Chapter 68
A Few Minutes Later...
Nick stared at the white flame, trying to penetrate its luminous depths. Its intensity seared through to his soul. He swallowed hard, reached down for Derek's pack, then stood frozen, clutching the battered, stained bag tightly to his chest.
At last, he exhaled in a long, tired sigh. It was ended... for them both.... He had to move on now... to do otherwise would dishonour Derek's sacrifice. "Let's go," he said, as he turned away. There would be no backwards glance.
Sadly, Ginge nodded. He stood to attention, facing the altar, and snapped a salute to his lost comrade. "At the going down of the sun... we shall remember them," he whispered. He patted Nick's back and felt the trembling, barely suppressed emotion. "He might not have worn a uniform... but he was one hellava soldier... a gentleman... and an officer."
"God's mystic warrior...," Nick whispered.
The two men left the chamber... each silent... each wrapped in his own thoughts.
Hours later...
As their return trip had progressed, each spot had seemed to hold a memory for Nick. The chamber with the pool and the wall paintings had been difficult. That had been where Derek had cracked open his fortress and had allowed Nick past the barricades... where they had finally become equals in trust and commiseration. As he and Ginge had rested there in the green glow of the light sticks, he had heard Derek's soft lilt, unburdening his soul, laying bare his anguish... and he heard Derek say, "You and I both know it's got to be me... and, deep down, we both know why, don't we?" He had said that he'd never be whole again.... That was why. At last, Nick understood.
* * *
Now, he paused before the low cleft that was the tunnel's mouth. This would be the worst.
"Are you sure you want to go first?" Ginge asked. "Maybe it'll be easier if you focus on my arse, instead of 'other' things."
"No," the SEAL insisted. "I'll go. I'll be OK.... We need to check our charges and wiring.... I'll concentrate on that."
When he reached the elbow bend that had caused Derek so much trouble, Nick felt the lump of C-4 stuffed into the crack above his head and made sure the detonator was firmly in place, then, laying his forehead against the cold stone, he paused for silent reflection. "He's really gone," he sighed. He swallowed hard. His throat had turned to stone. In his solitude, the SEAL allowed the grief, which he'd controlled until now, to swell to the surface.
"Boss.... As long as I live... you'll live, because I'll never forget you.... You're my compass... of right and wrong.... None of us will ever forget you... and if I can be half the man you were...."
"Indy?.... You OK?" Ginge's voice echoed from the darkness behind.
"Fine!" Nick responded, resuming his crawl. "I'm fine."
After having left the tunnel sealed behind them, Ginge and Nick set a fast pace. Though their packs had grown lighter, their hearts had grown heavier. Through the long, hard hours that followed... day into night and night into day... they stopped to rest only when the body demanded. They ate little and spoke less. Neither knew what to say, for there was nothing to say.
Finally, as they entered the lighted corridors, the SAS man broke the silence. "What're we gonna tell the kid?" he asked, turning back to face the SEAL. "He's gonna be fu... real cut up."
"We tell him the truth," Nick replied. "Derek did what he had to do... and so have we." The SEAL paused to think for a moment. "Tell him... tell him Derek's last words were for him... and give him this...." He reached into Derek's pack and pulled out the ivory-handled knife.
Ginge smiled. "He'll like that... knowing Da'reek thought of him... 'specially then."
"We'll soon find out," Nick said. Looking past the redhead's shoulder, he saw the young Afghan trotting towards them with a welcoming grin across his face.
Yusuf stopped, puzzled. He looked into the darkness behind the two soldiers. "Da'reek... where is he?" he demanded, knowing, in his sickening stomach, that his prophecies had been fulfilled.
Ginge placed an arm around Yusuf's shoulder and drew him to one side. Nick could hear the gentle tone of the soldier's words. He read the pain... then the anger... written across the young man's face. The SEAL picked up his pack... and Derek's... and continued on down the corridor... alone."
the Next Day...
The two soldiers stood on the brow of the hill, looking down on the ruins that lay before them. The valley little resembled the one that they had left nearly a month ago. The concrete building had been shattered, the earth scorched. Only bits of the north wall, an outbuilding, and the sheared off pipes remained. The rest was a series of broad, deep craters that had filled with steaming water. Amazingly, water still surged from the broken pipes. Beyond the newly formed lakes, a cascading river now tumbled swiftly southward.
"They knocked the fuckin' shit outta this place," Ginge commented, admiring the complete destruction. "Wonder what got the guys on downhill... the bombs or the water?"
Gazing through Derek's binoculars, Nick surveyed the scene. "We're not gonna find much shelter down there.... That's for sure," he sighed. "I triggered Derek's chip.... Now we wait and see who... or what... shows up.... No idea how long it'll be... or how they'll get here." He scanned the snow-capped peaks and ridges. "No way could a chopper come in as the crow flies.... Mountains are just too damned high.... I s'pose they could jump in... like we tried."
