Edge of War

by Larry Bond

  “Company,” said Little Joe over the radio.

  “What?” Mara asked.

  “Army guys in one of those Chinese Hummer trucks. Comin’ at you.”

  “How many?” asked Kerfer.

  “Two. Officer and a driver. Cops must’ve sent them.”

  “We’re better off trying not to be seen,” said Mara. “If they send reinforcements, the helo may have a tough time landing.”

  “Truck behind them. Looks like it’s full,” said Little Joe.

  “Stay down,” said Mara. “I think I have a solution.”

  “What?” asked Josh.

  “Stay down,” said Kerfer. “Keep Mạ quiet. All right?”

  Josh put his fingers to his lips, then ducked down. Mạ did the same.

  Meanwhile, Mara took out one of the cell phones she’d bought in Hanoi and pressed the speed dial for Zeus. But instead of Zeus, another voice came on the line.

  “Hello?”

  “I need Zeus.”

  “He is not here.”

  “You have his phone.”

  “Major Murphy told me to do whatever you asked,” said the man. “What do you need?”

  Mara hesitated. Would Zeus really have given over the phone?

  “Troops are getting out,” said Little Joe. “A dozen at least.”

  “Where is Major Murphy?” Mara asked.

  “He’s on an important assignment. I am his liaison. I can help.”

  Mara could see the truck. It wouldn’t take long for the soldiers to get too close for comfort.

  “There’s a unit at Bai Sau Airport that must be pulled back, into the city, away from the airport. Right now. Immediately.”

  “This moment.”

  “Absolutely now.”

  “It will be done,” said the man.

  Mara hung up.

  “Twenty yards,” said Squeaky.

  “Hold your fire,” said Mara.

  “You got a plan here, lady?” asked Kerfer. He had taken his gun out and squatted next to her, ready.

  “A friend is going to pull them back.”

  “He is, huh?”

  The soldiers walked through the field slowly. Stevens dropped back behind a warehouse to avoid detection. Meanwhile, a second troop truck arrived, parking up by the buildings across from the airport. Those soldiers began searching there.

  The commander of the unit, a Vietnamese lieutenant, walked on a beeline toward the tree. A communications man walked with him, while a pair of soldiers lagged behind, rifles in hand.

  “If we can grab the louey, maybe we can set up a hostage situation,” said Kerfer.

  “Just hold on,” said Mara.

  “I don’t know that that’s going to work, spook.” Kerfer put down his gun and took out his knife. He turned to Josh. “You know how to use that, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Just hold on,” said Mara.

  The soldiers were ten yards away when the communications man suddenly stopped and reached for the controls of his field radio. The private listened for a moment, then handed the radiophone to the lieutenant. He was so close Mara could see his face, even smell his sweat. If the wind shifted suddenly, he’d smell theirs.

  “Tôi hiêu!” he said loudly. I understand!

  He reached for his pistol. Mara felt her stomach knot.

  The lieutenant fired into the air. Mara felt Kerfer’s body coiling, ready to attack.

  “Back to the truck!” the lieutenant shouted in Vietnamese. He turned abruptly. “We are needed at the port! Back to the truck!”

  * * *

  Stepping onto the golf course was like stepping onto a mattress. Jing Yo’s feet sprang up with each step, his energy increasing.

  He worked to control it. Too much excitement would cloud his mind.

  Jing Yo took his submachine gun out of his backpack, trying to balance caution against readiness. Then he ran into the woods lining the northern edge of the course. He spotted a building to his left, a large mansion or clubhouse. He changed course to avoid it, trotting through an open field, then past a narrow band of trees to the highway.

  The road was empty. The airport sat a half mile beyond, at the top of the hill above a patchwork of fields and houses.

  Jing Yo readjusted the strap holding his submachine gun, making it easier to tuck down near his leg behind the RPG box, then dashed across the road.

  * * *

  “Why didn’t you use that magic cell phone before?” Kerfer asked.

  “We didn’t need it until now,” Mara told him. “I might have used it on the train, if you’d given me a chance.”

