Dark Wing

by Richard Herman

  Alvarez stood and smiled when he saw the congressional staffer walk in. She was petite, pretty, and had tears in her eyes. “Juan,” she said, not sitting down, “she’s on a warpath.” They all understood the “she” was Congresswoman Ann Nevers. Nevers was the most aggressive member of the congressional delegation that was visiting Hanoi. Unlike Mazie and her China Action Team, the delegation was primarily concerned with media coverage for the upcoming election in November.

  “She found out you and I have been seeing each other,” the young woman said. “I’ve been fired and sent home.” She slipped a note into Alvarez’s hand. “I’ve got to go.”

  Alvarez watched her leave before reading the note. His forehead furrowed as he read. “Nevers knows what we’re doing here and is going to break the story on TV,” he said.

  “That’s a problem we don’t need,” Mazie said. “I’d better call Mr. Carroll. He’s good at damage control.” She hurried out of the lounge.

  Hazelton shook his head. “This is classic Nevers. She’ll ride any issue to make the seven o’clock news and doesn’t care who she hurts.”

  “Shee-it,” Byers grumbled. “We got a sweet deal going here and that bitch is going to screw it up. I need a drink. Waiter!” The maitre d’ and a waiter scurried up to the table at the sound of the sudden disturbance. Byers ordered another round of drinks and asked for Tabasco sauce and two raw eggs to go with his beer. “It makes a great appetizer,” he told Hazelton. The maitre d’ asked if a Vietnamese pepper sauce would be satisfactory, since they didn’t have Tabasco sauce. Byers nodded and the waiter left with a very perplexed look on his face.

  “I can see it now,” Hazelton said. He read from imaginary headlines: “Congresswoman Nevers discovers Hanoigate.” He looked sick.

  “Can Carroll fix this one?” Alvarez asked.

  “I doubt it,” Hazelton replied. He looked even sicker when Congresswoman Ann Nevers barged past the maitre d’ and headed straight for their table with four members of her staff in tow. Nevers was a tall and willowy woman in her mid-forties. She was slightly hunch-shouldered and had clear blue eyes. She would have been pretty except for the permanent inner scowl that marred her outer looks. Byers whispered a few words to Alvarez, who stood and left. Byers and Hazelton stood as she approached.

  Nevers hovered in front of Hazelton like a vengeful banshee. “I want to meet Kamigami,” she demanded. “Now.”

  “I just sent for her,” Byers lied. “She should be here in a few minutes.” He motioned to a seat. Nevers sat while her staff retreated to the bar. “Can we help you?” Byers asked as he sat down.

  Nevers disregarded Byers as a nobody and fixed Hazelton with a piercing stare. “What the hell do you people think you’re doing?” she said. Her tone of voice was calm and controlled, but her words rang with danger. She ignored the waiter when he set down the drinks Byers had ordered. The two eggs and little dish of pepper sauce confirmed her opinion of Byers.

  “Miss Nevers,” Hazelton began, “we are here at the express order of the president—”

  “Who is going to be impeached for what’s going on here,” she snapped.

  Hazelton soldiered on, trying to make her listen to reason. “Perhaps you could talk to the national security advisor before you—”

  “Why?” she interrupted. “So he can tell me what you’re doing in Hanoi is in the best interests of the United States? I would have thought you people would have learned from the Watergate and Iran-Contra scandals.”

  There it is again, Byers thought. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” he said in his most respectful voice. “Who is this ‘you people’ you keep talkin’ about?” He hoped she would react to his southern accent.

  She did and her eyes drew into narrow slits. “Who,” she said, seeing him for the first time, “are you?”

  “Ray Byers,” he answered. “Just a good old boy from Alabama.”

  “I’ve heard about you,” Nevers said, stressing the last word.

  “That’s nice, Ma’am.” Over her shoulder, Byers saw Alvarez return with a TV reporter and a cameraman. He was pointing to the table.

  “Care for a drink?” Byers offered, taking off his right shoe and sock. His bizarre behavior captured her attention and she watched in fascination as he dropped the two eggs into the sock. With deliberation he peered down the sock and shook the eggs into the toe. Satisfied, he poured some of the hot sauce on top. He twisted the neck of the sock closed and bashed it once on the table. He leaned back, opened his mouth, sucked at the toe of the sock and followed it with a beer chaser. He smiled and offered the sock to Nevers.

