by Larry Bond
But given that his job was to grab the spook and the dweeb with a minimum of fuss, he was almost happy to let them go. He told his men to hold their positions while he and Jenkins looked for stragglers or snipers.
“Where the hell are our bicycles?” he asked.
“Blown to pieces, Cap,” said Stevens. “I’m standing on them.”
“Stinking reds,” said Little Joe. “Now we gotta fuckin’ walk.”
“Walkin’s good for you,” said Stevens. “Work off your beer gut.”
“Hey, Cap, who ordered this rain?” asked Mancho.
“Yeah, his dress is gonna get wet,” said Stevens.
“Screw my dress. I’m worried about your perm.”
“All right, girls. Cut it,” said Kerfer. “Let’s get to Baker Point with a minimum of bitchin’ and lynchin’.”
“What fun would that be?” said Jenkins beside him. Jenkins was a black guy from Brooklyn, New York, who spoke in a voice so high he sounded like a girl. No one made fun of it though, because he was sensitive about it. Ordinarily that would only have encouraged razzing, but Jenkins stood six ten in his bare feet, and weighed so much it took two guys to balance him in the chopper.
No one made fun of it except Kerfer, that is. He was the only person in the platoon Jenkins wouldn’t hit or sit on.
“Come on, Squeaky, I’ll race you to the road. Let’s see if we can get there before your voice changes.”
* * *
The rain was torrential by the time they reached the slope below the spot where Mara and the mercenaries had slept. Mara, still holding Mạ, put her right hand over her eyes to shield them from the worst of the downpour. She couldn’t remember being this wet, not even in the ocean.
Josh, walking a few feet ahead, stopped.
“Global warming, right?” she said as she caught up.
“Not exactly.” He reached out and took Mạ. The girl was so tired she simply couldn’t walk on her own. “This is the way it’s always rained in Vietnam. The aggregate is different, but if you look at the individual episodes, this is well within parameters.”
“I keep forgetting you’re a scientist. How long is it going to rain?”
“To know that I’d have to be a meteorologist. Or a fortune-teller.”
“Come on,” she said, tugging. “The intersection is only a half mile away.”
* * *
“The infrared can’t see through the rain, Kerfer. You know that.”
“You Air Farters are always making excuses,” Kerfer told the major who was handling the interface between the SEALs and the Global Hawk UAV supplying them with intel. Equipped with a powerful infrared imager, the drone had been flown into position specifically for the mission, but the heavy cloud cover and rain rendered the sensors useless. “If it was a nice day you’d tell me there was too much glare.”
“Fug you and the airplane you flew in on.”
“Any time, Major. I can always use some R & R. Call me back when you have something to contribute.” Kerfer killed the transmission and turned to Stevens. “Are you sure this is the intersection?”
“Spooks marked it on the GPS.”
“Screw the GPS. Let me see the paper map.”
Stevens pulled it from his ruck. He switched on his pocket LED light, crouching low to the ground and cupping his hands to contain the glow.
“Why this intersection and not that one?” Kerfer asked, pointing down the road about half a mile.
“This is the one they marked, skipper.”
“Get on the horn with Lucas and find out if he can read a fuckin’ map. Little Joe, you’re with me. We’re going to check out the next bus stop down the line.”
* * *
Josh pulled the sat phone out and looked at it as it started to ring.
“Answer it,” said Mara. “Go ahead.”
“Hello?”
“Josh?”
“Yes.”
“This is Peter, Josh. Are you where you’re supposed to be? Your friends are looking for you.”
Josh looked in Mara’s direction. They were less than three feet apart, but he could barely see her.
“Are we where we’re supposed to be?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
“Don’t worry,” said Lucas. “I have it now.”
He hung up.
“The line’s dead,” said Josh.
“The SEALs must be close,” said Mara. “And the Chinese, too.”
* * *
Kerfer and Little Joe walked along the shoulder of the road, moving as quickly as they could despite the darkness and steady rain. The road had become more stream than highway. The muck sucked at their boots and made it hard to keep their balance. Kerfer, who’d taken point himself, pushed himself to stay ahead of Little Joe — if the big man fell forward on him, it would hurt more than being shot.
A hill rose on their right. The road angled to the left. The intersection was coming up.
He heard something and immediately took a step left, grabbing Little Joe and pulling him into a crouch.
“Think it’s them?” asked Little Joe, kneeling next to him.
“Hope so.”
Kerfer listened. The rain was falling so hard he couldn’t be sure of anything.
“Hey,” he said finally, his voice soft. “Goldilocks — this is the Big Bad Wolf. That you?”
* * *
Mara’s heart jumped when she heard the voice on the road.
“I want the identifier,” she said, trying not to drop her guard.
“Fuggit you want ID. I want ID,” answered the voice. Then he added, “Lucas sent me. I have a grocery list.”
“Is eggplant on it?”
“Who the hell comes up with this bullshit?” said Kerfer. “You guys practice to do this?”
“You’re Lieutenant Kerfer?” asked Mara.
“Yeah, I’m Kerfer. What about it?”
