Dark Wing

by Richard Herman

  The rhythmic throbbing of the single-cylinder diesel engine that drove their small boat westward against the current cast a lethargic spell over the two passengers and for the first time in weeks, the tension that marked their lives shredded. The frightened, trapped look had left Jin Chu’s face once Wuzhou was behind them.

  Kamigami spent hours sitting at the bow of the boat, studying the landscape as the boatman worked his small craft upstream into the heart of southern China. Jin Chu would lean against him, curled up like a kitten while she entertained him with stories of her childhood. Slowly, the stories became an oral history of China and her people, the Zhuang.

  Jin Chu’s formal education had ended when she turned ten years old, yet she had listened to her grandfather, Li Jiyu, and learned well. “There is a pattern to your history,” Kamigami told her. She said nothing and waited for him to continue. It was not in her tradition to teach a man, she could only entertain and hope he saw the meaning behind her simple stories. “When a dynasty falls,” Kamigami said, “civil war and chaos follow.”

  “The last of the Manchus were driven from the Forbidden City over eighty years ago,” Jin Chu said. “My grandfather heard the stories as a child.” Her soft voice lulled Kamigami as she told of the droughts, famines, and floods that wracked China before the turn of the century. “Nature sends warnings of civil war and fighting with terrible earthquakes and floods,” she said. “It is a sign that our rulers have lost the mandate of heaven to rule.”

  Kamigami interpreted her stories from a western viewpoint. He saw a simple cause and effect reaction, in which rebellion was born out of misery and poverty when the government neglected the needs of its people. Still, through her, he began to understand this strange land. And in understanding, he loved her even more.

  They were approaching Nanning, the capital of Guangxi Province, when Jin Chu told him of the last of the Manchus and the empress dowager, Tz’u Hsi. Jin Chu’s storytelling was dramatic and enthralling as she whispered the tale of how the favorite courtesan of the emperor had clawed her way through the corruption of the Manchu court to become the power behind the throne. Because of Jin Chu, the story became alive and real, as if it had happened yesterday.

  Kamigami did not understand a single word of the language Jin Chu was speaking as they made their way through the streets of Nanning. He noticed she dropped her eyes and looked away whenever she saw a man or woman with the round, bland features of the Han Chinese approach. Yet she would talk freely with willowy and slender Chinese who shared her delicate facial features. But it was the language she keyed on. Finally, she found a man who could tell her what she wanted to know. “He can take us to Zou Rong,” she told Kamigami.

  Twenty minutes later, they were sitting on a bench in a quiet courtyard. The old man who had been with Kamigami and Zou when they rescued Jin Chu from the PLA appeared out of a darkened doorway. “General Zou is with an emissary from the United States,” the old man said. “You must wait.”

  Jin Chu surprised Kamigami when she said, “I would like to bathe and change clothes. Is that possible?” The old man nodded and led her away. It was dusk when Jin Chu returned. She had changed into western-style clothes and was dressed in tight jeans, a jade green silk blouse, and white running shoes. Her hair was pulled back and held with a bow at the nape of her neck. “Like in Hong Kong,” she said, waiting for Kamigami’s approval.

  Her transformation stunned Kamigami and as in Hong Kong, he knew that she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. “You are beautiful, no matter what you wear,” he told her. Her face clouded, unsure of his meaning. He laughed. “Yes, I like what you are wearing very much.”

  The old man joined them. “Come,” he said in English. “It is time. Miss Li, you please wait here.” Kamigami rose and followed him into the building. The old man led him to an ornate room where a tailor was fitting Zou with a silver-tan uniform. Kamigami looked around and said nothing. The foreign emissary the old man had mentioned, an American, gauging by his clothes, was sitting on a comfortable sofa drinking tea. A large number of uniforms were hanging on a rack. This was a different side to Zou Rong and he wasn’t sure if liked what he was seeing.

  “Ah, Victor,” Zou said. “I am pleased to see you again. Please, let me introduce General Mark Von Drexler. General Von Drexler, Victor Kamigami.” Zou was proud of himself for getting through the western-style introduction in English.

