Tropical Terror (24 page)

“Ostercamp, you go back and baby-sit our prisoners. Some of them could be waking up pretty soon. Make sure they don't make any noise or get away. Go.

“The rest of you find your spots and settle in. No sleeping. We'll do a net check every fifteen minutes. Right now it is zero-two-twelve. Holt, hang with the commander and me. Let's move it.”

Ed talked to Murdock. “One of the Chinese got away. There may be a few more hiding out waiting for dawn. We'll wait with them. Any suggestions?”

“You're doing fine, JG. Hate this fucking shoulder. Is it busted all to hell?”

“Can't tell, Skipper. We'll let the medics in the big Army medical center above Pearl work that out. I figure we should keep CINCPAC up to date on our progress. Holt, fire it up and get CINCPAC.”

Holt had to move out from under the trees to get a good sighting on the satellite, then motioned to DeWitt.

“CINCPAC, Red Hill calling.”

“Go ahead, Red Hill.”

“Progress report. We have taken the top of the hill where the camp is. The hostages are not in the tents. We believe they may have escaped into the brush. All opposition here
has been eliminated for now. We're holding to morning to see if we can flush out any more Chinese. Commander Murdock has a serious shoulder wound. We'll need a chopper to fly us out of here early in the morning if all goes right. Could you send a Sea Knight to the Maui airport for a quick pickup?”

“Red Hill, copy. Will relay this to the admiral and contact you. Bird on Maui seems good idea. Do you have any prisoners?”

“Yes, CINCPAC. We have twelve Chinese with no wounds. Make that two choppers for the evac.”

“Roger that. Who is this speaking?”

“Lieutenant (j.g.) DeWitt, sir. Second in command.”

“Thank you. Expect a reply within two hours.”

When DeWitt went back under the trees to his small CP, he found Murdock sleeping. He touched his forehead. DeWitt scowled.

“Hey, Doc, Murdock is burning up with a fever. Get up here and see what the hell is wrong with him and what you can do about it.”

Murdock woke up as soon as Mahanani started to check him.

“Hey, Skipper, you're flaking out on me? Where did this temperature come from? You have a fever?”

“Hell, you're the corpsman.”

“You allergic to morphine?”

“Never have been before.”

The big Hawaiian/Tahitian scowled. “Might have developed it. I'll hit you with some ibuprofen, that might do it. Just don't put any pressure on the shoulder. I better put your arm in a sling to be sure you don't forget and use it.”

He rigged a sling from a big square of cloth and tied it around Murdock's neck. “Now, just chill out the rest of the night, Skip. We'll get some medics working on you first thing in the morning.”

“Yeah, right. Get back to your post.” Murdock frowned. What the hell, he felt like he was sloughing off. He should at least have a spot in the perimeter. Hell, what was going on? He knew he should be doing something. Ed. Ed DeWitt had the con. Yeah. Relax. Good old Ed would do the job.
Yeah, try and relax. Tired. So fucking tired. Yeah. Maybe he could grab a little nap about now. Maybe.

When DeWitt checked Murdock ten minutes later he was sleeping. Good. He needed it. His shoulder was more than just a flesh wound. DeWitt didn't want to think what might happen in the future with a bad shoulder wound. He couldn't worry about that. He had the here and now.

“Net check. Alpha Squad first.” DeWitt listened as the five remaining members of the group checked in. Then his Bravo Squad all reported in. Good. Now they waited.

It would be a long night. DeWitt made sure there was a round in the chamber of his weapon, and settled down to scan the open places in front of him. He had done it fifty times already. He'd do it two hundred more times before daylight. Part of the job.

By 04l6 there had been no response from CINCPAC. He stirred Ron Holt out of his nest and had him ring up the commander of the Pacific.

“Red Hill calling CINCPAC.”

He had to make the call three times before he had any response.

“Yes, Red Hill. Go ahead.”

“No response from you on request for two Sea Knights to be flown to the Maui airport for quick evac of our wounded, prisoners and hostages. Any report?”

“Yes, Red Hill. We've been busy tonight. The admiral approved the birds and they should be in position at Kahului airport by now. You can check on TAC Two. They will return everyone to Hickam. Keep us posted. Have you found the governor yet?”

“Negative on the governor. Expect to find him with daylight in about two hours.”

“Roger that. CINCPAC out.”

DeWitt decided to wait on trying to contact the choppers. Time enough for that when they needed them. Another hour until any kind of light at all. How did they try to find the hostages? Stand on the cliff and yell? Might be a thought. Maybe the hostages would find them. That was a better idea. He hoped that they had escaped and hadn't been unchained, led out somewhere, and assassinated.

