Bernadette wasn’t having a good morning. She visited three of her best suppliers, but they had nothing to show her. At the last stop, the dealer, her most reliable supplier who had dealt with her for the past ten years, told her a Muslim from New Delhi had bought everything of value from his stock of Tibetan artifacts. He had heard this same person had cleaned out several other dealers. In fact, she had just missed him by an hour. Bernadette mentioned she might know the buyer. The dealer said his name was Abdul Ali Fahad. Bernadette thanked him and said goodbye.

Fahad was the person Jack had told her about. She would have to talk to Arjun when he came to tea this afternoon, but for now she had some more places to call upon. She had a good contact in the Ministry of Culture. Perhaps he was free for lunch. Thank God, she had her own car. The landlord of her rented bungalow had sold it to her. She was sure she had paid too much, but she didn’t think Jack would care. Independent movement was a real luxury, and the Brandons never second-guessed their people.

Mani Shresta was free for lunch and delighted to meet Bernadette at the Soaltee Hotel. Mani was a handsome man of some 40 plus years, who wore the traditional Nepalese dress and looked very good in it. The maitre d’ made a fuss over him as he was shown to the lady’s table. Mani’s English was very good. He traveled widely and was more cosmopolitan than most government employees. He greeted Bernadette and kissed her hand.

She said, “My, aren’t we being courtly today? Or did your long-suffering wife finally leave you?”

Mani burst out laughing and said, “No, she still manages to put up with me.”

Bernadette knew the Shrestas had a very strong marriage, but she loved to tease him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I’d have met your plane and arranged a party. You still go to parties, don’t you? I swear, Bernadette O’Brien, your Irish self gets more attractive every year. Too bad Nepal doesn’t allow polygamy, then I could court you in a more appropriate manner.”

“This trip to Nepal came at the very last minute. My customers wanted a number of Tibetan items. Unfortunately, some Muslim from New Delhi has bought up everything in sight. Even my old friend Thondup had nothing for me. Perhaps you have heard of this Arab, his name is Abdul Ali Fahad?”

“I know he has been renewing his license to take Tibetan artifacts from Nepal to India for the last two years. He buys quite a lot. We don’t know to whom he sells, but he seems to have a number of Arab contacts he meets here. I think he loves to get out of New Delhi. I met him once at some party or other. He is not my cup of tea, but then most Arabs aren’t. But that is enough about business. Tell me some Dublin gossip and the life and perils of Bernadette O’Brien.”

For the next hour they told stories and laughed. People watching them would think they were witnessing a romantic outing. By the time they lingered over their second cup of coffee, it was almost time for Bernadette to have tea with Arjun. She made her goodbyes to Mani and promised to call him again in a few days. Mani watched her walk out and thought, I’d be proud to be seen with her anywhere. She is truly a modern woman and with her tan in that white dress, she is a knockout. Seems she also has lost a few pounds. Wait until I tell Lali who I had lunch with.

Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan. 

Abdul Ali Fahad loved opulence. He loved living well. He liked the service at the Yak and Yeti Hotel. The staff knew him, he tipped well and never complained. It was one of the few places where he ever really relaxed, like a special sanctuary. A respected buyer of Tibetan crafts and antique pieces, he paid his suppliers well, and he expected and received the best. His primary and maybe only real worry was his recent inability to contact Vladimir Petrov, his former KGB contact, now turned terrorist for hire.

Over a year had passed since he had seen his old KGB friend in Paris. When it came to terrorism, the man was a genius, if somewhat smug and contentious. No question Vladimir was also greedy, but that came with the territory. He could handle that. Al-Qaeda gave him more money to finance the American network than ever got to Vladimir. After all, what businessman would not take a fair cut of the proceeds? Without him Vladimir would have nothing. He needed some action and soon, if he were going to get more money from Hakim Al-Lami, the local al-Qaeda financial chief.

He would see Al-Lami tonight at a preliminary meeting, so both of them could get ready for the big meeting with higher ranking decision makers. If tonight’s meeting finished early enough, maybe he could enjoy some of the surprisingly varied Kathmandu night life. When it came to enjoying the sensual side of life, Hindus had it all over the radical Muslim world.

Tomorrow he planned to start making the rounds of his best suppliers. He would buy enough artifacts to provide concealment for a shipment of 20 kilos of heroin into India. Al-Qaeda would decide whether they wanted to depend on concealment to get the drugs through border customs inspection, or to smuggle the heroin across the border at Birganj. Al-Lami told him on a few occasions they had used elephants to carry the contraband through the jungle into India.

Enough of business. After dinner the bell captain promised to provide him with a young girl. Life was good. He never noticed he was under constant surveillance whenever he left the hotel.

 
Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan. 

It was time for supper on the trail to Kathmandu. They had been going hard for eight hours with time out for breakfast, a very short stop for lunch and a ten-minute break every hour. The first foot check uncovered some small blisters that, when taped over, presented no problem or pain. Anita selected a site for supper, but when she got closer to the site, she saw the remains of several fires. A quick look around and she moved the party up the mountainside and into a narrow depression, out of sight of anyone moving along the trail. Twice earlier she had heard a group coming and alerted everyone to get off the trail and into some concealment. Both parties had been strings of six or seven porters traveling together, bent forward, eyes on the trail under their heavy loads.

