A Border Incident
Book 2 in the Cold War Warrior series
A Novel
By
Joe Travis
at SmashWords.com
A Border Incident is the second novel in the series about Rebecca and Joshua. We rejoin Josh as he gets to France, the last place he knows for sure where Rebecca was at after she joined the CIA. He is still an enlisted man in the Air Force, and he can’t just pick up and go after her, no matter how much that is his desire. He knows that no matter how much he wishes not to become involved with the CIA and particularly Mr. William Bellingham, if he wants to recover Rebecca from the living hell he knows she is going through, that is exactly what he must do.
Rebecca, Josh also knows, went missing on her first mission working for Dr. Andrew Ross, head of the CIA’s Special Operations. She was in Afghanistan, about a year before investigating a sheik, suspected of involvement in the heroin trade. She made arrangements to watch the man at a local mosque selling the drug. She got the evidence she was looking for only to be captured by him there and after raping her repeatedly he sells her into white slavery in China.
Now, through a combination of events, Josh finds himself in the position to pursue her and hopefully get her back. Only the gods know how successful and how much this is going to cost him in the end.
Other novels in the Cold War Warrior series by Joe Travis:
The Gentleman Cowboy - Book 1
A border Incident – Book 2 and this book
A Wedding in Rabat – Book 3
The Paymasters – Book 4
Aftermath – Book 5
A Boarder Incident is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Joe Travis – Author
All rights reserved.
Smashwords License Statement
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book and did not purchase it, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Published by Joe Travis at Smashwords.com
Contents
Author’s Notes to the reader;
As with the first book in this series, I'm afraid I have the same issues to deal with and of course, no one has changed the rules of English composition. We are dealing with telepathy and telepathic communications. As these activities are internal to the individuals involved it seems like the best method of dealing with it is in first person, present tense, unlike the usual novel, which is in omnipresent third person and past tense. To make it easier to understand whom we are following at any given moment, the person's name is at the beginning of the chapter along with any date, time, and place for the scene. Consequently, that entire chapter follows only that person.
Further, as the rules of English composition do not make provision for expressing telepathic communications we have created our own. Internal thoughts and telepathy, i.e. understanding other people's thoughts, is in the regular font italicized. Telepathic communications are expressed in italic and inside single (' ') quotes. A normal conversation is in the normal font and inside double ("") quote marks.
The primary difference in this novel as opposed to the last one is that we are following both protagonists' stories as they occur. So in effect, we become time travelers going back to 1962 and into the minds of Josh and Rebecca with Rebecca becoming our Omni-present third person for much of the story. You will have to forgive her story telling as she occasionally puts her two cents worth in as she hears and sees some things.
It is also necessary to understand that although the stories main characters are totally fictional, the incidents you are reading about, for the most part, are historical and happened to people I knew. Well at least they told me they did, as I wasn’t there to actually witness some of them. As my sister so eloquently puts it, “You’ve turned them into some kind of super heroes.” I believe for the most part the people doing these kinds of things were then and are now some kind of super heroes defending us and our way of life all over the world. These stories are my way of telling you about them and what they did and are doing today somewhere in the world
I hope you enjoy this story as much as I have enjoyed bringing it to you.
Joe Travis - Author
9 AM, Tuesday April 3rd, 1962
Franco-American Trading, Ltd.
CIA cover business Paris France,
Timothy Anderson, the Deputy Chief of Station (DCOS), Paris, gets up from his desk and prepares to go meet his boss. A friend, since their Harvard Law School day's together back in the thirties, William Bellingham, the Chief of Station (COS), is in his office. Tim stretches his six-foot plus slender almost skinny frame and picks up his cup of coffee. He is unhappy with Bill over a number of issues, not the least of which is his recruitment and use of his “Special Agents." That is what this meeting is going to be about, he's sure, and not about what he needs, a replacement for the Air Force weatherman. His Army Special Forces Tiger Team had lost Air Force Sergeant Thatcher in an ambush in Africa. And, apparently that man is the only weatherman with a top secret clearance in the Air Force. Tim knocks on the doorframe when he arrives at Bill’s office, “You wanted a meeting?”
“Yes, Tim, come in and sit down. I think I have some good news for you,” Bill says as he looks up at his friend.
Tim takes a chair in front of the desk and sets his coffee on the coaster on the desk. He knows that pisses off Bill, there's a closer coaster on the coffee table beside his chair. “So what’s this great news?”
“First, how is Sergeant Thatcher doing? Is he going to die or what?”
“Fortunately for Dave, the grenade he dove on was an old one and defective. He is probably going to survive. They arrived in Germany last night. The equipment escaped damage, and no one else was injured. Of course the gorilla that threw it was dead before he hit the ground,” Tim tells him feeling good that this meeting was about his problem and not some dumb “special” agent.
“Has Master Sergeant Clevenger turned in a report yet?”
“No, not yet. They will be back here at Drew airbase tomorrow night. I’m going out there with a debriefing team to meet them.”
“That sounds good. Do you have any other demonstrations scheduled for that weather satellite equipment of yours?”
“No fortunately, how are you coming on finding a suitable replacement for Dave?”
