James Becker - The Messiah Secret

They still had a little while to wait until their permits would be ready for collection, so they headed towards the old town that lay at the base of Namgyal Hill. It was a labyrinth of narrow alleys and passageways, lined with houses.

Bronson could see piles of wood stacked outside most of the properties, and other heaps of a lumpy brown substance that was more difficult to identify.

‘I suppose that’s firewood for the winter,’ he said, pointing at the stacks of wood, ‘but what’s that other stuff?’

‘Shit,’ Angela replied.

Bronson raised his eyebrows.

‘No, it really is. It’s dried dung, mainly from camels — they use it for fuel in the winter as well.’

‘Ah,’ Bronson said, looking with renewed interest at the piles of knobbly brown stuff. ‘Doesn’t it chuck up a bit when they burn it?’

‘The guidebook doesn’t say, but I guess it’s probably best to be upwind of Leh when they light this stuff.’

They walked on, past a couple of small stone structures shaped something like miniature towers or domes.

‘Those are chortens ,’ Angela said. ‘They contain holy relics of various types. And that’s a mani wall.’

She pointed at a wall directly in front of them. It was inset with a couple of stone slabs, and each of them was carved with some kind of script.

‘That’s the sacred invocation Om mani padme hum , which translates as “Hail to the Jewel in the Lotus”. You’re always supposed to walk past mani walls clockwise — and do the same with prayer wheels and chortens , in fact — which means you keep them on your right. I’ve no idea why.’

Then, as the sun slipped beneath the top of the hills lying to the west, they returned to the travel agent. Only a few weeks earlier, Bronson had been driving through the English countryside to meet Angela. Now, here he was on the roof of the world looking for a priceless treasure that had been lost for two millennia. He felt a surge of excitement at what lay ahead.

‘These your permits,’ the agent said with a smile, his English surprisingly good. ‘And these photocopies for you.’

He handed over several sheets of paper, and Angela and Bronson looked at them with interest.

‘Why so many photocopies?’ Bronson asked.

‘For checkpoints,’ the agent explained. ‘Each checkpoint look at original, and take one copy. I give you each ten copies. Should be enough. Later you want more, you come back see me, yes?’

Bronson nodded agreement.

‘They’re valid for seven days from tomorrow,’ Bronson said as they left the agency. ‘Will that be long enough?’

‘I bloody well hope so. The valley’s pretty big, but I think I know where we should start looking.’

‘It’s all set,’ Rodini said when Nick Masters sat down opposite him in another cafe in a quiet street in the centre of Islamabad — a different cafe this time, just in case anyone was taking an interest in either of them. Rodini had set up the meet in a five-second call to Masters’ mobile phone thirty minutes earlier. ‘Have all your men arrived now? And you’ve sourced the weapons you need?’

‘Yes — everyone’s here. The assault rifles and pistols weren’t a problem, and we even found a sniper rifle. We’re ready,’ Masters replied.

Rodini nodded. ‘Good. Now, as I told you before, we can only take you as far as the territory just north of the Indian border. Obviously we can then suggest places where you can cross, but that whole area is under a heavy Indian military presence because of problems over the border — they’re worried about China as well as about us.’

‘So what do you suggest?’

‘Well, the safest option would have been for you all to have entered India legitimately, though obviously you couldn’t have done so carrying weapons.’

‘I’d have preferred to do that as well,’ Masters said, ‘but the timescale didn’t allow it.’

Rodini nodded. ‘Our only other choice is to get you across the border in one of the less well-patrolled sections. The biggest problem here lies in satisfying the Indian troops you’ll meet in the Nubra Valley area. I’ve done what I can to help with this, and I have got another idea I’m still working on.

‘As for transport I’ve got a pool of vehicles our troops seized while patrolling the border. I’ve picked out a couple of Indian-registered four-by-fours that you can use. The bonus is that they were both used for smuggling, so the false floors and other hidden compartments will conceal most of the weapons you’ve bought. I’m having those jeeps delivered to one of our forward bases down to the south-east of Hushe, in eastern Baltistan, which is only about ten miles from the Indian border. I can arrange to fly you and your men over there by helicopter, but before that happens I’ll need your passports. If you’re going to stand any chance of surviving scrutiny by Indian Army troops, you must have both India visas in your passports and Inner Line permits, which allow you to travel in the Nubra Valley and other areas close to the border.’

‘No problem,’ Masters said. ‘I’ll collect them as soon as I get back to the hotel.’

‘Then, once you’ve made it across the border, you can move around without any difficulty, as long as your passes are good enough and the Indian troops don’t realize you’re carrying weapons. The next problem is communications. I can provide you with a two-way radio, but it probably won’t work properly in that terrain because of the mountains, so a satellite phone is the better option. I can let you have two of those. I’ll also supply dashboard-mounted GPS units for the jeeps and a few hand-held ones as well.’

‘This is beginning to sound expensive,’ Masters remarked.

‘It will be, my friend, but never fear. I’m sure your boss — whoever he is — can afford it.’ A smile spread slowly across Rodini’s face.

‘Now, the final matter is the recovery operation. I know you won’t tell me what the object itself is, or where you’re hoping to find it, so I’ve had to make some assumptions myself. Presumably it’s buried in the ground or hidden in a cave?’

Masters nodded.

‘And I presume your plan is to recover it and load it into the back of one of your vehicles?’

‘If it will fit, yes. Ideally, we’d like to recover it, move it only as far as a safe helo landing site, and then air-lift it back to Islamabad and put it straight on to a transport bird heading for the States. We can organize the last part of the journey easily enough, but can you lay on a big helo — something like a Sikorsky or a CH-53? It’ll need to be a troop-carrier, big enough to carry the recovered object inside. I definitely don’t want the object swinging around on the end of a winch cable. And the chopper needs to be at Alert Sixty or better. We won’t have time to wait around for it.’

Rodini considered the request for a few moments, then nodded. In fact, he’d already earmarked a troop helicopter for the operation. He even knew which pilot he’d instruct to fly the mission, and had made sure he’d be in the chopper himself, once it was en route to the pick-up point.

He wanted to see the relic with his own eyes, because he didn’t believe for a second Masters’ claim that the object was of no value. No collector, no matter how wealthy, would mount an operation of the sort Masters was running to grab something that was worthless.

‘You were right. This is getting more expensive by the minute,’ Rodini said.

‘Ballpark?’ Masters asked.

Rodini checked his notes again, then gave Masters the figure he’d had in mind from the first. ‘One hundred thousand American,’ he said. ‘That includes the vehicles — you can keep them or dump them, as you wish — and the chopper on standby and at Alert Thirty with effect from nine tomorrow morning.’