Shock of War (40 page)

But with untrained troops? They might be dedicated, they might even be suicidal, but ninety-odd missiles against a division's worth of APCs? To say nothing of the odd tank or two that might show up.

Kerfer couldn't help but admire the major a little. He'd changed somewhat in the days since Kerfer had seen him. Or maybe just more revealed: harder, determined.

Too determined, maybe. He was sliding down a hill Kerfer himself had gone down many times.

Not this time.

Kerfer started to turn back for the C-130, which was waiting for him to take off. He stopped and called to Zeus.

“Hey, Major—”

“Yeah?”

“You mind if I give you a little friendly advice?”

“Shoot.”

“This isn't your war.”

Whatever Major Murphy had been expecting to hear, it wasn't that. He gave Kerfer a puzzled look.

“It's not your war,” repeated Kerfer. He turned and began walking to the plane, knowing his words would be ignored.

11

CIA headquarters, Virginia

Before she could figure out
who the traitor was in Hanoi—and even if there definitely was a traitor, as opposed to a more run-of-the-mill thief—Mara Duncan needed to familiarize herself with what was going on in the country. To do that, she spent her time sitting at a computer in a secure room reading and reviewing data from a wide range of sources.

The room looked very much like an ordinary office suite, with partitions and desks clustered in different areas. Two sections were partitioned off by thick glass from the rest, which made it easier for the people inside to have conversations, though generally they didn't.

Three analysts and Grease were using the room as well. Grease was the only one who took notice of Mara when she came in, and he barely nodded before going back to his screen.

After clearing her security code and putting her thumb on an ID pad, Mara punched in a temporary password. Within seconds, she was scrolling through a list of recent situation reports and analyses. She started by looking at the news reports that had been filed online over the past twelve hours. It was always best to start with fantasy before proceeding to real life.

The disconnect between reality and what was reported wasn't surprising, of course, though she hadn't quite realized how strong the sentiment against Vietnam was in the U.S., let alone realized how it colored the news reporting.

Josh's revelations hadn't had much impact. Just within the hour, a statement had been released by several retired generals urging the U.S. to remain neutral.

The statement was a dead giveaway that the highest ranks of the Army were adamantly opposed to any involvement. They couldn't say that publicly, of course, but it was very unlikely that these retired generals would have gone public without at least some backing at the Pentagon.

Mara moved from the press reports to diplomatic cables, and then on to Army and Pentagon intelligence assessments and estimates. From there it was on to the other agencies, starting with the NSA. Somewhere in the middle of looking at the eavesdroppers' updates and estimates, she realized the Vietnamese were limiting the movements of their armies in an unusual way.

Several decrypted communications between different Vietnamese commands indicated that a no-travel zone in the north was to be strictly enforced at all costs. At first Mara thought this related to the area south of Hanoi proper, where the command bunkers were, but it turned out to be a large swatch of the Yen Tu Mountains.

An armored brigade being rushed to meet the Chinese advance in the east had been warned away from the area. Which didn't make a lot of sense.

She pointed it out to Grease.

“Yen Tu Pagoda is very sacred, not just to Buddhists but to all Vietnamese,” he told her. “That was where a famous uprising against the Chinese was centered historically. You can see the symbolic significance.”

“The pagoda is nowhere near the roads they were warned away from,” said Mara.

“Tanks would never make it up those mountain roads,” he said. “They were probably just being practical.”

But a no-fly zone as well?

“Huh,” said Mara out loud. She went back to the computer and started reading more.

12

Outside Hai Phong

The Ilyushin couldn't handle the weight
of all the missiles, and so a second plane was pressed into service. The jet, an old 727 airliner, nearly ran off the end of the short Hai Phong runway as the pilot tried to brake on the wet pavement in the dark. Its tail swung hard to the left, threatening to spin the aircraft onto the grass infield. When it finally came to a stop, one set of wheels was off the runway.

By the time Zeus got there with Major Cha
Å«
, the platoon of soldiers detailed by General Tri to unload the weapons had managed to push the plane back onto the runway apron. The missile crates had been stacked in the aisle between the seats, wedged sideways so they couldn't move. Thanks to this, all were intact. Major Cha
Å«
gave the order to have them unpacked as quickly as possible.

Drawn from volunteers in his regular division, General Tri's strike force had been assembled at the airport. There were exactly twenty-four soldiers, ranging in age from eighteen to forty-three—a fact that somehow seemed significant to the youngish-looking captain named Kim who led them. He told Zeus proudly that every man had heard of the Americans' glorious victory against the tanks, and was hoping to live up to his inspiration. General Tri had told them personally that Zeus was one American who would never desert the Vietnamese, and he had proven that with his blood.

Zeus glanced at Major Cha
Å«
as he finished translating.

“He's sincere,” said Cha
Å«
. “They all feel that way. We all do.”

“All right. The first thing we do is divide everyone up into three-man teams,” said Zeus.

“Already done,” said Cha
Å«
. Captain Kim had even managed to divide the teams up so that at least one man on each team had had some training with antitank missiles.

Zeus showed the men how to set up the launcher. Ideally, he would have had each squad assemble the missiles on their own and take a practice shot before setting out. But there wasn't enough time for the former, and not enough missiles for the latter. They'd have to learn in the field.

Tien Yen was located beyond an estuary off the South China Sea. There was another large peninsula to the south. Rice fields, probably completely flooded, lay on the south side of the peninsula, which was heavily treed and marshy. Zeus thought they could sail up the far side of the southern peninsula, land near one of the roads to the south, then march inland about a mile and a half to the area of Ha Dong. A regiment of Chinese infantry had stopped here before the rain; their vehicles were the primary target.