“He is arriving this morning. I’m going down to get him signed up in about ten minutes.”
“Well, let’s hope he is young enough and strong enough to do the job. Most of these Air Force weather types, with the security clearance we need, are desk jockeys that haven’t done anything any more strenuous than lift a pencil since WWII.”
“Oh, he is both young enough and strong enough to do anything we need him to do. Of that I can guarantee you.”
“You sound like you know him.”
“I do, most definitely, know him. Do you remember the agent Rebecca Santos, which I recruited about two years back?”
“Kim and Pat’s friend? The red headed, green-eyed, Arab-American princess, yes, I remember her. Who could forget her? It's unfortunate she was lost on her first mission in Pakistan.”
“Yes, that’s the one. She is Vaquero’s fiancée.”
“The Vaquero of the three bridges in Cuba? What was she doing running with him?”
“Yes, he is the one that cut those bridges down into the gorges. I don’t know for sure what was going on between those two. However, I would give anything to know. They first met for only moments before he snuck aboard the boat taking the last of Castro’s people back to Cuba, and she was unconscious at the time. Yet they formed a bond so strong it is unbelievable. She is or at least was able to see and hear what he was doing on that mission…”
“How in the world could she do that?”
“I don’t know. The kid was working for Carlos Paterson, and you know how spooky he could be at times. I have always believed that they were able to communicate both ways during that whole two-week time. You could see it in her. She knew when he was in trouble and when things were going good. She told Carlos about it the second morning Vaquero was in Cuba. He brought her to me, and after she told me what had happened in Cuba, she clammed up tight. I think she realized my interest in whatever they were doing was something she wanted no part of.”
“That didn’t seem to be a problem with her a couple of years ago, and she did join the Company. Even if it wasn’t with us here in Paris.”
“Both Kim and Pat admitted to me that there had been a big problem between Rebecca and Vaquero about a year after the incident in Cuba. He dropped out of college and joined the Air Force. I’ve kept my eye on him. When you told me you needed a weatherman with a top secret security clearance, guess who I thought of?”
Tim is smiling now, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“He was supposed to be going to Hawaii on a special assignment. Have you ever tried to steal a weatherman from a four star Navy admiral? It’s not easy, believe me,” Bill tells Tim as he sits shaking his head.
“But you managed obviously. So what’s the big deal?”
“That turned out to be the easy part. He was already two and a half years into a four-year hitch. He had agreed to a year and a couple of month’s extension for the tour in Hawaii, which I had just ended. Then we had to talk him into doing it again to take the assignment in Orleans. Only now, it was going to be a longer extension, because of the time it was taking to start this assignment. In addition, because of Carlos, he doesn’t like me. Therefore, I wasn’t able to talk to him directly. I gave some information to a friend, and he talked Vaquero into it. I think the only reason he took the assignment was to see if he can find Santos.”
“So what are you going to do when he finds out he’s working for you and that Santos was killed in Pakistan?”
“First Santos wasn’t killed, she was abducted. That means the slave trade. As she was in Kabul, Afghanistan and not Pakistan at the time, she could be in either Russia or China. I would suspect used as a military whore. What a crying shame. If I ever figure out which of those mullahs did it to her, I will make sure he dies slowly and in the worst possible way for a true believer.”
“You believe a mullah did that to her?”
“Yes, Kim has been checking on it whenever she gets some time. She is positive that it was one of three men. She knows which mosque it happened in and to whom they sold her. The trail goes cold shortly after that. Therefore, for now I am leaving them all alone. If Kim can put a light on Rebecca’s trail then they die.”
“That’s the first time I can agree with your method’s Bill. I hope you appreciate that. Now let’s get back to this Vaquero of yours. Who is he and how soon is he going to be available?”
“Officially, to us, he is Roger Saunders, and he is twenty-five years old. He goes under the name of Joshua, for some reason in the Air Force, and his records show he's twenty-one. He is extremely intelligent and has a near photographic memory. Assume that if he has seen anything on a piece of paper, even turned over that he has read it. He did it to me several times. His face seldom tells you what is going on in his mind. If you have heard about the bridges then you probably heard about his taking on the wild boars and the jaguars, at night, with a spear. Whatever you have heard about that hunt, you can believe it, and then double it. You can assume he is without fear as you and I understand it. He is a loaner. Although the friends he does have tend to be very loyal to him as he is to them. Anything else you want to know about him talk to him or Irena about it. Oh, and if you want to know about the shootout in the village ask Irena, not Vaquero. She is what that whole incident was about, and will give you the straight story. He doesn’t tell anyone anything about that kind of thing. He might talk about hunting the pigs and the cats if pressed hard enough though. Moreover, I see my driver pacing nervously out in the hall, so I need to go to Orleans. I will touch bases with you when I return.”
“Thank you for the information. I’ll talk to Irena about what she knows about your Vaquero,” Tim comments as he gets up and picks up his coffee feeling a little bad about having put it there now.
As Bill gets up and heads for the door he remembers, “Oh, and as he saved Irena’s life on that shootout, do not expect anything derogatory from her.”
