Free Echo Six: Black Ops 7 - Tibetan Fury by Eric Meyer Page A

remains to come home for a decent burial, yet these men knew in their line of work, it may not be possible.
    Two men lost in Kashmir during a screwed up operation, and now this. What's happening to this outfit? What can I do? Maybe nothing. This is war, and things go wrong. Men get killed.
    They wrapped the 'chute around the body and carried it back to the LZ. The men clustered round, their faces expressionless, but they would have been quietly checking to see who was present. And who was missing.
    "Feuerbach?" Rovere asked.
    "Feuerbach, yeah."
    The Italian shook his head. "For in that sleep of death what dreams may come."
    He didn't expand on it, but Talley had heard the line before, Hamlet, a tragedy and an appropriate epitaph.
    "Get a couple of men to bury him deep in a snowdrift. Usual procedure, make sure there's nothing to identify him."
    "Roger that." Rovere walked off, joined a half-dozen men already coming forward to volunteer to help Feuerbach into his icy resting place.
    Talley glanced around, to find Admiral Brooks had managed to disentangle himself from Heinrich Buchmann.
    "Sir, are you okay?"
    He knew he wasn't okay. The Admiral's ebony black face was tinged with blue, and his whole body was shaking.
    "I'm okay, but Jesus Christ, that was colder than I ever remembered."
    "Your gear, Sir. It's not ideal for a high altitude, cold weather jump. That must be the problem."
    Brooks glanced at him. "Nothing whatever to do with my age and fitness?"
    "Nothing at all, Sir."
    "Yeah, right."
    Rovere reported back. "We've put him in deep snow, Boss. I doubt they'll find him for several days, maybe weeks or months. Depends on when the thaw comes."
    "Roger that. You stripped off his gear?"
    "Everything."
    "Okay, let's get ready to move out. Jackson, did you get the satcom down in one piece?"
    Drew Jackson, their technical wizard grinned and nodded.
    "Sure. I've checked it all out. We're good."
    "Roger that. Guy, we'll need flankers out, and someone to cover our rear."
    "Who'll take the point?"
    "Me, with Agent Ferraro. She knows the lay of the land, so she'd be the best person to show us the way."
    "Roger that."
    Sergeant Welland went off to assign the men to their positions. Admiral Brooks had hold of the Minimi and had managed to control his frozen, shivering body enough to do a quick refresh with Virgil Kane, their other Minimi gunner. Talley left them to it and signaled to Grace to join him. He took a last look at their formation. The snipers were deployed one on either flank, and Buchmann had the rear. Guy was in front of the main body of men, which was as it should be.
    Time to go hunting.
    "Move out."

    * * *

    There was no sign of the thick clouds they'd jumped through over Nepal. The sky had cleared, and the stars were bright. A sharp-edged quarter moon was visible overhead, and the air was both icy and thin, making every breath painful. He was aware it would take time for them to acclimatize. Yet time was a factor they didn't have on their side. If they were in Tibet long enough to get used to the altitude, the chances were they wouldn't live long enough to enjoy it.
    "We're making good time," Grace told him as they slogged through the snow, "The Buddhist nunnery I belonged to was only a few kilometers from here, and I know the ground well. The city of Lhasa is just over the rise."
    "What about Prison Number 529?"
    She shuddered. "I never went there. I only knew of it through reputation. I'd guess we're about an hour and a half away."
    "Do you know of the whereabouts of the Chinese police posts and military checkpoints?"
    "No, I'm sorry. But this is one of the most sensitive areas in all of Tibet, so I'd be amazed if they didn't have people on watch."
    "Why is it so sensitive? I don't understand."
    She turned to him in surprise. "You don't know?" He shook his head. "This place is Norbulingka, the traditional su mmer residence of the Dalai Lama. At least, it was from the eighteenth century until 1959, when the 14th