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“We’re really going?” Annja asked.
Mike nodded. “We’ve got no choice in the matter. Tsing made it perfectly clear what would happen if we refused. And for my part, I may as well see whether this map is legitimate or not. After all of the trouble it’s managed to get me into, I owe it to myself—and you—to see it through.”
Annja looked around. Behind her, she could see several bags. “Looks like they gave us a bunch of supplies.”
Mike grunted. “It’s the least they could do.” He smacked his lips. “But I could do with a bottle of water. Any chance they packed a cooler back there?”
Annja felt around and found one. She pulled out a cold bottle of water for herself and one for Mike. “Cheers.”
Mike polished off the water quickly. “All right, let’s get this thing airborne and see what we can find out there.”
“What about the map?” she asked.
Mike eyed her. “What about it?”
“You have it with you?”
Mike tapped the side of his head. “Everything I need is stored safely inside the old cranium.”
“You’re joking,” Annja said.
Mike laughed. “Actually, I am. I had the map on me the entire time.”
“What if they’d taken it from you?”
Mike shrugged. “You heard Tsing. He can’t go out in the daylight with that skin condition of his. Maybe he’s a vampire or something.”
“Stop it,” Annja said, laughing.
Mike reached into a pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. He handed it to Annja. “Check it out.”
Annja unfolded the map and frowned. “Most of the explorers who searched for Shangri-La thought it was either close to Bhutan or over near the western border.”
“They were wrong,” Mike said. “According to the map, the real location lies smack-dab in the middle of the country, closer to the Tibetan border.”
“You’re sure about this, huh?”
“As much as I can be.” Mike opened up the throttle some and the plane began to move. “Now I’d better make sure we have clearance to take off or else we’ll never make it out of here.”
Annja pulled her headset on and listened as he keyed his microphone and spoke to the air traffic control tower. In a short time, they had clearance and Mike urged the plane down the runway and then into the skies over Katmandu.
Annja looked out of her window as Mike took the plane into a steep climb to gain altitude and then settled on a course heading northwest.
“We’ll vector around and then head for Jomsom. That’s the closest airfield in the part of the country we’re looking for.”
“And from there? It looks like we’re going to Mustang,” Annja said, looking at the map.
Mike nodded. “The map says that Shangri-La lies somewhere in that area. It’s probably nestled in between some of the mountains up there. Once we’re beyond Pokhara, we’ll be flying into the canyon of the Kali Gandaki River. It’s an amazing sight. The Annapurna range flanks us on one side and Dhaulagiri sits on the other. The mountains effectively sandwich the area, making it difficult to gain entrance to most of the upper reaches of that part of Nepal.”
“Are you sure buzzing that region with this plane is such a good idea?” Annja asked.
Mike glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“It’s Mustang. I don’t think I have to give you a refresher course in history, do I? The CIA used to use the region as a staging ground for Tibetan Khampa guerrillas who used to cross over the border and harass the Chinese soldiers stationed in Tibet.”
“Yeah, but that was back in the sixties and seventies. That’s all in the past.”
“We also happen to be flying the kind of plane that is used for parachute infiltration of special-operations troops. The Chinese might get a little nervous about us buzzing the joint.”
Mike sighed. “We’re sort of limited in terms of our options here, Annja. From Jomsom, most people continue either on foot or horseback to reach the area we want to fly to. But for us, that would take too long. And we would have the perspective we need from the air to see down and into the mountain valleys. We have to be airborne or else we may as well be searching for the proverbial needle in the haystack.”
Annja frowned. Something didn’t feel right about using the plane to search, but Mike was correct. Without their eyes in the sky, they’d have no chance of spotting anything.
“I understand that you’re concerned about our safety. I am, too. And we’ve also got the weather to contend with up here. Annapurna throws up some ferocious winds and Dhaulagiri is no slouch, either. We take an updraft or wind shear the wrong way and we’re toast.”
