Read Online The Italian Mission by Alan Champorcher - Free Book Online
Authors: Alan Champorcher
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smaller. Whatever the shortages are now, they’re going to be much worse in fifty years. The Chinese realize it, even if no one else does. Water will be more valuable than oil in the future. Whoever controls it will control Asia. The one thing that could screw up their plans would be a resurgence of the Buddhist theocracy in Tibet. Led by the real Panchen Lama.”
Conti nodded. “They appointed their own Panchen Lama, didn’t they? When they put the guy we’re chasing under house arrest?”
“Yes, but no one in Tibet thinks their man is legit. The people will follow the real Lama if he suddenly appears on the scene.”
Conti stood up and brushed the dust off his pants. “We’d better get moving. I’d like to put some distance between us and this place. What was Mobley implying about the South Africans? He said he thought they might be involved.”
Jill stood up too, holding her ribcage and wincing. “I think he knows who they are, or at least suspects. There are only so many paramilitary groups in the world capable of fielding this kind of operation. They’re either government intelligence agents or private security consultants. The official intelligence units generally coordinate with us, so I imagine it’s the latter — consultants. As you know, most of them have worked for us at one time or another.”
Conti led the way, following an overgrown path down the hill. “Yeah. The sons of bitches are always getting in the way. We’d be trying to quietly scope out the Taliban buddies of some local warlord only to find out the Blackstream boys or one of the others had scared everyone off. The CIA isn’t in charge of shit in the field. And some of these consultants don’t know shariah from Shakira.”
Jill sighed. “Washington’s the same. A million and a half top-secret clearances in D.C. Every time I go to the Starbucks, I wonder if the thirty-year old behind me in line reads my confidential reports. Ridiculous. And what do they add?”
They trudged on down the steep path, holding on to each other when they hit patches of loose gravel. They found themselves still holding hands when the path rejoined the main trail near the bottom of the hill.
“I think I’m O.K. now. Thanks.” Jill pulled her hand back and Conti reluctantly let it go. “Where to?”
He pulled a folded map out of his back pocket. “I left your backpack behind, but I took this.” He unfolded the map on which Jill had marked the monasteries, convents and retreat centers within five miles of the Via Francigena . “We go north and check out these places. Looks like we’ll pass near one today.”
Jill reached out and took the map from him. “They’re coded by religious affiliation. After hearing what Mobley said, I think we need to concentrate on the Buddhist places. If the Tibetan nationalists are already sending messages over the Chinese Internet, they must be well organized. Must be some sort of headquarters somewhere around here. So…” She pointed to a black X on the map about ten miles north and a mile or so off the trail. “Mitri Abbey. Might as well try that first.”
14.
“How far have we gone?” Jill gasped as she negotiated a steep, rocky pitch.
“About half way.”
“Really? Seems like it’s been ten miles already. These hills aren’t high but they sure are steep.”
“Altitude isn’t everything. You can get just as exhausted … hang on. What’s that?”
Conti pointed to the underbrush in front of them a few yards off the trail.
Jill stopped and looked in that direction. “It’s a bush. Like all the other bushes. I thought Tuscany would be more interesting.” She began walking again, but Conti didn’t go forward. Instead, he stepped off the path and stood motionless, listening.
“What in the world are you doing?” Jill asked.
He held his finger to his lips and crept in a wide circle around the patch of undergrowth. There was some movement in the bushes. Conti leapt toward the sound and there
Conti nodded. “They appointed their own Panchen Lama, didn’t they? When they put the guy we’re chasing under house arrest?”
“Yes, but no one in Tibet thinks their man is legit. The people will follow the real Lama if he suddenly appears on the scene.”
Conti stood up and brushed the dust off his pants. “We’d better get moving. I’d like to put some distance between us and this place. What was Mobley implying about the South Africans? He said he thought they might be involved.”
Jill stood up too, holding her ribcage and wincing. “I think he knows who they are, or at least suspects. There are only so many paramilitary groups in the world capable of fielding this kind of operation. They’re either government intelligence agents or private security consultants. The official intelligence units generally coordinate with us, so I imagine it’s the latter — consultants. As you know, most of them have worked for us at one time or another.”
Conti led the way, following an overgrown path down the hill. “Yeah. The sons of bitches are always getting in the way. We’d be trying to quietly scope out the Taliban buddies of some local warlord only to find out the Blackstream boys or one of the others had scared everyone off. The CIA isn’t in charge of shit in the field. And some of these consultants don’t know shariah from Shakira.”
Jill sighed. “Washington’s the same. A million and a half top-secret clearances in D.C. Every time I go to the Starbucks, I wonder if the thirty-year old behind me in line reads my confidential reports. Ridiculous. And what do they add?”
They trudged on down the steep path, holding on to each other when they hit patches of loose gravel. They found themselves still holding hands when the path rejoined the main trail near the bottom of the hill.
“I think I’m O.K. now. Thanks.” Jill pulled her hand back and Conti reluctantly let it go. “Where to?”
He pulled a folded map out of his back pocket. “I left your backpack behind, but I took this.” He unfolded the map on which Jill had marked the monasteries, convents and retreat centers within five miles of the Via Francigena . “We go north and check out these places. Looks like we’ll pass near one today.”
Jill reached out and took the map from him. “They’re coded by religious affiliation. After hearing what Mobley said, I think we need to concentrate on the Buddhist places. If the Tibetan nationalists are already sending messages over the Chinese Internet, they must be well organized. Must be some sort of headquarters somewhere around here. So…” She pointed to a black X on the map about ten miles north and a mile or so off the trail. “Mitri Abbey. Might as well try that first.”
14.
“How far have we gone?” Jill gasped as she negotiated a steep, rocky pitch.
“About half way.”
“Really? Seems like it’s been ten miles already. These hills aren’t high but they sure are steep.”
“Altitude isn’t everything. You can get just as exhausted … hang on. What’s that?”
Conti pointed to the underbrush in front of them a few yards off the trail.
Jill stopped and looked in that direction. “It’s a bush. Like all the other bushes. I thought Tuscany would be more interesting.” She began walking again, but Conti didn’t go forward. Instead, he stepped off the path and stood motionless, listening.
“What in the world are you doing?” Jill asked.
He held his finger to his lips and crept in a wide circle around the patch of undergrowth. There was some movement in the bushes. Conti leapt toward the sound and there
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