Shadow of the Dragon

54

Chavez tied his gray pony to the base of a scrubby fir tree. The snow had picked up and he stood for a moment, patting the animal on the shoulder, sharing its warmth. There was no wind, and every thump of a hoof seemed to reverberate through the forest.

Yao expertly looped his horse’s lead rope around a branch of a nearby tree and tied it into what he called a bank robber’s knot — one yank and it would pull free.

The growing darkness helped to hide their approach, but it also made it difficult for them to see as they crouched low, moving quickly through the underbrush. Now that they were away from the prying eyes of security cameras, Chavez took a PVS-14 night-vision monocular from his pocket. Lightweight, the roughly four-inch tube could be mounted to a helmet, on a long gun, or, as in Chavez’s case, handheld. It would certainly raise suspicion if Chinese authorities found it on his person, but they’d be too busy with the little semiauto pistol and suppressor to worry about it. The night-vision device made the low light of evening come alive, but, as it stood, it did not magnify the target.

Fifty meters away, through stands of tall green pines and ragged fir trees, the Han man disappeared inside a cabin of rough-hewn logs. Chavez guessed it to be about twenty by twenty feet, with a small porch out front and a stone chimney on the side. A path off the rutted mud driveway led to a plank-board outhouse, hidden in the trees.

The woman turned the two horses out in a split-rail paddock next to the house, checked their water, and then fed them each a large flake of hay from a stack outside the fence. She stood beside a little bay while it ate, petting it on the shoulder as if she were talking to it. Chavez watched for a moment, cold from the wet ground seeping through the belly of his coat. At length, he shook his head and rolled half onto his side, passing the PVS-14 to Yao.

“Your eyes are younger than mine,” he said. “How sure are you that this is Medina Tohti?”

Elbows braced against the mossy forest duff, Yao looked through the monocular. “Nose looks right. Age, height, build all match. Pretty sure.”

“Sure enough to knock on the door?”

Yao lowered the monocular and looked sideways at Chavez. “It’s either that or snatch her later when she goes to use the outhouse.”

Yao gave a sudden start, as if he’d been stung or bitten. It hadn’t been that long ago that Chavez met the business end of some particularly brutal murder hornets in Indonesia.

He froze. “You good?”

Yao nodded and took out his phone.

Ding’s brow shot up. “Lisanne?”

“Foley,” Yao whispered.

“Take it,” Chavez said. “I’ll keep an eye on Medina.”

Yao crawfished backward into the brush, giving him some distance to talk without his voice carrying to the cabin.

Chavez traded the night vision for his binoculars and worked his way to a clump of scrubby buckbrush that offered a little better view. The trickle of smoke from the chimney grew thicker, leading him to believe the cabin had been empty before Medina and the Chinese man arrived and stoked the fire. Headlights played through the trees. Chavez lowered his binoculars to avoid reflection, ducking reflexively. He eased up behind the bush again when the lights went out.

A four-door Great Wall pickup had pulled up alongside the cabin and stopped. Chavez could see at least two heads through the window. They sat there for two minutes, engaged in animated conversation, before the driver got out. He looked Uyghur, or at least more so than the man inside with Medina. Another Uyghur male exited on the passenger side. Chavez froze as this one scanned the tree line. A young woman in a black tam and down parka poked her head out the back door, surveying the area before she got out.

They were all sure as hell acting paranoid enough to be Wuming.

Brush rustled as Yao returned. He was grinning. “Clark made it out,” he whispered. “He has the girl.”

“Outstanding.” Chavez lowered his forehead to the ground, relief washing over him. He still had the rest of his team to worry about, and Medina, and getting his team out of China… but he was going to have to eat this elephant one bite at a time. “No word from Lisanne?”

“Negative.” Yao gestured toward the cabin with his chin. “I saw lights. What did I miss?”

“Three new arrivals.” Chavez passed him the night vision. “Two males, one female. All Uyghur… or maybe Kazakh. I can’t be sure. Not Han, though.”

“Okay,” Yao said. “I spoke with my contact at the lake and confirmed the boat for exfil. He’ll be waiting — as soon as we talk Medina into coming with us.”

“And the contacts to actually get us across?” Chavez asked.

“Good to go,” Yao said.

Chavez groaned. “We now have five people in the cabin. Until Ryan and Adara get back with Lisanne, it’s just you and me, a couple of knives, and this little get-off-me .22 pistol.”

“You’re forgetting our most valuable asset,” Yao said. “We have John Clark, and he has Medina Tohti’s daughter.”