"Depends how the fuckin' war's going." Ginge considered, stomping his feet. A cold breeze chilled their backs. "If we've got the upper hand... and the weather holds, they'll send a chopper.... Zig-zag in and out of the valleys and passes... following the river.... figure on a quick pick-up... in and out.... Taliban's got no air force, so all they have to worry about are RPGs, ground fire, and some anti-aircraft shit."
"Well... whatever," Nick sighed. "We got us a job to do... while we wait." The SEAL turned away, looking for Yusuf.
They found the young Afghan had spread his rug beside Hasmit's grave and, facing Mecca, was offering up his mid-day prayers.
"OK... let's get ready... and get this done," Nick told Ginge. "Thank God the Russians stockpiled body bags.... They must've been using a lot of 'em."
"Christ!" Ginge groused. "It was bad enough getting back here.... What with Masruq.... We're damned lucky we didn't follow him to Paradise in bits and pieces ourselves.... Now we gotta dig up Hasmit." He kicked at the rock hard soil. "And we don't even have a fuckin' shovel. Damned Ruskies... why'd they leave body bags and climbing gear... and take the bloody shovels?"
"Who knows?..." Nick sighed. "We owe them.... The kid wants them in holy ground... and we don't leave anybody behind... if there's anything left to take home."
"Too fuckin' right," Ginge agreed.
Hours later...
The small group huddled, exhausted, against one of the concrete pylons that supported the pipelines. The heated conduits above offered some comfort and shelter. Nick glanced at Derek's watch, then at the sun's weak rays, which shone through a thin fog . It was only two PM, yet the sun would soon drop behind the mountains and the valley would be swallowed by cold twilight.
Yusuf had stabled the horses as securely as he could, then sat alone, wrapped in his misery. He made no attempt to talk to Ginge or to help them set up their makeshift camp. He had yet to ask for the full story of how Derek had met his end. Instead, he had tucked Derek's dagger into his waist sash, where the ivory handle rode just beneath his heart... and had retreated to count his prayer beads.
As Nick had watched, he'd seen the boy's hand seek that handle more than once, caress it, seem to draw strength from it. How did Derek manage to win such loyalty, he marveled. He smiled a crooked smile.... Of all people, Nick Boyle should know. Derek Rayne had done it to a lost cause like him... but it had taken him five years.
Ginge poured a mug of tea and carried it over to the silent young man, then returned to sit with Nick. "I hear something," the Brit said, cocking his head to one side, listening. "Definitely a chopper.... Cavalry's arriving... a bit fuckin' late!"
Nick nodded, trying to filter out the sound of the cascading water. At last he heard the whomping echo of multiple rotor blades. "You got good ears.... There's more than one," he said. "That chip thing got their attention, all right.... You tried changing his mind?"
"You kiddin'! That bloody kid could've taken stubborn lessons from Dutch.... He reckons he failed to protect Derek... and lost two of his own men.... His honor is shot to 'ell."
They watched as three helicopters zeroed in on their position. Two gun ships and a larger craft with a wider fuselage. Nick showed himself and waved, hoping that these were, indeed, Kincaid's people and not Coalition forces, who might take them for hostile locals... or ask too many questions.
As the larger craft set down, the wash from its spinning blades swept the area clear of fog. Three men, in full combat gear, leaped out and, crouching low, ran for their position. Two others remained, weapons at the ready, in the chopper's wide doorway. Nick sighed in relief when he recognised Carter in the lead. He'd sensed there was more to the man....
"Took you guys long enough to pop a flare.... We been sittin' on the bloody border for a month," Carter shouted, shielding his mouth against the dust kicked up by the chopper. "Where's Rayne?"
"He didn't make it." Nick's voice was flat, emotionless.
"Shit!"
"You got that fuckin' right," Ginge agreed, studying the mercenary carefully. "You ex-Regiment?"
Carter nodded. "You Jones?... Let's get outta here!... Kincaid wants us clear before the cave busters get dropped. They're already in the air... thermobaric shit... coming up from Diego Garcia.... I can stop 'em, on Rayne's say so... or yours, I guess," he said to Nick.
"No.... Blow it," the SEAL replied. "We lost two others.... Afghans.... The kid insists on taking the bodies home."
"So?... We got room.... Let's get going."
"He wants to take the horses too," Nick explained.
"You gotta be yankin' my bloody chain," Carter replied, astonished. "Bugger that! Turn 'em loose... or shoot 'em."
From a distance, Yusuf had watched the exchange between the soldiers. He was unable to follow any of the words, but their tone was angry.... The new man seemed dismissive. The young Afghan strode over, grabbed Ginge by the arm, and pulled him around. With his hand gripping Derek's knife, he looked directly into the freckled face and vehemently stated his position.
"What'd he say?" Carter asked.
"He's gonna take the horses.... Seems it's a matter of honor or something. The bodies must be buried in their valley... and the horses must go home too." Ginge sighed. "We can go... do what the fuck we want... but he's taking the bodies and the horses home."
"Look...," Carter drew Nick and Ginge to one side. "A quick bash on the head... by the time the kid wakes up... we're home."
"No." Nick was adamant. "We owe him.... Derek would've gone with him.... I'm going with him."