10:25 AM, Orleans, France, Tuesday April 3, 1962
Josh/Roger/Vaquero
I pay the fair and tip the French cab driver that has brought me from the Saran-Orleans train station to this strange Army airfield. As the Peugeot 403 pulls away, I turn and look around. This is not what I expected at all! I have this assignment specifically because I have a top-secret clearance. I look around almost in disgust. This is a small civilian airfield. There are no fences, guards, or security, of any kind, that I can see. All I can see is some Army types running around working on a couple of Army liaison planes sitting on the flight ramp to my north. Why they would need someone with my level of security clearance, is beyond me.
In disgust at the prospects of actually staying in this place, I pick up nearly all my worldly possessions in my B-4 flight bag and overseas bag. I then proceed into the small stucco covered building marked Flight Operations. That is where my orders say I'm to report.
Well the bright side of this assignment is that I'm only about forty-five minutes from Paris and I can start working out how to get Rebecca back, I think as I struggle with my eighty pounds of bags at the door.
I'm startled and upset to hear a familiar voice from behind me, “Here let me give you hand Vaquero.”
I look down and see a well tailored arm reaching for the doorknob and then look up into a face I had hopped I would never see again, “Good morning Mr. Bellingham, or is it still Bill?”
“It’s still Bill to you and always will be. What are you calling yourself these days, Josh, Roger, or Vaquero?”
“Josh. It’s my real name.”
“Then Roger was an older brother?”
“Yes, he died about a year before I was born.”
“And, you needed the extra years to get a job that Standard Oil would have died if they had known a fifteen year old was doing.”
“That’s about it, Bill.”
“Well the bad news here is that you are Roger again as soon as we get done in there. I’ll explain later.”
“I understand,” I agree as we walk into the building. The young lieutenant behind the counter looks up and sees me and then Bill, “Good morning, Mr. Bellingham. What can we do for you this morning?”
“I’m with this young man he is one of mine.”
The lieutenant now looks back at me and in a somewhat flustered voice, “Ah…, Airman, Ah…, Sir, Ah…”
“It’s Airman Second Class, Joshua Saunders, U.S. Air Force, sir. I’m still just one of your people until we get done in there. Then I don’t have any idea, but the name is Josh, as long as I’m around here. And, your name, sir?” I enquire after trying to explain something that has rapidly gotten out of hand, as I hand the lieutenant a copy of my orders.
“These orders are for the man we’re waiting for. Aha..., Mr. Bellingham, are the rumors I'm hearing about Sergeant Thatcher diving onto a hand grenade true?”
"Not exactly the way to achieve a long life, and unfortunately true. He is in the hospital in Frankfort. We have no idea what his real condition is yet. I'll make sure you're kept in the loop," Mr. Bellingham informs him bluntly.
Lt. Smith turns his attention back to me, "I'm First Lieutenant Bill Smith. I wish you luck on your assignment Airman Saunders."
“Yes, sir, I wasn’t aware of Bill’s involvement until I was coming through the door. So it’s as big of news to me as to you.”
“I see. Well, Sarg is in the other room there. Give him your orders. And, I know Col. Maynard is waiting for both of you.”
“Thank you. I’m sure what ever it is, it won’t be pleasant, sir.” I take my orders back form the lieutenant and carry them into the room on his right. So a sergeant from here, dove on a grenade, and the lieutenant asked Bill about it. Well, I think I now know whose job I probably have. Inside the outer office I find an Air Force Tech Sergeant seated at a desk facing me. He looks up, “Yes, Airman?”
“My orders, Sarg, and I’m with him,” I say as I jab a thumb over my shoulder at Bill following behind. The sergeant’s face blanches as he looks at the orders and then up at Bill.
I immediately add, “I’m sorry, Sarg, I didn’t know until a minute ago myself. You had better show us in to the colonel so we can get this over with.”
Sarg has regained his composure and leans over to speak to Bill behind me, “Does Wiesbaden know about this, Bill?”
“They are being notified as we speak. I’m sure they will be calling you soon."
Sarg leans back, looks into the office to his left, and announces, “Colonel Maynard, sir. Airman Joshua Saunders and Mr. Bellingham are here to see you sir.”
“I suspected that he was Bill’s when Irena called this morning to let me know Bill was on his way down. Send them in, and you might as well start revising the work schedule.”
Sarg hands one set of my orders back to me, and I carry them into my new CO. There I report in for duty in proper military fashion as I hand the orders over. Col. Robert Maynard takes my orders and then he puts his hand out to receive the second set of orders from Bill taking me away. I look across the desk at Bill’s orders and see that they are from the Pentagon and signed by a, Gen. Leister Lassiter. Col. Maynard looks up, “Why does it not surprise me, that Les is the one signing these orders personally, and that they were couriered to you and not radioed?”
I look at Bill to see what reaction there might be. There is none. He is the black hole of emotions now that he had been four years ago. It will take me a while to get back inside his head again, but not long, I'm sure. It took weeks the last time I worked for him, and I never felt then that I had more than an inkling of how this man thinks. The colonel is a different matter. I already have a solid feel for this man and like him. This is a man I can trust and respect. I have already probed deeply into his mind and like what I find, honesty, conservative, loyalty to his men and country. He is a pilot to boot. That doesn’t make him a good guy automatically, but it does give him a good start. So, of my three categories of people, Unknowns, Friends, and Enemies, I have automatically put him into Friends.