Jack was pleased with the performance of his small group but decided they weren’t trail hardened yet and announced they would eat here and move on for another mile and stop for the night. Jack helped Kathy off with her pack and could see he had made the right decision. Kathy needed a break. She had been going on sheer nerve the last hour. She leaned against Jack and said, “I’m really bushed. I thought I was in good condition. I’m not. Thank God we are stopping early. I don’t think I could have maintained our pace for two more hours. I can’t wait to eat some of the heavy food I’m carrying. Maybe,” she said, with her old grin, “I’ll eat everything in my damned pack.”

While Anita prepared supper, Jack studied the map. He was surprised there was so little traffic on the trail. It appeared to be the main and, for long distances, the only trail marked on the map leading to Kathmandu. They were traveling in broad daylight in the prime hours of the day and had only seen two groups of porters all day. Why was that?

Over tin plates piled with boiled rice, lentils, dried corn and peas, Jack said what had been bothering him. Anita added that she was so used to an empty trail, the two groups of porters had surprised her. She had noticed the trail did not show much past traffic. Kathy told them she would put on her South Asia scholar’s hat and give them a few possibilities.

While they ate supper, Kathy gave them her instant analysis. “The first possibility is this trail was probably used much more in past decades than today. While there aren’t many roads in Nepal compared to other more developed countries, the new existing road network carries freight to hub points making the use of long mountain trails like this one no longer economical. Secondly, not many people live out here. The cities have grown at the cost of depopulating the remote countryside.

“The trail is more useful for short hauls between nearby villages, five or ten miles apart. When we get close to a village, I’m sure we will have to deal with more travelers. The last reason is, with the current unrest in Nepal, remote trails like this one may not be safe for solitary or unarmed travelers. There may be official or unofficial checkpoints, or some of the insurgents could be extracting a toll from all users.”

Jack told Kathy it made sense to him, and Kathy could see Anita nodding her head.

Jack then said, “Let’s talk about a strategy for dealing with different kinds of travelers on this trail. For example, I’m concerned about two kinds of armed travelers. The first is the armed group wearing military or police type uniforms. We have no permits to be here and no permits to carry weapons. The second is an armed group of men dressed in peasant clothing and looking like some sort of a militia organization, such as the Maoist insurgents. I don’t want a firefight with the Nepalese Army or police. Them, we must avoid. If we can’t avoid them, we need a plausible cover story.

“I have a possible cover story. This tour director, Bahadur Thapa, tried to force us to pay him double the agreement. When we refused, he put us ashore on the west bank of the Trisuli River and said if he ever saw us again, he would kill us. He kept our passports and we’re trying our best to get to Kathmandu and the police. Can you help us?”

Kathy laughed and said, “Jack, you are turning into a first rate spy. That’s a good cover story, close to the truth, simple and believable. The guy at the ferry crossing can confirm part of our story, and the restaurant at Devghat will remember we were with Bahadur. That’s our story and we’re sticking to it.”

Anita agreed. “Now,” Jack said, “The problem of Maoist travelers could be more difficult. They are not going to be interested in any cover story. They are more likely to use a capture or kill approach. Our gear and weapons are valuable enough to get us killed. We can hide, run or shoot first. If we can’t hide, we’ll shoot first.”

Jack turned to Anita and said, “You may have to move out farther in advance, 50 to 80 meters. If you’re seen, evade to the uphill side and back toward us.”

After supper they moved a mile down the trail until Anita found a good camp site, far enough from the trail their low voices would not reach anyone on the trail, and the site showed no past use. Even better, Kathy thought, the damn place was almost level. When she crawled into the bag with Jack, the only thing on her mind was sleep. Jack rubbed her back, and she went instantly to sleep.

 

Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan. 

Bernadette liked her compound. Private, it had a colorful and fragrant garden with a small fish pond. The walls were high as was the custom in Kathmandu and, when she looked down on to the top of the wall, she could see the sparkle of broken glass embedded in the concrete cap of the brick wall. Security concerns did not bother Bernadette. Just before she met Peter Brandon, she had been active in a few skirmishes between the IRA and British security services. She was comfortable with weapons and knew how to use them.

Bernadette was almost hoping she would get a chance to avenge Peter’s death. After all, her relationship with Peter Brandon had enabled her to extract herself from the IRA. Peter had convinced her, regardless of the idealism of the mission, the killing of innocent people was inherently wrong and immoral. His money allowed her to leave Ireland for several years, while she improved her education and gained a reputation for being an authority on Tibetan artifacts.

Earlier in the day Bernadette dropped a note for Arjun Singh at the reception desk of the Soaltee Hotel, inviting him to come to her compound for tea at 4:00 p.m. She used Kathy’s name to clarify her reason for wanting to see him. Precisely at the appointed time, Arjun’s car drove down her driveway. He got out, and she met him on the veranda and introduced herself.

Bernadette offered her arm to Arjun and said, “Shall we go inside?” She showed him into the living room and said, “You will have to excuse me for a few minutes, while I brew the tea.” She hadn’t hired any help yet, not knowing if Jack would approve the existence of unknown servants in the house. Somehow she thought not.

Arjun said, “If you’ll allow me, I’ll join you. Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

Bernadette replied, “Certainly, I would be delighted.”

She thought this detective was not quite what she had expected. His good manners are natural. English has a slight British accent and not learned on the job. Not a bad looking man, about my age and not wearing a wedding ring. A Sikh but a modern version, what they call a shaven Sikh. His hair is cut, no turban, and only a rather dapper moustache. Clothes are well tailored and a bit on the formal side. His look is direct with eyes showing an intelligent person lives in there. A good man to have around.