He sent Holt back to his position and began another sweep of the zone in front where he could see. Nothing. Nothing again. All night he had been waiting for something to show up. Now he was just as pleased that nothing had developed. Had they taken out all of the Chinese? Shortly after daylight they should know.

 

It was still an hour until daylight when Chun found the first house. He wasn't sure if it had something to do with the cattle range he had been crossing for the past five miles. It sat on a rise a mile from the beach. He could see the surf through the predawn twilight.

The house had a garage and two barns. It stood at the end of a dirt road. Two old trucks were parked at one side. Neither looked as if it could run. On the far side a pole corral waited for occupants with the gate open. There were no lights on in the house.

He checked for any kind of an outside clothesline. Nothing. The house would be a large risk. Still, he had to get out of his Chinese Army uniform. At the lower elevation it was warmer, and he had taken off his Army blouse and discarded it, shivering in his round-necked white undershirt.

Chun lay beside a tree for ten minutes watching the house. Nothing moved. No sounds came. Evidently there was no dog, or it would have smelled and heard him by now. By nature he was not a violent man. But this was something he had to do. His very life depended on it.

His mind made up, he sprinted across the open area to the side door of the house. He tried the knob. Unlocked. Gently he pushed the door inward. In the deeper darkness he could see little. He waited for his eyes to adjust. Gradually he made out shadows and forms. It was a food kitchen with table and chairs. No one was there. He looked around for clothes, but there were none.

Chun heard someone coming. He ducked low against the wall. The room blazed with light as a hand turned a switch just inside a door across the room. Blinded by the light, Chun remained motionless. He opened his eyes a little at a time, then closed them. It was a man who had come into the room.
He went to cupboards and took out food and turned on a gas flame under a pot of water.

For tea, or coffee. Chun lifted up and charged the man with only his hands as weapons.

“What the hell? Who are you?” the man blurted out. But he didn't have time to avoid the rush of the Chinese soldier. Chun hit the rancher in the side with his shoulder, slammed him against the cupboards, then pushed him to the floor.

“Give up and I won't hurt you,” Chun said, his English precisely correct.

“Who the hell are you?”

Chun dropped hard on top of the man and pinned him to the floor. One of the rancher's arms had fallen behind him and now he lay on it. Chun's hands circled the man's throat. He applied enough pressure to cut off the air to the man's lungs. He knew how long to hold it. This had been part of his hand-to-hand–combat training. When the man's eyes bulged and he went limp, Chun pulled his hands away. Yes, the man was about his own size. He would strip off the clothes and vanish before anyone else in the household awoke.

An hour later, Chun walked along the Coast Highway 31 on his way to Kaupo. Signs along the way told how many units it was to the town. Since this was America, it must mean miles. As he walked, he examined the billfold that had been in the rancher's pocket. He had been trained in American money. He counted 148 dollars and some change.

A car came up fast behind him. He remembered about hitchhiking and pushed out his thumb. The car slashed past him and vanished around a curve. The identification in the billfold might be a handicap if anyone were looking for him. He threw away all of the cards with the man's name on them, kept the billfold and money, and continued walking.

A half hour later, a farm truck slowed as it came near him, and stopped when he held out his thumb. Chun ran toward the rig and peered in the window.

“Can you take me into town?” he asked the gray-bearded man who drove the rig.

“Sure can, boy. You must be new around here. Don't remember seeing you before.”

“Yes, just arrived. Taking the grand tour before I go to work in my cousin's store.”

“Chinese, right?” the man said.

“Yes.”

“Always have admired how you people take care of your own. I mean, you get jobs for each other, help start businesses that need opening. Damn fine job. Us haoles never quite got it together so we could do that. Where you come from?”

He thought fast. Should he say China or San Francisco? “Yes, I come from China after long wait.”

“Your English is good. Your cousin here on Maui?”

“Oh, no. He is in Pearl City.”

“Yep, been there a time or two. On Oahu up above the big Navy base there. Cost a few bucks to fly over there, but you know that since you must have flown over here. You sure travel light.”

“Oh, left suitcase in locker at airport.”

The rig came to a stop. They had entered a small town with a lot of people up and on the streets already. It couldn't be a half hour after sunrise.

“This is where I turn off. Going to see my new grandson. You have a good life there now, young man. You do that.”

Chun stepped down from the old truck and waved. Yes, he would. He certainly would have a good life. Now, all he had to do was take a bus to the airport. He could find that easily. He was going to Oahu and to Pearl City, where he did have a cousin.

 

Murdock could not remember feeling so miserable. He blinked open his eyes. It was almost light. Not really, but not dark either. In the misty changeover before the light had completely gobbled up the shards of darkness. He moved where he lay on the ground, and a stab of white-hot pain seared through his right shoulder.

