Authors: Larry Bond

Shadows of War (36 page)

BOOK: Shadows of War

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Northwestern Vietnam

Jing Yo tightened his grip
on the handle at the side of the helicopter door, waiting as the aircraft banked toward the small farm on the side of the hill. Thick black smoke curled from the undersides of the tin roof, seething outward as if the barn were a pot with an overcooked stew. He looked back into the compartment and saw Sergeant Wu grinning behind him.

“Did our work for us,” yelled the sergeant, leaning toward him. “Now maybe we get some rest.”

The helicopter pitched backward slightly as it landed. Jing Yo leapt onto the uneven ground and, head lowered, trotted toward the knot of soldiers standing near the building.

“Who's in charge here?” he yelled.

“Sergeant Wong,” replied the private closest to him. The man barely glanced at him.

Ordinarily, Jing Yo didn't stand on ceremony, especially when in a hurry, but the private's attitude could not be ignored.

“Stand at attention when an officer talks to you,” he barked.

The private turned and frowned, then complied.

“What is your name?” said Jing Yo.

The soldier finally realized that he might actually be in trouble. He went ramrod straight, hands to his sides, and snapped out his name, along with the requisite sir and tone of respect.

“Take me to Sergeant Wong,” said Jing Yo.

“He's in the house.”

“Take me to him. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jing Yo told Wu and the rest of the team to watch the barn, then went with the private around the back end of the building, circling through a narrow garden and farm yard before reaching the small yard separating the barn and building. A dead goat lay next to the pond bordering the yard. Its head had been chewed up by 5.8 mm bullets. Flies buzzed across the wounds.

Ordinarily a private's attitude toward an officer mimicked that of his squad sergeant, and Jing Yo expected to be met with disrespect from Sergeant Wong. But the sergeant spotted the commando patch on Jing Yo's uniform and was instantly cooperative.

“Lieutenant, a pleasure,” said Wong. He held out his hand. “I am Sergeant Wong. How can we help the commandos?”

“You may have a person I'm looking for. Have you searched the house?”

“We are in the process of doing so, Lieutenant.”

“You and I must talk. Alone.”

“Of course, Lieutenant. A pleasure.”

Jing Yo led the sergeant outside. As they walked toward the front of the house, he noticed that no one was standing guard on that part of the property. In fact, the soldiers were poorly organized, clumping around the barn and the house.

“Why haven't you secured this property?” Jing Yo asked.

“It is secure, Lieutenant.”

“You have no guards along the road, or on this side of the house.”

“Who would we be guarding the house from?”

“Before you search an area, you secure it.”

“We weren't searching it, Lieutenant. We were moving through. Our job is to probe Viet defenses. We found three snipers in the barn,” he added. “We smoked them out.”

“Where are they?”

“In the field, not far from where we shot them.”

“Take me to them. Make sure the area is secured and searched. My men will search as well.”

The three people who had run from the barn were lying faceup about thirty meters from the still-smoldering structure. Their eyes gaped at the blue sky; they wore puzzled expressions on their faces, as if they couldn't yet believe they had passed on.

Two men, both Vietnamese.

“Why were they shot?” Jing Yo asked the sergeant.

“They were snipers.”

“Where are their weapons?”

“We haven't searched the barn yet. No sense risking our own necks, eh, Lieutenant?”

Jing Yo knelt down to check if either of the men had identification cards. Neither one did.

“You know these Vietnamese,” continued Wong. “They're all trained killers. They were guerrillas during the war with the Americans. They see a uniform and it gets them excited. Blood to a shark.”

“These were the only two men at the farm?” asked Jing Yo.

“We're still searching.”

“Why didn't you search before you set the barn on fire?”

“We were just in the process when we came under fire,” said the sergeant.

He answered quickly, his voice high. Jing Yo concluded that he was lying. Most likely one of his own men had begun to shoot out of panic, perhaps even before the fire had been set. It wasn't important; finding the American was.

“Sergeant Wu, send someone up to the house to help the search. You and I will look in the barn.”

