by Jack Du Brul
“It’s not worth it,” Lauren said, stunned that Mercer would suggest it. “We can all wait right here. No one’s going to find us and the Panamanian coast guard is going to be here in a few minutes.”
“I do want you all to wait right here. But I’m going.” Mercer checked the ammo in his M-16 and felt for the.45-caliber pistol tucked behind his back.
“Sun isn’t going to get away,” Lauren pleaded. She’d never seen such savagery in Mercer’s eyes before and it frightened her. “You talked about being macho before. Well, listen to your own advice.”
Mercer didn’t look at her when he spoke. “If you knew how empty I feel because of what he did to me, you wouldn’t ask me to stay. I won’t be myself until I know he’s dead. It doesn’t make sense, I know. But it’s how I feel.”
Harry stood. “Let him go, Lauren. He’s right.”
“You too?” She wheeled on him, feeling betrayed because she was sure Mercer’s oldest friend would see the insanity of what he wanted to do.
“It’s for the best. Mercer, go. We’ll be right here.”
“That’s another I owe you,” Mercer said, moving to the door. Lauren’s expression was one of disgust. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed and took off down the hall.
No one moved or spoke for several long seconds. Foch finally turned to Harry. “Enough time?”
“Another few seconds.”
“What are you talking about?” Lauren blazed.
“We’re going to follow him,” Harry said. “What did you think?”
Mercer’s feet barely touched the scuffed linoleum decking as he ran. His vision felt heightened, as if nothing could hide from his gaze. Even the deepest shadows looked bright.
His hearing was more acute. Each creak and groan reverberating around the ship sounded distinctly in his ears and he could tell where each noise originated.
He climbed two decks, moving ever closer to where automatic fire from the chopper continued to slam the bridge. He passed the body of an officer who’d staggered down from the wheelhouse to die. A trail of blood from the large-caliber holes in his chest led up a third flight of stairs. Over the staccato beat of machine-gun fire, Mercer heard voices shouting in Chinese. He started up the stairs, keeping low and to one side.
At the upper landing he guessed that the bridge had been evacuated because the door separating it from the rest of the superstructure was closed. To his left was a short hallway that doubled back aft. It was where the ship’s officers had their quarters. To the right, he could just see into another large cabin, probably the captain’s. That’s where the voices came from.
He moved out of the stairwell to get a better view of what was going on inside. He recognized one of the men as the captain and the other as the stocky civilian. Unfortunately the third man wasn’t Sun. It was a soldier. The more Mercer looked at him the more he was convinced it was the same guy who’d captured him following the chase on the car carrier.
Mercer couldn’t understand what they were saying but it appeared the veteran soldier wasn’t happy about something. In fact it looked like he was holding a pistol on the civilian and the captain.
“For the last time, Huai,” General Yu said, trying to keep his anger in check. “Put that damned gun away.”
“I can’t do that, General. Not until you tell me exactly why you felt it necessary to sacrifice my men.”
“I told you that soldiers dying is the price of war.”
“That’s what confuses me. Who was this war against? Panama? America? Who?”
Yu snapped his mouth closed, suddenly understanding what the sergeant was going on about. He had lost men in a conflict he didn’t understand. He wanted answers and Yu could see that some pat response wouldn’t satisfy him. “Sergeant, this operation was about defending our way of life. Not all our enemies come with white skin and round eyes. Some are within our own ranks.”
“Liu Yousheng might have been a bastard, but I never saw him as my enemy.”
Yu seized on his statement. “Might have been? You killed him?”
Huai seized on the general’s desperation. “Maybe. Or maybe let him go and he is right now making arrangements to return to China.”
In truth, Liu was unconscious in a cabin, shackled to the plumbing behind a toilet. Huai wasn’t sure yet if he would tell anyone or let him drown as the Korvald continued to fill with water from the holes in her hull. In just the few minutes since he’d burst into the cabin to find Yu hiding from the helicopter gunship, Huai could feel the deck was tilting more.
“You let him go!” Yu thundered.
