After an early breakfast, Anita, Kathy and Jack boarded the flight to Patna, a midsized Indian city about a two-hour drive south of Raxaul Bazaar and the Nepalese border. Anita’s friend, Bahadur Thapa, had agreed to meet them in the central market area of Raxaul Bazaar at 6:00 p.m. When Anita offered more specific meeting arrangements, Bahadur told her he could find a beautiful woman like her in the town marketplace with his eyes closed.
After a quick lunch in Patna, Jack picked up their car for hire and started off to Raxaul Bazaar. The road was crowded with public carriers, the gaily painted straight body trucks are ubiquitous in India. After the first ten miles Jack grew confident about driving on the left side of the road and pulling out to pass heavily laden cargo trucks. It amused him to see Kathy’s reaction to being a passenger. He could tell she wanted to take over the driving. They pulled into Raxaul Bazaar an hour early, and to kill some time, they found a parking place outside a restaurant with an outdoor eating pavilion and settled down at a table with a good view of the main street. Anita, with the most time in third world countries reiterated her rules: “If something isn’t peeled or cooked, don’t touch it, and no water even in bottles. Your choices are cokes, hot tea or beer.”
All ordered a bowl of mulligatawny soup, Naan, and cokes all around with no ice.
Bahadur had told Anita to arrive with their gear as they might leave Raxaul Bazaar that night. By the time they finished their late afternoon snack, it was time to walk down to the market area. Meandering in and out among the numerous stalls and stopping occasionally to buy gifts for the folks back in the USA and some very attractive glass bangles for themselves, Anita and Kathy got caught up in the mystique of an Indian market town, enjoying themselves, and not anxious to leave the many faces of India for a long, hard overland trip.
Anita smelled Bahadur’s habitual Old Spice after-shave lotion and, without turning around in the crowd outside the bangle stall, said, “Hello Bahadur.”
“I see you’ve not lost your touch. Anitaji, I’ve never figured out how you do it. Is it possible memsahibs from Special Forces have a third eye in the back of their heads? Come, introduce me. Then we’ll go somewhere nearby to talk.”
Anita tapped Kathy on the shoulder and said, “Don’t be charmed by this rogue with a British accent. He’s not to be trusted around blonde women of dazzling beauty.”
After the introductions, Bahadur led them into a back room at a nearby restaurant. By the way the proprietor greeted Bahadur, it was clear they were either old friends or Bahadur was a special customer or both. Everyone decided on the local beer and gave in when Bahadur insisted on ordering what he referred to as a light pre-dinner snack. Jack heard the proprietor address Bahadur as Bahadurji and asked him what the “ji” sound meant. Bahadur chuckled and replied the “ji” in Sanskrit-based languages on the end of someone’s name conveys a special respect or honor, much like the English words madam or sir. In this case the owner is just recognizing a good customer.
After the beer and the deep-fried vegetable pakoras arrived and they were alone in the room, Bahadur looked at Anita and said, “Okay, my friend, what are you up to? No good, I’m sure.”
“It’s like this, Bahadur, we all need to get to Kathmandu without any record of our being there. We’ll stay less than a week and then leave, maybe the same way we came in. Can it be done?”
“Anitaji, you know any border can be crossed. It’s just a matter of risk, time, skill and money. I’ve the time and skill. You’ll have to provide the money and take most of the risk.”
Jack asked, “Just how risky is it, and what’ll happen to you if your role in helping us is discovered?”
“Let me answer the last part of your question first. If I displease the security authorities or the King, they will shut down my business and revoke my Nepalese citizenship. As part of avoiding jail time, they’d expect me to quietly leave the country and never tell anyone what happened.
“Now for the risk, a few years ago it would have been less. Now with random trouble from the Maoists, the borders are patrolled on both sides with more seriousness and more police and soldiers. Yet the border with India is long and large parts of it are very difficult to patrol. Getting across the border is one task. The more difficult task is getting all the way to Kathmandu and back without running into an army patrol or a Maoist check point.”
Jack continued probing. “You said the Nepalese authorities would close down your business. What would be the extent of your financial loss?”
