Read Online Spider Shepherd: SAS: #2 by Stephen Leather - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephen Leather
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a sop to Geordie who had just heard the previous day’s football results from England and was celebrating a derby win for Newcastle United.
It was well on the wrong side of midnight when they stumbled off to grab a few hours sleep and they took off aboard the Hercules the next morning with dry mouths and pounding heads. As usual Jock and Geordie spent much of the flight asleep. Both had the soldier’s knack of grabbing a few minutes shut-eye whenever the opportunity presented itself and on a long-range flight on a ponderous Hercules, those minutes would stretch into hours. They could drop off almost anywhere - even standing up, Jimbo used to joke - and could sleep through everything including the thunder of the Herc’s engines. Yet at a whisper or a touch on their shoulder, they would both be instantly awake and alert, reaching for their weapons even as their eyes were opening.
Jimbo was also dozing in his netting seat, his chin nodding onto his chest, but Shepherd was wide awake, staring unseeing at the Herc’s metal roof, his mind thousands of miles away, imagining Sue bathing their baby, feeding him and putting him to bed. The ache in his heart was almost unbearable and he had to force himself to think about something else.
After transiting Saudi Arabia, they overnighted in Dubai. There was no crew change-over - the same crew would stay with the aircraft for the duration of the trip. Before leaving Dubai, a number of ammunition boxes were loaded onto the Herc. ‘Why the ammo, Gul?’ Shepherd had asked. ‘Is there a war on?’
‘They’re old boxes, they’re full of cash now,’ said Gul. ‘It’s actually the cash for the Gurkha pensioners. They prefer US Dollars because they can get a better rate of exchange.’
After leaving Dubai and flying over part of northern India, the Hercules seemed to be climbing forever before reaching the height of Kathmandu. On the final part of the flight, they had tremendous views of the high Himalayan peaks, with the stunning panorama of Annapurna, K2, Everest and many other nameless snow-capped peaks laid out before them.
The flight was uneventful but the landing at Kathmandu was hairy to say the least. The city sat 1,600 metres above sea level in Nepal’s central valley, where the warm air rising from the plains met the sheer wall of the high Himalayas. The resulting turbulence threw the Hercules around like a rag doll in a hurricane as the pilot fought to land the giant aircraft and bring it to a halt before he ran out of runway. After landing and bypassing customs and immigration, courtesy of their Nepalese hosts, Shepherd looked around him with interest as they made the short drive into the centre of Kathmandu.
‘Welcome to my beautiful country,’ Gul said, beaming with pride. The patchwork of emerald green rice-paddies and vivid yellow-green millet fields on the valley floor alongside the fast-rushing river gave way to terraces of crops clinging to the precipitous hillsides. Above them rose an endless array of snow-capped peaks, filling the horizon from east to west. Shepherd could pick out the shark’s tooth outline of Kangchenjunga and the sloping summit plateau of Annapurna, but to his disappointment, the highest of all, Everest, was obscured by the whirling cloud of a snow storm engulfing the summit.
He switched his gaze back to the river flowing alongside the road. ‘What river’s that, Gul?’ he asked.
‘The Bagmati, it’s a holy river to Hindus and Buddhists alike. Its waters are believed to purify us and there are many temples alongside it. According to our traditions, the bodies of Hindu dead must first be dipped three times into the river before being cremated on its banks. The chief mourner, who lights the funeral pyre, must also bathe in the river after the cremation.’
‘I was just fancying a dip until you told us that,’ laughed Jock.
As they approached the city Shepherd could see the copper and gold pagoda roofs of the Hindu temples
It was well on the wrong side of midnight when they stumbled off to grab a few hours sleep and they took off aboard the Hercules the next morning with dry mouths and pounding heads. As usual Jock and Geordie spent much of the flight asleep. Both had the soldier’s knack of grabbing a few minutes shut-eye whenever the opportunity presented itself and on a long-range flight on a ponderous Hercules, those minutes would stretch into hours. They could drop off almost anywhere - even standing up, Jimbo used to joke - and could sleep through everything including the thunder of the Herc’s engines. Yet at a whisper or a touch on their shoulder, they would both be instantly awake and alert, reaching for their weapons even as their eyes were opening.
Jimbo was also dozing in his netting seat, his chin nodding onto his chest, but Shepherd was wide awake, staring unseeing at the Herc’s metal roof, his mind thousands of miles away, imagining Sue bathing their baby, feeding him and putting him to bed. The ache in his heart was almost unbearable and he had to force himself to think about something else.
After transiting Saudi Arabia, they overnighted in Dubai. There was no crew change-over - the same crew would stay with the aircraft for the duration of the trip. Before leaving Dubai, a number of ammunition boxes were loaded onto the Herc. ‘Why the ammo, Gul?’ Shepherd had asked. ‘Is there a war on?’
‘They’re old boxes, they’re full of cash now,’ said Gul. ‘It’s actually the cash for the Gurkha pensioners. They prefer US Dollars because they can get a better rate of exchange.’
After leaving Dubai and flying over part of northern India, the Hercules seemed to be climbing forever before reaching the height of Kathmandu. On the final part of the flight, they had tremendous views of the high Himalayan peaks, with the stunning panorama of Annapurna, K2, Everest and many other nameless snow-capped peaks laid out before them.
The flight was uneventful but the landing at Kathmandu was hairy to say the least. The city sat 1,600 metres above sea level in Nepal’s central valley, where the warm air rising from the plains met the sheer wall of the high Himalayas. The resulting turbulence threw the Hercules around like a rag doll in a hurricane as the pilot fought to land the giant aircraft and bring it to a halt before he ran out of runway. After landing and bypassing customs and immigration, courtesy of their Nepalese hosts, Shepherd looked around him with interest as they made the short drive into the centre of Kathmandu.
‘Welcome to my beautiful country,’ Gul said, beaming with pride. The patchwork of emerald green rice-paddies and vivid yellow-green millet fields on the valley floor alongside the fast-rushing river gave way to terraces of crops clinging to the precipitous hillsides. Above them rose an endless array of snow-capped peaks, filling the horizon from east to west. Shepherd could pick out the shark’s tooth outline of Kangchenjunga and the sloping summit plateau of Annapurna, but to his disappointment, the highest of all, Everest, was obscured by the whirling cloud of a snow storm engulfing the summit.
He switched his gaze back to the river flowing alongside the road. ‘What river’s that, Gul?’ he asked.
‘The Bagmati, it’s a holy river to Hindus and Buddhists alike. Its waters are believed to purify us and there are many temples alongside it. According to our traditions, the bodies of Hindu dead must first be dipped three times into the river before being cremated on its banks. The chief mourner, who lights the funeral pyre, must also bathe in the river after the cremation.’
‘I was just fancying a dip until you told us that,’ laughed Jock.
As they approached the city Shepherd could see the copper and gold pagoda roofs of the Hindu temples
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