Echo Six: Black Ops 7 - Tibetan Fury (29 page)

Suddenly, the whole puzzle clicked into place.

We were
manipulated, sure, but perhaps they were right. Faced with constant repression and brutality from the Chinese, what choice did they have?

"You could have said something. Maybe we'd have gone along with you, anyway," he complained.

"I don't think so."

He looked back at her. She was right. There was no way he'd have gone along with it. "Maybe not."

"Please, will you meet with Uncle Gyatso?"

"The Dalai Lama? It sounds like a royal command, so I guess I don't have much choice. But in India, not Tibet."

"Our fate is preordained," she said to him, her voice serious, "Choice is something we think we own, but in reality, the important decisions were made for us long before we were even born. I believe it is your fate to meet with the Dalai Lama, and his to meet you. But it will not be in Tibet." She smiled, the tears behind her.

"In that case, tell him I'd be honored."

"Good. And Abe, I'd still like that vacation." She looked at Campbell. "David, would you give us a minute?"

He left, and it was just the two of them. She stared at him.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Can we spend some time together? There's a lot I need to explain."

He regarded her lovely face. "What I have in mind wouldn't require any words."

She pretended shock. "Abe, how could you? And me, a nun."

"You're not a nun, not anymore."

She shook her head, and now she smiled. "I was joshing you. No, not since I joined CIA."

"No plans to go back to the nunnery?"

"No, of course not. Although who can tell what the future holds?"

"Leave it to fate, I guess?"

Her smile broadened. "You're learning. Now get well again. I'm impatient to get to know you better, Abe Talley, a lot better. We have some unfinished business, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Is that a promise?"

"It is."

"Just give me a couple of days. By the way, do you know what happened to General Chang, the man Campbell allowed to escape?"

* * *

He was wrapped in blankets, sitting in the control tower of Tama Air Base. His teeth were chattering, in fact his whole body was shaking violently, but at least he was alive. As soon as he was fit again, he'd turn the city upside down.

Anyone who'd helped these bandits would be rooted out and imprisoned, preferably shot. In a few days, Lhasa would be purged of every criminal element, and his men would be firmly back in control. Yes, he'd hang them from the lampposts if he could, except the foreign press would have a field day if they managed to get photos. A pity that damned Major Xilong was dead. He'd have liked to have a long talk with him down in the cells, a very long, painful talk. In his imagination, he could hear the screams as Xilong was systematically beaten to a bloody mass of bone and gristle.

He turned as the door opened. It was an officer, a man he hadn't seen before. A colonel.

Has he just flown in from Beijing? It’s possible, although they'd have had to put him on a fast jet to get him here so quickly.

The man's expression was bleak, and incredibly, he sat down without permission from his superior officer.

"Yes, what do you want?" Chang snarled. The man was his junior. He should show some respect.

"I am Colonel Wang, Sichuan office, Ministry of State Security. I've come to sort out this mess."

"From Sichuan, you say?" The Colonel nodded, "Colonel, perhaps you don't realize I outrank you. If there's anything to sort out, I'll do it myself. I'll show them no mercy; believe me. If necessary, I'll raze this city to the ground, I'll..."

"What about the Dalai Lama?"

"What about him? He's nothing to do with this."

"Really? So you're not aware he's been touring the monasteries while you've been chasing these bandits. The real enemy has stirred up so much trouble; it'll take us years to calm the population. We've already been forced to make a number of concessions to the Tibetans, concessions that have cost us dear. Otherwise, there would have been a bloody revolution."

"You're sure? The Dalai Lama?"

Chang was rocked.

How
the hell did we all miss it? I know! We were busy chasing the bandits who came in to free the American prisoner.

He stared at Colonel Wang.

"I will find the people responsible, and if necessary, they'll all hang."

"You won't be finding anyone, Chang. You're no longer in command. I've been ordered to place you under arrest, pending your execution. I'm to be your replacement, in case you're worried. Your problems are over, my friend."

He made an effort to calm himself. He knew he must accept his fate. He'd delivered the same message to others too often to hold out any hope of reprieve. Inside the Ministry of State Security, there was a thin line between success and failure. And failure had only one outcome. Death.

Was it the Buddhists, have they arranged all this? No, impossible.

"When is it to be? The execution."

The Colonel looked at his wristwatch. "You have two and a half hours. My men will come for you and take you out to the firing squad. We reported to the Tibetans that your execution is a punishment for the crimes you committed against their people. A group of them have been brought here. They were invited to watch. It means your miserable life can serve the State. Hopefully, when they see justice served, they can report to their people that we Chinese are acting promptly to end the torture and killings." He paused for a moment to give Chang a chance to reply. The former General said nothing.

"Do you have any last request, Chang? A last meal, perhaps?"

"Fuck off, Wang. Next time, it'll be you whose balls get caught in the vise."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. I will see you later. I have been ordered to command the firing squad, to make sure there are no further mistakes."

He left the room, and Chang heard the lock engage as the key was turned. He was left with only his thoughts to haunt him.

I did everything possible to deal with the monks. Beatings, executions, imprisonment, torture. What more could I have done? How else could I have dealt with people who won't fight back? Yet a people who refuse to bow to violence? I don't know. Now, I never will. I hope Wang fails. It would be nice to think of him facing the same firing squad one day.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, they took him out and fastened him to a wooden post set into the frozen ground. While he waited, he glanced around the mountains, the snow-covered peaks of this troubled and mysterious land. A land that had seemed there for the taking, unable to resist the armed might of the Chinese nation. Yet it had beaten him.