Bernadette loaded up the tea tray, and Arjun graciously took it from her and carried it into the living room.

Bernadette said, “I hope you will excuse me, but I haven’t had time to do a proper shopping, so the biscuits aren’t up to standard.”

As they were finishing their first cup, Arjun said, “Beautiful women do not usually invite me to tea just for my company.”

Bernadette replied, “This time you’re perfectly right, but the next time you may be wrong. Yes, I’ve some business to discuss, but first I must give you this check from Mr. Brandon, my employer for the moment.”

Arjun looked at the check and commented with a smile, “And just what is it you want me to do? This much money before I have even thought of a bill is a bit unusual.”

“My first request is for you to provide proper security for this compound. The way Mr. Brandon phrased his instructions to me, I believe he means a team of armed people, but you are to be the judge of that. I should tell you Mr. Brandon’s father, my very good friend, was killed by a group of terrorists in his home near Washington, D.C. Three of the four assailants were killed in the attack. The police have not been able to identify the dead killers. My employer believes al-Qaeda was somehow involved.”

“Yes. Now I see the need. A four-man team of my people armed primarily with shotguns will be here within the hour. Now for my report. The person of interest to you will arrive here tomorrow afternoon. He is traveling alone and is booked into the Yak and Yeti Hotel. We will cover him 24/7. I will leave this envelope with you. It contains some rather decent pictures of Mr. Abdul Ali Fahad and his living and business building. Now, if you will excuse me, Ms. O’Brien, I must be going.”

“Arjun, if I may call you Arjun? Please call me Bernadette. Perhaps tea time would be a good time to discuss our business. So tomorrow at the same time?”

“My pleasure.”

True to his word, four very competent looking men arrived within the hour. The bundle they carried into the house contained six 12-gauge pump shotguns, which were strategically placed around the house. The gate was locked and the old gatehouse swept out. It now housed a real live guard, probably for the first time since it had been built. Tall shrubs near the house and outside wall were trimmed to allow better observation. A closed circuit TV covered the front gate while two others scanned the side gardens.

By the time night began to fall, Bernadette’s bungalow and compound were much more secure. She went to sleep thinking about Mr. Singh and how long it had been since she had been with a man, especially an interesting one. Tomorrow she would begin making rounds of her Tibetan art dealers.

 

 

Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan. 

True to his word, Jack had hot tea ready when he woke everyone at first light. Kathy said, “This gives new meaning to the South Asian custom of serving bed tea, but first I’ve got to go wherever the john is.”

Anita pointed to a small, relatively flat spot about thirty feet from the camp. Kathy got out of the joined sleeping bags, slipped on her boots and trotted over to the john. She told Jack over her shoulder, living like this did not allow too much false modesty, so he should store his Yankee inhibitions until he can provide a proper bath for a lady. Anita laughed and followed Kathy with slightly more covering. After tea and a candy bar, Anita went through their packs and found little they could leave behind.

She kept the sterno because of its quick heat and smokeless burning, but put the stove in the discard pile. The guns were heavy, but they were going along. Jack decided to carry the extra blankets for one more day. The camp site was policed up and made to look as if no one had been there.

Before they left, Jack told Anita he wanted her to take the point position. Dressed in bush clothes, wearing a Gurkha hat, over-the-ankle boots with knee socks, and carrying the .270 bolt action rifle and the Webley, she could pass as an armed Gurkha soldier from a distance. Jack carried the other Webley and a shotgun. Kathy carried the other shotgun.

Jack spent time with Kathy and her pack. First, he told her she shouldn’t even think about carrying the same load as her trail mates. That kind of thinking would only slow them down. She was strong and a good runner but hadn’t had long experience of carrying a heavy pack all day. Kathy nodded and helped Jack cut her load in half, half of it to Anita and the other half to him.

Packs loaded and shouldered, Anita led her column on the trail to Kathmandu. Before starting, Jack quietly told Anita to push it. He wanted to see what their best pace was and to see if Kathy was capable of keeping up without getting into trouble. He planned to set a trail routine of packing up and traveling at first light after hot tea and one of the candy bars and pushing hard for two or three hours before stopping for breakfast. At best he thought they were a good four days out of Kathmandu.

He hoped Bernadette really had a good compound for them to hole up in. The fact that their names and his picture were in the hands of al-Qaeda worried him. He was sure Bernadette had not been compromised by her association with him at the Oberoi in New Delhi. It was very unlikely al-Qaeda had been able to get photos of either Kathy or Anita. He planned on using them as the outside people while he waited for the action before coming out in public.

On an outside chance Jack tried Bahadur’s cell phone. Nothing. Kathy told him earlier, the authorities in Kathmandu cut off cell phone use as soon as any political unrest or demonstrations began.

After the first hour they were hanging together. Jack didn’t see any signs of laboring in Kathy’s stride. The more he was with Kathy the more sure he was his love for her was deepening. He only hoped this mission wouldn’t end up with her dead or badly injured.

Anita was running them on the flat parts of the trail when the footing was good, using slower and longer strides on the downhills where the footing was good, and slowing to short almost pumping steps on the steep upgrades. True to the schedule Anita held up her hand and pulled them into an area thirty feet off the trail on the uphill side behind some huge boulders. By her watch they had been moving for one and half hours. It was time for a ten-minute break and foot check.

 

Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan. 