Mara started down the hill, sliding on the slick grass. Kerfer and one of his men were standing in the muddy stream that marked the shoulder of the road. He flicked on a small penlight, holding it in her direction as she reached the road.
“I’ve heard about you,” said Mara.
“Yeah, well I never heard anything about you.” Kerfer raised the light, shining it toward her face. “Which is my loss.”
“You’re right.”
“They didn’t tell me I was rescuing a model,” said Kerfer.
“Flatter me all you want, Lieutenant. Your reputation precedes you.”
She stuck her hand out to shake, not sure what to expect. She had heard about Kerfer. He had a reputation for being difficult to get along with and a serious flirt.
“Glad to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand quickly. “You should have some others, right?”
“We’re here,” said Josh, coming down the slope with Mạ.
“And who are you?” Kerfer asked the girl when she got close. He shone the light in her face; she ducked back behind Josh.
“Her name is Mạ,” said Josh. “She’s shy.”
“I have some candy.” Kerfer dug into his pockets and held out an energy bar. Mạ peered out from behind Josh’s leg. “Go ahead, you can take it. I ain’t gonna bite you. It’s candy”
Mạ didn’t move. Kerfer told her she could have it in Vietnamese.
The girl peeked out tentatively. He tore the side of the package, unwrapping the bar halfway.
“If you don’t eat it, I will,” he said, mimicking doing just that before holding the bar out to her again.
Josh took it and handed it to her. She took a bite, then began to devour it.
“You’re the scientist, right?” said Kerfer, rising.
“Josh MacArthur.” He held his hand out.
“Yeah, let’s get going,” said Kerfer, not bothering to shake. “We have to get as far away from those Commie bastards as possible before this rain lets up.”
27
Northern Vietnam
The van’s windshield wipers sl
apped frantically at the raindrops, pushing them off the glass with a hard squeak. Zeus squinted and leaned toward the steering wheel, trying to get a good view of the road. He had his high beams on but even so could barely see twenty feet in front of him.
“We’re coming to that intersection,” said Christian, looking at his GPS. “It’s a half mile away.”
Zeus backed off on the gas, slowing to almost ten miles an hour. Though asphalt, the road surface was very slippery. He’d nearly gone off the road twice while turning.
“You drive like an old lady,” said Christian.
“You’re welcome to take my place.”
Zeus found the road and turned up it, slipping in the mud as the incline increased.
“This road goes straight up,” he told Christian.
“Hey, we’re in the mountains, right? You wanted a shortcut. This is it.”
The van rattled and slipped; the transmission and the traction control working against each other. The rear end began slipping to the left. Zeus started correcting, but the rear end kept moving up.
He started to think he would have to turn around when the hill abruptly crested. Zeus jammed on the brakes, skidding on the wet pavement. He stopped crosswise in the middle of the hill.
Christian glared at him.
“I didn’t do it on purpose. Jesus,” Zeus told him. “Like I’m saying, if you want to drive, be my guest.”
“You can drive,” he said.
“Where the hell are we, anyway?” asked Zeus, not quite ready to start down the steep hill.
They were about three kilometers from Pho Lu, midway across the Con Voi mountain range. The SEALs had jumped in about fifty kilometers to the west. Lao Cai, thirty kilometers north, was still in Vietnamese hands — but feeling increasingly nervous, as the Chinese had continued to mass troops nearby and started shelling the place. The small Vietnamese army contingent there would not be able to hold them off if they crossed the line.
“We can move down to that farm near Pho Lu,” said Christian, “and wait for them there.”
“It’ll take them all night to get to us in the rain,” said Zeus.
“Perry said under no circumstance are we to go beyond the river,” said Christian.
“Yeah.”
The rain pounded on the glass. Zeus put the truck in gear and gingerly began downward. Not trusting the tires, he began pumping the brakes. As soon as they slowed almost to a stop, he let off, built a little speed, then began pumping again.
“I think you got it,” said Christian.
“Don’t jinx me.”
A series of switchbacks began about a half kilometer down. These were easier to navigate, though if anything the road was even more slippery because of accumulating runoff. Zeus angled the van as he made each turn, sliding with the mud but still retaining control.
“Man, you’re gonna get us killed,” muttered Christian.
“I keep telling you — you want to drive, take the wheel.”
The road began curving around the side of a cliff, leveling above a jagged valley. Pho Lu sat somewhere at the left end of the valley, though in the dark and the rain it was impossible to see. Zeus spotted a pull-off to the right and drove into it cautiously, flicking off the lights but leaving the engine on.
“Let’s check on them,” he told Christian.
“Yeah.”
Christian picked up the satcom, punching in the frequency for the Bangkok CIA station coordinating the pickup. Zeus leaned back, trying to stretch out. The long drive had knotted his muscles.
“This is Major Christian. We’re near Pho Lu. What’s their ETA?”
Zeus watched out of the corner of his eye as Christian listened to the CIA officer in Thailand. The dashboard’s glow made his look even more sinister than normal.
“Why? What’s going on?” asked Christian.
Zeus pushed upright in the seat.