Annja looked at him. “You’re not doing much to instill me with confidence in your flying abilities, pal.”
Mike grinned. “Just being honest with you. Figure I owe you at least that much for putting up with me not telling you about Tsing earlier.”
“Forget it. Let’s concentrate on getting this done. We can handle Tsing another time and place.”
Mike nodded. “All right. We’ll make a quick stop at Jomsom for fuel and then take off again. We’ve got the entire day before us and we should be able to get some great perspectives on the area once we’re north of Jomsom.”
Annja stared out the window of the plane and marveled at the landscape below them. Overhead, bright blue skies streaked with wispy clouds flanked the snow-topped peaks of the Himalayan mountain ranges. The roof of the world, Annja thought, never looked so utterly amazing.
“I suppose it’s easy to see why so many people pictured this as being home to Shangri-La,” she said a few moments later. “It’s incredible up here in this part of the world.”
Mike smiled as he pointed out a variety of landmarks. “The Nazis thought that Shangri-La was home to a superior race of Nordic people like them. In 1938 they sent an expedition to Tibet led by a guy named Schafer. They never found anything, of course, but it didn’t stop Hitler from imagining that there might be a link to this part of the world.”
Annja sighed. “I know a lot of areas up here claim title to Shangri-La, but that’s mostly for tourism, right?”
“Sure. There’s even an airline named after it that operates in this region. They had a serious crash in October ’08. Sixteen tourists and two crew were killed two miles short of the runway at Jomsom. Terrible accident.”
“Which we won’t be reliving today,” Annja said.
Mike smiled. “No chance. Look.” He pointed out ahead of them. “Dhaulagiri, up close and personal.”
Annja looked out the front windshield and saw the giant mountain ahead of them. “It’s eight thousand meters, right?”
“Yep.” Mike nosed the plane down toward the river valley. “We’re on final approach to Jomsom now. I’ll need to talk to air traffic control for a moment.”
She listened to Mike informing Jomsom control that they were coming in. He nodded and then turned to Annja. “Ready for our first landing?”
“Sure.”
Mike guided the plane down and in at a steep descent. As the runway loomed before them, Annja could see that the river valley wasn’t that wide at all. The fact there was an airstrip up here was a miracle in itself.
Mike flared the flaps and then tucked the plane down on the runway with a slight bump. They raced along and Mike pressed the brakes, easing them to a stop. Gradually, he pulled the plane in and parked it next to another DHC-6 and then shut down the engines.
“All right, let’s get this baby gassed up and get back up there. I don’t want to lose any time.”
He pulled off the headset and hopped out of the plane. Annja unbuckled herself and eased out of the seat and climbed onto the tarmac. She stretched and felt marvelous moving around again. She hadn’t realized how cramped the interior of the plane was until just then.
Mike came walking back, directing a ground crew toward the plane. They dutifully led a hose to the gas tanks and started pumping.
Mike tossed Annja a can of soda. “Last gasp of civilization in these parts. From here on up north into Mustang, it gets downright spooky.”
“Spooky?”
“Well, there’s little up here to remind you of home. Pony caravans carry all the goods and, like I said earlier, most people are on foot or horseback. This is the frontier. Hell, parts of the region we’ll be flying over are off-limits to us on the ground. We’d need someone from the government to tag along.”
“Why is that?”
Mike took a gulp of the soda and then belched appreciably. “Who knows? Maybe the government knows where Shangri-La is and is just protecting it. Or maybe it’s because some of the less intelligent tourists would blunder over the border into Tibet if someone wasn’t around to stop them. No sense having an international incident if you can avoid it.”
Annja took a sip of her soda. “Makes sense.”
Mike watched the ground crew finish pumping the plane full of gas and then paid them from a bundle of cash he had in his pocket. He glanced at Annja and shrugged. “Mr. Tsing thought of everything. You all set to get back to it?”
“Yep.”
