Lee Chu informed Jason that a man named Chung Weing had the cassette. Chung Weing owned most of the land in the area. He lived in a large complex facing the Angke River. It was nearly the size of an airport, and it also included barracks for his private army. Lee Chu added that Weing collected World War II items, such as German Sherman tanks, U.S. jeeps, and many vintage aircraft, including a British Spitfire and a huge U.S. B-24 bomber. The cassette was in Weing’s safe, which was guarded twenty-four hours a day. The safe was in the library behind a hidden bookcase. China didn’t want the cassette on their soil, so they stashed it here in return for weapons to Weing.
Lee Chu stood and went to a black wooden box covered with damp towels. He opened it and removed a large clay bottle, which he placed on the table. He then placed a small tin cup on the table and pushed it toward Jason, who was already on his sixth banana. Jason opened the jug and poured some of the contents into the cup. Jason took a mouthful and almost spit it out. It was goat’s milk and not that fresh. Jason swallowed it anyway and drank the rest with his eyes closed. Wilson glared at Jason but had no idea how the conversation was going. Jason got up and wiped the milk from his lips. He thanked Lee Chu. He looked at the small boy next to him and smiled.
“I’m Huan. What’s your name?” the boy asked.
“Hello, Huan. I’m Jason. It’s nice meeting you.”
Wilson faked a loud cough. Jason looked up at him and said, “Okay, sir, I have everything we need to know.”
With a bow to Lee Chu and his wife, Jason followed Wilson out the door. They left the village and crept along the outskirts. Wilson stopped and crouched down. They could hear what sounded like an owl hooting. Wilson hooted back with the same sound. “Pete,” he hissed.
“Yes, sir,” replied a voice in the darkness. They crawled forward and found Pete, Ryan, and John hiding behind some bushes ten meters from the road.
“Wow, he made it across the river. I very much doubted that. We almost lost John,” Pete said, looking at Jason.
“We made contact. The kid has the details and location of the cassette,” Wilson said. His stomach growled as he sat down. Jason knew just how hungry he was. He wondered why he hadn’t asked for any food himself.
Jason then explained everything Lee Chu had told him regarding Weing and where the cassette was located. Wilson gave the orders to move forward. Jason’s feet still hurt, but after his meal of bananas and sour goat’s milk, he had gotten some strength back. John patted Jason on the back as they marched into the night.
“I bet you never thought we would be on a real live mission. Isn’t it great?” John whispered.
“You think this is fun?” Jason snapped. “Tell that to the rest of our team’s parents.”
John swallowed. “I’m trying to put a brave face on—that’s all.”
Jason nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. We’ll get out of here.”
“I hope so,” John said. “If we do, we’ll all owe you.”
***
Turned out that a dozen or so armed guards patrolled the barbed-wire fence around Weing’s compound. Wilson waved for the others to duck down, waiting for the right moment. Jason held his breath as Wilson fixed a silencer on his revolver and slipped it into the front of his belt. After he checked his rifle, he gave the silent order to move, pointing toward the point of entry. He pulled a bandanna from his pocket and handed one to Jason. Pete did the same for John. The moment the guards were out of sight on their patrol route, Wilson and the other two marines ran through the shadows toward the fence. Jason and John scurried after them.
Jason only understood why they’d given him a bandanna when Wilson threw his on top of the barbed wire and clamped down on it, hurtling himself over the fence. Jason did the same. His heart was pounding so loud he was certain the guards would hear him. The team ran for cover behind some oil drums.
Fortunately, the many vehicles threw shadows that hid them from the moonlight as they crept along behind the buildings. Wilson held his hand up to halt his team.
“Pete’s coming with me,” he whispered. “John and Ryan, you cover us.”
Jason was ordered to stay out of sight and remain behind. Ryan passed John his pistol.
“Here, kid,” John said, passing Jason his knife.