  He scowled at her, then began checking in with his men, making sure the soldiers had gone.

  Thirty-two more minutes, thought Mara, checking her watch. A few lifetimes.

  “You feeling good now?” she asked Josh.

  “I’m ready.”

  Mara leaned over to Mạ and asked her in Vietnamese if she was all right.

  “Vâng,” said Mạ. Yes.

  “The helicopter I told you about—it’s coming. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “We will fly to a new home. Okay?”

  “Josh,” said Mạ, grabbing him. “He will come with us?”

  “Yes,” said Mara. “Okay?”

  “Yes. I am ready.”

  “We won’t let the bad men hurt you,” said Mara.

  Mạ’s chin began to quiver. Mara glanced at Josh, who tucked Mạ close to him.

  “We got somebody moving up through the fields,” said Stevens over the radio.

  “A soldier?” asked Kerfer.

  “I don’t know. Maybe a militia guy—has a lighter shirt. Khaki. Carrying something. Could have a weapon. I don’t have an angle. Ducking into one of the lanes. Shit, I lost him.”

  “Hold your position,” said Kerfer.

  “Where is he?” Mara asked.

  Kerfer pointed toward the house that sat on the edge of the hill to their right. “Gotta be looking for us,” he said.

  “I agree.”

  “Probably avoiding the rice paddy,” he said. “If he keeps going straight, he comes out right over there, across from the houses. Stevens is back this way.” He pointed to the left, meaning beyond the rice paddy.

  Mara glanced at her watch. If they took him out now, would the helicopter arrive before the police? Or before whoever had just helped them changed his mind?

  “He may just be a scout,” said Kerfer. “If he’s not armed and alone. We should still take him out, though.”

  “Shooting him will complicate things,” said Mara. “Is he close enough to grab?”

  Kerfer touched his radio control to transmit. “Hey, Stevens, can you grab this guy without too much fuss?”

  “Negative. He’s out of sight. Good fifty yards away anyway.”

  “Can you sneak up behind him?”

  “If he’s armed, what do you want me to do?”

  Kerfer turned to Mara.

  “Watch him until the helicopter gets closer,” she said. “Or until he’s a threat. There’s too much time for the soldiers to come back.”

  “Yeah, okay, I agree,” said Kerfer. He hit the radio. “Stevens, can you parallel him?”

  “Yeah, I’m on it.”

  “All right. Keep him in sight.”

  “See, you can cooperate,” Mara told Kerfer.

  “Don’t get too comfortable with it.”

  * * *

  Jing Yo heard the dog yapping in the backyard as he turned out of the alley. He had been planning to go over the fence there but decided to try the next yard instead.

  His heart was pounding. He needed to calm down. He needed to work out a plan.

  He’d get onto the airport grounds, find a place to hide the grenades and stow the guns. Then he would go to the terminal. He’d go inside, posing as a maintenance worker.

  First, he needed a uniform.

  He’d find a worker outside. He’d kill him quickly, with his hands. He�
�d take his shirt, and pants if necessary.

  They’d be in the terminal. He could take them there, or he could take them on the helicopter when it arrived.

  Either way.

  A grenade into the motor of the chopper as it took off would be very efficient.

  Two grenades into the terminal would be almost as easy.

  And then?

  Should he go to Hyuen Bo? They might be able to escape in the boat.

  Difficult.

  It would be easier for her if he disappeared. She would be killed if the Vietnamese caught him.

  Getting out of the terminal might be hard. Hitting the helicopter as it took off presented its own difficulties, however. He’d have to be pretty close to ensure that he hit it.

  Jing Yo saw a lane to his right. He started down it, saw a pair of children playing in the nearby yard. There was another lane, a dirt driveway, to his left. He turned, avoiding the kids, then saw a clear path to the road.

  As he started to trot across the road, he spotted a man crouched near some bushes about a hundred meters ahead, up the hill.

  A member of the scientist’s security team.

  He threw himself down.

