Pontowski stared at the wall. He knew the truth when he heard it. If it happened again, he would have to stop flying combat. His relentless mind pursued the truth. What kind of leader would he be then? He knew the answer to that as well. He wouldn’t be a leader. “Thanks, Sara. You help.”
Waters wanted to touch and hold him, to share the burden as she had with Muddy. But that was different and this man was not her husband or lover. It was something she couldn’t give him. “Sir, I have a request.” She looked at him expectantly. He nodded. “I would like to go on the deployment to Guilin.”
Wednesday, June 19
Pingnan, China
Heavily armed soldiers cleared a path in front of the small procession as it made its way down Pingnan’s main street. Kamigami’s bulk loomed above the protective shield of staff officers that clustered around Zou Rong as he inspected the battle’s aftermath. Jin Chu followed a few steps behind with Zou’s bodyguards. Fires were still burning themselves out and the stench of burning tires, oil, and animals drifted down every street. A baby girl, maybe a year old, sat in the gutter crying. Kamigami picked the child up and handed her to Jin Chu. “Please take her to the hospital,” he said. Jin Chu cuddled the child and hurried away.
“This was a costly victory,” Zou said. “The town is destroyed.”
“There is no victory here,” Kamigami rasped. His voice carried a savage, guttural quality. “We were saved because Jin Chu warned me of the attack minutes before it started. Even then, if close air support had been immediately available, we could have stopped them outside town.”
Zou’s eyes narrowed as he reacted to the death and destruction around him. His spies had reported how the AVG had responded to the warning the American reconnaissance plane had sent. But Von Drexler had delayed in warning the NCG and had held the A-l0s on the ground until the First Regiment was fighting for its life.
Zou held up Von Drexler in his mind’s eye for inspection. What is it you desire? he thought. With a logic born of his culture and the Orient, he circled in on a decision: Von Drexler had to be controlled and then destroyed. As the two men made their way through the wreckage and debris that had been Pingnan, he considered the weapons available to the task. No emotion betrayed his choice. He would control Von Drexler the Chinese way and let him destroy himself. “I want to see the hospital,” Zou said. Now he was thinking of Jin Chu.
The hospital was a violation of Kamigami’s being. He had lived with the horrors of combat and the shock of first-aid stations and field hospitals. But this was beyond his experience and was a hospital in name only. The halls were littered with bodies near death. Many beds held two people, their bloody bandages soaking the mattress. Sanitation was not a concern and the doors of the operating room stood open. The exhausted surgeons did not change their gloves before the next patient was wheeled in. “It is much better in the military hospital,” one of Zou’s aides said, loud enough for him to hear.
Kamigami walked out the front door. “We need to fix this,” he told Zou.
Zou was unconcerned. “It is the Chinese way,” he said. Another aide scurried up and spoke in a low, very rapid voice. “He wants to show us a body,” Zou said, following the aide to a truck in the courtyard.
The corpse was lying in the back of the truck wrapped in a blanket. It made Kamigami think of a loose bundle of rags. A soldier peeled back the blanket with his bayonet. Kamigami could feel the sour taste of bile rise in his throat. “The death by a thousand cuts,” the aide said, visibly shaken by the sight. The body had been skillfully dismembered and even the fingers had been sectioned at the knuckles.
“My God,” Kamigami whispered. “What happened?”
“He was executed,” Zou explained.
“Was he alive when they cut him up?”
“When they started,” Zou replied.
“Who did this?” A fierce rage was building in Kamigami.
“Kang ordered it carried out in his presence,” Zou said. “This is why we call him the King of Hell.” He turned away from the grisly sight. “We are a civilized people,” he told Kamigami. “This has not been done in a hundred years.”
“But why?” Kamigami asked. There was no answer.
Zou spoke to the aide and was handed a small package. “I am told he was an American captured by the PLA.” He handed Kamigami the package. Slowly, Kamigami unwrapped the brown paper. Inside were a set of dog tags: WANG PEIFU, JUNKYARD DOGS, USAF. The name meant nothing to him but he had heard of the Junkyard Dogs. This man wasn’t an American, he thought.
