by Barry Sadler
"That's it," Casey told him. "If you can get me a few of your men to help, I think I know how to do it. Van, George, sit down. This is what I plan. I know only generally the spot where Huan and his family are hiding. You are all familiar enough with that area to know that the foliage is thick enough to hide a complete division in only one square mile. So, Phang, I want you to lend me a few of your best hunters, men who can track and follow spoor and put up a hell of a fight if necessary. I hope it won't come to that. I'm going to try and get in and out without a fight."
Phang nodded his grizzled head. "Yes, I can give you the men. For you I would do it for nothing, but as long as these Chinese thieves are paying, we might as well make a small profit, no?"
Casey grinned, nodding. "No argument from me, old friend. What do you want?"
"Twenty ounces of gold for each man. An additional twenty for each one killed or wounded to a degree that he can no longer do his work. Is that agreeable?"
"Agreed," said Casey.
"Five men for one hundred ounces of gold, paid in advance?" the old man queried.
"As you say, friend Phang," Casey smiled. "How are you fixed for ammo and weapons?"
The old one shrugged. "We have most of what you left for us and some we picked up here and there. If there is any specialty you may require, you'll have to bring it along."
"No problem." Casey turned to Van. "Go to the airport and wait for Shan. He'll be arriving in about an hour. No stops along the way, Van. Get him here as fast as you can."
His friend nodded in understanding. There was no time for jokes or facetiousness now. There was work to be done. While Van might play the fool now and then, it was merely for his own entertainment. In a fight, he was one of the most efficient killing machines Casey had ever seen. With the expert swinging of George's native short sword, they were a pair to give any man nightmares.
Van departed, leaving George to watch the door of the room so that he could keep the curious away. They knew Ling was around, and far from uninterested in their project. His men would be watching their every move, taking notes on all they witnessed, even raiding their garbage for tell-tale signs of their plans. Casey was wise to their gambits, and the room was never left vacant. They did their own cleaning and checked the trash carefully before setting it out.
Casey and his guest, Phang, waited. They talked quietly of the pros and cons of different aspects of the upcoming mission. Time passed rapidly, and two raps at the door told them that Van had arrived with the major.
Shan entered the room, taking in everything and everyone inside. He gave a short bow as he turned to Phang. "May the gods give you a long life and peace," he said.
Phang rose and bowed in return. "It is truly an honor to be in the presence of such a great soldier."
Both men, satisfied that courtesy had been observed, sat down and waited for Casey to make the next move. When he hesitated, the major spoke.
"You have a plan, Mr. Romain?"
Casey stood and walked to a chair opposite the major. Sitting down, he pointed to an area of the map. "The village of Sien Dap, that's the area, Major. Twenty kilometers due north of the town is a field of elephant grass. We went through it once, Phang and me, on a recon mission several years ago. It's a very short distance from there to the family in the caves. This is the only drop zone I can think of in that area that could be considered safe, mainly because there's no damned reason for anyone to be there. It's neither commercial nor strategic."
Shan frowned. "Did you say drop zone, Mr. Romain?"
"Yes, we're going to parachute in, Shan. You said you could provide aircraft, and by God, that's what I want. What type doesn't matter as long as it gets us and about three hundred pounds of supplies in there safely."
The major thought it over. "Yes, we in security do occasionally send a flight over occupied countries. There actually isn't much risk involved, as the reds are very short on radar equipment. Their planes stay close to home base and make few flights, since their fuel supply is short. But you must give me warning enough so that I may check the weather conditions in advance. That could be the only thing that could delay your flight. Otherwise, there should be no difficulty getting you safely into your target area."
Casey nodded. "Good. We'll also need three chutes and drop bags for our gear. Get the modified Tojo chutes if you can, Major. We'll be jumping at night, and I like having a steerable chute in case we're off center a bit. Avoiding trees or dangerous objects is a lot easier with the Tojo."