  * * *

  “Totally fucking lost him,” cursed Stevens.

  Mara turned to Kerfer. The SEAL commander frowned but said nothing.

  “He probably lives in one of the houses,” said Mara. She checked her watch. “We have twenty-five minutes. Let’s start pulling back and get up closer to the runway.”

  “Twenty-five minutes is a long time.”

  “It’s a quarter mile from the perimeter access road to the landing pad, and we have to get past two warehouses,” said Mara. “That’s ten minutes, crawling.”

  “Sixty seconds, running.”

  “You really want to wait until the last minute? Besides, everybody’s getting restless. You can hear it in their voices.”

  Kerfer touched his radio. “Start pulling back very slowly. You got ten minutes to get back to the tree.”

  * * *

  Jing Yo watched the American begin to back up the hill slowly. Had he been spotted?

  He craned his head, but he couldn’t see very far in either direction without getting up, and he dared not do that.

  The American stopped. Jing Yo held his breath, waiting. Finally the man began to move again. Jing Yo slid his body to the left, edging backward at the same time. He dragged the case with him, pushing through the rough grass and dirt.

  If the American hadn’t seen him, where would he be going?

  He was obviously posted as a perimeter guard. He’d be pulling back to the terminal building.

  Why?

  Because it was time to leave, and he was being evaced as well.

  Except the American didn’t seem to be moving toward the terminal. Rather, he was moving toward high ground near the end of the runway.

  For a better view? Simply a guard rotation?

  Jing Yo edged upward, crawling on his belly, then stopping as the American rose and jogged about twenty meters before diving back to the ground, out of sight.

  There was another guard on Jing Yo’s left, a hundred meters away, stalking through the field.

  Jing Yo breathed slowly, relaxing, readying himself. They’d seen him; they were coming for him.

  The man had a submachine gun.

  Jing Yo heard him say something. His ear was unaccustomed to English, so he had trouble deciphering the words.

  Clear. That’s what he thought the man said. Clear.

  Maybe it was wishful thinking. It meant he wasn’t spotted. It also meant the guards would relax now, easing their watch.

  Time to advance.

  Jing Yo took another breath. Patience was critical. And yet if he waited too long, he would lose his chance.

  Now, he told himself, and started moving up the hill again. He spotted a group of boulders on his left. He rose on his hands and knees, then scrambled toward them.

  A culvert extended across the access road below, up the slope, and over to the end of the runway. If he could get into the ditch, he could move in the direction the Americans were going without being seen. He’d also have a path to the runway.

  Of course, there might be someone in it already.

  The only way to find out was to run there.

  Jing Yo emptied his lungs, pressing the stale air out.

  He got up and ran to the ditch, diving in, not sure if he had just run into the enemy’s sights, ready, gun in hand. Ready.

  The ditch was empty.

  * * *

  Stevens was the last of the team to arrive. Just as he dove in next to Kerfer, Josh heard the sound of helicopter rotors in the distance.

  “You think that’s them?” asked Josh.

  “I hope,” said Mara. She glanced at her watch. “They’re early.”

  “How far off, you figure?”

  “Couple of minutes,” said Kerfer. “Navy Seahawk. You’ll know when it’s real close. Ground starts to shake. We wait until then. It shakes, we go. You got the girl?”

  Josh put his arm around Mạ. He felt a surge of relief. He’d been through so much. It was almost over.

  “All right, let’s wait, and make sure this is it,” said Mara. She looked at Josh. “When we see it, we run straight across the road, across the end of the runway, to the cement pad. Got it?”

  “Memorized,” said Josh.

  “Make sure you’re locked and loaded,” said Kerfer. “You, too, Junior, Mara. If we need them, we’re going to want them right away.”

  “You have maybe six rounds left,” Mara told Josh.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  None of them had much ammunition. But they didn’t need it now. The helicopter’s rotors were getting louder and louder.

  “Seahawk,” said Stevens, pointing.

  Kerfer held his hand up, watching for a few seconds.

  “Go,” he said.