He stared at the two pieces of gray metal and the chain. But so much like my own, he thought. So much like my own. A gentle touch on his arm broke the spell that bound him. It was Jin Chu, standing close to him, still holding the baby girl. “Please,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “may I return to our home?” Kamigami jerked his head yes and led her out of the hospital compound.
Shocked looks followed them. Jin Chu had spoken in a very personal way, much as a wife would when talking to her husband. Zou had also heard. He spun around and walked toward a waiting staff car. His aides exchanged nervous looks as they sought excuses to avoid riding with him. One of them would bear the burden of his anger.
Friday, June 28
Nanning, China
The black limousine pulled into the covered portal at the side of the combined headquarters building and glided to a stop in front of the steps at exactly 9:30 A.M. The twelve members of the honor guard formed a corridor leading up the steps and into the building and presented arms as Mark Von Drexler stepped out of the backseat. He was wearing the three shiny new stars of a lieutenant general on each shoulder. One of his aides, an American Army colonel, matched his stride as he walked briskly up the steps and into the building.
“Are you telling me they have ambassadorial rank?” he snapped at the colonel.
“Well, yes and no,” the colonel stammered. “The message came from the White House … they are here at the request of the president …”
“But they are not ambassadors,” Von Drexler growled. He barely controlled his anger. “Let me make this perfectly clear,” he said. “I am the senior United States official in the Republic of Southern China. I will not tolerate being second-guessed or overruled by two bureaucrats from the National Security Council.”
The colonel struggled to find a way out of his dilemma. “Sir,” he finally stammered, “I think their position is adequately manifested by the fact they are waiting for you in your office.” He was sweating. He opened the door to Von Drexler’s office suite and stepped back, eager to escape the general.
“Mr. Hazelton, Miss Kamigami,” Von Drexler said as he entered his offices, “so good to see you again.” He shook their hands and escorted them into his reception room. They sat down and a steward appeared pushing a tea cart. “May I offer you some tea or coffee?” he asked.
Mazie sipped her coffee and let the caffeine do its work while Hazelton did the talking. She needed the jolt to offset the effects of jet lag, which physically drained her and had killed her normally healthy appetite. Fortunately, Hazelton had no trouble sleeping on airplanes and seemed to be unaffected by it all. He was eating like a horse and thriving.
“I want to assure you, General,” Hazelton said, “we are not here to set policy. Our sole function is to create an interface between the Republic of Southern China and those nations that want to lend support but cannot openly do so.”
“Yes,” Von Drexler replied, “I understand that. Nations like Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, and the Philippines must maintain the facade of good diplomatic relations with the People’s Republic of China while at the same time searching for ways to control its aggressive tendencies.”
My, Mazie thought, we do sound like pompous idiots. Come on, Went, cut to the chase.
Hazelton took the mental equivalent of a deep breath and did exactly that. “We are going to implement a supply pipeline into Nanning through Hanoi,” he explained.
&nbs
p; The look on Von Drexler’s face warned them that he did not like that idea. But his voice betrayed no emotion. “That will present certain problems,” he said. “However, I am certain they can be overcome if the MAAG controls the distribution of those supplies to the Republic of Southern China and the New China Guard.”
And that way, Mazie thought, he has Zou by the short and curlies.
“I’m certain that can be arranged,” Hazelton said.
Mazie gave a mental sigh. Hazelton had overstepped his marching orders and she had to intervene. “We have to be very careful,” she said, “and cover our tracks. The People’s Republic of China must never be able to trace the source of the supplies and money reaching Zou.”
“Miss Kamigami,” Von Drexler said, infusing a stiffer tone into his words, “the duties of the MAAG are very clear. I cannot let you encroach on my area of responsibility.”
Mazie fought to control her anger. She had seen the Concept of Operations, the thin document that guided the MAAG, and knew what his responsibilities were. Come on, she mentally added, you know all about credible denial. Why do you want the MAAG visibly involved? It was a question she wanted answered.
