Forged in Honor (1995)

by Leonard B Scott

  Xu Kang smiled and lifted his sword. "So be it. You will never bark ag-"

  An ear-shattering barrage of gunfire stopped him in midsentence. Xu Kang turned just in rime to see the three Shan soldiers who were guarding the basement stairs topple over.

  Swei started to grin-the Strike company had finally arrived!-but he shuddered as Xu Kang's bloodcurdling scream filled the hall.

  "Ayeee!" the old man screamed as he and Horseman Lante ran toward the stairway with their swords raised. Stephen joined in the assault, as did Joshua and the remaining Shan soldiers. The men flung themselves down the steps to attack the oncoming human wave of brown-bereted Strike commandos.

  The lead commandos coming up the steps did not see the screaming Shan until they leaped and were falling onto them.

  Then they saw only blurred steel as the swords slashed downward. It was too late to shoot-all they could do was scream in horror.

  The Strike captain ducked Xu Kang's blade and it slashed into his lieutenant's shoulder. The captain tried to raise his rifle, but in the close quarters he couldn't free the barrel. He lunged instead, knocking the old man back. His weapon now clear, he began to squeeze the trigger when Stephen shoved his pistol into the captain's face and fired. The officer dropped like a stone.

  Upstairs, Swei stood transfixed in terror, then relief. The old Sawbaw and his men had temporarily stopped the momentum of the commando attack by the sheer ferocity of their charge, but now the numbers were telling as more and more Strike soldiers pushed up the steps. The few remaining Shan were like boulders in the middle of a stream, surrounded and trapped by the press of bodies eddying around them. Swei smiled and began to back up, knowing the boulders would soon be gone.

  "Ayeee!"

  The new war cry froze Swei in place. A screaming Shan soldier ran past him, then another and another, all sprinting toward the fight on the stairs. Swei turned and saw more Shan soldiers pouring through the shattered doors and over the barricade. He felt something tear at his cheek before he could take cover. Another bullet thumped into his chest and knocked him back against the wall. Writhing in agonizing pain, he slid down to the floor, leaving a bloody smear on the wall. He tried to breathe, but his bullet-torn jaw was attached by only a few strands of sinew. No air came, only a deep gurgling in his chest. As the last of the Shan soldiers passed by, he finally managed a tortured breath. Suddenly the burning pain became a distant throb and everything around him stopped spinning. He saw a new flood of attackers running through the shattered doors-students, men and women, screaming like animals. They ran into the lobby, picked up rifles from the dead and wounded, and joined the fighting on the stairs. Their determined faces sent a shudder of despair through Swei's weakening body. Too tired to fight any longer, he lowered his head and saw pink bubbles oozing out of a round hole in his chest. As he watched, the pink froth spread like a living thing. He tried to stop the oozing bubbles, but his hands were too heavy to move. As his heavy eyelids closed, Swei knew his dream was gone forever.

  In the basement, Tan yelled for the Strike soldiers to keep pushing forward, but a cry went up from the top of the stairs:

  "Fall back! Fall back!"

  The men in front turned and ran. Tan shouted and tried to shove them back up the stairs, but it was like trying to hold back a flash flood. He raised his pistol and fired into the mob of rebels, then turned and fled with his terror-stricken men.

  Ghostly pale and weakened, Xu Kang could not lift his blood-covered sword. Stephen held him around the waist and fought to keep them both on their feet as they were propelled forward by the screaming Shan and students. Finally, Stephen managed to step into the spacious command center and pull his father out of the rampaging flow.

  Xu Kang's sword clattered to the floor as he collapsed into Stephen's arms. His head rested on his son's shoulder, and the old soldier whispered, "Son, they are calling for me."

  Stephen hugged him tightly to his breast, willing him not to give up. "No, Father, you can't leave me now. I love you.

  We have so much yet to do."

  With the last of his strength, Xu Kang lifted his head and locked his fiery eyes on Stephen. "My ... my sword."

  Stephen lowered his father to the floor and placed the sword hilt in the old warrior's hand.

  Xu Kang smiled and closed his eyes as he joined his Horsemen on an eternal ride through his beloved mountains.

  Josh had broken out of the crowd chasing the Strike troops into the tunnel. He hurried into the nearly deserted command center and saw father and son clutching each other among the scattered bodies. He started to run, but Stephen's tear-filled eyes told him he was too late. Stephen slowly stood and smiled through his tears. "The ancestors are very pleased, Joshua. They have in their presence Sawbaw Xu Rei Kang, Chindit of the forest and Protector of the Ri. He will sit in the seat of honor at their side."

  Feeling as if his heart were being torn apart, Josh tried to speak but couldn't bring himself to finish the ritual of words.

  Stephen had taken one step toward his brother when he saw a man he recognized rise up from behind a computer console behind Josh. Stephen lunged as Tan fired his pistol.

  Josh was knocked forward as the bullet hit him in the back of his shoulder. Tan began to fire at Josh again, but Stephen rushed past his friend. Tan locked on this new target and fired, and kept pulling the trigger again seeing Stephen wasn't going down. Jerking with each bullet's strike, Stephen finally fell to the floor, twitched, and lay still.