  A curious look crossed Von Drexler’s face. “Command Sergeant Major Victor Kamigami, United States Army?”

  “Yes, sir,” Kamigami replied. Von Drexler did not reply.

  Zou caught the exchange between the two men and sensed that Von Drexler was telling Kamigami who was in charge. But it puzzled him why a general from the Air Force would know about a sergeant from the Army, much less talk to him. It was not the Chinese way. “Sergeant major?” Zou said. “I thought you were an officer.”

  “I never claimed to be an officer,” Kamigami replied. “I apologize if I misled you, Mr. Zou.”

  “It’s President Zou,” Von Drexler corrected.

  “The United States, Japan, Great Britain, Germany, and France have recognized my government,” Zou announced. A tight smile crossed his face. Zou had established his preeminence over both of the men. “General Von Drexler,” he explained, “is in command of the American military assistance advisory group providing arms and supplies for my army.”

  Kamigami pulled inside himself, thinking. The situation was totally beyond his experience, yet he understood it. Zou and Von Drexler were no different from most men except for the will to power that drove them and the stubborn pride that could destroy them all. Where had he learned that? Then he remembered. Jin Chu had told him the story of a rebel general from deep in China’s history. He couldn’t remember the rebel general’s name, but the lesson remained. “It will take more than arms and supplies to defeat the PLA,” he said.

  “Why do you say that?” Zou asked.

  “I came through Wuzhou a week ago,” Kamigami said. He quickly summarized what he had seen. “Besides leadership and training, your army is going to need close air support to offset the PLA’s advantage in armor. It might have made the difference at Wuzhou.”

  Von Drexler drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. “What were you doing in Wuzhou?” he demanded. “Passing through. We were trying to reach Nanning.”

  “Where had you been before that?” Von Drexler asked. “Hong Kong.”

  “Why didn’t you report into the American consulate?”

  “I had been injured in the riots and didn’t have a chance—”

  “How long were you there, Sergeant Major?” Von Drexler interrupted.

  “Over a month,” Kamigami answered, refusing to lie. “Did you ever consider telephoning?”

  Nothing in Zou’s face or actions betrayed the anger that he felt. Von Drexler assumed that he had authority over Kamigami, but Zou could not allow that, not within his domain. Reports from Cheung Chau Island had reached as far as Nanning, and Zou wanted Kamigami to train and lead his small army in much the same way. But he also needed the supplies that Von Drexler controlled. He silently cursed the general for forcing him to choose between them.

  The door opened and Jin Chu entered, shattering the building tension. Von Drexler stared at her, lost for words, not believing what he saw.

  Zou quickly looked away when he was certain it was the same girl they had rescued from the PLA soldiers foraging for food near Canton. At the time, the villagers had told him of her powers as a seer and geomancer. In his mind, it was no fluke that she had chosen this exact moment to enter the room. It was an ample demonstration of her abilities. Abilities that he sorely needed.

  But more than that, Jin Chu’s quiet beauty had captivated him and he wanted her. She was true to her name and was a real pearl. He glanced at Kamigami. Even a fool could see how the big American felt about her. It was a relationship he could turn to his advantage. And then there was the problem of Von Drexler
, a man who lusted for power and control but did not understand the way things were done. Still, he needed all three of these people if he were to succeed.

  Jin Chu spoke to Zou in the same language she had used in the city. Zou’s face was impassive as she spoke. “Yes,” he said when she had finished, “I agree.” He rang a small bell on his desk. Immediately, the door opened and the old man entered. “Please find quarters for General Kamigami,” Zou said. “We will talk in a few days, after you have rested.” The old man bowed and ushered them out of Zou’s office, leaving a bewildered Von Drexler behind.

  Kamigami was equally confused. “What did you say to him?” he asked her.

  “I told him the truth. I said you can help our people and they will follow because you have the face of a general.”

  He shook his head. “That may have been the fastest promotion in the history of the military. That’s not the way to choose a general.”

  “It is the Chinese way,” Jin Chu said.

