The Tunnel Rats

by Stephen Leather

  'I thought. . .' Hammack shook his head. 'I don't know. Maybe I imagined it.' He bent down and picked at a section of parachute silk, then slowly pulled at it. It came away with a sound like tearing paper.

  Doc cleared the rest of the wall, then stood back with a look of dismay on his face. The wall was flat and featureless. He frowned. 'Impossible,' he said. 'No one would build a command centre with just one way in.' He looked around the chamber. The pile of parachute silk in the centre of the room almost came up to his waist. 'The floor,' he said.

  'Give it up, Doc,' said Hammack, squatting down, his back against the wall.

  Doc began ripping up the mats that covered the floor. There was damp, hard clay underneath. He tossed two of the mats to the side, then bent down and picked up another. A trapdoor lay underneath, the sides flush with the floor. Doc grinned triumphantly. 'I knew it,' he hissed.

  He used his knife to prise the hatch open. Hammack scrambled to his feet and joined Doc. The two men shone the beams of their flashlight into the darkness.

  'Wonder where it leads to?' said Hammack.

  'There's only one way to find out,' said Doc, dropping down through the hatch.

  May played the rope between her fingers until she felt the bucket hit the surface of the water, some twenty feet below where she lay on the floor of the tunnel. She allowed the bucket to sink, then slowly pulled it back up. She sniffed the water cautiously, and then sipped it from the plastic bucket. It tasted fresh and clean but she drank sparingly. The Americans had sprayed tons of Agent Orange on the ground above and it still seeped through the soil into the water. May had been to local hospitals and seen the damage the chemical was still doing to newborn babies more than a quarter of a century later.

  She put the bucket on the floor and pressed her ear against the tunnel wall so that she could hear the two Americans moving along the tunnel from the command centre. She smiled to herself. They thought they had found a way out, but they were wrong.

  Suddenly May tensed. Her forehead creased into a worried frown. She shuffled over to the other side of the tunnel and put her ear against the clay. There was someone else in the network. She listened intently. Two people. Two men. Moving into the command centre. She could hear the dull murmur of their voices, but couldn't make out what they were saying.

  Wright ran his flashlight beam along the floor and up the f walls. 'What the hell were they doing?' he asked. ‘

  'Looking for a way out, is my guess,' said Bamber. He nodded at the open hatchway in the floor. 'And they found it.’

  Wright went over to the fungus-covered desk. He stopped short i as he saw the open grave and the skull leering up at him. 'Jim. .1 Come here,' said Wright quietly.

  The FBI agent joined Wright and shone his flashlight on the skeleton. Something glinted in the beam.

  'What's that?' asked Wright. i 'An old playing card,' said Bamber.

  Wright knelt down and picked it up. He showed it to Bamber. 'The ace of spades,' he said.

  Bamber took the card from Wright and examined it. 'Bicycle j brand,' he said. 'Same as in London.’

  'And Bangkok,' said Wright. 'Except this one is twenty- five years old. This is what it's all been about,' he said, straightening up. 'They killed this guy. Killed him and buried J.

  him here.' He frowned. 'But why? And who killed Eckhardt and Horvitz?' } Bamber went over to the hatch and looked down into the { tunnel below. 'Why don't we catch them up and ask them?' ?]? he said.

  Wright walked around the perimeter of the chamber, examining i the walls. He stopped when he got to the alcove cut into the clay. 3 He bent down and examined it, running his fingers along its smooth sides. He wondered what it was. A storage area maybe. He looked at the silk that had once covered the walls. The hole would have been concealed. Perhaps it was a hiding place. But ; for who?

  'Come on,' said Bamber, swinging his legs through the hatch. 'They can't be far away.’

  The tunnel was only a few inches wider than Doc's shoulders and he had to haul himself along with his arms, dragging his legs behind him. Behind him, Hammack grunted with each movement.

  'Bernie, are you okay?' whispered Doc.

  Hammack laughed harshly. 'Let's just say that I know what a fucking sperm feels like,' he said.

  The tunnel sloped upwards. Doc put the end of the flashlight between his teeth so that he could grip with both of his hands. He had to stretch his arms out, get as much leverage as he could with his palms and forearms, then pull himself up. The best he could manage was six inches at a time. Every muscle in his body ached and he had to strain to breathe. They'd taken off their rucksacks and tied them to their waists with lengths of string so that they could drag them along behind.

