The monk paused for a moment, his head tilted to one side, his hand on his chin. He looked directly into Randall’s eyes as he spoke, his body perfectly still.
“Wait here,” the monk said. He rose to his feet, and walked down the hallway and out of their sight.
Randall looked at his son and then at Mark.
“I don’t like this one bit,” Mark said. “The PLA will come through that door at any minute and we have no way of defending ourselves or escaping from this place. We’re in over our heads.” Mark got to his feet and paced the room.
As he did so, the monk returned with two others who lifted Greene and spirited him away from the group. The monk approached Randall as John and Mark joined them.
“What do you know of the residents of Agharti?” the monk asked.
Randall and Mark shared a look of surprise at the monk’s mention of the fabled land.
“Mostly what was relayed in Plato’s stories. The inhabitants of Agharti are gentle people who have no desire to harm others or to take part in the material world. They seek only wisdom and truth and will one day return to power to help relieve mankind from its need to constantly acquire material wealth,” Mark responded as the resident expert of the group.
A broad smile spread across the monk’s face. “Very good. You understand the essence of my people.”
Mark’s mouth fell open again. “That’s … not … possible.”
“Our ancestors went into hiding when they realized they could do nothing to contain mankind’s avarice, but they swore they would return when the human race was ready for true change. The members of my order are the sworn guardians of the entrances to the great city and this monastery is a gateway to that world,” the monk said calmly.
“What will become of Private Greene?” Randall asked.
“My brothers will heal and watch over him until he is well enough to re-join his people. I assume you have the sacred scroll in your possession and have learned the information you sought?”
“Yes, it’s right here,” John said, removing his backpack and retrieving the document from its protective case. He handed the cylinder to the monk, who nodded in appreciation.
“Very good. Come, it is time to lead you out of this place as your pursuers are near,” the monk said. Heavy pounding commenced on the gate outside. He led Randall, John, and Mark to the wall on the far side of the room. He stopped for a moment, chanting as he nodded his head at a small piece of paper, hanging six feet from the floor, directly above a section of wall.
A loud crashing sound came from the courtyard. The Chinese had arrived. The three men shared a look of concern.
“I apologize, but if we’re leaving, I think we need to go now,” John said.
The sound of boots flooding the courtyard grew louder and culminated with a loud thud on the door to the main building. Soon, the shouts of the Chinese soldiers could be heard through the walls. The only thing separating the PLA from John, Mark, and Randall was a single piece of wood.
The monk continued the chant for a few more moments and then abruptly stopped. When he did, a small section of the wall, just large enough for an adult to fit through, opened in front of them. His hands clasped in front of him, the monk walked into the opening. Randall waited as John and Mark entered after the monk. He then followed them in as well. The monk turned and placed his hand on the wall, causing the panel to close.
“What will happen to your brothers when the Chinese find that we’re missing?” Mark asked.
“Although we are a peaceful people, we will fight if given no alternative,” the monk replied, grabbing a lit torch from a holder on the wall. He led the men down a long pathway toward a circular stone staircase, which fed into an underground tunnel system. The first part of the tunnel had torches illuminating the path every fifty feet.
“Take this path directly ahead for two hundred yards. You will pass three openings on your right; do not take any of them. When you reach the forth opening, it will be on your left. Enter it and continue walking. It will take you in the direction of the Valley of the Angel’s Wings.”
Mark shook his head in disbelief.
The monk smiled. “You will reach a solid, smooth wall at the end of the path. There will be an ornate notch in the wall. This key fits into that notch to operate a hidden door. The door will take you into the cave in which you found the scroll. You can exit and radio your compatriots,” the monk said, removing a small wooden token from his robe and handing it to Randall.
“We cannot repay you for your kindness. Thank you for saving us and for helping us return to assist our friends,” Randall said.
The monk simply bowed. Rumbling began in the distance from the direction they had come.
“Hurry, you must move quickly,” the monk said, turning to go back toward the monastery.
Chapter Forty-Four
Randall, John, and Mark jogged through the passageway and arrived at the fourth opening just as the monk had described. They entered it and moved quickly until they came to the wall. Randall removed the wooden key from his pocket and placed it into the groove. He twisted the key and heard a loud click. The wall opened in front of them. They scurried through the opening and back into the chamber where they had found the scroll.
The ropes from their previous descent still hung where they’d left them. They shimmied up the ropes and out of the cave, into the open field. The valley was dark now and the only sounds were those of the animals and insects near the cave.
John removed the radio from its cradle. “Bird Dog, do you read me?”
“Roger, please confirm your identity.”
“This is John Randall. Captain Steele and his men are dead. We need you to pick us up from the cave entrance immediately.”
A different voice came on the radio. “Dr. Randall, did you get the information you needed?”
“Yes, we have it, but the Red Dragons ambushed us and are chasing us. We need you to pick us up ASAP!”
“Roger that, we’re on our way. ETA is approximately 20 minutes to the landing zone.”
“That might be too long. We’re at the entrance to the cave right now and the Dragons are only minutes behind us. What should we do?” John asked.