Huai readjusted his pistol to remind the general who was in charge. “Who decided that Liu was our enemy?”
“Your government.”
“So my government denounced him as a traitor and yet they let a dozen of my men die working with him just to make a political statement about his treason. I see that as a greater violation than whatever Liu did.”
“What do you plan to do about it?” Yu scoffed, his lip twisting with derision. He’d been pushed as far as he’d go. “Are you going to shoot me? Then you’d have to shoot the captain here and everyone else on this ship to keep them from killing you.”
“That’s what you don’t understand,” Huai said calmly. “That is the kind of sacrifice a soldier is willing to make for his men. I don’t mind dying to kill you. You’ve betrayed my men, you’ve betrayed me and you’ve betrayed the People’s Liberation Army.” He raised his pistol. “For the crime of treason against his troops, General Yu Kwan, I sentence you to death.”
The shot rang out, crisp and sharp.
Sergeant Huai staggered back a step, his left hand reaching for his chest where blood oozed from the wound. Mr. Sun had watched the whole exchange from a hiding place in the adjoining bathroom. He’d enjoyed the play of emotion between the combat soldier and the political one, feeding off their fear and hatred. But he knew where his loyalties lay and judged precisely when the sergeant would shoot. He’d fired his own pistol an instant before Huai and was pleased the bullet had hit within a few inches of where he’d aimed. He’d never been good with guns.
The second shot had been delayed by a fraction of a second. The aim was perfect. The bullet had been fired even as Huai absorbed a shot to the chest and still blew most of General Yu’s brains out the back of his head. The gore exploded against the cabin wall and oozed like slime to the floor.
Mercer watched as the two fell to the deck. He didn’t have the proper angle to see if the civilian had used a hidden gun to kill the soldier, but it stood to reason that anyone involved in this plot would be armed. All he was sure of was that this incident had nothing to do with him. His fight was with Sun, not the Chinese Army and its civilian controllers. The ship’s captain walked over the soldier’s body to close and lock the cabin door.
Mercer lifted himself from where he’d hidden behind a cabinet. He put out of his mind what he’d just seen and continued his hunt for Sun, guessing that he would be cowering as far from the bridge as he could. He moved down the hallway, checking cabins. Most were unlocked and took just a moment to examine. Those doors that were locked he kicked in as quietly as he could, although the cacophony from outside and the alarms screaming on the bridge effectively masked any noise he made.
Each time he returned to the hall, he eyed the captain’s cabin to make sure no one had emerged. Reaching the last door, he felt the handle. It was locked. He kicked once and the puny lock shattered. He had the M-16 ready and swept the cabin in one movement. No one. He moved to check the bathroom. There was a body chained to the toilet.
What the hell? The bathroom was tiny so he shouldered the M-16 and pulled the.45. He called out softly. No response. He approached slowly and tapped the body with his foot. The man was facedown and didn’t move. A briefcase was handcuffed to his wrist. He kicked again, angling so he could roll the man over. He recognized Liu Yousheng immediately and had to fight not to pull the trigger.
“Well, well, well.” He
looked closer. A livid purple bruise covered half of Liu’s face. Mercer touched his cheek. The skin was cold and waxy. He was dead. Whoever had clocked him had hit a little too hard and caused bleeding on the brain. “Good.”
The ship creaked as she listed farther into the capsized Englander Rose. Mercer glanced over his shoulder to make sure the cabin door was clear, then bent to shoot away the handcuff on Liu’s wrist. He assumed whatever was in the briefcase would prove valuable.
Mr. Sun had seen the American enter the last cabin when he went in search of a means to escape. Encouraged by his earlier shot, he decided to do away with Mercer himself. It was fitting that the only man to escape before the acupuncture needles could break him was just a few feet away and unaware he was being hunted.
He moved down the hall with ghostlike steps. Reaching the cabin he lowered himself to peer in, his old knees popping. Mercer was in the bathroom, bent over what Sun believed to be the body of Liu Yousheng. He’d seen so much death he could recognize it at any distance.