Jason ducked down behind a pile of wooden planks as the others left him and scurried down the dimly lit road. He heard footsteps from behind—a guard walking in the team’s direction. A few more steps, and he would have a full view of them. Maybe Wilson or Ryan would shoot the guard with a silenced revolver, but maybe he would not only shoot them but wake up the whole complex. There was no time to think. It was now or never. Jason climbed over the pile of wood and dived at the guard, sticking his fist in the guard’s mouth so he could not call out.
They both fell with a loud thud on the gravel road. Wilson and his team turned at the sound. Jason’s victim bit hard on his fist. Without a second thought, Jason pulled out the knife and thrust it at the guard’s chest. To his surprise, it didn’t go in. The guard had something in his top pocket, and it protected him. Again, Jason brought the knife down, this time catching the guard in his throat. The knife went in deep, up to the handle. The guard stopped biting Jason’s hand. Jason then pulled out his hand and covered the guard’s mouth while he twisted the knife, trying to cut through his windpipe. The guard shook violently. Pete started running back to help.
Ryan whispered, “What the hell do they put in kids’ cornflakes nowadays?”
Jason stood and lifted the guard by his collar. He started to drag him back behind the pile of wood. Pete and Ryan nodded approval at Jason and went back to join the others.
Jason clutched the knife as he slunk back into his hiding place. His hands were soaking wet. Was it sweat? It was too dark to see. He smelled his hands and quickly learned that it was blood. His stomach churned. He threw up and lost his meal of bananas and goat’s milk. Tears welled up in his eyes. He shook his head.
I’ve killed a man. I’ve done what I never wanted to do—
Those who studied and took martial arts seriously knew that the true masters were nonviolent—that the beauty lay in discipline—but Jason hadn’t had a choice. It was kill or be killed out here—
A shot rang out. Jason bolted upright. The complex lights came on, and a siren sounded. Guards poured out of the building, partly dressed, carrying automatic rifles. Wilson took a bullet in his right shoulder. Pete was the next to fall. A bullet went through his left arm. John dropped his gun and dove to the ground. Ryan was shot in the ankle. The shooting ceased, and there was shouting. The guards surrounded Wilson’s team and took the weapons off them. They shouted abuse at Wilson in Cantonese. Some of the words Jason had never heard before.
With that, Jason ran back to the fence and climbed back out of the complex, sprinting until he came to some long grass. He lay down, raising his head enough to peek through. Some of the guards were walking back up the road. They were only visible when they walked past the gaps between the buildings. Then, Jason spotted Wilson, Pete, Ryan, and John, who had their hands raised, surrounded by gunmen.
As they approached the area Jason had been hiding in, one of Weing’s guards noticed blood on the gravel road. He followed the trail and found the guard Jason had killed. He shouted to the others, and they began frantically searching the area.
It would soon be dawn. Jason lay there thinking about what he should do next. His body was tired and hungry. He could do nothing until the following night, so he decided to find a place to sleep.
He ran through the undergrowth, keeping parallel with the complex. He passed the buildings and Weing’s home. On a runway, he could see Weing’s collection of World War II toys: tanks, the Spitfire, and a B-24 U.S. bomber at the very end of the runway.
As quietly as he could, Jason made his way to the B-24, opened the heavy door, and climbed in through a hatch on its massive underside. He crawled up beneath on of its three Plexiglas domes, which reminded him of fishbowls. One was at
the top of the plane, one at the tail, and one at the belly. All were armed with twin high-powered machine guns.
Jason found his way to the cockpit and sat in the pilot’s seat. The plane was fueled and ready to go. He had never flown a real plane and had never flown anything as big or old as this in a simulator, but the controls looked similar. As he tried to figure out what he was going to do, he fell asleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Weing had pictures taken of Major Wilson, Pete, Ryan, and John. That morning, he slipped them to the press and accused Great Britain of spying on Jakarta. The British government denied it, and the official word was that they were part of the rescue mission and had been captured by Weing’s rebels.
***
Back in London, the duke was given an update. He had to break the news to Catherine. John Leigh, one of the missing cadets, was being held prisoner. Only Jason was missing. He told her to be brave and expect the worst. Jason had probably been killed in the sea. Catherine had not eaten in two days. She was so depressed that they fetched a doctor to see her.