“Head back to the landing zone where we dropped you off. In the time it takes for you to get there, we should be on the ground waiting to pick you up. Do you copy?”
“Got it. We’ll be there waiting,” John said.
“Bird Dog out.”
“Well you heard them, we better get going,” Mark said as John packed up the radio.
The three men looked back at the cave, sharing an unspoken thought. How far behind are the Red Dragons? They worked their way back down the earthen cone they had traversed earlier in the day. Now traveling in the dark, they used their flashlights to guide them. They had advanced about three hundred yards when the first noises started coming from the cave—thundering boots and men screaming orders. The Chinese had arrived and were in pursuit.
Small arms fire crackled in the distance, the bullets flying wide of their mark. This provided little solace as it reminded the group that they weren’t out of danger. Making matters worse, the Chinese soldiers were younger and in far better shape than Randall and Mark. They were also highly trained killers.
All of these thoughts swirled through Randall’s mind as he watched his son pull ahead. Wisely, they had given the notes containing the location of the base to John.
John looked back at his father and Mark. “Come on guys, we have to pick up the pace! I know you can do it!”
Smiling at his son’s encouragement, Randall put his head down and ran as hard as his legs allowed. The uneven terrain made keeping a steady pace difficult. On multiple occasions, Randall felt the loose gravel giving way under his feet, almost causing him to fall over. As he struggled to stay upright, he heard a loud crashing sound behind him, followed by cursing. Randall turned and watched in horror as Mark lost his footing, his body toppling over and skidding dow
n the embankment.
“John, Mark’s down! We have to help him!” Randall yelled.
John turned to look and immediately changed directions, making a beeline for Mark who lay near the bottom of the hill. He wasn’t moving.
Randall picked up his own pace and turned toward Mark as well. A few seconds later, he arrived by his side, John having arrived just before him. Mark was conscious, but writhed in pain, holding his right knee.
“My knee, I can barely move it and it hurts like hell. I don’t think I can run,” Mark said through gritted teeth.
John yanked a knife from his bag and cut away Mark’s pant leg. His knee had swollen to the size of a softball. Randall glanced back toward the Chinese soldiers, who had cut the gap between them nearly in half and were gaining ground quickly.
“Help me get him up,” Randall said, hoisting his friend to his feet. John grabbed Mark on the opposite side, jarring his injured knee, causing him to wince in pain.
“Let’s get going,” Randall said as the three men scrambled forward toward the landing zone.
The Red Dragons were still too far away to shoot with accuracy, but that didn’t stop them from firing occasional bursts from their assault rifles. Most of the bullets missed wide, but some were getting closer. It was now a race against time to see if they could maintain a wide enough margin to prevent their pursuers from taking careful aim for a long distance kill shot.
Randall, John, and Mark struggled forward, fighting for every inch of progress. Clearly in pain, Mark hopped on his good leg, cursing with every step. Randall’s legs burned with exhaustion, the added weight of supporting his friend sapping his body’s strength. He knew that stopping to rest was a luxury they couldn’t afford, but his energy was waning.
“I have to stop for a moment,” Randall said finally, straining to get the words out.
The three men pulled up to a large rock, setting Mark down behind it for protection. Randall placed his hands on his knees, sucking in as much air as he could. Sweat poured from his brow in sheets and his shirt looked like he had jumped into a lake and climbed back out.
John looked back at their pursuers, the expression on his face telling Randall everything he needed to know.
“We need to move, Dad.”
“You guys go without me,” Mark said. “I’m holding you back and that’s not right. Besides, you need to get back to help Rob.” Mark held his injured knee.
“No way! We’re not leaving you!” Randall said, grabbing Mark and hoisting him back to his feet before he could argue. John didn’t wait to be told, he grabbed Mark from the other side and they were off to the races again.
The three men pushed forward. Energized by the short break, they moved more quickly, but were still losing ground to the Chinese. The gunfire was coming faster now, and with greater accuracy. It wouldn’t be long before their pursuers would be close enough to shoot them.
They finally cleared the rubble field and were now entering the grassland. The even terrain and lack of rocks allowed them to run more quickly, while their pursuers now dealt with the harsher terrain. The landing zone was getting close and Randall caught sight of the chopper, making its way toward the open area.
The blades of grass whipped at their legs and the cold night air bit at their exposed faces. Twenty more yards and they would be safe. A single gunshot pierced the temporary silence and a puff of smoke rose from the ground near John, who tumbled to the earth, taking Mark and Randall with him. Mark yipped in pain as he fell onto his injured leg. Randall hit the ground hard, rolling and striking his head, arms, and torso on the small plants dotting the landscape. Branches and thorns tore at his clothing and skin, inflicting a hundred tiny injuries to his body as he finally rolled to a stop. Without checking himself, Randall popped up and sprinted past Mark, arriving at John’s side.
“Son, are you alright? John, talk to me!”
John writhed on the ground.
Randall searched for an entry wound. “Where were you hit?”