“So, do you know Less, Bob?” Bill inquires casually.
“Yes, I saved his butt a couple of times in the southwest Pacific during the war. We still have drinks from time to time.”
“He mentioned that he didn’t like doing this to you, but, that you would understand. I believe that you’re going to be retiring soon. I will miss our discussions.”
“Too much fighter pilot and not enough politician in me. I’d rather shoot um’ down than to shake their hands, I guess.”
“I understand. How many years did you get in?”
“Twenty-six years. I started as an enlisted man in June of 1939 after graduating from college. I was in flight school when the war started. I’ll retire as a full colonel. So that’s not too bad when you think about it.”
Bill pulls some more paper work out of his briefcase and puts it on the desk. “I’ve got paperwork for both of you to sign. Then I’ll brief you both on what’s to happen over the next couple of month’s time.”
I put up my hand. They both look questioningly at me. “I’m not signing anything until I understand what is going on here. I volunteered for this assignment as a weatherman at this weather station. I didn’t volunteer for reassignment to the CIA, and particularly not with you Bill. We have a history and it’s not pleasant.”
Bob turns and looks at Bill, “Is this true, does he have reason to fear you?”
“That we have a history, yes. No, I don’t think he has a reason to fear me. Nevertheless, he obviously does. So, if you can give me some time alone with him so that we can discus it I would appreciate it Bob.”
The colonel turns back to me, “Is that all right with you?”
“Yes, it is,” I say warily. I really have no reading on what Bill is after, but feel safe enough here.
After the colonel steps out of his office closing the door behind him, Bill turns to me, “All right what’s this all about. Why do you think I’m out to get you?”
“To start with, my going to Cuba, against your orders, and then there's my relationship with your wife, Irena. After that, I believe there's the little problem of Rebecca and my debunking your version of events. That probably didn’t go down real well at the top of your food chain.”
“Actually they, or at least Andy, believed me, not your story. However, the DCI decided that as long as you both were willing to keep your mouths shut about what you did, they were happy. If you ever get them mad at you though, that subject is likely to come back up again. As to your going to Cuba, I found out from Carlos how old you really were. I was pissed off, and I gave serious thought to a public paddling of your bear ass in front of everyone including Rebecca and Irena. As to Irena, I have news for you. First, as you seem to know she is my wife, she is also the mother of our two children. Second, if you sign that paperwork, after your training, you will be working with her on a daily basis. So get used to the fact that she is not going to take you to bed.”
I'm not worried about sleeping with her but, I've got to keep you from knowing that until I get more information out of you, I think, before responding with, “Rebecca, where is she, and why have I lost contact with her.”
“How deeply can you see into my mind?”
Wow! Now that's a surprise. Carlos or Andy must have talked to him. How do I answer that one? Honesty is always the best policy they tell me, well at least partial honesty until I find out where this is going, “With you, I can’t see in at all.”
“Then you don’t know if I’m lying or not?”
“Yes, I do know that. I just don’t know why.”
Bill looks at me rather strangely. “There is a difference?”
“Yes, a big one. You could be lying to save face, a no problem type of thing. Or you could be lying to set me up to be killed, a very definite problem type of thing.”
“Yes, I see. First, I want you to understand that I had nothing to do with Rebecca getting involved with the Company. I had tried earlier and she refused. I wanted her so I could lure you in. Second, when she did come aboard she was not working for me, she was working directly for Andy, and I was not aware of the situation until Kim Paterson came to me and told me what had happened. We have been trying to find out where she is every since.”
“You are not being completely truthful about that last statement, why?”
“Well, I suspect at this point that it was at least initially China. If the right price were offered I'm sure she could be anywhere by now. When I find out where she is and we can get her back I will go out and help Kim resolve the problem.”
I smile. Bill looks at me rather strangely again. “What did I do?”
“You opened your mind to me for the first time. I understand you much better now. I won’t probe you, but I need to know what happened to her. It might explain why she suddenly disappeared from my consciousness.”
“She was abducted by a mullah, and sold into slavery. I have no definitive idea of where.”
So, I know now he is telling me the whole truth, “I know that. However, after that she tried blocking me. She hasn't been successful but I haven't let her know that either. She's in Western China, no, she hasn't been resold, yes, there have been offers, and finally, yes, I know what she has to do to survive, before you ask. I also know your to damned old and slow to do what you did just fifteen years ago. You would slow down Kim and that could cost both Rebecca and Kim their lives. Do that, sir, and it will cost you yours. Do you understand me?”
Bill sits and looks at me as the wheels spin in his head, then, "China, you're sure?"
"Oh, yes, and it was the sheik and not the mullahs that abducted her. The mullahs were very unhappy about his abducting her in the masque and even more unhappy about his raping her there the first time."
Again, he sits there staring at me thinking seriously this time. I wait.... Then he says, "I can't let you go out there after her. Until I know, you have proper training and have a team to support you, unlike in Cuba. Are you willing to work with me under those conditions?"