The vague suspicion tugging at the edges of her thinking demanded her full attention. She had an answer to her question. The Military Assistance Advisory Group had been given a free hand in its relations with Zou’s new government and Von Drexler was carving out an empire. Mazie reluctantly gave him full marks for the way he moved into any power vacuum and expanded his influence. He was successful because there was no one to tell him no.
“General,” Mazie said, “we are here to help you so let’s take it one step at a time. We set up the pipeline and the MAAG furnishes us a shopping list. Once we’ve got the supplies flowing, then we worry about covering our tracks.” She decided to churn the waters a little further and see if the general was truly on a power binge or if she had misread the situation. “It is my understanding,” she ventured, “that all policy decisions in theater are coordinated through your office.” She studied his reaction. Bingo! she thought. That was exactly the ego stroke he needed.
The meeting spun down to polite formalities, and Von Drexler escorted them to their waiting limousine and held the door for Mazie to enter. “I realize you must catch a flight, Miss Kamigami,” Von Drexler said. “Perhaps we will have an opportunity to arrange a visit with your father the next time you are in Nanning.” He allowed a tight smile when he saw Mazie stiffen. He pursued his advantage. “It will be an easy matter to arrange as General Kamigami reports to me.”
That’s another lie, Mazie thought as the limousine pulled away for the short drive to the airport. The First Regiment falls under the New China Guard, not Von Drexler. Mazie sank back into the plush upholstery. Von Drexler had sent her a message that he would use her father as a club to control her.
“I screwed up in there,” Hazelton said. “Thanks for covering for me. The man’s an absolute egomaniac.” Mazie gave him a hard look and then shot a glance at the Chinese chauffeur. Hazelton got the message and shut up. They would discuss it later.
The chauffeur split his concentration as he drove to the airport. Whom should he tell what he had overheard? the man who worked for Zou or the woman who spied for Kang? Then it came to him: Both would pay well for what he had overheard about General Kamigami. The other information was worthless—even the whores were talking about Von Drexler.
It was past midnight when Von Drexler returned to his quarters. The large house quieted the moment he entered and the staff hurried to their assigned locations should he require their services. His new majordomo was waiting in the entrance hall. “Good evening, General Von Drexler,” he said in his excellent English. “Miss Sun is not feeling well and retired early.”
Von Drexler’s face registered his disappointment at the news that his current mistress was ill. Few men in this day and age, he raged to himself, have the power and influence I do. Why should I be denied this? “That is very unfortunate,” he said.
The majordomo caught the harsh tone in Von Drexler’s voice. He nodded, his bland expression not betraying his disdain of the American. He was not afraid of the man, but he did fear power. It was the true aphrodisiac that could destroy or reward when it lured men like Von Drexler. “I have made other arrangements,” he said. He caught the signs of interest and allowed a slight smile. “They will explain.”
The three girls were waiting for Von Drexler in his bedroom. They rushed to surround him, their naked bodies shimmering with the glow of youth. They chattered in broken English as they undressed him, teasing him with soft, quick touches against his bare skin. A thigh brushed against his erection. Von Drexler tried to act indifferent to their ministrations, as if he had done it all before. I must thank Zou for recommending the majordomo, he thought. The man is invaluable.
The girls led him into the bathroom. The big tub was filled with hot water that overflowed when they climbed in. He relaxed as a hand held his penis and warm lips brushed his cheek and then his mouth. A tongue played across his lips. The girls giggled as they helped him out of the tub and dried him off. He walked into his bedroom and sat on the bed. Now, according to the girls, he had to choose which one of the three would perform. He studied them, deciding which one he no longer wanted. His choice made, he pointed to the oldest. Tears welled up in her eyes and she turned to the corner and waited. A naked boy emerged from the shadows and took her hand. The two lay on the floor and started to make love.