The major agreed again. Everything would be as Romain had requested. Now, one question if he might. "Let us assume you are in safely. How do you plan on getting them out?"
Casey laughed. "With the aid of two more of your planes, Major. We're going to do a skyhook."
"Skyhook?" responded Shan quizzically. "Skyhook? None of my people have ever been involved in that kind of lift before."
Casey shook his head. "We've got to have them. If things should go down the wrong way, Huan's youngsters would never survive a trip through the jungle. If we're going to get them out, it's got to be this way. Check your air force, Major. There must be some people there who were trained at Fort Bragg in the art of skyhooking. One damned thing's for sure; the distance is too great for a chopper to reach, and there's no place for a plane to set down. It has to be this way, so request that the equipment and harnesses be shipped over as soon as possible. Rest assured, Major, that we don't move without them."
Shan nodded in agreement. The garden seemed a lot farther off now than before, but it was still within sight.
"Very well, Mr. Romain. I will get the men, the planes, and the necessary equipment. What is your time schedule?"
Casey turned to Phang. "How long will it take you to get your men to this field by Sien Dap?"
Phang thought it over carefully, studying the map again and mentally going over the trip in his mind. "Ten days from the time I return to my village. If we go by sampan a good distance up the Mekong and then cut across country, we will be there in ten days."
Casey turned to Shan. "Did you bring the items I requested?"
Shan nodded. "I left them outside with your man, the savage."
"He's not my man, Major, he is my friend."
Going to the door, he called for George to come in. He took the case from him and laid it on the table before opening it. Inside was a modified single sideband radio, not much larger than a cassette tape recorder, but Japanese technology had made it the latest and most efficient available for long distance transmitting and receiving. He checked its batteries and turned to Phang.
"Take this and return to your people, old friend. Each night when the sun sets, turn it on and wait for a signal for one hour. If within that time period you don't receive, try again each night until you do. That will be your signal to leave for the field outside Sien Dap. Start listening to the radio on the evening of one week from today. Go now with the major, and he will arrange the payment we agreed on. I informed him earlier, when I knew you were coming, of your preference for gold. He has arranged for the funds to be available here, so get your money and return this night to your people. I fear we may run short of time." Casey put his arms around the old man and hugged him. "Farewell, old friend."
Shan rose and started to leave with Phang to complete their transaction. Before reaching the door, he turned to Casey. "I too will be leaving. I have no time to spare, either. I will get all that you require, Mr. Romain. Farewell, and may the gods be with you in our mutual mission."
After they'd left, Casey called George in and poured them each a long pull from the cherished remains of a bottle of Tennessee sipping sour mash. Raising his glass high in a toast, he grinned. "Well, you old warthog, it looks like everything is go."
George drank and made a face. Casey looked at him. "What the hell's the matter, you miserable barbarian? Don't you know how hard it is to get good whiskey?"
George grunted, replying that he much preferred Malayan whiskey. It had more flavor.<
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"More flavor? You silly shit, that's formaldehyde that you've been tasting in that rat poison you call whiskey."
George smiled. "Trung Si," his Vietnamese term for "sergeant", "it is a shame that you've never learned to appreciate the good things of the Orient. But obviously, you will never have any taste at all."
Casey roared at him. "No taste? You dog eating molester of water buffalo. Did you say no taste?"
George nodded, his eyes shining. "See, you even have no appreciation for a nice young roasted puppy. So sad, Trung Si, so sad. You miss many good things."
Both men fell into spasms of laughter that could be easily heard by the locals for at least a city block.
CHAPTER SIX
Phang, after being paid, was on his way back to his village. Ling's plane was flying low to avoid radar and making its way without lights across the island. It then vectored for the half caste's island.
Major Shan landed at Taiwan Airport just as the rosy glow of dawn broke, showing that day was not far behind. Not stopping to go home, he went instead directly to his office at the base, carefully closing the door behind him.
Shan began immediately to put his plans into operation. He was an example of extreme efficiency. Making maximum use of his position in the security section and the phones at his disposal, he began making the necessary calls, threatening some and bribing those he could not threaten.