What the hell?

Oh, yeah. Some bastard had shot him. He blinked back the pain and looked around. He was in the fringes of the brush near some good-sized pine trees. Ten feet across the forest floor he saw DeWitt looking out at the clearing.

“See anybody out there yet?” Murdock asked.

DeWitt came up with a start and turned and looked at Murdock. He stood and walked over to his unit commander.

“Hey, thought you were going into Daffy Duck land. Glad you're back. We're almost ready to start a sweep and see who we missed last night, if anybody.”

“If we missed any chinks last night they must be halfway to Guam by now. Wouldn't you be?”

“Sure, but we have to make the sweep. Then if it's cleared and safe, we'll get in gear to find the hostages.”

“Right. Be with you in a shake.” He forgot and pushed with his right hand to sit up, and screeched in surprise and pain.

“Oh, damn.”

“You stay put, CO. I have enough men for this. You take it easy on that shoulder. Mahanani tells me it could be a bad one. So just sit and stay.”

“Like a good dog?”

“Whatever it takes. I'll be back in about thirty. Follow us on your Motorola.”

DeWitt called the troops up and they worked the brush on the side of the clearing all the way around. In the thickest part of the brush and woods near the far end of the clearing, they found a well-worn trail that led away from the clearing. DeWitt and Ostercamp followed it. Fifty yards along on a small rise, they found a cabin that had been camouflaged so well they didn't see it until they were within ten yards of it.

“The nuns who run the place?” DeWitt asked.

He called out, but had no response. Ostercamp opened the door slowly and DeWitt darted inside.

“Goddamn,” he bellowed.

Ostercamp charged through the door and stopped in a second. The two nuns in their simple habits sat at a plain wooden table they had probably made themselves. Food on the table and clean plates and silverware indicated they had not yet started their meal. Both had multiple bullet wounds in their chests.

“Bastards,” Ostercamp said.

“Leave them just the way they are,” DeWitt said. “We'll let the civilian authorities take care of this part.”

They finished the sweep of the rest of the camp and the brush twenty yards deep on all sides in an hour. Their twelve Chinese prisoners were yelling and calling to them. Ching talked to them in Mandarin and told them that they were not going to be shot. They were POWs and would get taken care of soon.

DeWitt used the SATCOM and raised the Sea Knights on TAC Two.

“Yes, Red Hill, we know the area. Give us an LZ and we can be there in a half hour. A red flare would be nice.”

“You have a doctor with you?”

“Negative on the sawbones.”

“Roger that. We'll see you soon.”

 

The last hour before sunrise, Governor Itashi couldn't sleep. He paced back and forth in their small campsite under the tall trees and tried to think it through. They had heard nothing through the night. No more shooting, thank God. He stared upward. Before long, Vince would be working his way up through the brush to see what had happened at the campsite above.

He shook his head. It had been a nightmare. From what he knew about Sara, she must have been raped by the Chinese officer. That could have been the only way she could have surprised him enough to stab him, then shoot him. She was a remarkable woman. Just remarkable. So intelligent, so smart, so practical. He didn't know what he would do without her on his staff.

As he thought about it, Sara stirred, then sat up. She saw him, and stood at once and walked over to him. She motioned to him, and they walked a dozen feet away from the camp and out of sight of the others.

“Tom, I just want to say how well you're holding up. I think this trauma is about over for all of us.”

He caught her hands. “I admire you for what you must have done up there so you could rescue us. I'll never forget it. You must have some reward.”

She looked up, her eyes twinkling in a soft smile. “As I remember, I have a rain check for a kiss.”

“Oh, yes, at least one.” He bent and kissed her lips
tentatively. Then again with more seriousness. Her arms came around his neck and they kissed again, both of them breathing heavily. She pulled away. Her smile was broader now, as if some landmark had been reached.

They went back to the small clearing and the governor roused Vince.

“Hey, time to play spy,” Governor Itashi said.

Vince came up wide awake. “Damn, already light. I wanted to go up there a half hour ago. So, I go now but with a lot more care. I don't want either side to shoot me full of holes.”

“Take it easy. Don't get hurt.” The governor gave him the pistol. “If it's all right for us to come up there, fire three quick shots.”

“I can do that.”

Vince took one more look at them, then pushed the pistol into his belt and worked through the brush up the hill.

It took him only ten minutes to scramble to within twenty feet of the clearing above. The camp looked deserted. Then he saw three soldiers of some kind come out of the brush on the far side and head toward the center. They were definitely not Chinese. He waited a moment longer. Four more men in cammies and floppy hats showed, and went into the same brushy area across from him. Some kind of a gathering place.