“We can’t wait here all night,” said Christian.
“What’s going on?” asked Zeus.
“They don’t have the bikes. They’re walking.”
“Walking? What is that, fifty klicks away?”
“As the crow flies, maybe.”
“Let me talk to him.”
“I can handle this.” Christian put up his hand, warding him off. “Tell them we can only wait until dawn. After that — ”
“What do you mean, we’re only waiting until dawn? Where the hell are they?” Zeus reached for the phone.
“I have this, Major,” said Christian.
“Get directions for where they are. Get coordinates.”
“I have this.”
“Get coordinates.”
“Yes, we want coordinates,” Christian told the CIA officer in Bangkok. “We’re not waiting around here all night.”
Christian entered the coordinates into his device, made sure he had the frequency for the SEAL team, then signed off.
“You don’t really think we should go there, do you?” he said to Zeus.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Perry’s going to be pissed.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“Going home and having a beer,” said Christian, pulling his rifle up from the floor of the cab. “We have to take a right about three kilometers down the road.”
28
Northern Vietnam
The helicopter had burrowed into the hillside as it crashed. It was unlikely anyone aboard had survived, but to be sure, someone had to get close and check. Jing Yo had seen so much death over the past few days that he would gladly have passed the duty to someone else, but in the end it was he who climbed over the tangled wreckage to see.
The pilot and copilot were strapped in their seats, compressed in the metal wreckage. The rear compartment was so charred and battered it was impossible to see inside.
The rain continued to pour. Jing Yo tried to pry the cockpit door open with his rifle, but it was so mangled that it wouldn’t budge. The dead men’s removal would have to wait until the rain ended and help arrived.
“I hope this bastard is worth it,” said Sergeant Wu when Jing Yo walked back to him.
Unlike its companion, the second chopper had suffered only a few bullet holes in the undercarriage. The pilot and his crew huddled inside out of the rain, waiting in a field about 150 meters from their fallen comrades to hear what Jing Yo wanted to do next.
Back in the belly of the chopper, Jing Yo took out his area map, trying to guess where the Americans would go. They had only two choices — to go back east or south. South would take them into the heart of the Chinese army advance. By contrast, the east, while a much harder trek because of the terrain and vegetation, was wide open.
The rain would slow his enemy down, but still, Jing Yo needed help.
Colonel Sun took the request calmly.
“Lao Cai is being attacked as we speak,” the colonel told him. “The troops there will come south along Route 70. I will see what can be spared. Pursue the Americans as tightly as possible.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“Do not fail me, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
* * *
The SEALs formed a cocoon around Josh, Mara, and Mạ as they walked. They’d brought extra rain gear, though by now keeping dry was a fantasy. Josh wrapped Mạ in one of the ponchos, fixing the hood so the girl could see out as he carried her. She was heavy — beyond heavy — but she seemed to want only him to carry her. It made him feel proud, in a way, chosen, though part of him would have been just as happy to give up the honor.
He was dead on his feet. He’d sleep for weeks when he got back.
After telling the world what was going on.
Mara trudged a few steps ahead. He was sure she was just as tired as he was. Her reaction to Kerfer irked him; the Navy lieutenant was a hot dog and an asshole, but women seemed to be attracted to that, even smart women who knew better, like Mara. He imagined that she did know better, from personal experience, but still found hi
s charm irresistible.
He no longer thought she was gay. The way she’d reacted to Kerfer ruled that out.
She wasn’t as plain as he’d thought either.
* * *
Mara kept wiping her eyes, trying to keep them clear. Even so, her vision was so blurred from the rain that she practically ran into Kerfer when he stopped short on the road to talk to someone on his satcom radio.
“Hey, your boss is looking for you,” he said, handing her the unit. About the size of a sat phone, it was more powerful and could use an array of different encryptions.
“This is Mara.”
“Hey, beautiful, how are the SEALs treating you?” asked DeBiase.
“Like a million dollars.”
“Ha-ha. Listen, we have the van coming to meet you. You have to get down to the road that runs along Ngòi Bo. That’s a creek. I just told Kerfer about it and he claims to know where it is.”
“If he says he does, he probably does.”
“Yeah, emphasis on the word ‘probably.’ Watch him, Mara. He’s slick.”
“As slick as you?”
“I wouldn’t sleep with him. He’ll never respect you in the morning.”
“No chance of that,” she said. Mara flushed a little. There was no chance of that, now or at any point in the future.
Though he was attractive in a SEAL sort of way.
Josh was attractive, too. But that wasn’t happening either.
“It’s going to take them an hour to get close,” continued DeBiase. “So keep walking. This rain is so heavy, none of the UAVs are getting any intelligence. They’re up. As soon as the clouds clear they’ll see.”
“How long is it going to rain?”
“Half hour, another hour. Probably stop just when the truck meets you.”
“Figures,” she told him before handing the radio back to Kerfer.
29
Northern Vietnam
Zeus stopped at the edge of the bridge. The van’s headlights showed a steady stream of reflections ahead — the stream had overrun the road.
“How deep you think it is?” he asked Christian.