***
Scott now realized that he might have to accept that his friend was dead. He constantly monitored the radio for news, but none came—only more reports of waiting and waiting.
***
Mr. and Mrs. Macintosh attended their local church in Scotland and prayed for Jason. It had been hard enough for them to lose their only daughter. The only comfort they had was that she had given birth to Jason. The local people in the small Scottish village came by to offer help and support.
***
Jason was awakened by stifling heat.
The B-24 was dark green and absorbed the sunlight. Plus, the dawn’s rays seeped through the cockpit and Plexiglas domes. He had no idea what time it was, but the sun began to set fairly soon after he woke up. He desperately tried to come up with a plan. He was thirsty and hungry. Every few minutes, he found himself picturing cold milkshakes, glasses of iced fruit juice, and water flowing from faucets in sparkling streams.
Darkness fell, and he still hadn’t thought of a single thing other than food and drink. In frustration, he stood and kicked at the floor, and his foot connected with a thick coil of rope. Suddenly, his plan clicked into place.
As he seized the rope, he climbed out of the plane and dashed to the river, where he found a broken tree stump at the bank. After he had gotten undressed, he climbed into the water and tied one end of the rope around the tree stump. As he held the other end, he allowed the current to take him downstream. Once level with the house, he dived to the bottom. While there, he searched for large rocks, tying the rope to the biggest of the lot. After he pulled himself back upstream, he surfaced, out of breath, back at the tree stump.
As he climbed out, he noticed some duck eggs in a nest.
Without a second thought, he cracked them and drank them raw. They didn’t taste that bad. Besides, he knew eggs were a good source of protein and energy, something he badly needed. He got dressed as fast as he could, his body soaked, as mosquitoes swarmed to dine on him. He then used mud from the river bank to darken his face and hair. He lay flat on his front and used his elbows and knees to inch his way to Weing’s home. Two guards stood outside. Jason crawled painfully slow to the back of the house.
His ears, face, and wrists had already been bitten raw. He watched helplessly as insects landed on him and stung. They buzzed around his ears. A guard stopped and looked in Jason’s direction and lit a cigarette before he moved off.
Jason wasn’t sure how long it had taken him to reach the house undetected. An hour? Two? Or just minutes? He tried several windows, but they were all locked. Finally, he came across a small mesh window—just under a foot square, too small for an adult to get through but perfect for Jason. With his knife, he slowly cut through the mesh. Every few moments, he stopped and listened. The night was still and quiet except for the buzzing of insects. He cut through three sides, bent the mesh back, and then squeezed headfirst into the dark hole.
Once he was inside, he realized that he was in the food pantry. The kitchen light was on, its glow filtered under the door. He felt around for some food and came across a tin of corn beef, which he stuffed into his pocket for later. He held his ear to the inside of the pantry door, trying to hear any movement.
As he held his breath, he slowly opened the door. The bright fluorescent lights blinded him for a few moments. He crept into the kitchen and looked around. Luckily, it was empty. Half of a glass of Coke was on the table. Jason picked it up to drink it but stopped short when he smelled it. There was whiskey in the soda. He then found the open can and ravenously drank from it.
Re-energized, he tiptoed into a passageway. Above him loomed a massive stairwell. The home was very lavish. Everywhere he looked he saw tapestries and huge statues of ferocious animals. The floor was covered in wall-to-wall white carpet, which helped muffle his steps. As he crept farther into the hallway, he could hear music and laughter coming from a room to his left.
The door was slightly ajar, allowing him to peek through the crack. Inside was a fat little man sitting on a couch with two young Chinese girls, who did not look more than fifteen years old. They were rubbing his blubbery chest. Jason backed up and walked to the other room. The door was wide open, but the lights were turned off. The room was lined with bookshelves. That’s when Jason remembered that Lee Chu had told him the cassette was hidden in a safe in the library.
After he searched the books for a trigger that would open a secret closet for ten minutes, he gave up and tried the mahogany desk. In the drawer, he found a handgun. Because he had never used a gun before, he checked first to see if it was loaded and also if it had a safety catch. It did, but it was already turned off.
