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JASON STEED Absolutely Nothing

Page 15

by Mark A. Cooper


  Cookie washed his large arms in the water. and Jason noticed his tattoos. One portrayed a pin-up girl, another with the Scottish flag and the words ‘Mum’ underneath. “Did they hurt when you had them?” Jason asked.

  “Eye. I would be lying if I said no, but it was worth it. Will you get some when you’re older?” Cookie asked.

  “No, tattoos are just images or words like bumper stickers. And you wouldn’t put bumper stickers on a Rolls Royce.” Jason laughed, flexing his small biceps.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  With a bandaged, broken nose, General Chow screamed down a radio and called in reinforcements. The Vietnamese government was furious with the escape. They told General Chow that on no account were the prisoners to leave Vietnam. He must capture them or kill them. They gave him a battalion of just over six hundred troops complete with seven helicopter gunships. The first order of priority was to seal the border between Vietnam and Cambodia.

  His troops were flown in and settled on the Cambodia border. From here, they started moving west. Scouts were sent out to look for the prisoners; sniffer dogs were flown into the camp in an attempt to track the prisoners. General Chow was leaving nothing to chance. He wanted them all captured, dead or alive. He also gave a description of the Amerasian boy; he wanted him alive if possible so he could deal with him personally.

  A villager from the small village outside Tay Ninh gave information that the boy with blond hair and blue eyes was seen at the orphanage and left just before the troops arrived. In retaliation, the whole village was burnt to the ground. General Chow's men searched for the children and Claudette. They had gone into hiding in retaliation the Vietcong bombed the area. A few villagers were found but Claudette and the children were not seen.

  The smoke and flames from the burning village could be seen for miles around. General Chow was pleased and was certain the Amerasian children would not have survived.

  *

  Evans whistled a signal; he was farther ahead along the riverbank where a small boat carrying supplies made its way up river. He let it pass so it was between him and the others.

  “We need it to get down river,” Jason whispered to his father.

  “It’s got three men on it. We have to lie low. If they see us, they will flee and give us away. They may even have a radio,” Ray said. Jason peered through the long grass. “Jason, keep down. It’s too risky.”

  “They won’t be alarmed if they see me,” He argued and picked up his father's rifle. He walked into the river up to his waist, holding the rifle above his head.

  “Hey,” he shouted, waving his arms. “Hey.” They looked over at the boy. The boat engine slowed. They shouted back something in Vietnamese and turned towards him. Jason held the rifle with one hand above his head and held his other hand out for money. The boatmen assumed the Amerasian boy had found a gun he wanted to sell. They knew it would fetch several hundred Vietnamese dong and they could probably get it cheap from the boy

  “What’s he doing?” Jack asked.

  “He’s getting us a ride.” Ray sighed. He was unsure if he should be furious with Jason for doing the opposite of what he had said or happy with his help.

  Jason waded out to the motorboat. They were asking him questions in Vietnamese. He just smiled and kept shaking the rifle above his head like it was a grand prize. They took his hand and lifted him in the boat. He rubbed a finger and thumb together. The universal symbol for money.

  "Con lai." The older man laughed and tried to push Jason off the boat. Jason noticed he had just one tooth in his mouth and that was a dark brown color. It reminded him of Bugs Bunny. Ray looked on concerned. He took Jack's rifle and aimed it at the man in case Jason needed help.

  “Hey, less of the half-breed talk, Bugs,” Jason said, standing his ground.

  The older one toothed man swung the rifle butt towards Jason and shouted, "Con lai."

  “I was going to be nice,” Jason said after he ducked. He leapt up and threw a roundhouse, kicking at the man knocking him back into the water. “Hope you can swim, Bugs.” He caught the rifle before the man splashed into the river and quickly turned it on his two-crew members. They both raised their hands. The old man struggled and climbed back on board his boat, cursing under his breath. Jason turned to the riverbank at his father.

  “We got a boat.” Jason grinned.

  Ray, Cookie, and Jack waded out to the boat and climbed on board.