  Kamigami stood on the second-floor balcony of the house where the old man had deposited them the day before and watched the sun set over Nanning. Below him, he could see Jin Chu sitting beside the garden pond as she fed the goldfish and koi that cut the water with flashes of gold and white. Why am I so restless? he berated himself.

  The feeling stayed with him through dinner and into the evening. Finally, he found a comfortable spot on an old divan near the charcoal brazier that warmed the main room of the house and stared into the coals. What more could a man ask for? he thought. Then it came to him: He was feeling guilty because he was happy. He hadn’t done guilt in a long time.

  Jin Chu glided silently into the room carrying a leather-bound book and curled up beside him. “Why do you feel sad because you are happy?” she asked.

  How does she do it? he thought. People can’t read minds, but she seems to know what I’m thinking. Am I as easy for her to open as that book? A warm feeling swept over him. It pleased him that Jin Chu was so close, physically and emotionally. You’re crazy in love with a girl who is ten years younger than your daughter, he chastised himself. The guilt came rushing back. He gave her a forlorn look and shook his head. He didn’t know himself well enough to an swer her question.

  She turned the subject away from him and to the book in her lap. “There are many legends in my land,” she began, flipping through the pages. Kamigami relaxed, giving himself over to her storytelling. She found the page she was looking for. Four woodcut prints had been glued into place. Each print was finely carved and detailed, showing a highly stylized portrait of a different woman. Jin Chu pointed to each print, naming the women.

  “I’ll never keep all those names straight,” Kamigami told her. “Besides, they all look alike to me.”

  “That is sad, for each was a beauty.”

  Kamigami looked at the prints, at a loss for words. “Somebody should talk to the artist, for I sure don’t see it.”

  “Look with your heart,” Jin Chu scolded, “not your eyes.” Kamigami tried harder, but he still couldn’t see what made the four women so appealing. “Each belonged to a man like I belong to you,” Jin Chu said. Kamigami lifted his eyes to her face. “And each was a pearl beyond compare, filling the heart of the man she loved. Because of their beauty and loyalty, we remember the legend of the four beauties and tell it to this day.”

  Jin Chu’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at the prints. “It was not their fate to be happy.” She closed the book and reached out with her hand, touching Kamigami’s chin. She turned his face toward her. “Each was given as a gift to another man: one for greed, one for lust, one for power, and one for peace.”

  “I’d never let you become part of a legend,” Kamigami said. Jin Chu stroked his cheek, wishing he could understand. That night they made love until Kamigami fell asleep in her arms. He had never been so content.

  CHAPTER 7

  Wednesday, April 17

  Whiteman AFB, Missouri

  This is stupid, Pontowski thought. He stood in the doorway to his office and glanced at his watch: 5:45 in the morning. Sara “Ripper” Waters and Lori Williams were already at work, arranging piles of paperwork on the long table they had brought in to help with the sudden overflow. He had worked until eleven o’clock the evening before and managed to clear the table. Now he had to do it all again. “I can’t believe this,” he groaned. “Where is all this crap coming from?” He knew the answer.

  Waters looked up from her work. “Higher headquarters and the Pentagon,” she told him. “Where else?”

  He rifled through the first pile. It was from the Office of Environmental Engineering and tasked the 303rd to prepare and submit a two-part environmental impact statement. The first part would have to prove their departure from Whiteman would not adversely affect the local environment. The second part would have to prove their operations would not disrupt the environment at their new location. “I suppose,” he grumbled, “that we have to prove our bombs don’t dig craters.”

  The second pile of paperwork was from Social Actions and detailed an awareness program on Chinese culture and traditions that all volunteers would have to immediately complete. A stop action was placed on any deployment until everyone was certified socially aware.

  It was the bureaucracy gone wild. During the drawdown of the armed services after the collapse of the Soviet empire, every branch of the Department of Defense had been cut but one—the bureaucracy in Washington, D.C. The milicrats, that strange combination of military and civilian bureaucrats who inhabit the woodwork of offices inside the beltway that surrounds the capital, were experts at preserving their own jobs. Unfortunately, there was very little left for them to regulate and control. Now they had a chance to justify their existence.