He looked up as the firing squad marched in and faced him. Standing nearby was a group of Tibetans, those who were brought in to witness the execution, to see first hand that even a senior Chinese officer could face death for his crimes against their people.

With a shock, he recognized the face of the man in the center of the group, a bald, middle-aged man in a saffron robe. His eyes were closed as he prayed for the soul of the condemned man.

It’s him!
It must not be! I have to warn them he's here, right in our midst! Even though he's here to pray for me, I can't allow it.

He didn't hear the word of command, the rattle of the bolts as the men loaded a bullet into the breech. He started to shout, but his words were choked off as six heavy lead slugs impacted his body. Yet he was still alive, slumped in the ropes that tied him to the post. He tried to tell them, and his mouth moved, but no sound came out.

Wang drew his pistol and walked up to the body to administer the coup de grace. He fired a single shot into his brain and glanced at the corporal in charge of the firing party.

"The prisoner, what did he say before you fired? I didn't get it all."

The man shrugged. "Something about 'Da', Sir. That's all I heard."

Wang nodded. "It can't have been anything important. Remove the body, and toss it to the dogs. Dismissed."

As he turned away, he saw the Tibetan civilians walking away. One of them, an elderly man wearing spectacles, wore a saffron robe. A monk, he looked familiar.

He’s probably one of the local
troublemakers. A nobody.

He dismissed the thought. He'd been up since before dawn, and it was time for his breakfast. Now that was important. He looked again for the monk, but the man had disappeared.

Strange, he was there a couple of seconds ago. How did he do that?

He
laughed to himself
.
Magic? Not possible.

* * *

Porn. It littered the floor of the dingy house. Pictures, magazines, photos. Every one of them depicted naked people, most engaged in explicit sexual acts, many of them disgusting to any sane minded person; straight sex, gay sex, even bestiality.

"You can't do this to me, I..."

Imam Hassan choked as Buchmann shook him like a rag puppet. The big German had him suspended by his shirtfront so that his feet were a foot off the ground. Rovere was standing by the door, making a video of the proceedings with his mobile phone. Talley was checking his desktop PC where there were thousands more images and video clips. He stopped, sickened by one particularly nasty scene, and pressed the 'delete' button.

* * *

They'd pushed their way in an hour ago. Hassan opened the door with a serious expression that turned to a scowl when he saw four Westerners standing there.

"Yes?"

"Thanks for the invite," Guy said, pushing his way in. As he went past, he threw a punch that knocked the Imam to the floor. He got up, spitting out a tooth on the threadbare carpet. No wonder he wanted to steal someone else's possessions, the guy was a fail, big time.

"You must leave. This is my home," he spluttered, wiping away blood from the corner of his mouth, "I will call the police."

"Leave?" Guy smiled, "We've only just got here. The police won't help you. We came to talk about Abraham Weissman."

The Imam had shivered. He knew why they were there.

"What do you want?"

"Personally, I'd like to let my friend Heinrich tear you apart," he smiled, indicating the massive, glowering German. Hassan looked, blinked, and the shivering got worse.

"Please..."

Guy nodded to Heinrich. "There you go, he said please. See to him."

Buchmann picked him up and held him in the air while they went through his personal papers and possessions. And uncovered the hoard of porn.

* * *

"You deserve to die for what you've done,” Talley said softly, “Mrs. Weissman, dead. Abraham and his family blackmailed, threatened to leave their home, business, and possessions behind for you to get your greedy hands on them."

"No, no, I will do anything..."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Here's the deal. You take care of Mr. Weissman and his family."

"Take care of them? I don't understand."

He nodded. "No, I guess you wouldn't. It works like this. You make sure you preach sermons about how your people should behave to non-Muslims, like the Weissman family. With care and respect."

"Yes, yes, I can do that."

"Right. Here's the thing. If anything happens to him, to his family or his property, we come looking for you. Heinrich comes looking for you."

He struggled to turn his head and look at the muscle-bound giant who held him in a machine-like grip. His eyes were wide with terror, and they almost popped out of his head. Talley nodded; satisfied he was getting the message.

"Are you listening to me, Hassan?" The man nodded, "When I say if anything happens to him or his family, you should take it seriously. If he catches a cold, is hit by a car, slips and breaks a leg, anything at all, Buchmann comes for you. And next time, he'll kill you. Have you got that?"

"Yes, yes, I understand."

"Good." He looked at Rovere. "You got all that on video, the porno pictures, everything?"

"Everything."

"Good. You gonna put it on the Internet? YouTube maybe, their Egyptian language site."

"No," Hassan screamed, "They will go crazy if you do that. Please, do not..."

"We'll think about it. If Mr. Weissman is left alone, maybe we'll keep it quiet. Otherwise, it goes viral. You know what that means, don't you? I guess they'd stone you to death."

The look on the Imam's face confirmed it. Islamic justice was the stuff of nightmares.

He nodded to Buchmann, and the German dumped in on the floor. Then they left, back into the center of the city for a good meal. When they got there, they split up. Guy went to visit the Weissmans to let them know their problems with Hassan were over.