  “So, what would you do with these if I wasn’t here?” Ray asked his son, looking at the boatmen.

  Jason passed the rifle back to his father and shrugged his shoulders. “Em, probably just let them go later somewhere safe.”

  Ray raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Good. I was worried you would say kill them.”

  “No, they’ve done nothing wrong. Although Bugs here tried to keep the rifle without paying for it, and he’s a racist.”

  “Bugs?” Cookie asked with a wide grin.

  “Yeah wait until you see him open his mouth.” Jason grinned.

  “Racist?” Ray asked.

  “Yeah, they call me Con Lai. That means half-breed. They think I’m Amerasian. I met quite a few of the kids here. Their fathers were American.” Jason said.

  “American fathers?” Cookie asked.

  “Yeah, well I guess the American troops were, em, you know, the birds and the bees stuff with the Vietnamese ladies and now there are thousands of kids here. Some are black, some red heads, and I saw one with blond hair. It’s sad they get shouted at and spat on all the time and called Con Lai. Most of the families don’t want them. They can’t go to America. Many don’t know their fathers or the father died and his family don’t know they have a grandchild. Bit of a mess. Then you get idiots like Bugs here trying to steal from one and calling them Con Lai.”

  Jack worked out how to operate the boat. Ray told him to head down river. Cookie tied the boatmen up. He tied the rope a little too tight around the old man Jason called Bugs. He yelped. When he did, Cookie noticed his one brown tooth in the front of his mouth. It made Cookie laugh.

  “War. Huh.” Cookie sang in a loud deep voice. “What is it good for?”

  “Absolutely nothing” Evans and Jack sang back in harmony.

  “Say it again, y'all. War. Huh. What is it good for?” Cookie sang.

  They continued to sing the song.. Jason had heard the Edwin Starr song on the radio before. He loved hearing Cookie and the others sing it. Although they were service men, they enjoyed being part of the United Nations team that helped casualties of the war. The song was like an anthem to them.

  *

  Marcel and his group's location was discovered by General Chow’s troops. A small battle erupted. The lack of firepower and sheer numbers of the Vietnamese killed Marcel. The Frenchman went down after a heroic fight. So did his men and the journalists. None of them survived. General Chow was delighted with the news; he ordered them to continue to search for the others and of course the boy, who he was now obsessed about and wanted dead or alive.

  *

  They had travelled just over two miles downstream. The river widened. Ray noticed a small island in the center. It was no more than twenty feet long with just a few trees on it but perfect for dropping off the boatmen. They tied the men to the trees and gagged them. It was getting dark, so they hoped it would be at least the next morning before they were seen by a passing fishing boat. By that time, Ray and his small team would be eight or nine hours away.

  *

  The Vietnamese government displayed pictures of the dead bodies to the world’s media. The news broke all over the world. Scott watched the newsbreak on Television but gave a sigh of relief when he never heard Raymond Steed's name. The British still held out some hope. The only news they had is that the nine remaining prisoners had somehow escaped. Of those, five had been killed in a deadly shoot out. The British prisoners had yet to be located.

  The motorboat they had taken was an old American patrol boat built especially for the Vietn
am War. It didn’t have a propeller. Instead, it used a high power water jet to propel itself along the river. This was so it would not get tangled up in weeds and could operate in shallow water. When the Americans left, many were stripped of the guns and used by fisherman or, in this case, boatmen to ferry fruit such as mangos up and down the river.

  Ray sat on the boat's bench seat eating some bananas. He was soon joined by Jason. Within a few minutes, Jason had stretched out on the length of the bench and fallen asleep. He used his father's lap as a pillow. Ray gently parted Jason’s blond hair and studied his son. Soft delicate skin, small lips and nostrils. He looked just like any other young boy asleep. A different picture of what Ray had witnessed at the prison camp when he rescued them.

  Evans, Jack, and Cookie each took a turn driving for a few hours. It was difficult navigating at night. The food and fresh water on the boat carried came as a welcome relief.