  'Doc, have you any idea where this tunnel leads to?' asked Hammack.

  Doc stopped where he was and took the flashlight out of his mouth. 'The third level, I guess,' he said. 'We're heading west, so with any luck we'll link up with a passage that we recognise.’

  'And if we don't?’

  'Then we keep heading north and up.’

  Doc put the flashlight back in his mouth. He stretched his arms out and splayed his fingers on the tunnel floor. He gripped with his fingertips, but as he did he felt a sliver of something hard and smooth running perpendicular to the -tunnel. He froze.

  'What's up?' asked Bernie from behind him.

  Doc moved his head, directing the beam of the flashlight at his hands. His neck burned with the effort of keeping his head up. All he could see was the back of his hands and the muddy floor of the tunnel. He moved his left hand slightly. He could just about make out a thin piece of bamboo set into the tunnel floor. He eased his head down and allowed the flashlight to rest on the ground.

  'Can you back up, Bernie?’

  'Oh shit,' said Hammack. Doc heard him scrabble backwards, breathing heavily.

  'Don't be too long about it, Bernie. I'm not sure how long I can keep my hands still.’

  'What is it?’

  'I can't see. I think I've tripped it already, whatever it is.’

  Doc put his forehead on the tunnel floor. His fingers felt as if they were on fire and the muscles in his arms were aching.

  Hammack stopped. 'I'm not leaving you,' he said.

  'There's no point in both of us getting it,' said Doc.

  'I'm staying.’

  'Do as you're fucking told, Bernie.’

  Doc heard a rustling sound from behind him, then a grunt.

  'What are you doing?’

  'I'm getting the rope out of my rucksack.’

  'We don't have time for this,' said Doc. 'I can't hold my hands steady for much longer.’

  Doc felt rope being looped around his ankles, then tied tightly. 'It's about thirty feet back to the hatch,' said Hammack. 'That's about how much rope I've got.’

  'Bernie, it's going to take you at least five minutes to get back. The tunnel's too tight.’

  'I'll make it. Just hang on.’

  'I can't.’

  'You can. If I can get to the hatch, I can pull you back. If I can get you away fast enough . . .’

  'It won't work, Bernie.’

  'It's worth a try.’

  Doc heard Hammack back slowly down the tunnel. Doc's fingers were in agony. Sweat was pouring off his hands and he felt them begin to slide off the bamboo. 'I can't hold it,' said Doc, his voice a hoarse whisper. His arms began to tremble and he gritted his teeth, willing the shaking to cease. For a moment he managed to get the trembling under control but then his fingers slipped and the piece of bamboo flicked upwards. He heard a click, then another, and soil cascaded down from the roof.

  His first thought was that it was a cave-in and that he'd be buried alive, but then among the soil and mud he saw shiny black creatures with claws and stinging tails. Scorpions, he realised. Deadly scorpions.

  'To way,' said Wright. 'There's no way I'm going in there.' li Bamber shone his flashlight down the narrow tunnel, and lowered himself through the hatch. 'It won
't be far,' he said.

  'You don't know that.’

  'It's an escape route, a way to get out if there was a problem with the main entrance.’

  'So maybe it's never been used,' said Wright. 'Maybe it's blocked.' He was lying on the floor of the chamber, looking down through the hatch.

  'That's the way they went,' said Bamber. 'We have to follow them.’

  Wright shook his head. 'It's too narrow.’

  'Hammack went that way. Neither of us is bigger than him. If he can squeeze through, so can we.’

  Wright shook his head again. He backed away from the hatch. 'I'll go the other way, the way we came in.’

  Bamber stood up and poked his head and shoulders up through the hatch. He had his flashlight in his left hand and Ramirez's knife in his right. For several seconds he locked eyes with Wright. 'I don't think that's a good idea, Nick,' he said quietly.

  The skin on the back of Wright's neck began to tingle. He got to his feet. Bamber continued to stare at him, and Wright took a step backwards. Bamber put his elbows on either side of the hatch. He pushed himself up, his eyes fixed on Wright. Wright shivered. It reminded him of the dead stare that the snake had given him.

  'What's wrong?' Wright asked.

  Bamber was halfway out when he cocked his head on one side. He looked at Wright quizzically. 'Did you hear that?' he asked.