"Yes."
"If I do this for you two, are you willing to work for me for a few years?"
So, that's what this is really all about. He wants us both working for him. Now I have to promise that she and I will work for him. What choices do I really have? Well I do have one, "We are both working for Andy. I can't make you that kind of promise."
"You both work for...." He pauses as he thinks that over for a bit, then, "You just agreed to work for me, are you lying to me about that?"
"No, Andy knew about your interests, and gave me permission to work for you for a while. I'm not to be a part of your "Special Agents" group any more than Kim has done so since she returned to the Company. As to Rebecca, she will be going back to Langley, until Andy releases her back to me. She will work for me not you. I won't ever allow her to get hurt again like what happened to her the last time even if she wants back into the field."
Bill, in the past, has responded as soon as whom ever stopped speaking. Now, he again is sitting there thinking. A good sign, I think. He knows now we won't be just killing for him based on his orders. He's trying to figure out if he can still use us to his best advantage. I'm not about to help him on that score.
"I accept your and Rebecca's position and I think it can still work to our mutual advantage. I'll talk to Andy about it," he offers rather coldly.
"Fine, and what's this training I'm supposed to get?"
"You'll be trained by the Tenth Special Forces out of Germany, and will live in Paris as soon as you are trained. Your team is stationed out of Drew, AFB, which is close by, and you will be demonstrating some new equipment for getting weather information and hopefully soon, communications. We can use that to preposition you to recover Rebecca. As soon as we have some idea that she will be close enough to the boarder to recover her."
I smile at him as that is exactly what I want. I don't even have to say anything as he clearly sees how happy that makes me and returns my smile.
"Now, are you satisfied I'm not out to get you and we can finish up here with Bob? Bill asks with a straight face. I know he's not lied to me about anything up to this point and nod in agreement.
Bob comes in and we quickly finish up with the paper work. I learn I will stay here in Orleans until I go off for my training with the 10th SF. Once there I will learn about all the weapons we might encounter in our travels around the world, and then I'm to receive parachute and underwater scuba training. I already do scuba, but jumping out airplanes, that I'm not too sure about.
Then our briefing is all over with and Bill is talking to Bob. I sit there thinking about Rebecca, and all she's suffering at the hands of those men. Now she's going to have to wait while I train to free her. I feel a tear running down my cheek. She blocked me out deliberately to keep me from knowing what is happening to her. How little she seems to understand, about what it is that I can do, and what all this means to us. The germ of a thought comes to my mind. I'll work on that some more, I think as I look up to see Bill looking strangely at me again. “You’ve never seen a grown man cry before?” I say defensively without giving the reason.
“Yes, but I hadn’t expected it of you,” Bill says, with a deep concern that bothers me.
* * * * *
May God give us the power to overcome evil, the strength to endure adversity, and the peace to enjoy life.
The warrior-priest’s prayer. My prayer.
Aksai Chin, China/India
Four months later on August 17, 1962
Roger
I see a rock in the starlight overlooking the cold desolate terrain of Aksai Chin, Tibet and plunk down heavily to contemplate my situation. Most of the people here tell me that everything I see out there belongs to India. The Tibetan resistance fighters, the Mustangs, we are with claim the territory as theirs. However, it's more than obvious to me that the Chinese believe it's theirs. They are the ones with a couple of thousand troops, tanks, and artillery at the base of this mountain facing the little Indian outpost down there. I suspect that might will make right in this situation regardless of what Bill or anyone else thinks. It's only a matter of time before they come up here and kick my ass off this mountain. Avoiding this type of situation is why I had tried to hide from the CIA in the Air Force. I had enough of them and killing in Mexico and Cuba back in the summer of '58.
I shake my head in disbelief. Ending up in this type of situation is what I had feared when I came to France a couple of months ago and found good ol' Bill, waiting for me to report in to the Colonel's office. That's one SOB I had never wanted to see again. Now here I am, sitting on a 19,760-foot high pile of rocks, in the middle of the night, and well inside the disputed Aksai Chin territory looking down on several thousand Chinese troops that are not going to be happy to learn of our presence here. They will start getting unhappy with me in the morning when they realize my little group has climbed up above them and the little Indian outpost to set up a weather station. The Chinese have partially surrounded the Indians down there. I'm sure they were satisfied that was all that would be necessary to take it when the time comes. Standing orders aside, I have the distinct feeling that this is going to end up in my having to killing people again.
“Josh, what the hell are you doing sitting out here?” The whispered voice of Captain Dale Agistino comes from behind me.
I really don't want to talk to this man that has been put in charge of the military side of my first operation at the last moment. Dale is in charge of my seven-man 10th Special Forces, Tiger Team, and our seventy-six man Tibetan Mustang support troops. Opening my eyes, knowing Dale isn't going to go away, I comment, “Just sitting here wondering how far we actually are inside the disputed territory. There are too many Chinks down there getting ready to go to bed for us to be ten kilometers inside undisputed Indian Territory.”
Dale sits down on the rock beside me before telling me, “Yeah, we are about eighty-five miles from undisputed territory and a few miles beyond the road the Chinese built here a couple of years ago that is causing all the issues.”