  Morning broke, and birds started a dawn chorus of singing. The sun lifted itself up from the horizon of trees as if it had been nesting among them. Jason stretched. His father had moved and put a jacket under Jason’s head and covered him in a blanket. Jason popped his head up and looked at the riverbank. They were getting close to Ho Chi Min City. A few small homes were scattered along the riverbank on both sides. They encountered a few fishing boats but nothing else.

  Jason jumped up and took in his surroundings. “We are near Ho Chi Min City.” Cookie smiled. Ray, Jack, and Evans were all asleep on the deck of the boat.

  “Get down,” Jason said. He took the boats controls. “You stand out. Keep down. You should have woken me earlier before we got to the populated area.”

  “Och its fine laddie. I’m just a guy driving a boat,” Cookie said. Ray and the others woke up.

  “No, you’re a westerner,” Jason said.

  “And who the bloody hell are you? Foo Man Cho? You are just as much a westerner as me. Actually, more so with your blond hair and baby blue eyes.” Cookie belched.

  “No, they think I’m Amerasian. I won’t be suspected,” Jason said. “Keep down all of you.”

  “I need a pee,” Jack said.

  “Hold it. Jason’s right; we could get seen. Let's just get passed the city without being stopped,” Ray said.

  It started to rain; Jason picked up a folded red communist flag and made a bandana out of it. It solved the purpose of keeping the constant heavy rain off his head and covered his blond hair.

  The farther they travelled, the more built up the riverbank became. Jason had to slow the boat down a little. He noticed most of the other boats went at a slow pace. The river was crowded in a few spots with fisherman and water taxis. The city was packed. Over three million people. made it their home. Jason thought the heavy rain would mean less chance of being stopped.

  “We need fuel.” Evans said. He had poured the last can of diesel into the tank. He joined Ray and the others who were sat on the floor keeping low.

  Ray looked up at Jason. “Jase we need fuel. See if you can see some,” Ray said. Jason nodded. He looked around but was unsure how he could find fuel.

  *

  US President Ford and Vice President Rockefeller held another meeting with the security chiefs. It included the Australian Prime Minister and the British Foreign secretary. Max Fisher was to chair the meeting again. As soon as they all arrived Max took to the floor and addressed everyone.

  “I’m sure, gentlemen that you all watched the news reports. Five men have been killed while trying to escape. We still have some people in Vietnam loyal to us. They are technically agents deep in enemy territory. They informed us that all nine prisoners escaped. The prison was partially destroyed, and several North Vietnamese soldiers were killed and injured. We are still unsure of the whereabouts of the British men. No bodies have been found. We can only assume they escaped.” Fisher stopped and took a drink of water to clear his throat. “Also, a small village outside Tay Ninh has been burnt to the ground and bombed. Our informant told us that a blond haired, blue-eyed boy was previously hiding at an Amerasian orphanage. The Vietcong destroyed the village in retaliation. The children have not been seen since, suspected killed.”

  “That’s very sad. Although I don’t really believe all this Amerasian children nonsense, just a bunch of Vietnamese refugees wanting a green card. Back to the prisoners. Do we know how they escaped exactly?” President Ford asked.

  “No sir, although our informant at the hospital told us one man was seriously injured, but was not shot or cut,” Fisher said.

  “Meaning, what exactly?” President Ford asked.

  “Meaning that it was the work of someone highly skilled in martial arts.”

  “How many Vietnamese were killed on the escape?” Vice President Rockefeller asked.

  “Reports say nine dead, six injured. Two of those are serious,” Fisher said.

  “Gentlemen. One has spoken to my people who have worked with this Jason Steed chap, If this was his doing expect the body count to increase,” British Defence Secretary Roy Mason warned. His eyebrows danced as if floating over his head. “He has a viscous temper that he can’t control. He’s a lethal weapon. Two years ago he won the under sixteen Karate Championship when he was only ten. He has mastered other forms and has been trained to kill a man with a single blow. From what I have heard, his speed and reflexes are extraordinary.”