  Wright's voice caught in his throat. He coughed and shook his head.

  Bamber popped back down the hatch. A few seconds later he reappeared. 'They're coming back,' he whispered. He pulled himself up and moved on tiptoe to the side of the chamber. He waved Wright back. Wright flattened himself against the wall. Bamber motioned for Wright to switch off his flashlight. Wright did as he was told. Bamber's flashlight went out a second later.

  Wright could hear the FBI agent's shallow breathing from across the chamber, and even though the darkness was absolute he could sense Bamber staring at him. Wright shivered and held the flashlight close to his chest. Wright didn't know what had come over Bamber, but he knew one thing for sure: when the FBI agent had emerged from the hatch with the knife in his hand, there had been murder in his eyes.

  His train of thought was interrupted by a scraping noise from the hatch. Wright held his breath. He heard whispering, then the sound of something being dragged across the ground. There was a muffled curse, then more scraping. The hatchway was suddenly filled with a warm glow, then a flashlight beam carved through the darkness of the chamber. Wright ducked as the beam sliced above his head.

  Hammack grunted and heaved himself through the hatch, then lay sprawled on the floor, gasping for breath. He rolled on to his back, his chest heaving.

  Thirty seconds later Doc's head popped through the hatch. He was also exhausted and it took him several attempts before he managed to claw his way into the chamber. 'Thanks, Bernie,' he groaned. 'If you hadn't pulled me back . . .’

  'Forget it,' said Hammack. 'It don't even make us close to even.’

  Wright switched his flashlight on. Doc and Hammack jerked as if they'd been stung. Hammack jumped to his feet and pulled a knife from his belt.

  'Easy,' said Wright. 'It's me, Nick Wright.’

  Doc sat up. His face and hat were smeared with red mud. As Wright walked closer to Doc he realised that there was also blood on his face, from dozens of small scratches that crisscrossed his flesh.

  'What the hell are you doing here?' asked Doc.

  Hammack lowered his knife. He was staring at Wright in amazement.

  Bamber's flashlight came on and Doc and Hammack whirled around to face him.

  'What happened down there?' asked Wright.

  'There was a booby trap,' said Doc, breathing heavily. 'A cage full of scorpions rigged to open when a bamboo trigger was touched.' He took off his cap and used it to wipe his forehead. 'If Bernie hadn't yanked me away, I'd be dead for sure.’

  'Scorpions?' said Wright. 'They can't have been there for long, can they? Days, at most.’

  'That's right,' said Doc. 'It was set up by someone who knew we were coming. Someone who knew we'd be using the tunnel.’

  Doc sat down with his back to the wall. He shook one of his water canteens, but it was empty. Wright took his remaining bottle of water from his knapsack and gave it to him. Doc drank gratefully.

  'What are you doing here?' Doc asked. He poured water into a cupped hand then splashed it on to his face, wincing as it got into the cuts and scratches.

  'Following you,' said Wright.

  'You must be mad. Stark raving mad.' Doc handed the bottle to Hammack.

  Wright grinned ruefully. 'Yeah, you might be right,' he said. He sat down next to him. 'What's it all about, Doc?' he asked. He gestured at the open grave at the far end of the chamber. 'Who was he?’

  Doc shook his head. 'Still asking questions, Detective?’

  'Fuck you, Doc!' Wright hissed. 'I'm down here with you, I've earned the right to ask.’

  'You've earned nothing,' said Doc.

  'We're in this together now,' said Wright. 'Whoever killed Horvitz and Eckhardt killed Ramirez, too. That means he's down here with us.’

  'You think I don't know that?’

  Hammack gave the bottle of water back to Wright, who put it into his knapsack.

  'Think about it for a moment, will you?' said Wright. 'He wants to kill you and Bernie and he's damn well going to want to make .,**' sure that there are no witnesses. Jim, am I right?’

  ?? Bamber nodded slowly. 'Makes sense to me,' he said.

  'And who the fuck are you?' asked Doc.

  'He's with the FBI,' said Wright.

  Doc stared at Bamber in disbelief. 'The FBI?' he said.

  'What happened, Doc?' said Wright quietly. 'What happened all those years ago?’

  Doc shook his head and looked away. He put his head in his hands.

  'Tell him, Doc,' said Hammack. 'If you don't, I will.’

  Doc stared at the open grave.

  'Doc,' prompted Hammack.