I look over at him for a moment before speaking, “Then what the hell are we doing here and why wasn't I informed about this situation?”
Dale laughs softly before responding, “You'll have to talk that over with your own people when and if you get back. We knew about the situation before we left. As you're the only one that can do the weather stuff we were sent out here to provide, with that fancy satellite equipment of yours, you were assigned by your own CIA people. They not only knew where we were going they assigned us to this location. Also, I understand that you’re supposed to have some secret mission to carry out and we're supposed to support you with that.”
I nod in understanding as I turn away, gaze down at the troops about a mile and a half away and four-thousand feet below us, and then shake my head in disgust. I'll bet that fucking Tim did this to stop me from screwing Ingrid. I then question Dale, "Who was it that assigned us here?"
"Tim Anderson is our liaison with the CIA. I have no idea who gave him the orders, why?" Dale wants to know.
I don't answer. I have my answer though, and there's no reason to drag Dale into it. I knew of course about the package I'm to retrieve, however, Tim had told me that if I made contact with the package then Dale was supposed to lead me into the disputed territory to pick it up not that we were already going to be on the far side of it. Tim is the one who sent me here and Tim's made no secret of the fact that he doesn't like it that I'm screwing Bill's daughter, Ingrid. Well, there's nothing I can do about any of that now. I stand up and look at my recent antagonist and new friend, “Dale, let's go to bed. It's been a long two weeks getting up here and we'll just have to deal with what ever else tomorrow.”
I can discern the smile on Dale's face even in the dim starlight as Dale stands to join me and comments, “Yes, a good night’s sleep will do us both good on figuring out how we're going to get out of this one alive.”
"Hum...," I think aloud as I turn and start picking my way through the rocks as we head back over the ridge to where our camp is set up, that’s got to be in China proper I now realize. Maybe this situation is worse than I thought.
Five and a half hours (time zones) west of Roger in Paris
Tim knocks on Bill’s office doorframe before entering, as he always does.
Bill looks up from his paperwork and notes the time as he says, “Yes, Tim, what is it at this time of the evening, are you headed home early or is there a problem?”
“Yes, early, and I wanted to let you know Tiger Team should be on top of the mountain some time tonight.”
Bill smiles, his plans are all working out at last, “So have they fired up their communications, or are we still dependent on going through the chain of command?”
“Sorry, Bill, it’ll probably be at least a day or two before they will be able to get their equipment up and running. No one has ever tried to use it at those altitudes,” Tim explains as he takes the seat that Bill has indicated with a wave of the hand.
Bill nods and then asks, “When will we be able to communicate directly with the satellite and not have to use our secure telephone lines?”
Tim thinks about that for a moment or two, he knows the answer of course, he just hasn’t figured out how to tell his boss that it might be never, “They keep talking about adding one of the big dish antennas to the State Departments array at the embassy. Their concern though is the voice encryption equipment. There is something about not wanting any of it sitting around where someone might be able to get a hold of it.”
Bill shakes his head in disbelief, “That sounds like them, they send that same equipment eighty-five miles into Chinese territory and will not allow us to have it here in Paris so we can communicate directly with our team.”
Tim nods in agreement, it did sound like the Pentagon as well as their people had flipped out on this one. He didn’t care about the equipment as long as Roger died blowing it up before the Chinese got to it. And as far as Bill’s great desire to see Rebecca and Roger working as a team for him he doesn’t figure that will ever happen, not if he can prevent it. He decides to ask about why Bill wants it, “Bill, why is it so important to you about Roger and Rebecca working together that you would even accept the very slim chance that this mission will produce that result?”
Bill looks over at Tim and smiles; he has wondered how long it was going to take his friend to ask about it, “Do you remember about the trouble I got into after that mission down in the Yucatan back in 1958?”
“Yes, something about some kids with telepathic abilities,” Tim stops and looks up as the connection is made, “My god it’s these two isn’t it?”
Bill doesn’t say anything he just sits there with a big smile and nods in agreement. Tim then immediately asks, “How close do they have to be to do whatever it is that they do?”
“Well after Rebecca joined up and went off to the farm to be trained I sat down with Andy Ross as this is his area of expertise. He tells me that distance is not the problem for these two, food is however. They apparently burn up a lot of energy doing it. As Rebecca stopped communicating with Roger shortly after she disappeared, I assumed it was because she was on a starvation diet. I found out talking to Roger when he first got here that wasn’t the problem. She knew that what was happening to her was hurting him and felt that by blocking him she could stop his being hurt. He hasn’t pushed her there as he knows she doesn’t have the extra energy to communicate regularly and he doesn’t want her wasting what little she has until he can do something about her situation.”
Tim sits there in wide-eyed, disbelief, “You’ve got to be kidding me. They are able to tell that much about what is going on with each other over those distances?”
“Yes, and a good deal more. Roger was honest with me about why he had taken Ingrid to bed before he left on this mission. It was so that Rebecca would know that he was having sex, and that it was all right for her to do what she did to survive. Then once he started with Ingrid, he realized there was something else going on with her and he wanted to help. He told me so that I would know that he wasn’t just using her.” Bill stops talking when he sees Tim’s hand up.