  “He’s still a twelve-year-old boy, and we still don’t yet know if it was him that broke them out of the prison camp,” Fisher argued.

  “But you can come up with no other explanation either?” President Ford suggested. “Then, if we assume they are still on the run, what’s your plan to get them out?”

  “We don’t have a plan. We have to wait. Raymond Steed is a decorated British Naval officer. He must be in charge now. Although he has no combat experience, his son however... well I think we have all read the reports on him now. We will monitor all radio frequencies and let them come to us.” Fisher paused. “Unless we can send in a crack squad to help them?”

  “No one steps foot on Vietnam. Jason Steed is working alone. So far he has stowed away on a US aircraft, assaulted a guard at a US base, and stolen a small aircraft that the US army was guarding. If he is responsible and gets caught, we have to distance ourselves,” President Ford said. “Although my thoughts and prayers are with him and the prisoners.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jason noticed a small wooden dock, it had a small boat tied alongside it. On the dock itself was some jerry cans. He hoped they contained fuel.

  “I can see a boat dock. Keep down, we may be able to get some fuel,” Jason said. He threw a tarpaulin over his father and the others. Jack made a peephole with his knife.

  He slowed the boat down and pulled up to the dock faster than he intended. It collided with a loud thump and made it rock.

  “Oops,” Jason said, biting his bottom lip. An angry man limped out of a small hut at the other end of the dock, shouting at Jason. The dock was like a small pier jetting out into the river, no more than twenty feet in length. It had some wooden slats missing that had to be stepped over. Jason thought it would probably fall to bits in a good storm. The collision with his boat couldn’t have helped much.

  Jason jumped onto the dock and took a rope from the front of the boat and tied it to a wooden support. The man approached him and, despite Jason’s smile, was still just as angry.

  “I need to buy fuel,” Jason said in French, holding out the last of his US dollars. The limping man took the money and counted it. He had no idea what the boy had said but he seemed happy. He laughed and waved his hand at the fuel cans. Jason walked over to two of them and grabbed one in each hand. “Oh,” he said when he realized they were too heavy to lift one in each hand. He managed one at a time. He struggled to lift it across to the boat. “That’s all right, you guys just relax and let me do all the work.” He puffed to the men hiding under the tarpaulin.

  As he returned to get the second one he noticed the man wit
h the limp talking to a soldier. He looked at Jason and slowly walked down the small wooden boat dock. Jason hurried and picked up the second can. He carried it back to the boat. The solider lit a cigarette and asked Jason a question in Vietnamese.

  Jason nodded and smiled and continued what he was doing. When he tried to untie the boat the soldier asked the question again.

  “Parlez-vous français?” Jason asked if he spoke French. He was surprised and relieved when the solider replied ‘yes.’

  “What is the fuel for?” The soldier asked.

  “The boat. I have to get back to my mother with the boat,” Jason said. He fidgeted nervously.

  “Have you bought fuel for your boat before?” the guard asked.

  Jason thought he was smirking. “Yes. I always buy fuel for my mother's boat.” Jason said.

  “Really? But this is petrol.” he said.

  “Yes.” Jason said, unsure why he was asking the questions. “Your French is good,” Jason said trying to change the subject.

  The soldier took a step onto the boat. He took his rifle down that was slung over his shoulder. “Your boat runs on diesel not petrol. You are either a stupid half breed or you’re lying to me.”

  Jason was lost for words. “Em.” He paused. “I lied sir. I found some guns. I was going to sell them. They are hidden under here.” Jason pointed at the tarpaulin.

  Becoming more excited. He threw his cigarette in the water and approached to lift the tarpaulin. Jason spun on his leg and threw a perfectly aimed kick at the soldier. His boot caught the man's stomach and threw him back onto the dock and over the over side into the water. Jason untied the boat and slammed it into reverse.

  The soldier came up from the water shouting and screaming at Jason. His rifle was still on the dock. When the boat was far enough away to turn. He put it into forward gear and opened it up on full speed.

 

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