Slowly, he walked out of the library and took a deep breath. He tried to stop his hands from shaking and marched straight into the living room, where Weing was being entertained.
All three of their jaws dropped at once.
In Chinese, Jason spoke firmly to Weing and the two girls. “If you make one sound, I will kill you. If you don’t do as I say, I will kill you.”
The girls shrieked and threw up their hands.
“Boy, do you know who I am? I am Weing! How dare you come into my home!” the little man barked. He leapt to his feet, grunting at his own weight.
Jason twisted on one foot and side-kicked Weing direct in the face, sending him back on the couch.
“I told you not to make a sound. One more sound and I will kill you.”
Weing’s beady eyes bulged. His nose was bleeding. Jason looked at the two girls. He was slightly embarrassed by their semi-clothed bodies. “You two, move into the library…slowly. You too, Weing. Now. I’m serious.”
They walked past Jason with their hands raised. Jason followed them. Of course, Weing shot Jason an evil glare.
“Open the bookcase,” he ordered.
“What bookcase?” Weing snapped.
Jason froze. Had Lee Chu lied to him? He’d trusted him, but all Lee Chu had wanted was to take his family to the UK. It had to be this fat little slob who was lying. Jason pointed the gun at Weing’s chest.
“You have five seconds to open it or I’ll shoot,” Jason said. Sweat poured from his forehead, washing the mud into his eyes. To his relief, Weing walked over to the bookcase and slid it along the wall. Behind it was a steel safe.
“Open it,” Jason ordered.
“If I refuse, you will never get what’s inside. How do I know you won’t kill me anyway?”
“You have a simple choice. Open it and hope I don’t kill you…or don’t open it and die.” Jason swallowed, his mind racing. “My platoon is outside. So, what is it going to be?”
Weing turned and opened the safe. He put his hand in and said, “Is this what you want?”
Jason caught the flash of a revolver as Weing whirled back around to face him. Without thinking, Jason squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck Weing in the head. He immediately collapsed to the floor. Jason winc
ed. The pistol was loud and gave a heavy kickback—something he did not expect. The girls screamed and crouched down on the floor.
That’s two people I’ve killed, he thought sickly.
But there was no time for regrets or second-guessing. Jason ran over to the desk, stepped over Weing’s body, looked in the safe, and found a small wooden box. With trembling fingers, he opened it and found a metal cassette tape in a plastic bag. He grabbed it and stuffed it down the front of his underwear. As he did, the front door to Weing’s house burst open. Heavy-booted footsteps clattered down the hall.
Jason’s eyes darted to the window. He held his breath, squeezed his eyes closed, and hurtled himself into the glass, fists first, rolling to the ground and springing back to his feet. As he started sprinting, he examined his knuckles in the moonlight. They were bleeding, but he didn’t seem to have any shards of glass stuck in his flesh. With the pistol still in hand, he dashed toward the river. Voices shouted behind him, and shots rang out.
This was no assault course. This was for real. Bullets landed around his feet, behind him to his left and right. He heard a sound like a firecracker as a bullet skimmed past his ear. Then, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his right leg. Adrenaline kept him from falling, but he limped the last few yards to the river bank. With the sound of machine gun fire now muffled by the incline, he dove deep into the water.
Struggling blindly, holding his breath, his leg stinging, he fought through the current and felt his way along the riverbed until he finally found his rope. His lungs began to burn. He was running out of oxygen. Above him, the muffled sound of gunfire continued to strafe the surface. Panic seeped in and quickened his heart rate. He clenched down hard on his jaw and focused on the rope. No matter how much it hurt and how desperate he needed to breathe, he had to keep going. If he came up for air, it would mean sudden death. He felt light-headed. He exhaled his last breath in a cloud of murky bubbles as he plodded forward against the current. The rope seemed to go on forever, but he finally reached the end and was able to surface behind the tree stump. As he heaved, he collapsed amongst the reeds.
Fledgling: Jason Steed Page 13