  * * *

  Jing Yo could feel the beat of the helicopter as it approached the airport.

  This was it.

  He snapped open the grenade launcher. The 40mm shell had an effective range of roughly three hundred meters. The end of the runway was easily within that. But what if it landed farther down, away from him?

  He’d run to get closer. He wanted to get it just after it took off, just after the scientist was aboard.

  He’d have only one chance. He’d have to run as closely as he could. He’d run with both legs, as the monks said.

  Jing Yo picked up the launcher. He wished he’d taken the other. Reloading for a second shot would take time; having the second launcher would have been easier.

  Just make sure you don’t miss, he told himself.

  He checked the strap on the submachine gun, ready to fire. The rucksack was on his back. He’d need it later, for the extra bullets, for the escape.

  There’d be no escape. That was not his fate.

  The helicopter flew over the beach on his right, heading for the runway. Jing Yo took another long breath.

  They were running!

  The scientist was right there, running, not fifty yards away.

  The woman he’d seen in Hanoi. And … a girl.

  A girl?

  * * *

  Mara ran next to Josh and Mạ, the center of the circle as the SEALs hustled toward the landing spot. This was the sort of thing the shooters practiced time and again, and the team ran as one, swarming across the scrub and leaping over the ditch like a well-trained dance company moving across the stage.

  As they reached the asphalt apron around the runway, they dropped their pace. The three SEALs at the back of the group turned to make sure no one was sneaking behind them.

  Squeaky suddenly shouted. “Man, man—I got a man!”

  Then he started to fire.

  * * *

  Jing Yo saw the muzzle flash. Instinctively, he raised his weapon and fired.

  The grenade hit the man shooting at him square in the chest and expl
oded.

  * * *

  Josh felt himself launched into the air. He didn’t know what had happened. He couldn’t hear—it was as if someone had clapped his hands on Josh’s ears.

  He landed in the dirt.

  A sneeze welled up from deep in his chest.

  Someone grabbed him, pulling him.

  Mara.

  “What?”

  If she said anything, he couldn’t hear what it was.

  Mạ?

  The girl had been behind him. He twisted around, thinking she was under him.

  She wasn’t.

  Oh God, after this, after all she had been through—was she going to die? It couldn’t work that way.

  But of course it could.

  He saw Mạ lying in the field, a few feet away.

  God! God! Why!

  He ran to her, tears welling in his eyes.

  “Josh?” she muttered, starting to rise.

  He grabbed her. The helicopter was turning toward them, turning toward the cement pad. He began to run for it.

  * * *

  Jing Yo dropped his grenade launcher and grabbed his submachine gun. But even as he pressed the trigger, the ditch erupted with a hail of bullets. He threw himself down, waiting for a break in the storm.

  * * *

  Mara pushed Josh and Mạ toward the chopper, then turned back to see where the others were. Stevens, Eric, and Silvestri were firing from their knees, covering the ditch. Little Joe, Kerfer, and Squeaky were down.

  Squeaky was more than down. The grenade had ripped through his chest and severed his head, which lay on the ground a few yards away.

  Mara jerked her head back toward the ditch.

  “Get that motherfucker!” yelled Stevens.

  Something moved. Mara fired. Her bullets sped through the gun; within seconds she had no more.

  The others must be almost out as well.

  “Get to the helicopter!” she shouted at them.

  She ran to Kerfer, who was lying faceup. There was blood all over his chest.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Come on.” Mara reached down and tried to pull him up, but Kerfer didn’t budge.

  “Go. Get the hell out of here.”

  Mara grabbed his submachine gun.

  “Come on,” she told Kerfer. “On my back.”

  “Ain’t worth it, spook lady. Go!”

  Mara reached down and scooped him up as one of the SEALs started firing again. She ran a few yards toward Little Joe, intending to help him up as well, but as she got close, she realized he wasn’t getting up—the exploding grenade had blown his leg off, leaving his body in a pool of blood. His eyes were closed, as if in sleep, but it was clear he was already dead.