  Doc took a deep breath and held it for several seconds, then he sighed and began to speak, hesitantly at first. 'There were eight of us,' he said. 'To start with, anyway. It was my mission, I was the ranking officer. Not that rank meant anything in the Tunnel Rats. Experience was the only thing that mattered. Experience and luck.’

  He rested the back of his head against the damp clay wall. 'Bernie, Sergio, Eric, Max and Dennis, you know about. There were two others, a Tunnel Rat we called Jumbo and an intelligence guy called Rabbit. We were down here for three days. Three fucking days.’

  Hammack squatted down against the wall facing Doc. He put his massive forearms on his knees and interlinked his fingers.

  'We were tracking a VC major, a guy called Vin,' continued Doc. 'Dennis had been mapping the network for months, and he added to his maps as we went deeper and deeper. We used string and compasses, measuring it inch by inch, all the time getting closer and closer to Vin.’

  'As part of Operation Phoenix?' asked Bamber.

  Doc shook his head. 'We were on some Phoenix operations, but this was something else. Half a dozen bombs had gone off in Saigon, big ones. More than twenty of our boys had been killed, fifty civilians. Vin was behind the bombs and we knew there were more on the way. Cinemas, bars, shops, the VC didn't care who they killed. You know about bombs, don't you, Sergeant Wright? You're from London, you've seen what terrorists can do.’

  Wright nodded. He took off his Mickey Mouse knapsack and placed it on the floor next to him.

  'Rabbit was an interrogation expert,' Doc continued. 'Our mission was to get Vin and find out where the next bombs were going to be planted. We knew he had a command centre down in the fourth level, but we'd never been further than the second level before. Three days, can you imagine being down here for three days?’

  Wright shuddered, and shook his head.

  'We ate cold rations, drank the minimum of fluid, just enough to keep going. We were living on our nerves. They had snakes, you know? Snakes te
thered with wires. The VC knew how to pull the wires back so that they could get by, but we shot the snakes, shot them with silenced guns. The VC had trip wires connected to grenades, others that caused cave-ins. Pits with stakes smeared with shit. With shit, Sergeant Wright, so that any wounds would get infected. They were sick bastards. Sick, sick bastards. They weren't soldiers, they were terrorists.' He ran his hands through his hair.

  Hammack had rested his forehead on his arms and was breathing heavily.

  'On the third day we found the way down to the fourth level. Jumbo went down first and they cut his throat. He died in my arms, begging me to help him. There was so much blood.' He put a hand up to the bridge of his nose. 'So much fucking blood. You wouldn't believe there was so much blood in a man.' He shook his head, then put his cap back on.

  'We killed half a dozen VC to get here. Took us three hours to find Vin.' He gestured at the room. 'We caught up with him in here. Jumbo's blood was still wet. It was dripping off me, like sweat.' He took a deep breath as if gathering his strength for what was to come. 'Vin was a tough motherfucker. Wouldn't talk. Wouldn't say a fucking wortl. Just stood there with a secret fucking smile on his face like he thought there was nothing we could do to stop him. Rabbit threatened him, offered him bribes to change sides. He tried everything he could to get him to talk. Nothing worked. Then Rabbit hit him. Just a slap, across the face. Wasn't even that hard.’

  Doc leaned forward and took off his rucksack. He reached inside and took out a plastic bag containing a pack of Marlboro and his Zippo lighter. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke up to the ceiling.

  'Vin just glared back at him, smiling the way they do. Smiling like he didn't give a fuck. So Rabbit hit him again. Harder. Vin's lip started to bleed but he just kept on smiling.’

  He took another long pull on his cigarette. 'Max was close to Jumbo, really close. Jumbo had saved Max's life more times than either of them could remember. He started urging Rabbit to hit him harder. And Rabbit did. Punched him in the gut, in the face, in the balls. Vin didn't even flinch. He was like a fucking rock. Like there was nothing Rabbit could do to get to him. He just kept staring at the wall.’

  He flicked ash on to the floor, then stared at the alcove that had been carved into the wall of the chamber. His eyes widened. 'He wasn't staring at the wall,' he whispered. 'He was staring at the hiding place. Making sure that whoever was there stayed put.' He closed his eyes and banged the back of his head against the wall. 'I should have guessed,' he whispered. 'That's why he didn't cry out.’