He arranged for the next group of exchange students studying in the States to bring back with them the equipment that Casey had said would be necessary for a skyhook operation. Helium and balloons, harnesses and winch, lines, and the strange V shaped device that was mounted on the nose of the pickup aircraft. Enough for six. He'd had no trouble with these arrangements. The Americans, as usual, were more than happy to show off their equipment and how well it worked. A call to a senator acquaintance on the Defense Appropriations Committee hadn't hurt, either. Everything required was on its way to him within three days. For thirty six hours, Shan had whipped himself into a work frenzy. All that could be done was done. Now to wait. Two days until all would be delivered, leaving some leeway in case the weather turned bad. Time to contact Romain and his beasts. Time for them to come to Taiwan for final preparations.
Shan made the call to Casey and arranged for a small plane to bring the soldiers of fortune from Singapore to Taiwan. In this manner, their movements would be covered, and the plane crew were all members of Shan's staff. They would be silent. After all, their commander was involved in security, and if he was to bring these men to the base, he must have a reason.
Information came in many forms, including a flight line mechanic, one Wu Lee Tsu. Wu was a fine mechanic but suffered from the common disease known as greed. He occasionally, in order to supplement the small pay that the Nationalist Air Force allowed him, hid packets of narcotics on board planes heading for many destinations. For this small service, a businessman in Singapore would deposit to his personal account five hundred Hong Kong dollars for each and every cache he put aboard. Wu had been told to keep alert for anything involving Major Shan and some foreigners, especially one known as Romain. The mechanic had earned a nice bonus when he'd informed his mentor in Singapore about the arrival in Taiwan of three disreputable looking men, including a round eye named Casey Romain. The mechanic's report made its way to the ears of one Ling K'ai, of the former crown colony of Singapore. Ling sent orders for the mechanic to be on the alert for additional information as to the movements and activities of the foreign group, especially their destination when and if they departed Taiwan.
Wu sensed that something out of the ordinary was in the wind. The tone of Ling's orders spelled money if he played his cards right. Asking temporary leave of absence from his position, he became a shadow to the three strange men. The mechanic was outside the merchant Han's home when Casey, his two friends, and Major Shan were inside for the final stages of their planning.
Inside, Casey had the floor, explaining to Han what a skyhook was and his plan for its use. Short and to the point, he told the merchant how an adult or child could be put into a special harness, connected to a line attached to a helium filled balloon. When released, it would rise to an altitude of two to three hundred feet. Then a specially equipped aircraft would fly into the line, just below the balloon, capturing the line and throwing it up against the rear of the plane. The crew would then attach special hoists to the line and reel in the strapped in cargo of terrified humanity. Casey agreed with Han. Yes, it did look dangerous. But in reality, very few accidents had come from the use of this procedure.
Casey told them of the time he'd watched the commanding general of the Special Warfare Center at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, being lifted out of the training and demonstration area, named after a Sergeant Gabriel, with this procedure. And if the American brass could do it, it had to be safe enough for kids.
The merchant Han looked askance at Major Shan. Shan replied that he too had seen this operation while training in the States, and while it looked dangerous, he'd never seen anyone hurt while performing it.
Han asked, "How do they prevent the one being lifted in this manner from being smashed into trees or other obstacles as he is being lifted into the air by this plane? Surely one must be carried forward for a long distance before one begins to rise. The forward motion of the plane would ensure that, no?”
It was Casey who answered. "No, merchant Han. That is not true. I agree that it seems that way, but with all the factors working, when the plane snags the line, it is traveling so fast that the harness's cargo is immediately lifted over thirty meters straight up before it begins a forward motion. A man can be lifted from an area less than ten feet in diameter with this method."
Han nodded. "I still do not quite comprehend, but I shall leave the matter in your hands. You are the experts; I am but a poor dealer in goods. But take care my family is not harmed."