Bahadur had been truthful with his last words. The terrifying glacier-fed torrent crashing through the chains of rapids seemed to lessen steadily as they fought their way upriver. Soon Jack was piloting the River Runner through swift but smooth water. They passed Devghat as far out in the river as possible and headed up the Trisuli. No other boats could be seen on the river. The current grew stronger, and rapids began appearing a few miles into the Trisuli. Jack was keeping the boat in the deepest water he could find. While he was looking for a landing place on the east bank, the propellers struck an underwater rock ledge and ground to a stop. The boat began to drift downriver. Jack cut the engines and jumped into the waist-deep water followed by Anita and Kathy. Together they steadied the boat and wrestled it to the nearby western shore and pulled the bow up on the shelving rock bank.

After taking everything useful out of the boat, Jack used an axe he found in a compartment under the stern seat and knocked two holes in the bottom. Together they pushed the boat out into the river and watched the current take it toward deeper water. The boat sank before it had drifted more than a hundred yards.

Jack said, “A wonderful start. Here we are on the wrong bank. I don’t think I want to swim across this river.”

Kathy said, “You won’t have to. Pick up your pack. We are going to find a ferry.”

Jack looked at her and wondered if she were losing it, but he grinned and helped her into her pack, mentioning the only person they had seen on the entire river trip was perched on a rock jutting into the river, dressed only in a loincloth and fishing with a spear. Now she wants to find a ferry.

Kathy cocked her head and said, “Okay, Marine, who’s the South Asian scholar here? Just follow me.”

After walking along the river for a half hour, they entered a grove of trees. Like magic an old man and a young boy were resting in the shade. Below them, pulled up on the river bank was the dugout canoe they used for a ferry boat. Kathy walked over to Anita, and said, “Try your Urdu on the ferry boat captain.”

With Anita’s few Urdu phrases and hand gestures she indicated they wanted to cross the river. The old man never said a word. He just held up ten fingers four times and pointed to each of them. Jack asked, “What does he mean?”

Anita said, “He wants 40 rupees for each of us.”

Kathy looked concerned and said, “No way! I’ll offer him 20 rupees each.”

Jack was astounded to see Kathy shake her head and tell Anita to offer twenty rupees each. The old man shook his head, lit a bidi and offered them a bidi to smoke with him. All three lit up the short hand-rolled tobacco leaf. The old man countered with thirty rupees each. Kathy nodded, and the old man sprang to his feet and ushered them into the dugout canoe.

Jack told them to take off their packs and put them in the bottom of the dugout. It was too dangerous to fall in the river wearing a loaded pack. Jack wondered how this tippy craft was going to cross the Trisuli River to an obvious trailhead on the eastern bank.

The old man and the boy poled the craft upriver in the shallows along the western bank and, when they reached the right point, shot the dugout into the current and held to a diagonal course. They beached the dugout right at the trailhead. Anita paid him, and they started the climb out of the jungle up the Mahabarat Range of middle Nepal.

Before they had walked ten steps, Jack said, “Kathy, why in God’s name did you bargain with the old man? The price he wanted was less than a couple of dollars.”

“Ah, an ugly American raises his head. You see, if I’d accepted his first price, he’d think we were telling him ‘we are so rich we can easily pay for your service.’ Therefore, as we say in the city, we’d dissed him. Instead, by my bargaining I showed him we valued his service, and the money I agreed to pay him meant something to us. He feels good he bargained for a good price and his customers valued his time and skill.”

“Okay. The scholar wins again. Now, let’s pick up the pace. We have a few hours of light before we have to pick a camp site. I’ll walk point for this first part.”

Jack commented that, according to the map, the trail along the Trisuli required them to climb to the top of many of the ridgelines of the Mahabarat Mountain range running east-west through the center of Nepal, separating the Nepalese jungle lowland from the high Himalayas.

Jack said, “I never promised you a walk in the park. Let’s move out.”

The trail while steep was not hard going. Jack pushed hard for the next three hours. As dusk was fading, he picked a camp site just over the first ridge facing the Himalayas. A handful of miles to the north they could see the Trisuli wending its way southwest. The image of the mountains changed as the sun set, from a friendly, slightly reddish glow to a steely gray, foreboding countenance that made a swallow of scotch from Jack’s trail flask and the smell of cooking food reassuring. Over the sterno camp stove Jack cooked up eight of the fresh eggs in a cheese omelet and used a freeze-dry mix to make chicken broth thickened with crumbled noodles.

After a nourishing meal of eggs, chicken soup and hot tea, Jack said, “Okay, people. I’ve some recon rules I want to tell you about. Anita, I’m sure this is old stuff to you. Jump in any time. This is going to be a hard trip. We must get to Kathmandu as fast as we can. We can’t make any mistakes. Unless it is an emergency, we do not move at night. We can’t afford even a slightly sprained ankle.

“Two meals a day. Lunch is a candy bar and maybe a cup of tea depending on the weather. We have enough food. Water is the problem. We will need about a quart per hour per person. We don’t know where the water sources are. To be five to nine thousand feet above the river along this ridgeline is not helpful. We will have to depend upon small streams or spring fed small ponds. Our purification tablets will be used at all times. Again, we cannot afford dysentery. Don’t hoard your water. Listen to your body, and drink when you are thirsty or have been sweating for a couple of hours. As long as you have water in the canteen, drink it as needed.”

Anita added, “Your recon rules are right on. I will do a foot check three times a day and more if needed. Catching a small blister early is easy to treat with a piece of tape right over the blister. If your foot feels the least bit sore, stop and we will fix it.