Annja climbed into the cockpit and strapped herself in. Mike climbed in a moment later and looked at the back of the plane.
Annja glanced at him. “Everything okay?”
“I guess.”
“What?”
Mike shrugged. “Probably just my mind playing tricks on me. That damned wine took me for a whirl last night.”
“What is it, Mike?”
“Thought I saw movement in the back of the plane.” He shook his head. “Nothing to it. You were climbing in when it happened and you must have jostled the plane. That’s all.” He switched on the propellers and smiled. “Let’s get out of here.”
Annja slid her headset back on and then felt the lurch as the plane started to move again. Mike keyed the microphone and spoke again to air traffic control. In seconds they hurtled down the tiny runway and shot back up into the sky. Annja leaned back in her seat, enjoying the rush of gaining altitude so fast.
Mike climbed and then banked around, continuing on their original northwesterly course. He leveled the plane off and then set a course that would take them farther into the Mustang region.
Annja wondered what the future held in store for them.
8
“The curious thing about Mustang is how the entire region pokes up into Tibet,” Mike said. “It almost looks like a thorn in the side.”
“Hence, the reason it made such a great staging area for the Khampa guerrillas,” Annja said. “They didn’t have to travel as far or retreat as much to get back to safety. It made sense to stage there.”
Mike piloted the plane and brought them over a particular vista. Annja looked down and saw green fields. “That looks rather lush for the area.”
“Concentrated irrigation,” Mike said. “It’s not indicative of the entrance to the garden of Eden.” He smiled. “I know the temptation to call it such, but the farmers up here have adapted quite well to the parameters of their environment.” He pointed ahead of them toward where the mountain called Dhaulagiri rose up like a towering majesty. “I want to fly a little higher. See if maybe we can spot something from up there.”
Annja looked at the peak. She could see storm clouds clustering around it. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? That doesn’t look too inviting.”
Mike nodded. “We’ll be all right as long as we don’t get too close. The most important thing is to get as high as we can in order to observe more than we can see skirting this level. We keep doing this, all we’re accomplishing is burning fuel.”
“If you say so.” Annja leaned back as Mike brought the stick back toward them and the plane responding by climbing. Annja could see snowfields out of the cockpit window. The wind suddenly buffeted the plane. Annja winced. Turbulence was something she didn’t care for.
“It’s a little choppy up here,” Mike said.
“You don’t say.”
Out of the window, Annja thought she saw something glint across one of the snowfields. She frowned and squinted again. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. I could have sworn I saw something down there across that last field we buzzed.”
“Like what?”
“A glint of something. Maybe metallic. Maybe someone was signaling us?”
Mike shook his head. “We’re pretty close to the border of Tibet here. I doubt very much there’s a party down there trying to signal us. Doesn’t seem likely.”
“I saw something.”
Mike glanced at the instrument panel. “I can take another pass if you want me to check it out.”
“Might be worth a look.”
Mike nodded. “Hang on.” He banked the plane and Annja saw the vista shift to the left. Mike kept the heading on course and then leveled off. “Over there?”
The snowfield loomed in front of them, about halfway up the side of Dhaulagiri.
“Yeah, just down there,” Annja said, pointing.
Mike eased the stick forward and the plane descended a little. “All right, here we go.”
Annja heard the engines whine as the plane dipped and buzzed the snowfield. They were probably a thousand feet over the top of the field when she saw it again. “There!”
Mike turned his head and frowned. “That looks like—”
“Mike!”
But Mike had already seen the sudden flash and jerked the stick hard to the left. Annja looked back and saw the flare as a rocket went streaking past the right wing. “What the hell!”
“Someone’s shooting at us,” Mike said. He drew the plane back to the right and then angled it so it was in a steep climb. “Hang on!”
Annja clutched at the armrests on her seat as Mike jerked the plane all over the sky, trying to make it a smaller target. Annja strained to look over the back of her seat and see behind them. But the mass of bags in the rear section made it impossible.