The range was shorter than the shot he’d just taken, but Sun took his time bringing up the heavy pistol. Mercer’s back was still to him. The pip on the front sight came level with the V notch of the rear sight. A round was in the chamber and the trigger started coming back. Sun’s hand trembled. He eased off the trigger, took a breath that rattled in his stringy lungs and refocused his aim.
This time he had his man.
Some sixth sense made Mercer turn at the last instant. He saw Sun crouched at the cabin door, an automatic in his hand. Mercer’s weapon was down by his side. He was fast, but not that fast.
Sun had time to smile.
And then he screamed as a gleaming shaft of tempered steel sprang from his chest and pinned him to the deck. A gush of arterial blood spilled from his mouth; his eyes went wide and lifeless. The blade was withdrawn and Harry stepped into the cabin. The top two feet of his sword were covered in crimson.
“That’s three you owe now.” He reached down and un-snapped the watch on Sun’s skeletal wrist. “TAG Heuer. H’mm. Looks like yours.” He tossed it to Mercer. “I think this proves that whatever this prick took from you is yours to take back.”
Mercer looked at the watch and at his friend, stunned, grateful, overwhelmed. He could barely speak. “Harry, I’m going to tell you something that if you repeat I will deny until the day I die.”
“I’ve known all along.” Harry’s voice was thick as his sudden bravado failed him. His eyes filled. “And I love you too, boy.”
Epilogue
With everyone up at the volcanic lake, Mercer and Miguel were left alone to walk along the banks of the River of Ruin. The remnants of Gary Barber’s camp looked much as they had a few weeks earlier. A couple more animal tracks maybe, and some new growth of jungle amid the ripped tents and scattered equipment, were the only verifiable differences. Yet there was something that man and boy both felt as they ambled in silence.
The ghosts were gone.
The spirits of Gary and his staff, including Miguel’s parents, had been put to rest by the sacrifices everyone had made since that first day when Mercer discovered the bodies. There was no need to talk about it. It was as obvious as the heat and humidity in the tight little valley.
“Will you be happy with Roddy and Carmen?” Mercer asked when they found a comfortable place to sit along the river’s edge.
“I think so,” Miguel answered honestly. “They are very kind and I like their children.”
“What about school? Are you excited to go?”
He made a face. “They will tease me because I can’t read as well as the other kids my age. And I don’t know as much as they do about other stuff.”
“Don’t you think that if you study hard you will learn what they already know?”
“Maybe,” he hedged.
“Maybe, nothing,” Mercer said and laughed. “In a year you will be the smartest kid in your whole school.”
“You think so?” The boy brightened.
“I know so. And do you know what else?”
“What?”
“If you get good grades, you and Roddy’s family can come to my home in Washington, D.C., for Christmas vacation.”
“Wow! Will Mr. Harry be there?”
“Believe me, Mr. Harry is always there.”
“Then I will get good grades.”
He spoke as if merely saying it would make it true. Mercer suspected that with a kid as bright as Miguel that was probably the case. He was an exceptional boy, perceptive and responsible beyond his years. With the love and support that Roddy’s family could provide, he’d get past his trauma with the resiliency only a child possessed.
“What about Lauren? Will she be there too?”
Now it was Mercer’s turn to hedge. The two of them hadn’t discussed plans beyond this trip to the River of Ruin. In fact, he’d seen very little of her in the week since they’d ended Liu Yousheng’s bid to place nuclear missiles in Panama.
The final act of the drama had left dozens of unanswered questions and she’d been sequestered with officials from the CIA, FBI and the Department of Defense trying to answer them. It had taken two days just to learn the civilian Mercer saw murdered on the Korvald was in fact a highly placed general named Yu Kwan. No one yet understood what he was doing on the ship, nor did they understand why the missiles recovered from the ship’s hold by a crane barge were fakes. The outer casings looked legitimate, but inside was nothing but concrete filler to give them the weight of real ICBMs.
