were flashing, then stared up at the sky. The clouds were low, almost a fog, but from second to second they would shift, revealing patches of open air. In the distance he could hear a helicopter approaching. He walked back inside, stirred a pot of tea on the stove, then went back out to await the arrival.

“I see one,” Murphy said, pointing.

In the last few minutes, Gurt’s face had turned ashen. Murphy could see beads of sweat on his forehead, and his hand controlling the helicopter was shaking.

“Hold on,” Murphy said, “we’re almost there.”

“I’m starting to see black on the edges of my eyes,” Gurt said. “You might need to guide me on where to land.”

THE sound of the cargo plane lifting off was loud. Eddie Seng was forced to yell into the telephone. “How bad is it?” he asked Hanley.

“We don’t know,” Hanley said, “but we should dispatch someone now—the flight north takes a couple of hours. If the support is not needed, we can call it back.”

“Got it,” Seng said.

Then he walked toward the makeshift clinic to see if Huxley had found anyone trained in nursing to fly along. Five minutes later, he had a helicopter refueled, a Tibetan soldier with a limited nursing background, and supplies in the air.

“YOU’RE close enough, Gurt,” Murphy said, “and you’re about twelve feet above the ground.”

Gurt started to descend, then vomited across the dashboard of the Bell. “In case I can’t, when that gauge reads green,” he said, wiping the sleeve of his flight suit across his mouth, “flick these three switches down. That will shut down the turbines.”

Six feet above the ground in a slow descent, Gurt paused and hovered for a second, then took her the rest of the way to the ground. As soon as the helicopter settled on the skids, he slumped over in the harness and sat unmoving.

Murphy started to unsnap him from the belt as he waited for the helicopter to cool, then turned the engines off and waited for the rotor to stop spi

Then Murphy began to cut off his flight suit with a knife.

The cloth was saturated by blood and the wound was still leaking.

“SIR,” the pilot of the Gulfstream said, “we’re on final approach.”

Cabrillo stared out the window. Smoke was still rising from the burning wreckage at the far end of Gonggar Airport. The sun was over the horizon and he could just catch sight of Lhasa sixty miles distant. Staring up the aisle, through the open cockpit door and out the windshield, he could see a lumbering silver plane some seventy feet above the runway climbing out and away. On the ground were several trucks driving down the road away from the airfield.

They were a hundred feet above the runway and two hundred yards downwind. Two minutes later, the tires touched the tarmac with a squeal. The pilot taxied off the runway near the terminal and stopped. The turbines were still spi

CHAIRMAN Zhuren had tape across his eyes and his wrists were taped behind his back. The dark-haired man that had burst into his bedroom was pulling him quickly along. Zhuren could hear a noisy crowd of people nearby. Then distant gunfire rang out from a few blocks away.

The thumping of a distant helicopter grew louder.

King watched through the scope as Reyes led Zhuren through the crowd. He could see Reyes ordering the Dungkarsoldiers with him to clear the people away from the landing zone. Turning, he glanced from his perch a few blocks away to where the armored perso

Reaching into his bag, he removed a belt of ammunition containing armor-piercing rounds and slid them into the .50. The helicopter was just about to touch down when he started firing.

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 Dungkarassistant.

“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 Dungkarsaid, 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 Dungkarsoldier 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.”

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