“There is another depot here, farther down,” said Zeus, tracing the route on the map. This was held by a platoon's worth of infantry and their vehicles. “Ideally, we can hit them at the same time. If we move out now, we can get them and withdraw before dawn.”

By the time Major Cha
Å«
finished translating, Captain Kim had a worried look on his face. Zeus knew there was a problem.

“You better have him tell me what the problem is,” said Zeus.

With some reluctance, Kim explained that the Vietnamese had been able to muster only two patrol boats for the operation. They weren't nearly big enough to carry all of the missiles and the men in one trip.

“How many can they carry?” Zeus asked.

Kim wasn't sure. The weapon crates were bigger than they had thought.

“All right,” said Zeus. “We'll figure it out when we see the boats. Let's load up the trucks.”

*   *   *

The two boats the Vietnamese
had mustered couldn't have been more different. The first was a Stolkraft with a trimaran hull, an extremely fast, wide-bodied craft designed as a customs patrol boat. In smooth waters, it was capable of hitting close to 90 knots. With the remnant of the typhoon still beating the waves, the vessel would move considerably slower, but the design made it reasonably stable despite the heavy seas.

The other boat was an ancient U.S. Navy PBR, a Vietnam War–era riverine patrol boat that had somehow made its way up from the delta. It was a tiny vessel, originally designed to handle only four crewmen, and never meant for rough water.

The Stolkraft could have taken all of the men, but not the missiles. Even with some of the men sitting in the life raft on the aft deck, they could only bring five three-man teams with all of their gear. The PBR could take one squad, with all of their missiles loaded aboard the Stolkraft.

“It'll have to do,” said Zeus. “We'll take one group up first. They'll hit the northern depot. The Stolkraft will go back and load up. I'll meet the second group farther south. We'll strike the second point.”

“You're going with them?” asked Major Cha
Å«
.

“Yes. I have to show them how to shoot.”

“The procedure seemed easy.”

“I'm going with them. Ask Captain Kim if I can get a rifle. All I have is my Beretta.”

“Captain—”

“I'm probably a better shot than most of these guys,” Zeus told Major Cha
Å«
. “It makes sense that I have a gun.”

“I don't believe General Trung envisioned your joining the troops,” said Cha
Å«
.

Zeus just shrugged.

*   *   *

They set out just as the rain started
whipping up again, a last arm of the storm punching them. Zeus stood on the bridge with Major Cha
Å«
and the boat's captain, gripping a handhold for dear life.

It was anything but smooth, but it beat what was happening on the other boat, which bounded up and down like a ball bouncing across the floor.

As long as he remained focused on the mission, Zeus was all right—not only did concentrating on what they were going to do help stave off seasickness, but it kept him from thinking about Anna.

“Another two kilometers to the inlet,” said Major Cha
Å«
. “Almost there.”

“Good.”

“You should go back with the boat,” suggested Cha
Å«
. “Your own general would surely prefer it.”

Undoubtedly. Perry would surely have a fit when he found out, but Zeus had decided he was going anyway. He couldn't have said exactly why. Some of it may have been the speech the captain had made, some of it his promise to General Tri. Some of it was duty; despite General Perry's comments, he felt his orders to help the Vietnamese meant that he had to actually help them, not leave them in the lurch.

And some portion, too, had to do with Anna. If he helped the Vietnamese now, maybe they would release her to him.

A war prize.

The waves calmed considerably as soon as they turned into the narrow strait of water that would take them to their landing area. The captain cut the engines, waiting for the PBR to join them.

Zeus took a long, slow breath and stared out at the blackness in front of the boat. The Chinese army was only a mile and a half away on their right.

It was a foolish plan. He should never have proposed it.

Too late now.

The boat began easing forward. Zeus left the bridge, climbing down the short ladder and walking to the forward deck. A sailor manned the machine gun there; four of the soldiers were crouched nearby, hunched over their knees as they waited to land.

“Looks good,” said Zeus, trying to sound optimistic.

The sailor on the gun raised his hand, catching the spirit if not the precise meaning of what Zeus had said.

The night smelled of metal and wetness, the air thick with the typhoon's passing remnants. The boat's captain had predicted a fog would rise from the land as the storm passed. That would help them, Zeus thought, at least until it came time to fire the missiles. The laser needed a clear line of sight to the target, and too much moisture would interfere with the beam.

So they'd wait for dawn then. No turning back now.

The Stolkraft jerked against something. There was a muffled shout from the cabin, a command from the bridge. They moved backward, the craft stuttering in the water. Though shallow-drafted, the vessel had run aground.

They maneuvered a little back and forth. Two sailors stripped to their underwear, and jumped into the water ahead of the bow. One disappeared completely. The other stood in water to his waist.

The sailors guided them farther up the strait toward the land, until finally the boat's captain decided they were as close as they were going to get. They brought the other boat alongside, then began to unload.

Zeus was the third man off. He slipped into the water as quietly as possible. It was a foot and a half deep.

Before the storm, this had been a rice field. The berms that separated the fields were covered, leaving only those with trees visible.

It took nearly five minutes before the scout at the head of the group found a hump of dry land and a path to two small hovels beyond the field. The men quieted as they neared the buildings, unsure whether they were occupied or not.

Taking no chances, Captain Kim detailed two of his teams to check the first building. It was empty, as was the second. He left a trio of men there to guide the others still coming up from the boats, then continued with the rest to a narrow gravel road a short distance from the houses.

Zeus didn't have a GPS unit, and had to get his bearings with a Vietnamese map and some Global Hawk images he had brought with him from the planning session. He turned his map sideways, retracing the path they had taken on the water, then moving his finger up through the land toward the hamlet the Chinese had seized as a command post before the storm. He double-checked it against the photos, making sure he was right.