“We can run the flat parts of the trail. No running uphill or downhill. You will find going down these scree-covered trails is very hard on the knees. Only the true Gurkhas can run downhill. Last rule is tomorrow morning, we leave everything we don’t absolutely need. Every pound we drop helps. Regardless of our need to hurry, we need to eat and sleep; otherwise, the body will let us down. Okay.”

Jack said, “Good. What I know I learned in Marine Recon, but I’ve never done a forced march in mountain terrain like this. We will be going from eight or nine thousand feet to fifteen hundred and back up again several times on this trip. West to east travel in this country is a bitch.”

Kathy added, “And in case you didn’t notice, this camp site has a slight slope downward.”

Jack laughed and said, “Yeah, I noticed. That is the reason I picked it. Few really good campsites exist along mountain trails, and they will be well known and used. No trekker or native porter in his right mind would move off the trail this far for a sloping camp site. See you in the morning. We’re out of here at first light. I’ll have hot water ready for tea. I never thought I would miss the standard U.S. Army field rations or MREs.

“And in case you haven’t thought about it, it will get cold at night and we can’t have a fire. My humble suggestion is we put our sleeping bags together. It is also good to get out of some of our clothes and keep our boots and socks handy, in case we have to move fast. We’ll stand two-hour watches. I’ll take the first one. No need to get out of the bag. Just sit up and be aware. Goodnight, people.”

Cuddled against Jack, Kathy whispered, “I don’t know about you, but I like this kind of camping.”

Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan. 

The next hour was beyond anything Jack had ever seen on a river. Going upstream and crashing through five-foot high standing waves was a first. Often Chitra was faced with four or more channels, each as wide as a small river. Once he hesitated and held steady against the current before making his choice and going full speed into the channel he selected. Jack thought if he is wrong there is no turning around for another try. Even in the rough running, Jack saw both Anita and Kathy were maintaining good lines of fire.

Bahadur, standing beside Chitra, who was piloting the boat from a center console, pointed to an island in the river protected from the main current. A small inlet led to sheltered anchorage on the down riverside of the island, and Chitra was heading for it. They were out of the current now, and the noise of the hull crashing against the surging current had quieted. Chitra skillfully grounded the boat parallel to the shoreline. Bahadur in the stern tilted up the outboards to protect the propellers and called for Jack and the ladies to go ashore. Jack thought without his street smarts gained from five years with the Pittsburgh Police, he would not have thought anything was wrong. Now from the bow of the boat, he had his eyes riveted on Chitra, who like Bahadur was wearing a holstered British Army Webley. Anita, from her place in the stern was preparing to go ashore carrying her shotgun. Jack had picked his up as soon as it was clear they were going to stop.

Jack saw Chitra, with a deft hand movement, slip the loop off the hammer spur that held the Webley firmly in the holster. Chitra, still in the helmsman position at the center console, half turned his body away from Jack and bent to pick something off the deck with his left hand. His right hand hidden from direct view began to slowly withdraw the Webley. His eyes were not on Jack who raised his shotgun, and as Chitra started to bring his weapon to bear, Jack fired. The charge caught Chitra in the chest and blew him overboard. Jack moved toward the stern and pumped another round into the chamber.

Anita, standing ankle deep in the water, had turned and crouched as soon as she jumped off the boat. Bahadur laughed as he saw Anita had the shotgun centered on his chest. He told her to go ahead and shoot, and he slowly swung the Webley up. Anita said, “Sorry, old friend,” and shot Bahadur just below his chest. Her shot merging with the roar from Jack’s shotgun. Bahadur, with a surprised look on his face, slipped into the bottom of the boat. Jack could see Bahadur wasn’t dead, but his weapon was nowhere in sight. Moving quickly down the gently rocking boat, Jack was covering Bahadur with his shotgun. Kathy beat him to Bahadur and scooped up Bahadur’s Webley.

Bahadur opened his eyes, looked at Anita, and said, “You were always the best.” He paused and said, “They will be waiting for you in Kathmandu. The Arabs have Jack’s picture and all your names. The Maoists don’t know you are coming up the Trisuli on foot. The river is easy from here. The money was just too good. Drug running is more profitable than terrorism. I have no love for al-Qaeda. They have no soul. Anita, I am sorry. You saved my life and I tried to take yours.”

The light went out of his eyes. Anita reached over the stern, found no pulse in the carotid artery, and closed his eyes.

“Too bad. He was a good warrior that just couldn’t stand being poor. Is Chitra dead?”

“I hit him full in the chest, and he went into the water and drifted out with the current. I’m sure he is dead.”

Jack put his arm around Kathy and said, “Come on ashore. We’ll rest here a bit and plan the next part of this trip. Killing is hard to do.”

Anita said, “I’ve seen and done a lot of killing. Some are worse than others. But even with an old friend like Bahadur, I knew I could not hesitate. I’ll still shed a private tear for him.”

Kathy said, “Thanks. Anita, I just have to stop worrying about Jack. I think in some ways he’s still wearing his Marine or cop uniform.”

As Anita hoisted herself into the boat, she said, “Don’t kid yourself. This job is far more dangerous than either the Marines or the cops. We are all alone out here. We have to rely on each other, so don’t ever hesitate to shoot. Bahadur knew the rules of the game. If you are involved in continuous violence, the odds are you will be seriously hurt or killed. To survive long-term, the only choice is to get out. Bahadur didn’t. Now he must be left where he fell. No ceremony. No gathering of friends. Remember, those rules also apply to us. You two go ashore. Let me take care of Bahadur.”