Von Drexler lay back in the bed as one of the girls mounted him, kneeling over his head. He felt a tongue lick at the inside of his thigh as it worked its way upward. He twisted his head so he could watch the couple on the floor.
No one, he promised himself, will ever take this away from me. I’ve earned it and I’ll keep it. He shuddered as he gave in to the moment.
CHAPTER 11
Monday, July 1
Tokyo, Japan
Mazie’s body ached with fatigue when she followed Hazelton into the large conference room. She hadn’t seen a bed in two days and wanted to collapse into the nearest chair. But like everyone else in the room, she remained standing. It was highly unusual for a woman to attend so important a meeting in Japan and the men kept throwing disdainful looks in her direction. An elderly Japanese man entered and studied her face longer than the others. “Miss Kamigami is my personal translator and aide,” Hazelton explained.
The old man only said, “We all speak English.” He walked to the head of the table and stood looking out the window. Far below, a panoramic view of Tokyo came to life as the glow of neon signs and street lights emerged from the settling twilight.
“That’s Hiro Toragawa,” Mazie whispered. “We were introduced at a reception in the Japanese Embassy in Washington. He was the guest of honor. If there is a Japan, Inc., he’s the CEO.”
“Do you think he remembers you?”
“I doubt it. That was four years ago. I was one of the nobodies invited because I speak Japanese.”
“Should you leave?” Hazelton asked.
“I’m not sure. But if I stay, it will keep them honest and they’ll speak English. There won’t be any sidebars in Japanese.”
Hazelton was in over his head. “You best stay. I don’t know if I can do this. You may have to pick up the pieces afterward.”
The meeting started when Toragawa sat down. In unison, the Japanese gave a short bow before sitting. Mazie hoped Hazelton keyed on what was happening. The men sitting at the table were among the most powerful and influential in Japan and they were all deferring to Toragawa. She listened carefully as Toragawa’s aide explained why they were here. As the meeting progressed, she paid more attention to the nuances—who was speaking the longest, who was speaking after whom, who was not asking questions—than to what was actually being said. Hazelton deftly fielded many polite questions but Mazie could sense the meeting was not going well. The financial, business, and political leaders of Japan were not going to support Zou Ron
g and the fledgling Republic of Southern China.
Toragawa spoke in a low voice to his aide, who then announced a short break. Everyone rose and gave a bow when Toragawa stood. Toragawa’s aide approached and asked if Hazelton would follow him. When Mazie held back, the aide turned to her, “Mr. Toragawa would be pleased if you would also join him, Miss Kamigami.” Everyone in the room heard him.
The two were escorted to a large office suite. The same magnificent view of Tokyo spread out below the huge picture windows. “Look at that,” Hazelton whispered when he saw the painting on the wall. “That’s a genuine Van Gogh.” His head was on a swivel. “That’s a Matisse … a Monet.” He almost lost his composure when he saw the small painting above the seated Toragawa. “That can’t be the…”
“I would guess,” Mazie said, “the original is not in the Louvre.” She would not tell Hazelton that Toragawa was part buccaneer, part samurai, and more powerful than a shogun. He had had enough shocks for one day. She smiled at the man seated next to Toragawa—Bill Carroll.
“Please,” Toragawa’s aide said, motioning them to deep, overstuffed chairs next to Toragawa and Carroll. Hazelton sank into the chair, his face a study in confusion.
“I just arrived,” Carroll explained.
“I asked him to come,” Toragawa said. His words were grammatically perfect but heavily accented. “We are not convinced that it is in the best interests of Japan to become involved in the politics of China.”
Carroll leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “A very understandable decision. But my government believes China is going after the four Little Dragons. First, they’ll secure Hong Kong. Then they’ll press their historic claim for Taiwan. After Taiwan, China will look south to Singapore, which is 80 percent Chinese. Once Singapore is in the fold, they’ll either neutralize Korea or tie it to China with trade agreements. By taking over the four Little Dragons, they will have a ready-made industrial base. By adding in its large population on the mainland, China will be in a position to dominate every labor-intensive industry within ten years.”
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