“You mean that he came in here and told you that he felt there was something wrong with Ingrid and he was trying to figure out what? I thought you told me he was a telepath, why didn’t he just look into her mind and find out what it was?” Tim is becoming more confused as this conversation goes on.
However, Bill thought he could explain, “According to Andy, telepaths can only read other telepaths minds. They can though read anyone’s emotions from a distance. That though is not reading their minds from what he tells me. Roger knows if Ingrid is lying to him but not why. Do you see the difference?”
Tim nods in agreement with his boss however; Bill can see that he is still working it out. He decides not to push that part of the issue any further, and switches the topic a little, “Speaking of Ingrid, I think it is time we found out what is going on there and quit worrying about stopping Roger. If he knows everything is alright with her he will stop it on his own.”
Tim looks up at the ceiling before confessing, “She’s seeing a Dutch pilot, a Captain Hans Jorgenson. Him, I believe she is actually in love with.”
Bill nods in understanding, and then tells him, “Then what would you say if I told you she was in here asking to be able to see Roger as soon as he is back in town?” Bill then sits back in his chair to watch how Tim handles that little bit of information.
He reacts exactly as Bill expects and immediately defends her with, “She obviously wants to be the one to tell Roger that she has someone else.”
Bill smiles at his friend as he shakes his head, “No, according to her she wants to bed him again.”
Tim’s mouth drops open in disbelief that his goddaughter has asked her father for permission to do that when she is currently sleeping with Hans. Still somewhat flustered he asks, “Does she have any idea that you might know about Hans?”
“Yes, as in response to her request I asked her what she was going to do about Hans. She told me she would handle it, so I reluctantly agreed,” Bill now informs Tim as they both now sit shaking their heads.
Tim finally starts the conversations again, “With your permission I’m going to try to find out what is really going on with her. This type of activity is simply not in her character at all. We have to be missing something big. Maybe we should get our shrink involved.”
Bill just shakes his head no, and Tim knows better than to press that issue. Bill has no interest in shrinks, and particularly not one that works for the Company and doesn't report to him, but to Langley.
Bill asks Tim, “How far from the Chinese border into the disputed area is the team, Tim?”
Tim is all too aware that Bill was unaware that they are in Chinese territory and not in the disputed territory at all. He has sent the team and in fact, built an airstrip in Chinese territory. He isn’t too quick to answer, as he doesn't want to lie to Bill. Bill finally demands, “Tim, what the hell have you done now?”
“They are over eighty-five miles from undisputed Indian territory.”
Bill sits and stares at Tim for several long moments in silence, “Tibet or China?”
“China….” Tim tells him softly with down cast eyes.
“You son-of-a- bitch! You expect him to get killed out there and not to come back don’t you?” Bill is not someone you want mad at you, and Tim is well aware that he has stepped across that line, big time.
He quickly offers, “Dale has orders to have Roger OJT at least one of his people and hopefully more to guarantee that the work always gets done whether Roger is there or not. The landing strip that we used to insert our people and will use to extract them is actually well inside China proper. It’s in an area the Chinese can’t get to with out our knowing far enough in advance to get them out safely. In addition, I gave Dale the best and last seventy-five of our Tibetan Mustang troops before we have to turn them over to India. So, no, I didn’t do it to get him killed. I did put him where Agent Santos is most likely to show up first when or if she enters Aksai Chin.” Tim offers that information in the hopes that he won't get himself shot where he sits as mad as Bill obviously is.
Bill sits drumming his fingers on his desk, staring directly into Tim’s eyes, and breathing deeply in an attempt to defuse the anger he now feels for his old friend. Finally, he breaks the tension with, “So this is the first Chinese camp on the road?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dale is to make sure Roger gives OJT to one or more of the Tiger Team in his weather duties?”
“Yes, sir,” Tim answers back knowing the tension is lowering and he is going to get away with this. At least if Roger returns in one piece more or less. He is quickly thinking about how he can guarantee that will happen. He now understands that, Rebecca Santos is more important in this equation with Roger than he had previous reason to believe. From all he knew about Roger, he was a good solder but that did not make him a CIA field agent.
“Make sure they both get back alive, my friend,” Bill instructs coldly.
Tim nods and gets to his feet ready to leave when Bill stops him with, “One moment, I’ll walk out with you.”
Tim was no longer going to go home, he has things to do here, but he can hardly tell Bill that now. He will just have to come in early tomorrow and get the things in place to try to make sure that both Roger and this Rebecca do get back. Like making sure, at least one C-130 with crew is on standby in New Delhi twenty-four/seven from now on.
Aksai Chin
September 10, 1962
Rebecca
I feel like Vaquero is near by, why? I have blocked him from my mind since this whole thing started. How long has it been now? It feels like more than a lifetime. I so wish I had listened to him back in Kabul.
"I wish you had listened to me too. It's been a very long nine months now and I'm arranging to get you out of there tomorrow night. Just hold on a little longer, Love."
"Josh?"
"No it's Roger again, and yes, I'm here."
"Where are you? You sound like your right here."
"My people and I are on the hill above you."