“Hmm. I couldn’t sell the business. The King wouldn’t let me. My business doesn’t have a market value to anyone except me. I enjoy my life here and my business turns an average profit of about $35,000 per year. My overhead is high for a small business and eats into my profits. One year I made nearly $65,000. While the numbers are small for the Western commercial world, my profits are big money to retired Gurkhas.”
Jack turned to Anita and said, “I think we can take the financial risk out the picture. If Bahadurji loses his business because he helped us, we can guarantee him a lump sum of new start money in the range of $250,000. I also think we can compensate him for helping us. How about a payment of $35,000, if he can get us in and out? I know he’d help you without any payment, but I think it would make me feel better if he’d honor us by accepting this money.”
Anita turned away from Jack and, with a look of concern, took Bahadur’s hand, “Before you refuse any kind of payment, let me give you some more information. We are after a man in Kathmandu who we believe has gone there to meet with his al-Qaeda contacts. This man is very dangerous. He is an Arab from Iraq living illegally in New Delhi as an importer/exporter. He has paid to have several people killed in the United States, including a congressman, a cabinet secretary, and three city mayors. He is very dangerous. His organization has attempted to kill thousands of Americans. Thanks to our help, the police and the FBI are rounding up some of his network. We’re not known by the police and are only taking the risks involved because our government bureaucracy doesn’t recognize some things and is too slow sometimes to take the necessary action to protect our country. And more personally, these people killed Jack’s father.
“The money my friend Jack is offering may be useful in paying some of your contacts to help in some way or to get you out of trouble after we leave. Without his money, nothing we are doing could be done. We’re all on the payroll. Because Jack trusts my judgment, he trusts you and wants you on the team. We have very little time for the niceties that should accompany an offer like this. Our trust is also shown by telling you all this. No one else outside this little group knows the story. I know it is safe with you.”
There was not a sound in the room aside from the sounds from the marketplace.
Bahadur shook his head and said, “Either you’re all crazy, or you’re the most courageous group I’ve ever met. Not only are you on the front lines fighting terrorism, but you’re in danger from your own and other governments. Unless I’m mistaken, that red line on Jack’s arm is the result of a recent knife wound. Did it happen in this quest?”
Anita put her hand on Jack’s arm and said, “Let me answer. Yes, Bahadur, his wound came from a very skilled user of a six-inch double-edged stiletto. Jack blocked his first thrust and killed him with a single palm heel strike to the sternum. The whole action took less than two or three seconds. This person was getting ready to place a large bomb in an American city. Any more questions?”
“No. I accept your offer and am honored you have come to me. Again, I would have helped you without payment, but I don’t mind being on the payroll of such people. Now let me tell you my preliminary thoughts, but first let’s have another round.”
Bahadur said, “Anita, you are a special case. You are as good as anyone in this business. But it is a difficult trip. We have a long way to go, and in Nepal unusual things race over these jungles and mountains. The people are bored, and anything like a western woman or two on the river and trails will get picked up and be ahead of us on the trail, giving Nepalese patrols and Maoists an interesting target. They are also bored. You know how unexciting it can be to sit day after day and night after night in a checkpoint or ambush. We’ll all incur a greater risk by giving people something to talk about. Also, you should be aware you may have no way to leave Nepal except by walking down the Trisuli River Gorge. That’s the tour guide in me talking. On the other hand, I see no real reason why both you ladies cannot make this trip. It will look much less sinister than a group of armed men traveling alone.
“Now for some serious planning. Our time is short. We leave just after midnight tonight. I’ve rented a little bungalow in town, and when we finish our drinks, I’ll take you there. We’ll need a few items. I’ll send my man for them while we are talking. All in all I believe you’ll find yourselves fairly well outfitted. Okay. Shall we go to my bungalow?”
Jack nodded and 20 minutes later, they turned into the driveway of Bahadur’s bungalow on the outskirts of town. From the outdoor sleeping area on the roof, Bahadur pointed out the lights of Birganj across the border in Nepal. He told them if they separated crossing the border to keep the lights of Birganj on their right. The point they were headed for was a gravel road in the jungle just west of Birganj. His number one man would be waiting for them in a tan Land Rover.
Facts and Fictions 