“I don’t know if she’ll be there or not,” Mercer finally answered. She was due to arrive this afternoon for a two-day stay at the lake. This would probably be the only opportunity he’d have to ask her.
Mercer himself had been at the lake for three days with Foch and his team. Rene Bruneseau had left for France soon after the coast guard rescued them from the sinking refrigerator ship and he’d flashed his diplomatic passport claiming immunity. Mercer didn’t blame him for avoiding the night in jail the others suffered through until the American and French embassies, along with representatives from the Pentagon, could wade in.
Before their rescue, Roddy Herrara was already organizing men to seal the broached lock doors. Because of the tremendous surge of water, the operators didn’t dare try to close the remaining ones, rightly fearing that the hydraulics couldn’t prevent the flow from twisting the steel and ruining the gates. That meant there was nothing they could do but let the water trapped between the earthen plug in the Gaillard Cut and Pedro Miguel continue to run. The spillway at the dam near the Miraflores Locks could handle the volume, but they needed to close the topmost doors there if they were to prevent Miraflores Lake from draining entirely.
That was where Roddy and a couple of other canal pilots came in. They commandeered a freighter trapped on the lake and ran heavy cables from its stern to hard points on the working gates. Using the ship as a giant sea anchor, they had better control over the inward-closing doors and managed to seal them without the two leaves slamming against each other and warping.
With water no longer escaping, the danger of losing use of the canal for years was past. There was only one set of spare doors kept in the zone and they would soon be installed at Pedro Miguel. A contract was about to be awarded to an American foundry to fabricate another set to replace the ruined doors at Miraflores. It would take several months to get them in position, though it would take much longer to dredge the debris that had collapsed into the Gaillard Cut. However, excavating equipment from the bogus Twenty Devils Mine was already en route to begin the arduous task of clearing the rubble. It would soon be supplemented by dredges and other machines kept by the Canal Authority.
That took care of the physical repercussions of what Liu had attempted. The political ramifications would take years to sort out, though at this stage Mercer couldn’t care less. For him, it was done.
What had brought him to the isolated river in the heart of the Darien Province was his hunch that he coul
d find the Twice-Stolen Treasure. Foch and his men, including the driver who’d been released from custody, and Gerard, the soldier who’d lost part of a finger at the mine, had joined him. He needed their help because to get at where he thought the treasure lay hidden required some heavy blasting first.
Mercer stood and brushed off the seat of his pants. “What do you say we head back up to wait for Lauren.”
It took a little extra time to climb the waterfall since an area where the Legionnaires had been working was strictly off limits. The bodies of the Chinese soldiers who’d gone over in the Zodiac had been removed by their allies, although the shredded remains of the rubber boat remained in a pool halfway up the hillside.
As soon as they reached the top, Miguel ran ahead to play with Roddy’s children under the vigilant eye of Carmen Herrara. They were currently skipping stones from the pier Liu Yousheng’s men had built during their occupation of the lake. All of the Chinese equipment had been left behind when Panamanian police units, backed by the Seahawk helicopters from the McCampbell, descended on the excavation site and arrested everyone.
The Chinese overseers had been deported without trial, while the locals had been allowed to return to their villages.
The children’s laughter dispelled the sense of desolation that had settled over the quiet tents and buildings. Several Panamanian soldiers remained as guards in case guerrillas tried to inspect what had taken place on the mountaintop, but they stayed to themselves mostly, leaving Mercer and the French to do their work. Carmen and Roddy had only arrived this morning with the children.
“There you are,” Foch called from a camp stool. He and his men sat around a dormant fire pit with Roddy. Everyone had bottles of beer. He offered one to Mercer. “Care for one?”
“Damned right.” Mercer collapsed into a canvas chair, winded from the long climb. “Where’s Harry?”
“Taking a nap. The heat’s killing him.”
“Me too.” Mercer rolled the cool bottle across his forehead. He checked the time. “Lauren should be here any minute and we can get the show on the road. Henri”-in a sign of respect, Foch had told Mercer his first name-“did you check the rope securing the boats?”