Bangkok

Peter Lucas stared at the computer screen,
waiting for the refresh to take effect. The image was coming from a Global Hawk 2 unmanned reconnaissance aircraft, which was flying over Laos. Flying at just over 120,000 feet, the plane used a special lens to get a sideways view into Vietnam without actually going over the territory. The camera showed incredible detail: if someone stood on the ground with a pair of coins in his hand, an expert could tell the difference between the penny and the quarter. But it wasn't good enough for Lucasâit didn't show him where MacArthur was.

Had he gone to the farm? Or was he running from it when he called?

“You can let the computer refresh on its own,” said DeBiase, standing next to him. “It's not going to go any quicker if you do it manually.”

“It gives me something to do.”

The screen flashed and the image began redrawing itself. The barn was still on fire. The two helicopters, which had been at the edge of the frame on the last shot, were now on the ground.

“Those helicopters are a bad sign,” said DeBiase. “They wouldn't have sent them unless they were there for something important.”

“Mmmm.”

“You could call him.”

“Ringer might give him away. If he's hiding there.”

“They'll find him sooner or later. Mara's awful close. The Chinese may find her instead of him.”

Lucas tapped his fingers on the console. DeBiase was right. He reached to the keyboard, selected the dialer, and called.

The phone started to ring
as Josh neared the entrance to the mine. He stopped, then took a step toward the cave, then decided to answer the phone.

“What?” he said.

“Josh, it's Peter.”

“Are you who you say you are?”

“Josh, listenâ”

tugged at him. The helicopters were practically overhead.

“Go to hell,” said Josh. He hit the Kill button and shoved the phone in his pocket as he ran toward the cave, his finger moving to the trigger of his gun.

Mara studied the Chinese helicopters
from the cab of the truck. She'd never seen the gunships before. They looked a lot like American Apaches, but with faceted sides and a thick cowling over the engine. These were features designed to make the chopper stealthier, though in their present configuration, with thick air-to-ground missiles and gun pods on their stubby winglets, they didn't look like they were in much of a mood to pass by unnoticed.

“What we doin', boss?” asked Jimmy Choi over the squad radio.

“We're waiting until we get a positive location,” said Mara. She still had the Russian's headset.

“And what we do if it's on the barn?”

“What do you suggest we do?”

“Ho-ho. I suggest we blow through the Chinese army.” Jimmy laughed. “If you get rid of the helicopters. No helicopters, we're in like Flynn, babe.”

“I'm glad you can laugh at a time like this.”

“Better than crying, right?”

“Seriously.”

“Seriousâhelicopters a problem but we have grenades. We can take down two or three. But maybe kill your scientist, too.”

Mara picked up the sat phone to call Lucas and find out if he had a location, but he beat her to it. She hit the Talk button as the phone started to ring.

“It's Mara. Go ahead, Bangkok.”

“Mara, listen. I'm just beaming you the GPS coordinates. He's on a hill two kilometers southwest of that farm. The helicopters are circling all around the area. But the only ground troops we can see are at the farm.”

She picked up the field glasses and scanned the area. The hill was probably the one almost directly to her left, less than a mile away.

“Can you get him?”

“Definitely,” she said, digging out her GPS to make sure.

Jing Yo raised his rifle,
ready to follow the soldiers into the smoldering barn.

Was the scientist the man he had chased into the water days before? If so, he was a difficult opponent, a man with much luck or many lives, perhaps both. And skill.

His satcom radio buzzed. Jing Yo raised his hand, signaling Wu to wait, and answered the hail. It was the intelligence officer from division who was helping track the scientist.

“I have a new fix for you,” said Owl Eyes excitedly. “Not three kilometers away. He's just communicated within the last two minutes. Hurry; he may be trying to escape.”

They were airborne two minutes later. Jing Yo stood in the space behind the flight deck between the two pilots, crouching forward so he could see. The GPS coordinates, projected onto a rolling map in the center of the helicopter's control panel as well as on the HUD or headsup displays in front of the pilots, indicated the scientist was on a small hill to their right as they flew.

“No place to land,” said the pilot.

“Land in the road,” said Jing Yo.

“Not wide enough. The rotors will clip the trees.”

“We have a field half a klick south, right there,” said the copilot.

