CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A few minutes after three o’clock in the morning Hawkins and Abby watched as Calvin drove the Desert Patrol Vehicle out of a shed and pulled up to the Boeing Vertol 234 model helicopter. The civilian version of the battle-tested CH-47 Chinook leased by Abby’s company had tandem rotors located at the front and back of the long snub-nosed fuselage.
The temperature had dropped at least thirty degrees overnight and their breath vaporized in the cold air. They were all dressed in heavy duty beige pants and shirts, tan baseball caps and matching windbreakers over fleece sweaters. The choice of clothing had been the subject of intense discussion. They ultimately chose the civilian work clothes, hoping that they might pass for engineers or archaeologists.
Calvin got out of the DPV and he and Hawkins passed a nylon sling beneath the vehicle. The rope from the sling was attached to a single length of chain with a loop at one end.
They went over the check list to make sure they had all their gear, and that the equipment was securely tied down and protected. Abby signaled the pilot with a wave of her hand. The powerful engines roared to life and the twin rotors started spinning. The team climbed into the helicopter and settled in a row of seats next to Rashid. Abby made a point of sitting far from the guide. There was something about the man she didn’t like. She had caught him staring at her breasts a few times and hadn’t been flattered by the attention.
The helicopter lifted off and when it was around fifty feet in the air, it shifted sideways until it was over the Desert Patrol Vehicle. A cable was lowered to the ground crew, which attached it to the sling and a winch lifted the vehicle into the air. The helicopter rose at a slow, steady rate to keep the load from swinging wildly.
The sky was going from black to a blue-gray light that revealed the jagged snow-capped peaks of the Hindu Kush mountain range rising above the city.
The racket from the tandem engines and chop of rotors ratcheted up to an ear-shattering decibel level. Hawkins put on his headphones and motioned to their hired guide to do the same.
He unfolded a laminated map of their target area and showed the guide the landing zone he had in mind.
“That’s good,” Rashid said. He raised his voice even though it wasn’t necessary with the headphones. “It is flat here, with low hills to hide us.”
“What about the terrain between the LZ and the lake?”
“Very rugged. But there is a dry river bed that goes almost all the way to the lake like a super highway.”
“Any chance of someone seeing us on this highway?” Calvin asked.
“Not much. The village and the fields are on the other side of the lake.”
“What about planes?” Hawkins said. “There’s an airstrip near Khan’s compound.”
“The planes go away from the lake, toward Iran, to smuggle drugs.”
“You seem to know a lot more about this territory than its topography,” Hawkins said.
Rashid dabbed the map with his forefinger.
“I come from a village, here. Many of the men have gone to work for the Kahn.”
The helicopter gained altitude and transected the mountains through a high pass to the south, before turning in a more westerly direction and following the line of the 600-mile-long mountain range running northeast to southwest across the country. They passed over green fields, flat-roofed villages and meandering rivers, but these gentle features were rare exceptions. From the air, much of Afghanistan looked like a battlefield of the gods where unimaginable forces had collided and torn the earth’s crust apart, then stitched the tectonic plates back together like an insane surgeon.
Hawkins knew from experience that there was a subterranean world beneath the hard surface of the land. Parts of the country were honey-combed with caves. Some were natural. Others had been dug by men as places to live, as religious shrines, to extract lapis lazuli, to irrigate the fields, to hide in while fighting invaders. And just maybe, one had been used to hold a fabulous treasure.
As the helicopter sped southwest at a speed of a hundred-fifty-miles per hour, the scenery below changed from mountains and valleys to hills and deserts. Hawkins had been keeping tabs on their progress using his hand-held GPS set. After about two hours of flying, he rose from his seat and went to the cockpit to talk to the crew. He returned moments later and said, “ETA is fifteen minutes.”
The helicopter began a long shallow descent and eventually came to a hover above a relatively flat stretch of terrain. The lake could be seen shimmering in the distance.
The winch lowered the desert vehicle until the wheels touched the ground. The automatic hook release was activated then the helicopter moved sideways fifty feet or so and descended slowly until the landing gear thumped to the ground.
The passengers disembarked one-by-one then the door closed behind them and the helicopter was in the air again.
Hawkins and Calvin checked their weapons — Sig-Sauer 9mm pistol for Hawkins and the short-barreled CAR-15 rifle for Calvin — then while Calvin stood guard at the dune buggy, Rashid led the others to some high ground that offered a wide view of the surrounding landscape. The scenery reminded Matt of the badlands found in the southwestern U.S. Rashid said the river bed ran along the base of a low ridge of sandstone bluffs.
They heard the engine start, and then the vehicle ascended the hill and skidded to a stop.
“Going my way?” Calvin said. He had a wide grin on his face.
“You’re enjoying this a little too much, Cal.”
“Hey, Hawk, you’ve got to admit it feels good to be back in the saddle.”
Hawkins glanced around at the washboard topography before he climbed onto the rear of the vehicle next to Abby.
“Okay. I’ll agree with you that this is pretty exciting.”
Abby brought them both down to earth.
“We’ll see just how long that lasts,” she said.
Sutherland had spent a peaceful day in her studio working on a painting of a Rufus hummingbird. When she was satisfied that the colors were right, she took a break to enjoy the sunset and a cold Tecate. She cooked herself some vegetarian tacos, watched the Bachelor on television and sneered at the long-legged bimbos, then headed to her office desk and booted up her computer. The first thing she saw was a message from Hawkins dated several hours before.
Sorry message delay. Landed in Kabul. Long flight. All OK. Hired guide on rec of old acquaintance Terrance Murphy. Will contact you later. Incommunicado for now. Thanks. Matt.
Sutherland read the message again.
“Crap!” she said. Her fingers flew over the keyboard.
Murphy is a snake. Check attached report.
She sat back in her chair and waited for an answer knowing it would not come. Hawkins was out of reach. She raged at the screen. She should never have been away from her computer for so long. How could she be so stupid?
Now what?
Her only weapons were her old laptop and her proficiency at using it. Matt still had his satellite phone and he said he would call. She had to assume that he’d keep his promise. She spent the next few hours compiling a report on all the information she had gathered on the links between Murphy, Trask and Arrowhead. Maybe she could get it to Hawkins before he got in too deep with this Murphy character.