"Fuck it!" Ginge muttered. "Guess that means I'm going cross-country, too."
"Are you two mad?" Carter shook his head in despair. "There's still a war going on.... Hostiles... including fuckin' Osama himself... have gone to ground.... You'll be sittin' ducks."
"We're going," Nick insisted.
"Bloody 'ell!" Carter swore. Pressing on his throat mike, he turned away. "Lads," he shouted. "Drop your packs out... ammo too... and get your arses outta here.... Looks like we're headin' overland.... Tell Kincaid to meet us at LZ-Zulu...."
"Tell 'em not to use our flight plan," Nick interrupted. "That's what got us here in the first place."
"They know," Carter said with a glower, then pressed his throat mike to continue. "...and tell 'im Rayne's dead, but we got Boyle and Jones... some Afghan kid... and two dead bodies... both natives." He then turned back to Nick and Ginge. "You got an escort.... Let's get the hell outta here... now!"
A moment later four packs dropped from the door of the chopper, then all three helicopters lifted away and banked down the valley.
"Come on!" shouted Carter. "Quick time!... Haul arse!... We've gotta be out of the valley and over the ridge by the time those babies drop in here... cause there ain't gonna be nothin' left."
The small party had cleared the ridge to face the last brilliant burst of a setting sun. After creeping along for another hour in the ever-deepening dusk, Carter had called a halt and they had made a cold camp. Once more, Yusuf retreated... with the horses and the bodies of his friends, and his prayers.
It was then that the ground shook and the mountains echoed with a monstrous roar, then another and another. Over the ridge above, the sky brightened. Pebbles and rocks clattered down the slopes. The frightened horses stumbled about in their hobbles and Yusuf interrupted his prayers to sooth them. "It is as if the mountains themselves have been pierced to the heart," he told Ginge.
"That's it," said Carter. "No more caves."
"No more Derek," Nick whispered, realizing that with his two words, "Blow it," the only access to Derek's tomb had been destroyed. The fire temple, if it had survived the blasts, was now truly buried. Never again would it be seen by man. In Nick's mind, Derek's coffin had been sealed, lowered into its grave, and covered over.
The R'om Valley...
Nick gazed across the landscape, spread out before them... down beyond the snowline, beyond the dark emerald of the pines, lay the lapis blue lake and the harvest gold of the grasslands. "So this is it," he said, stating a fact. Behind him he heard one of Carter's two companions whistle at the sight.
The trek had been a dismal one, but it had taken less time than when Derek, ibn Sikander, and the lashkar had pursued Nick and Ginge and their captors. Despite the winter storms, the trail had remained traversable. God had smiled... even the high passes had not yet closed. The snows had been heavy, but dry, and had been followed by temperatures considerably above freezing. Save for the snow that remained in crevices and perpetual shadow, the snow line had climbed well up the mountainsides.
Carter scanned the basin with his binoculars. "Poppy," he noted. "Our secret squirrel friends won't like that much.... but what I don't get is we had daily satellite images... and this wasn't here."
"Derek said it's an atmospheric anomaly... a static heat bubble... caused by the vulcanism," the SEAL explained. "Maybe it causes visual and electronic distortion too."
"But the heat should read," Carter insisted.
"Whatever," Nick snapped. "We just make damned sure no one finds out about the poppies... or this valley."
"It's like that fuckin' film," Ginge said. With his mind on the wonder before him, he had scarcely heard the discussion. "What was it? Me Nan loved it.... Shangri-la... where nobody ever got old... 'cept Yusuf's grown old." He studied the young Afghan, who stood stroking a warm, horsey muzzle. "The fuckin' trip home put years on the poor bugger."
"Home...." Yusuf allowed the first smile for days to cross his careworn face. He then looked back at the burdens slung across the horses' saddles. His hand again sought the ivory handle. "My kinsman will be very angry with me... very disappointed."
Nick listened to the translation. "No," he said firmly. "Derek left a note for him.... It says that you did a good job... a warrior's job.... Hasmit and Masruq died honorably... as martyrs in battle and if there's fault, it's his... Derek's. He wrote of how fond he became of you... how much we all relied upon you.... And Ginge and I will tell him the same."
"Truly?" Yusuf smiled again.
Both Nick and Ginge nodded their assurances. "Hell, yes," said the Brit.
"We got company," Carter announced, pointing up the slope. He had spotted several mounted men watching them from atop the snowy ridge.
Carter's men shouldered their weapons and moved to cover.
"No!... Friends!" Yusuf shouted at them, then let out a long, trilling call.
"Call 'em off... Carter," said Nick. "Let's get down there." The SEAL had seen a blue and white plane, fitted with pontoons, bobbing on the lake. "There's more company... waiting." He then turned to look the soldier full in the face. "If you or your two buddies spill the beans... I'll kill ya."
Ginge, who had moved in beside Carter, seconded, "... and if he don't... mate... I sure as hell will."
Carter laughed and signaled his men to relax. "You'd have to beat Kincaid to
it.... Don't worry.... We all owe the old man.... What he says goes.... Come
on... looks like we got a bus to catch."
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