  “Those idiots are getting in the way,” Pontowski grumbled.

  “There is a way to stall them,” Waters said. “We shoot a message back to each office”—she waved at the piles of paperwork on the table—”and tell them we are requesting budgetary funding to comply with their directives. In the interim, can they make funds available?”

  “Will that work?” Pontowski was incredulous.

  “Money always works,” she assured him. “By the way, Frank Hester needs to see you. He’s already in.” Pontowski beat a hasty retreat and headed for Operations, leaving Waters with the paperwork. “Coward,” she muttered.

  Hester was in his office working on the day’s training schedule with John Leonard. “G’morning, Boss,” he said.

  “What’s up?” Pontowski asked.

  “Not enough pilots,” Hester replied. “Only twenty-seven of our jocks have signed on.” Pontowski ran the numbers through his head: Three-quarters of his pilots had volunteered. That was enough to form the core of a wing, but he was going to need twice that. “Tango here has come up with an idea,” Hester continued. “He wants to advertise on the electronic billboard.”

  AFMPC, the Air Force Military Personnel Center at Randolph Air Force Base in Texas, used the Air Force’s computer net to advertise assignment openings like a classified want ad section of a newspaper. The electronic billboard was so popular that every office with a computer constantly monitored the system. “I’ve got a friend who can tap into the electronic billboard,” Leonard said, “without the Personnel Center knowing about it.” He handed Pontowski a sheet of paper.

  WANTED: Hired guns who specialize in wars fought, maidens saved, dragons slain, and other services to humanity. Volunteers for this special mission must be proficient in use of Warthogs, Mavericks, and Mark-82s. Only manly men and women who are willing to travel to foreign lands, meet strange and wonderful people, and drop bombs on them need apply. Send resume with past heroics to 303rd Fighter Squadron, Whiteman AFB, Missouri

  “Are you suggesting,” Pontowski said, “that we subvert one of the finest systems AFMPC has developed to advance our own nefarious ends?” He had a hard time keeping a straight face. Leonard grinned a yes at him. Pontowski gave him a sad look. “Your friend
had better be one devious hacker. Otherwise, AFMPC will stomp all over your schwanz.”

  “She’s the best criminal hacker in the business,” Leonard assured him.

  “What the hell,” Pontowski said. “Why not? What can they do to us?”

  “Make us all civilians?” Leonard deadpanned.

  “Do it,” Pontowski said. Leonard grabbed the want ad and disappeared out the door. “Who’s his friend with the criminal instincts?” Pontowski asked.

  “Ripper,” Hester answered.

  “That woman will be the death of me,” Pontowski said. He rose to leave.

  “Boss,” Hester said, “thank you.”

  Pontowski hesitated. “For what?”

  “For keeping the faith in me when I was acting like an asshole.”

  “Frank, if you were being an asshole, I want a squadron of ‘em.” Pontowski headed for his office, thinking about the gyrations they were going through. He motioned for Waters to follow him into his office. The long table was bare and only three folders were in his in-basket. He sat down and leaned back in his chair. “Ripper, what the hell are we doing here?”

  “Getting ready to fight a war,” Waters answered.

  “It seems like it’s all smoke and mirrors,” he said. “Is it worth it?”

  “Who knows?” she replied.

  He gazed out the window. “When I was in the Forty-fifth Fighter Wing,” he said, reminiscing, “Mad Mike Martin was the deputy for operations. He was a wild man—a rootin’, tootin’, snortin’ fighter jock. Mention combat and he jumped. One time he jumped so hard he got himself killed.”

  “You did sign on to fly and fight,” she said, thinking about her own husband. “The possibility of getting killed goes with the territory—an occupational hazard.”

  “I suppose it is. Thanks for letting me bend your ear.” She nodded and left. Why the questions now? he thought. When I was younger, I never had a flutter of doubt. He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs of uncertainty, and picked up the top folder in his in-basket and went to work.