"Oh, Roger, my Vaquero, please come and get me out of here." Rebecca pleads with him. It's almost more than he can stand, having me this close and not being able to rush down and get me. He wonders if I realize there are a couple of thousand Chinese troops in my immediate vicinity that are waiting for the opportunity to kill him. He decides to try to calm me and get me to relax, "Rebecca, dear, I'll get you out of there as soon as I can. One day, two at the most, I promise."
"Vaquero, don't come for me unless you are willing to bring my friends out also."
"What do you mean, your friends?" His eyes pop open as he lies there on his cot. I'm surprised to realize I've already merged with his mind, I'm back in my comfortable spot, and I feel him in his. To him, this is an unexpected demand to be coming from me. He thought he had been following me and my situation and feelings much closer than this.
"I won't leave Gracie and the others here in this living hell if you are going to take me away."
"This is unexpected, Love. It's going to take me a little bit to work this out. How many friends are we talking about?" He asks me. He knows Gracie has a child that she's not likely to leave behind, and then how many more "friends" and children do I want to bring out of here he wonders. I smile as I realize that I can still find my spot in his mind after all this time. I listen to his thinking as he closes his eyes, and rolls over on his cot away from Dale who is sitting there in the cold, writing his wife a note. I see he doesn't want Dale to notice he's communicating with me. He didn't communicate with me until he was sure Gracie had locked me up alone for the night. Oh, my God, I've never been able to block him from seeing and feeling everything. I have to answer his question, 'I don't know for sure, but twelve or fifteen anyway. All have expressed they wanted to leave this life even if they can't return home.' I inform him. Does he know I'm in his mind?
"Yes, and it's nice to have you back where you belong."
"That's it? No recriminations for what I did?" I demand of him, knowing, er... well at least hoping what the answer will be. I know as he does that Bill, has sent him here. I just hope he is working for that result.
"No recriminations and yes, that is what I've been working for since this first happened to you. I'm only sorry it has taken so long to get here. I love you."
I smile to my self as I can clearly see that he does. I remember something he told me the first time we talked on the phone and pass it back to him, "I love you more than I can probably ever express."
I feel the smile on his face as he comes back with what I told him so long ago, "I think you just did."
I hope he can feel my smile, as I know I couldn't talk with it on my face if he were here.
"I can, and there's one more thing. With that many I'm going to have to contact our bosses and let them know before I bring them out. You know better than I what kind of problems this could cause internationally as well as internally. I don't care what anybody says, but I do have to give them some time to react to this and get aboard with us. You just added another day or two to your prison term you know."
"I know. Just keep your people out of here. That I don't need. I'll talk to the others and let them know that we'll be leaving here the day after tomorrow. Is that OK?"
"Yes, that's fine. I see that you're picking up a little slang, Love. Do what you have too to survive; I'll be there in two days to get you out."
"Vaquero?"
"Yes. Love?"
"Thank you and can you please stay with me until you can get me out of here?"
"I'll stay with you as long as you are alone, I can't handle the other any more than you can handle my being with Ingrid."
"I understand, I don't like it anymore than I like you sleeping with that screwed up bitch. You do know that all she wants from you is for you to kill her rapists."
Ops, I see now that he didn't know that, well he does now.
"Ah, thanks, I think. That does solve a number of issues. Now, as the lights are off in your place and Dale has finally turned the lantern down here, lets both try to get some sleep. I'll contact Andy in the morning and get things rolling. Good night, Love."
"Good night," I tell him as I lay there and feel better than I have in over three years. Soon I now know I will have him in my arms. Neither of us are virgins any longer, but some how I don't think that's going to matter to him as I thought it would before.
Two Days later
Roger
I awaken to the sound of our diesel generator pounding outside, as usual, along with the sound of the wind whipping the fabric of our tent, not unusual. I quietly unzip my mummy bag in the darkness, reach down inside it, and grab my mountain boots. At minus twenty degrees it is too damned cold outside my bag, not to keep my boots warm inside it. I quickly place the boots on the floor beside my folding cot and immediately roll out of the nice warm bag and put my feet into those still warm boots. My parka is still lying on top of the mummy bag, where I had put it last night, and I quickly slid that on. As I have slept with the rest of my clothing on, I'm now ready to face the rest of this day and stand up. I look over to see if Dale is stirring yet. No. That’s good, I think, I don’t want to explain what’s going on to him yet. He doesn’t need to know how I communicate with Rebecca, or that she’s the only reason I came here.
My plan is to slip out of my and Dale’s command tent before zipping the parka up, and quickly realize that's a mistake. I don’t even bother to try, in that bitterly cold wind, to correct the mistake. I simply hotfoot next door to the communications tent and get into it as fast as I can. There are to damn many of these ties to be undone and then re-done on these tents, in these temperatures and winds, I decide as I finally get into the warmth. We only use the heater in my tent during the daytime if Dale or I have work to do. The communications tent though stays reasonably warm twenty-four/seven because of my satellite communications equipment. That shit is the reason I was able to come here to recover Rebecca. It is that equipment that requires someone trained in weather with a Top Secret clearance. I was the only one quickly available with high enough clearances. Well actually, I'm here because Bill made me available to come here.