Leaving Anita with Bahadur, Jack and Kathy went for a short walk on the sandy river beach.

Kathy said, “I’m not sure I believed they’d try to kill us. It was different with Yuri’s gang. I knew what we had to do. Thank God for you and Anita. I might have hesitated.”

“It never gets easy. Turn your cheek in this business and you’re dead. We’d no choice.”

When they came back, Bahadur was gone.

Anita told him she had pushed his body out into the river and had seen another body drifting by dressed in white cloth.

Kathy remembered from her studies poor Hindus who cannot afford the considerable cost of cremation will put hot coals in the mouth of the deceased and put them in the river. True or not, this river is not without stray bodies on their way to the Ganges.

Kathy wondered out loud, “Was Bahadur a devout Hindu or Buddhist?”

Anita said, “I doubt it. He was always more interested in making souls than saving them. Anyway let his god sort that out. We put him on his journey to the Ganges.”

Then she said, “Guess what? Bahadur had only one day’s rations and no blanket or air mattress in his kit. This is as far as he was going. Here he planned to kill us.”

Jack took Bahadur’s cell phone, money, papers, and watch. The two Webleys and Bahadur’s .270 rifle with a scope, carefully stowed in a compartment under the rear seat. If his body were found, they might as well let people think he was robbed. As they prepared to push off, Jack thought this was the most remote, wildest place he’d ever seen. On their short walk he’d seen several fresh pugmarks in the sand. Someplace nearby a tiger was lurking, probably one of the places where the jungle came right down to the river’s edge.

 

Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan. 

Jack was outside waiting for them when they came down the stairs from the communications room. Bahadur asked if they were all ready. Jack answered, “Ready to go” and told Bahadur the packs were checked and down on the dock. Bahadur said his pack was already loaded in the River Runner, a broad-beamed 18-footer with no cabin.

Bahadur said, “This boat may not look like much, but for running upriver against the flow from the spring melt of the snow in the Himalayas, it is the best. There will be five of us. Normally, I would not carry so many but the ladies are trim, so it should be okay. We’ll have to move around quickly at times when we hit the standing waves. Some of them will be five to six feet high. My best river pilot Chitra will join us. In fact, he is better at running upriver than I am.”

Jack asked Bahadur what the principle rules were in running up this river. Bahadur answered, choosing the right channel was the most important. At points the river splits into several channels. As a general rule, you should take the channel that looks like it is carrying the most flow. From week to week the channels can change. You cannot memorize or chart the course. The standing waves must be taken head on, and you have to judge if the flow of the water over the rocks is deep enough to pass over them at full power. At times the boat, even with the best pilot, can get stalled and pushed broadside by the power of the current.

“Look downriver when we enter the river from this sheltered cove. If the boat should stall and get swept downstream, none of us would survive. Our only chance is to get the outboards or at least one running so we can have some steerage. Just to make it more interesting, you will notice the crocodiles sunning themselves on the mud bank just as we make a sharp right turn to the north to enter the Narayani. They are always hungry and very aggressive.”

Bahadur looked up at Jack and said, “Now after my briefing, are you ready to go? I promise you it will be the ride of your life. If all goes well, we should pass Devghat where you had breakfast this morning in no more than two or three hours. A mile or so past Devghat and we will be going ashore to start the overland push to Kathmandu.”

Bahadur looked back at the camp as one of his men was calling him to come back. He excused himself and trotted back up the trail.

As soon as Bahadur was out of earshot, Jack said, “Bahadur will not want the people on the shore at Devghat to see him taking clients upriver. I am sure he intends to kill us on the river or at a stop in some very remote sheltered cove. He won’t make any moves while the river is challenging us. It would be too risky. One of us may grab the wheel or jump the pilot. Be alert and take action, even if you are not sure they are ready to move. Our strategy is to take them before they get us. No use getting into a gun fight. Step over close to me. I’m going to give Anita a handful of real shells. Load the magazine and quietly chamber a round.

“Bahadur is coming back with our river pilot. Oh, one more thing, keep separated from me on the boat. Anita, take Bahadur when the action starts. I’ll take Chitra. Kathy, be ready to pick up a weapon and join in. Make sure one gun cannot get us all. No use making it too easy for them to watch and control us. Not to worry. I like our odds. Smile and look at the scowl on Bahadur’s face. I’ll bet he has heard some bad news from his communication system that suddenly came back up.”

Jack conjured up a big smile and called out to Bahadur, “Everything okay? Are we still good to go?”

Anita, in a murmur from behind Jack, said, “This should be interesting. Bet he gives us some bullshit story.”

Bahadur was now on the dock. His scowl had changed to a grin and he said, “Damn clients! Constant bitching and complaining when my schedule doesn’t fit theirs. I told them I would be tied up for about a week. If you are ready, let’s get started. Okay, Chitra, start up the outboards.”

Jack stood by the bow line, and Bahadur manned the stern line. Bahadur gave the order, and they cast off, moving slowly, almost drifting down the inlet that grew wider and faster as they approached the river. Twenty yards before their sharp right turn upriver, the engines sputtered and then went silent. At first Jack thought it was part of Bahadur’s plan, but when he began yelling to drop anchor at the same time he was frantically trying to get one of the outboards running, Jack knew this was not planned. Chitra was coolly trying to ride the current toward the inlet bank. Jack gauged the distance to the bank to be less than 20 feet. Then he heard a series of splashes and saw the crocodiles launching themselves into the water. Ten or fifteen of them remained on the muddy bank with their ugly heads raised and pointing at the drifting boat. The Narayani was now in full view. The turbulent water racing south would make short work of the River Runner and her crew.