“No. We'll rappel,” said Jing Yo. “We'll go down lines into the road.”

“As you wish, Lieutenant.”

“Who's that?” Jing Yo asked, pointing to a command vehicle and troop truck that were coming up the road toward the hill. The direction was wrong for it to be Wong, whom he'd ordered to finish the search as a precaution.

As they watched, the trucks pulled over by the side of the road and several soldiers got out, sprinting up the hill.

“You sure they're not your people?” the copilot asked.

Had Sun put another unit on the job without telling him? It would be just like the colonel.

But no; Sun didn't have enough resources to waste them in a meaningless competition.

“It doesn't matter. Get us in there.”

Mara's heart pounded as she jogged
up the incline. She swept her eyes back and forth, dodging the biggest rocks and clumps of brush.

“Josh!” she yelled, nearly out of breath. “Josh! Peter sent us! We're here. Where are you, Josh?”

There was no answer.

“Josh!”

Mara took one last look at the handheld computer's GPS display, then slid it into her pocket in favor of the sat phone.

“Peterâsome of us are wearing Chinese uniforms. Tell him it's okay.”

“I'm trying to get him, Mara. He's not answering.”

“Shit.” She kept the phone in her hand and yelled. “Josh! Come out! We need to get you the hell out of here
now
!”

A line of rocks on Mara's left ran up the side of the hill like exposed ribs. She began following them, moving slowly so she could see any possible hiding places.

The vegetation cleared. The ruins of old buildings were scattered around, ghosts from a not-too-distant past.

“Josh!” Mara yelled again.

Jimmy Choi, Moe, and Jeb came up behind her.

“Where is he?” said Jimmy. He wasn't smiling anymore.

“He has to be nearby,” said Mara. “Maybe he saw our uniforms and
panicked. Search the sides of the woodsâI'll take that lean-to or whatever the hell it is.”

A helicopter had begun circling above, moving around the hill.

Was it a trap? It had that smell.

“Josh!”

There was a cave near the summit of the hillâno, a mine shaft.

Mara put her phone to her ear. “Peter? Did he go in the mine?”

“He didn't say anything about a mine.”

“Are we in the right goddamn place?”

“Mara, I wouldn't let you go to the wrong place. You're about ten feet from where he was when he calledâten feet south of the exact spot.”

The exact spot was two or three steps from the entrance to the mine. He must've gone inside.

“Josh!”

Her voice echoed into the darkness. She took her LED key-chain light out of her pocket and held it up. The dim light didn't shine very far into the shaft.

Jimmy Choi ran up outside. “The helicopter is going to land,” he told her. “Very bad news.”

“Don't let it. I think our guy is in here. I'm going into the cave.”

“Ho-ho. You make us earn our money, lady. We see you at the truck.”

Jimmy's laugh stayed with her as she stepped forward into the darkness.

Jing Yo glanced down at the road
as he reached for the line at the side of the helicopter. They were less than thirty meters from the road surface, hovering within a meter of the nearby trees. He could see the Hanma a few meters away. From the markings, the vehicle looked like it belonged to an artillery scouting team; very possibly they had been diverted from some other chore.

“Let's go!” he yelled over the roar of the rotors, swinging out. Feet in place, he began to slide downward.

Something passed overhead, a bird flashing with incredible speed.

Jing Yo's instincts took over, and though still a few meters from the ground, he released his grip on the line. The rope snapped at him, angry. The sky howled, an angry wind erupting as he fell.

Jing Yo spread his arms, relaxing his muscles as his feet hit the ground. He rolled forward, hitting the ground far harder than he would have
under ordinary circumstances, but not so hard that he was in danger of breaking any bones. He rolled forward, falling as he had fallen many times before, swirling upward as he had been trained to do, balanced, perfectly balancedâeverything was a matter of balance.

The air exploded. Jing Yo was pushed to the ground. He struggled to get back up, to understand what had happened.

The helicopter was down. The jungle was on fire.

Josh pushed M

ahead as the voice echoed through the tunnel, holding and prodding her with his left hand while he felt along the wall with his right. It was pitch-black; he couldn't even see M