  "No!" Josh screamed, spinning around with his Beretta raised.

  Tan snapped off a hurried shot and saw the American stagger back, catch his balance, and raise his pistol again. Tan backed up and pulled the trigger, but the magazine was empty. The Caucasian kept walking toward him, rivulets of blood flowing down his forehead, nose, and cheeks.

  Tan frantically threw the empty pistol and it struck the man in the left shoulder. He didn't flinch or blink, and his piercing eyes even seemed to smile. Tan screamed.

  Joshua squeezed the trigger twice. He waited until he saw his target crumple to the ground before turning around. He couldn't seem to keep his head up. He saw Stephen crawling toward his father. Bending over to help him, Josh felt himself falling forward. He reached for his brother but a cloud of darkness enveloped him. He didn't hear his gun hit the concrete floor or his own voice cry out for his brother. He landed in a pool of warm blood and closed his eyes. He listened for the ringing mission bell, but there was only blissful silence.

  Searching hurriedly through the bodies, Fletcher abruptly halted and yelled, "Christ! Buck, over here! I found him!"

  McCoy strode over. "Goddamn it! Help me get his body out of here before the fire spreads to the basement. Holy shit!

  Did he just move?"

  Fletcher quickly kneeled down to get a better look at the head wound, then felt for a pulse. He looked up at McCoy and said in disbelief, "He's alive."

  McCoy shook his head in admiration. "The sonofabitch listened for a change."

  "What are you doing here?"

  Startled, McCoy spun around and saw Colonel Banta and ten armed men. "Relax, Colonel," McCoy said. "We were just looking for our man. We found him, so we'll be leaving."

  Banta motioned to his soldiers, who leveled their rifles at the two men. He strode toward Josh but abruptly halted at the sight of his two leaders lying beside each other a few feet away. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes-he could tell from the trail of blood that Stephen had dragged himself to his father and laid his head on the old warrior's shoulder.

  He continued over to Joshua and took his wrist. Feeling a strong pulse, he glared at McCoy and spat, "We will care for him. He is Shan, not your man."

  "Hold it, Colonel," McCoy snapped. "Hawkins has to disappear-and fast. The Company can't be involved in this.

  We had a deal, dammit!"

  Banta pinned McCoy with an icy stare. "It's not finished."

  "Not finished? What the fuck is there left to finish?"
r />   Banta picked Josh up in his arms and stood. "You would not understand. Do not worry, U McCoy. I will abide by our deal. No one will speak about the Sao being with us." He nodded his head and two of his men flicked off the safeties of their rifles.

  McCoy raised his hands and backed up. "We have Stephen's son. Remember that, Banta, and remind Hawkins of it. If there's a leak, all of our work was for nothing."

  The colonel regarded the CIA man for a moment with a pitying look before lowering his eyes to the bodies of the Kangs. "No, U McCoy," he said softly. "No matter what happens this day, it will not have been for nothing."

  .

  4 P. M., U. S. Embassy, Rangoon.

  "How bad was he when they took him?"

  "He'll live," McCoy said into the secure phone. "He caught two. One went in the back of his shoulder and exited above his collarbone, nice and clean. The second one looked bad, but it was just a graze to his head. He's got a new part in his hair-he was lucky."

  "You think he'll talk?"

  "We have Stephen's son, Mr. Director. He won't be talking, at least not until we give him back. We've got the cover story in place. You should have enough time to come up with a plausible denial if something leaks. I think it's going to be okay. Hawkins is no dummy-he'll want to get on with his life and not have to worry about us-and Colonel Banta is sharp, so he'll play it our way. How 'bout your end?"

  "When Hawkins stood up at the conference, all anybody saw on television was his back. The only problem will be the photos and TV tape from your end."

  "My crew and I took care of all the TV cameras during the mortar attack, so the tapes are okay. As far as the photos go, we did our best. I had the light crew beam him as soon as he stood. The pictures should be for shit, but no guarantees."

  The director said, "Okay, we'll be monitoring the wire services and may have to pull strings if it's a problem. How about the bottom line? Does it look good for us?"

  "Iffy, boss. The military is definitely out, but it's going down like we thought on the political side. No party or group has enough pull to take the lead, so it's gonna be a mess for a while. Swei and his crew have been dead for less than seven hours and the political party chiefs are already arguing over parking places. Nobody trusts anybody enough to form a coalition. It's gonna take a long time and a couple of changes of leadership before it smooths out. That's my best guess-the embassy and the State boys are burning both ends trying to make it work for us. The good news is that all the parties agree the country will remain open. That'll make the special interests happy."

  "That is good news. Buck, what happened to us there can never happen again. Make sure. Let me know if you need more people. Just get it done, and stay within budget."

  "Boss, we're workin' on it already. We've made plenty of contacts and should have a preliminary network established within days. The environment is right. I don't see a problem."

  "Okay, Buck, I'm counting on you. Just one more thing.

  How did it go? Did the old Sawbaw do it right?"