Jack knew he was probably the strongest, if not the fastest, swimmer in the group. He grabbed the bow line, stepped up on the gunnels, and crouched to launch himself toward the bank. After one look at the raging water, the crocs looked like the least of the two dangers. Jack was leaning forward into his spring, when he heard the motor start and felt Kathy grab his belt. Now with both outboard motors running, Bahadur cut the dragging anchor line, and the River Runner lived up to her name and surged up river against the current.

Anita looked at Bahadur and said, “Bahadurji, that was a helluva start. Do you do that all the time? It should get the attention of your clients.”

“It must be you. Trouble follows you. Fuck no! That’s the first time it happened. From now on, we warm up the outboards a little longer. The gas we get is not always the best. Jack, were you really going to try for shore?”

“Three more seconds and I would have been gone. I’ve never been swimming with crocodiles before, but it looked like a better option than drifting into turbulent water. That is the worst I have ever seen. Thank God, you got the outboards running before I tried for shore.”

Kathy, still hanging on to Jack said, “I feel like I need to put a leash on you. Please stop making my heart churn.”

Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan. 

With Jack’s first look, he knew this place couldn’t run on the income from tourists. Three 18-foot river craft were tied up at the dock. Two of them sported what looked like twin hundred horsepower outboard motors. The other one was powered with a jet engine. Built up in the trees 15 feet off the ground, Jack counted 10 two-room thatched huts in very good repair. In the center of the compound was a circular building with a four-foot-high river stone wall base supporting a strong-looking thick, wire mesh for another 10 feet. The building had a thatched roof. Bahadur said the communal building was the newest. It housed the kitchen, dining area, lounge and bar. The elephants eased up to a platform leading up to one of the thatched huts to let the riders step off.

Bahadur said the tree hut was theirs, and they would find spare clothing and equipment for their trek inside. It was now 9:30 a.m. and Bahadur said to be ready to leave in an hour. On their way up the steps, Jack said quietly to be careful what they said inside. All the huts were probably wired for sound. He also said he had expected Bahadur to be more suspicious than he seemed to be.

As they moved inside, he pulled Anita and Kathy aside and said quietly, “Keep up the acting, we don’t need this guy to suspect we are on to him.”

Inside they found three well-designed backpacks. The bunks were covered with a change of clothes for each of them, trail rations, a small stove and a number of cans of jellied fuel, light-weight rain gear, four light-weight sleeping bags and self-inflating air mattresses. On a long table were two kukris, the famous curved Gurkha knives, waterproof match containers, three two-quart canteens, two compasses, a trail map and, best of all, two 12-gauge Remington pump guns and 30 shells.

Jack thought, don’t underestimate this guy. He is very clever. The gear he has laid out is more or less what I would have selected, although it would have been nice to have a couple of nine millimeter handguns. Somehow he didn’t think it would be a good idea to ask for any. After they had adjusted their packs and put on the web belts with pouches and stowed all the pocket-sized equipment, Jack said, “Let’s go for a little walk around. I want to get a couple of sandwiches before we go. From a distance, you ladies could pass for men in those bush clothes.”

Going down the stairs, Jack told Kathy and Anita not to count on the shotguns. The loads were blank. The number two shot, a killing load at 30-plus some yards, had been taken out and replaced with sand. He’d opened a shell in the bathroom and found the number two load of steel balls and most of the powder was missing. Jack said he wanted to get his hands on some real shotgun shells. He had seen what he thought must be the camp armory, and it was unlocked. He pulled Anita and Kathy in close and asked them to distract Bahadur long enough to give him a chance to slip into the unguarded armory shed. Jack was sure Bahadur was not going on even a one-day walk with them. Bahadur would make his play on the river or just as they unloaded and started their trek.

Anita asked Bahadur if he had a communications capability and could she and Kathy use it to send some messages. Kathy chimed in and said, yes, it would be wonderful if she could send a message. Bahadur told them he was sorry, but the system was down. However, they could write out some messages and his man would send them as soon as they were back in operations.

Anita said, “Fine, and maybe you could show us something about your operation while Jack does his habitual last-minute check of our supplies and equipment. He’s a bit of a worrywart.”

Bahadur looked hesitant, but when Anita took his arm, he willingly went up the stairs to the communications center.

Inside, Kathy was surprised to see such modern equipment. A small satellite dish looked out to the western horizon, and inside were three fully equipped desktop PCs and a couple of notebooks. After a few minutes, Bahadur warmed up to their flattering questions and got into a much deeper explanation than he had intended. Kathy wrote a few business-type messages to Jack’s attorney using a wrong address, name and fax number, and one to the Oberoi Hotel in New Delhi. She was nearly 100 per cent sure these messages would never be sent. Anita checked her watch and saw they had been in the communications office for 15 minutes. She thought that was enough time for Jack to steal some real loads for the shotguns, and said, “Bahadurji, I’m sorry, our need to send a few business messages is putting us behind schedule.” Bahadur smiled and said, “No problem. We can make up the time.”

Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan. 

Just before first light Jack nudged Anita and signaled her to awaken Kathy but keep her quiet. Anita rolled over and put her hand over Kathy’s mouth. Kathy recognized Anita in the gloom and sat up. Jack moved over close to them and told Kathy that they were sure Bahadur was in a narco/terrorist group, and they were in real danger. They all needed to act normal. It was very important Bahadur not even suspect they were suspicious of him. Kathy crawled over to Jack and whispered, “I’m not sure I like waking up with you. I like cheerful things in the morning.”

