False Horizon. Alex Archer
“The map says that Shangri-La lies somewhere in that area. It’s probably nestled in between some of the mountains up there. Once we’re beyond Pokhara, we’ll be flying into the canyon of the Kali Gandaki River. It’s an amazing sight. The Annapurna range flanks us on one side and Dhaulagiri sits on the other. The mountains effectively sandwich the area, making it difficult to gain entrance to most of the upper reaches of that part of Nepal.”
“Are you sure buzzing that region with this plane is such a good idea?” Annja asked.
Mike glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“It’s Mustang. I don’t think I have to give you a refresher course in history, do I? The CIA used to use the region as a staging ground for Tibetan Khampa guerrillas who used to cross over the border and harass the Chinese soldiers stationed in Tibet.”
“Yeah, but that was back in the sixties and seventies. That’s all in the past.”
“We also happen to be flying the kind of plane that is used for parachute infiltration of special-operations troops. The Chinese might get a little nervous about us buzzing the joint.”
Mike sighed. “We’re sort of limited in terms of our options here, Annja. From Jomsom, most people continue either on foot or horseback to reach the area we want to fly to. But for us, that would take too long. And we would have the perspective we need from the air to see down and into the mountain valleys. We have to be airborne or else we may as well be searching for the proverbial needle in the haystack.”
Annja frowned. Something didn’t feel right about using the plane to search, but Mike was correct. Without their eyes in the sky, they’d have no chance of spotting anything.
“I understand that you’re concerned about our safety. I am, too. And we’ve also got the weather to contend with up here. Annapurna throws up some ferocious winds and Dhaulagiri is no slouch, either. We take an updraft or wind shear the wrong way and we’re toast.”
Annja looked at him. “You’re not doing much to instill me with confidence in your flying abilities, pal.”
Mike grinned. “Just being honest with you. Figure I owe you at least that much for putting up with me not telling you about Tsing earlier.”
“Forget it. Let’s concentrate on getting this done. We can handle Tsing another time and place.”
Mike nodded. “All right. We’ll make a quick stop at Jomsom for fuel and then take off again. We’ve got the entire day before us and we should be able to get some great perspectives on the area once we’re north of Jomsom.”
Annja stared out the window of the plane and marveled at the landscape below them. Overhead, bright blue skies streaked with wispy clouds flanked the snow-topped peaks of the Himalayan mountain ranges. The roof of the world, Annja thought, never looked so utterly amazing.
“I suppose it’s easy to see why so many people pictured this as being home to Shangri-La,” she said a few moments later. “It’s incredible up here in this part of the world.”
Mike smiled as he pointed out a variety of landmarks. “The Nazis thought that Shangri-La was home to a superior race of Nordic people like them. In 1938 they sent an expedition to Tibet led by a guy named Schafer. They never found anything, of course, but it didn’t stop Hitler from imagining that there might be a link to this part of the world.”
Annja sighed. “I know a lot of areas up here claim title to Shangri-La, but that’s mostly for tourism, right?”
“Sure. There’s even an airline named after it that operates in this region. They had a serious crash in October ’08. Sixteen tourists and two crew were killed two miles short of the runway at Jomsom. Terrible accident.”
“Which we won’t be reliving today,” Annja said.
Mike smiled. “No chance. Look.” He pointed out ahead of them. “Dhaulagiri, up close and personal.”
Annja looked out the front windshield and saw the giant mountain ahead of them. “It’s eight thousand meters, right?”
“Yep.” Mike nosed the plane down toward the river valley. “We’re on final approach to Jomsom now. I’ll need to talk to air traffic control for a moment.”
She listened to Mike informing Jomsom control that they were coming in. He nodded and then turned to Annja. “Ready for our first landing?”
“Sure.”
Mike guided the plane down and in at a steep descent. As the runway loomed before them, Annja could see that the river valley wasn’t that wide at all. The fact there was an airstrip up here was a miracle in itself.
Mike flared the flaps and then tucked the plane down on the runway with a slight bump. They raced along and Mike pressed the brakes, easing them to a stop. Gradually, he pulled the plane in and parked it next to another DHC-6 and then shut down the engines.
“All right, let’s get this baby gassed up and get back up there. I don’t want to lose any time.”
He pulled off the headset and hopped out of the plane. Annja unbuckled herself and eased out of the seat and climbed onto the tarmac. She stretched and felt marvelous moving around again. She hadn’t realized how cramped the interior of the plane was until just then.
Mike came walking back, directing a ground crew toward the plane. They dutifully led a hose to the gas tanks and started pumping.
Mike tossed Annja a can of soda. “Last gasp of civilization in these parts. From here on up north into Mustang, it gets downright spooky.”
“Spooky?”
“Well, there’s little up here to remind you of home. Pony caravans carry all the goods and, like I said earlier, most people are on foot or horseback. This is the frontier. Hell, parts of the region we’ll be flying over are off-limits to us on the ground. We’d need someone from the government to tag along.”
“Why is that?”
Mike took a gulp of the soda and then belched appreciably. “Who knows? Maybe the government knows where Shangri-La is and is just protecting it. Or maybe it’s because some of the less intelligent tourists would blunder over the border into Tibet if someone wasn’t around to stop them. No sense having an international incident if you can avoid it.”
Annja took a sip of her soda. “Makes sense.”
Mike watched the ground crew finish pumping the plane full of gas and then paid them from a bundle of cash he had in his pocket. He glanced at Annja and shrugged. “Mr. Tsing thought of everything. You all set to get back to it?”
“Yep.”
Annja climbed into the cockpit and strapped herself in. Mike climbed in a moment later and looked at the back of the plane.
Annja glanced at him. “Everything okay?”
“I guess.”
“What?”
Mike shrugged. “Probably just my mind playing tricks on me. That damned wine took me for a whirl last night.”
“What is it, Mike?”
“Thought I saw movement in the back of the plane.” He shook his head. “Nothing to it. You were climbing in when it happened and you must have jostled the plane. That’s all.” He switched on the propellers and smiled. “Let’s get out of here.”
Annja slid her headset back on and then felt the lurch as the plane started to move again. Mike keyed the microphone and spoke again to air traffic control. In seconds they hurtled down the tiny runway and shot back up into the sky. Annja leaned back in her seat, enjoying the rush of gaining altitude so fast.
Mike climbed and then banked around, continuing on their original northwesterly course. He leveled the plane off and then set a course that would take them farther into the Mustang region.
Annja wondered