John sat up, blood trickling from a gash on his left cheek as he rubbed the back of his head.
“I’m okay, Dad, I wasn’t shot. I must have just tripped on a branch or a rock or something.”
“Thank God! Help me get Mark, the chopper looks like it just landed!” Randall said, pulling his son to his feet.
They ran over to Mark, grabbed him, and started moving through the grass again.
The Chinese regulars were nearly on them now as tracer rounds chewed at the ground around them. They ran in a zig-zag pattern, trying to avoid the onslaught of bullets.
The Blackhawk was a dozen yards away. Its door opened and several American servicemen jumped to the ground, returning fire on the Chinese army. The sudden counterattack slowed the Red Dragon’s advancement. One mountain-sized soldier ran up to the group, grabbing Mark with one arm and tossing him over his shoulder, allowing John and Randall to run unencumbered.
Without the added weight, the two were finally able to reach the open door of the chopper just as it lifted from the ground. A side-mounted fifty caliber machine gun rained rounds on the enemy, churning up the earth, and causing the Dragons to take cover.
Exhausted, Randall slumped into an open seat next to John while another soldier examined Mark.
“Dr. Randall, General Flores wants to confirm that you found the information,” one soldier said.
“Yes, we did, but we paid a steep price for it.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Randall rubbed his tired, red eyes. His sleep on the multiple flights back from Europe to Dulce had been fitful at best as his mind replayed the scenes of Captain Steele and his men sacrificing their lives. He now tried his best to clear the cobwebs from his mind as he waited for General Flores to return from the meeting with Dr. Chandra.
He glanced over at John, who sat slumped snoring in his chair. In an odd way, it made Randall feel good that his son, who was more than 20 years younger, was as tired as he was. Between the ordeal in Tibet and jet lag, Randall felt like he was in a dream.
Actually, more like a nightmare. He corrected himself, fighting back thoughts of what Jamie and Rob might be going through. Despite his exhaustion, he was anxious to find the base and rescue his friends.
The sound of the office door opening brought him back to reality as Flores entered the room, placed his hat on the desk, and dropped into his seat.
“Dr. Chandra confirmed your findings. We have the location of the base. Sorry to keep you waiting so long—I was making arrangements for the next leg of the journey,” Flores said as John opened his eyes, trying to focus on the conversation at hand.
“What? Where is it?” John asked, disoriented from being awoken.
“Several miles off Ross Island in Antarctica. We have a research station not far from the coordinates you provided. We’ll arrange air transport to Williams Field, where my men will meet you. They’ll take you the remainder of the way to the base.”
“And what’s the plan once we get there?” John asked.
“I have one of my best teams arriving at the base. They’re being briefed on the assignment and will be responsible for obtaining the material we need. All I’ll need you to do is help them get there and assist with any translation they need.”
“You mean like in Tibet? With all due respect, there are variables outside of your control, so please don’t try to whitewash the situation and make it seem simpler than it is. Also, what about Jamie and Rob? Is there any news about them?” Randall responded.
“No there isn’t, but we can assume that your friends are safe because the Chinese didn’t get the information you found in Tibet. The PLA will undoubtedly use them as a bargaining chip if they need to. As long as they view them as a potential asset, I believe they’ll keep them alive,” Flores said, staring at the wall opposite his desk, rubbing the stubble on his unshaven chin.
Randall turned to his son with a serious expression on his face. “John, is there any way I can convince you not to come on
the next leg of this trip?”
“Not a chance. Rob and Jamie are depending on us, and besides, you need someone to keep an eye on you,” John said, covering a yawn.
“After what happened in Tibet, I’d really prefer you stay here. There’s no way we can guarantee your safety,” Randall replied.
“What about your safety?” John asked.
“I don’t really have a choice. I need to see this through to the end.”
“I feel the same way. Remember, it’s my serum that’s causing most of this fuss.”
Randall shook his head, too tired to argue further. “I guess it’s settled then. When do we leave, General?”
Chapter Forty-Six
McMurdo Station, Ross Island, Antarctica
Randall stared out the window of the Lockheed LC-130 ski-equipped United States Air Force plane as it banked high over Williams Field. A variant of the C-130 Hercules, the four-engine turboprop military transport was designed and built by Lockheed and was capable of using unprepared runways for takeoffs and landings. This made it the logical choice for use in the unforgiving Antarctic landscape. The airport, approximately seven miles from Ross Island, and serving McMurdo Station, would be the launching point for their expedition to find the alien base.
From their vantage, Randall could see Ross Island protruding above a blanket of white and blue sea ice. As the plane approached McMurdo, Randall could make out small structures on the ground below. Large rectangular buildings intermingled with round storage tanks comprised the station, which was gearing up for the upcoming winter research season. As the station transitioned from the warmer summer months to the colder season, the entire composition of the base changed. With research more intense during the fall and winter months, the staff at the station tripled. For a moment, Randall was lost in the beauty and relative tranquility of the peaceful view below.
The Bermuda Connection (A Nick Randall Novel Book 2) Page 20