  "Boss, it was a good op. The old man and Stephen paid, but they had it wired right-they cleaned house with no spills. And boss? Our boy was right in the middle of it, and it was very heavy action. I wanna go on record on that. He did it right, and for all the right reasons."

  "It figures. I'll get damage control to wrap this up. I'll cover him as long as he's quiet. Buck, this goes next door now. I'm out of it now, but I won't forget. Thanks."

  "Just doin' my job. Out here, boss." McCoy hung up and walked into the next room, where Fletcher sat waiting.

  "Well?" McCoy asked.

  "They took him up north after a doctor stitched up his head wound and cleaned out his shoulder. I understand he was too weak to walk but was conscious."

  "You find out what Banta meant by unfinished business?"

  Fletcher nodded but remained silent for a moment before looking into McCoy's eyes. "Hawkins has to preside over the funerals of the two Sawbaws. According to the Shan doctor I talked to, our boy is considered family and must be there.

  The burial is going to take place somewhere up in the mountains. It also seems Hawkins is going to be made a Sawbaw. And something about being given a title, 'the Protector.' "

  McCoy's jaw tightened. "Hawkins can't be a Sawbaw.

  He's not Shan."

  Fletcher shrugged. "They consider him one of their own.

  One more thing. While I was up there I was made by Banta's people. I thought it was going to be trouble, but Banta sent word to let me go and to have me pass a message on to you.

  We're not to tell the kid about his father and the old man.

  Sawbaw Hawkins, the Protector, will do it. What do you make of it? Will he stay on and lead those people?"

  McCoy shook his head slowly as he walked to the window. "I don't know. For our sake let's hope not-he knows us too well."

  "Buck, what did the Shan gain from all this? I don't see it.

  McCoy gazed out the window reflectively and spoke as if in church. "Hope. They fought to try and hold on to their way of life. Time is running out for them, and they know it."

  "You think they got it? Hope, I mean."

  "Yeah. At least for a while. Hope for a better future is all any of us can ask for. For them it was worth dying for."

  "Hey, Buck, it beats dying for money and power. Maybe it was worth it."

  McCoy lowered his head. "Maybe it was."

  Chapter 28.

  27 June, Bangkok, Thailand.

  The CIA chief of station stood at the gate watching the arriving passengers from Rangoon walk toward the airport terminal.

  "That's him," he said, pointing Joshua out to his case officer.

  The two men strode to meet the approaching passenger.

  The younger agent was about to speak when a wiry old man wearing a blue turban and a mean stare cut him off. His left arm was in a sling, but his other hand was reaching inside his dark tunic.

  "It's all right, Lante," Josh said, patting the old Horseman's back.

  The case officer eyed the old man nervously. "McCoy didn't say anything about you bringing a bodyguard, Hawkins. Tell him to keep his hand away from whatever he's carrying."

  Josh kept walking.

  The chief offered his hand and asked, "How's the head?"

  "Where's Jacob?" Josh snapped.

  "He's doing fine. I followed the instructions, so he doesn't know. And did you keep your end of the bargain?"

  "It's over. I have nothing to say to anyone," Josh said coldly.

  The chief saw in his eyes that he meant it. Relaxing his professional stare, he motioned to an approaching car. "The wife and I are going to miss Jacob. He's a good kid."

  The car stopped and the case officer opened the door.

  Jacob got out with an expectant smile. The smile vanished at the sight of Josh's bandages and the sling the Horseman was wearing. His eyes swept desperately past the two men toward the plane. "Where is Papa?" he asked, his voice cracking.

  Kaska got out the other door. Seeing only Josh and the Horseman, she knew and turned away as Josh kneeled to take Jacob's hand. Without speaking, he placed Stephen's silver bracelet on the boy's wrist.

  Jacob shook as tears began flowing down his cheeks. "He ... he promised me."

  Josh looked into the boy's eyes. "He and your grandfather are together in the mountains. They are riding with the other Horsemen and all their ancestors. The gods are ..." Trembling, Joshua closed his tearing eyes, unable to finish the ritual. Seeing Jacob's anguish just added more pain to his own.

  For days the grief had been building within him like a festering wound--always there, throbbing, and trying to tear him apart. He wasn't ready to say the traditional words and release them. He wanted desperately to keep them with him.

  Horseman Lante reached out and brought Jacob to his side.

  Leaning over, the old warrior tilted his head and said in a soft whisper, "Listen. Do you hear it, little Sao? It is the sound of the ponies' hoof beat
s in the distant mountains. I hear the Sawbaws bellowing proudly as they return to the camp. The ancestors are rejoicing, for they have been waiting for them.

  What stories the Sawbaws will tell at their campfires! While we still feel the pain of their going, they are riding with the wind filled with happiness. Throughout our land everyone speaks of them and what they did together for our people.

  Years from now hunters will sit by their campfires and speak of the bravery of the Kangs. They are not gone, little Sao; they are in all of us. The story of the victory over the pye dogs will be told by fathers to their sons as long as the Shan live. The gods are truly fortunate to have them."

  Jacob sniffed back his tears as he looked up at the old man. "My mother is in their camp, isn't she?"