The evening closed with Han arranging for his banker to transfer one hundred thousand American dollars to the account of Casey Romain of Kuala Lumpur in Malaya.
"This being resolved, when will you leave, Mr. Romain?"
Outside the window, Wu listened eagerly for the long nose's response. This information could bring him big money.
"We will leave as soon as we've made certain that our people in Cambodia are in position and ready. The major says our equipment is due in at any time, and we'll have to check it all out carefully during our wait. I would estimate that all would be ready within twelve to fourteen days. We will time our arrival over the drop zone so as to arrive early in the morning just before dawn. Sien Dap will be asleep, and the farmers will be inside with their wives."
Han nodded. "That is good. And when will you attempt to have the members of my family lifted in this most extraordinary manner from the jungle and returned to me?"
Casey thought for, a moment before answering. "We don't know the exact position of your people, so it may take us a day or two to locate them." He turned to Shan. "Give me three days after the drop, and at midnight on the third day, send the plane over, and for three nights thereafter at the same hour if no signal is received on the first. If he receives our signal by the fourth night, he will drop the lift harnesses and supplies to us and circle until he spots the first balloon, then reel us in one by one."
He turned to Han. "If there is no signal by the fourth night, you will have saved one hundred thousand dollars and lost a family."
Wu, the mechanic outside the window, began to tremble in nervous anticipation of the reward he would receive for this information: Silently, he faded back across the wall through the shadows of the garden. One small leap, and he was up and over, his passage unnoticed by anyone.
Wu went directly to the contact of Ling, giving him the information he'd received and adding afterward that the information should be worth at least five thousand American dollars to the honorable Ling K'ai. This amount, he knew, would be enough to set him free and allow him to start his own business in Hong Kong or even K
owloon. These were his needs.
The contact looked at him, smiling slowly at the fool's demands. Did not the foolish mechanic know of Ling's temperament? Standing directly before Wu, with no hesitation, he delivered a hooking blow to the smaller man's solar plexus. Wu collapsed, a surprised look flashing over his face, just before the pain took over.
Shan drove Casey and his men to a safe house mounted in the foothills near the base and placed them on a twenty four hour security alert around its perimeter. The only phone was a direct line to his office. They could venture outside only to the walled garden, and no visitors were allowed. He would gamble nothing at this point. The garden of the merchant Han was almost close enough to touch.
Early the following morning in his office, a routine message was passed on to Shan that an aircraft mechanic employed at the base had been found dead outside a notorious house of gambling and prostitution. The only thing out of the ordinary, it seemed, was the look of extreme agony on the man's face. The only visible mark on the body was a small bruise on the chest. The major thought about it for a minute and shrugged it off. He had no time to concern himself with a peasant aircraft mechanic.
At the same time, in Singapore, a courier from the contact in Taipei was delivering Wu's information to Ling K'ai. He was pleased to find that it came free of charge.
At the safe house, Casey had cut off the booze. They all needed time to dry out and prepare for the mission that lay ahead. In their condition, and with the laxity of the past months, it was actually not enough time. But he and the boys were still in pretty good shape, he supposed.
The time passed slowly, almost creeping. In the house of Lin Pao Lieh, the old man sat, thinking of the things his nephew had told him late last night, of these strange men and their methods, odd and discomforting methods that he did not fully understand. Lin Pao soothed his mind by letting the fingers of his right hand run over the smoothness of the bronze Chueh wine goblet he held, caressing the three knifelike legs, taking comfort from the centuries it had endured. Thirteenth century B.C., he remembered. Shang Yin dynasty, old with the patina of ages yet sound and waiting serenely for the next three thousand years to pass. We must be as this goblet. We the people of the old country. We must ever wait for each cycle to be completed in its own time. If the old man had known the man called Casey Romain, one who'd heard and learned of this philosophy many years before, he would have known a man in complete agreement. Lin's thought process continued. Nothing we say or do can ever change but little the gods' timetables for our lives and histories.