Jack could hear some stirring in the Land Rover and told everyone Bahadur was up. Anita and Kathy left the tent to find a place to urinate. Jack called after them to watch for the snakes.

Anita turned, glared at him, and said, “You bastard! You know I’m terrified of those fucking reptiles.”

Minutes later they were on the road, more aptly described as a track. Bahadur told them it would be another hour to Devghat, where they could get some tea and a snack. Then an hour’s trip through the jungle on elephant back, and they would be at the river camp. Referring to the map, Jack saw that Devghat was a small town situated at the confluence of the Trisuli and the Kali Gandeki rivers. From that point south into India the rivers merged and became the Narayani.

The Narayani continued its journey south through gorges that at times compressed the river into a raging torrent smashing against the cliffs until its waters eventually flowed more tamely into the Ganges.

Bahadur said he could take his boat up the Trisuli River another mile or so beyond Devghat before running into a stretch of rapids and shallow water. From there they would have to walk into Kathmandu, about a five-day journey. In this kind of terrain, the porters considered a ten-mile-a-day pace to be the maximum. Carrying light loads (no more than 40 pounds) and going hard from first light to twilight, well-conditioned hikers could cover twice the distance.

Jack was delighted to see the small riverside restaurant at Devghat served omelets. Telling all to load up, Jack ordered a double-sized omelet with tea and toast. Anita and Kathy settled for hot tea and small omelets. Jack noted Bahadur was introducing them as his clients and friends. To him, it meant they were safe at least until they arrived at the river camp. Bahadur was too smart to bring down the local law over how he lost three clients between the restaurant and his camp. Elephant travel was not that dangerous.

The Nepalese government prohibited the building of roads in the reserve area. Bahadur said it suited his purpose. His clients were always excited and impressed with the elephant ride to camp. Occasionally, they would flush a tiger while moving through the high grass.

Just outside of Devghat, the Land Rover pulled over and stopped where the road really became a trail. Everyone but the driver got out just as two elephants emerged from the jungle. Each elephant had a driver, or mahout, who sat on the elephant’s neck and guided it with a series of commands backed up with a short wooden pole with a blunt steel hook on one end.

Bahadur told them he had dispensed with the howdah, a wooden platform seen in art books. The damn things were uncomfortable, and the elephants didn’t like them. Instead, a single thick hemp rope ran around the elephant’s girth just behind the front legs. With the elephant kneeling, the passengers stepped on the elephant’s bent right front leg and taking a firm hand hold on the rope pulled themselves up on its back. The next passenger relied on holding on to the passenger in front. Anita mounted behind Bahadur, and Kathy, with some help, climbed up behind Jack. Once they had the hang of it, it really was quite comfortable. The side-to-side swaying that made people motion sick while riding in a howdah was gone. When they first started, Kathy had a death grip on Jack’s belt. After a couple of hundred yards, he could feel her relaxing.

Jack was impressed with the elephant’s ease in moving through the jungle. At one point they had a short climb up a very narrow trail. The elephant put one foot in front of the other on a trail just more than a yard wide. Crossing a shaded pool in the jungle, Bahadur called out to have them look at python tracks along the short expanse of sand on the edge of the pool. Kathy laughed as Anita grabbed on to Bahadur saying, “God should never have made such a large snake.” It looked to Jack as if someone had rolled a smooth car tire zig zag across the sand. As he was studying the track, a comb dropped out of his shirt pocket into the pool. The mahout gave a guttural command and, to Jack’s amazement, the elephant picked up the comb with her trunk and handed it back over her head to him. Jack looked back at Kathy and said, “You know, I could get used to this place. Too bad we have to be on serious business.”

Kathy nodded and said, “I have often seen elephants in the bush but have never ridden one. Very impressive!”

Jack looked back over his shoulder and said, “Bahadurji, I see why you use the elephants. They are awesome. I’m sure many of your clients feel this ride is worth the fee.”

“That they do, especially the young ladies. But these beasts are expensive. In the monsoon season when client traffic is scarce, elephant overhead literally eats into the profits. I have to keep them even with virtually no tourist traffic. They would be very difficult to replace. It takes a skilled trainer about seven years to produce a well-trained elephant. The insurance is not trivial, either. Watch closely now, we are going to enter a kilometer stretch of elephant grass. The grass will be nearly up to your chest while you are sitting on the elephant. I often see tigers in this area. It will cost you more if we flush one. A few minutes into the grass, the elephant snorted and raised her trunk. The mahout spoke sharply to her, and she settled down but still seemed nervous. Jack and Kathy could feel the elephant shuddering under them. Looking down, Jack saw a gold and black shape darting back and forth in the high grass. At times the tiger ran under the elephant.

Bahadur called out, “Look at the tiger! I think she took a couple of villagers near this area last month. She won’t bother us. Elephants and tigers know better than to start a fight. Something like ‘mutually assured destruction’ from the Cold War strategy.”

Jack smiled at Bahadur and said, “I can see why you like it here. We’ll tell all our adventurous friends about this place.”

“Please do. A place like this operates on word-of-mouth advertising. And just around the next bend in the trail, you’ll see my river camp.”

Buy “Justice Beyond Law” on Amazon, as well as the rest of the Jack Brandon series and other books by Barry Kelly, a former CIA agent and adviser to President Reagan.