  The TV cameraman had his video camera on in time to catch Ann Nevers retching on the floor.

  Byers contented himself with, “Damn, this is good stuff.” Then he gulped his beer to quench the flame burning in his mouth from the pepper sauce.

  Sunday, July 28

  Guilin, China

  Waters held the door open as Big John Washington and Larry Tanaka filed into Pontowski’s office. She didn’t move, wanting to see what would happen next. The two Junkyard Dogs stood in front of Pontowski’s desk, braced for what was coming.

  “Where is he?” Pontowski asked, fixing the two with a hard look.

  “Ah … well … sir,” Washington answered, “we don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” His voice was menacing. “Do you know where Byers and Alvarez are?”

  Tanaka brightened. “Yes sir. They’re still in Hanoi.”

  Pontowski grunted a response. “That still leaves Marchioni. We’re having problems with LASTE and it turns out that one Mister Charles Marchioni is the only person with any talent when it comes to fixing the system. I had to do some serious arm twisting to get him here. He shows up, the only civilian we’ve got, by the way, and the next day he’s gone missing.” Pontowski stood and leaned across his desk. “I need him—bad—and he was last seen with you two. What did you do with him?”

  The two exchanged worried glances. They had never seen their boss so angry. Washington drew himself up to his full five feet two inches and squared his shoulders. He was going to tell the truth. “Sir, we gave him a Junkyard Dog’s checkout.”

  “And what is that?” Pontowski asked.

  Tanaka answered. “It’s the way we welcome new bachelors to the wing. We do it the first night they’re here. But Charlie is sorta special so we … sorta overdid it.” He lost his nerve and couldn’t finish.

  “What did you do?” Pontowski was getting worried.

  “It’s like a welcoming party,” Washington explained. “We took him downtown to the New Bar and got him elbow-walking, knee-crawlin’ drunk. I gotta tell you, that takes some doing with Marchioni. Anyway, we turned him over to a pro.”

  “Pro?” Pontowski interrupted.

  “Hooker, sir. A call girl.”

  “Have you two ever heard of AIDS?”

  “No problem, sir,” Tanaka answered. “We’ve got our reserve stock all checked out and certified by a doctor.”

  “I can’t believe this. Okay, so what happened next?” Washington steeled himself. “She took Marchioni off to a hotel someplace. She doesn’t speak English.”

  Pontowski had to force a straight face and stifle a laugh. As a lieutenant, he would have loved pulling off a practical joke like that. But as a commander, he couldn’t allow it. He caught Waters giving him a hard look. There was the matter of the girls. “I see,” he said. “So your victim wakes up, hung over, and in bed with a woman. He’s lucky if he remembers her name.”

  “She’s a real princess,” Washington added. He couldn’t see Waters, who was steaming mad.

  “And he has no idea where he is,” Pontowski said, “doesn’t speak the language, and probably has no money. A stranger in a strange land under very strange circumstances.”

  “That’s the idea,” Tanaka admitted.

  Time to play the hard ass, Pontowski thought. “Come with me,” he ordered as he stomped out of the building. He walked next door to the secur
ity shack manned by the New China Guard and asked to speak to the captain in charge.

  “Show them the photos and what you took off the bodies,” he told the captain.

  The captain handed them a set of photos of three very dead young Chinese. “They almost nailed me yesterday,” Pontowski explained.

  “We heard the rumors,” Tanaka said.

  The captain set a box in front of them. It contained two submachine guns, a pistol with a silencer, six hand grenades, six knives, rolls of adhesive tape, thin wire, a block of C4 explosive, detonators, and a packet of syringes. “These are lethal,” the captain said, pointing to the needles. “They were well-equipped and well-trained assassins. Very dangerous.”

  “The question is,” Pontowski gritted, “who’s next?” He stared at the two men. “Find Marchioni. Now.” The two men saluted and hurried out of the room, glad to escape the wrath of their commander.

  “The Bossman is really pissed,” Tanaka said. “Where do you think Charlie is?”

  “Beats the shit outa me,” Washington replied. “Marchioni’s a fuckin’ wild man. I think he took off with the lady.”

  Pontowski walked back to the squadron. Maybe, he thought, the hard-nosed routine is what we need to break the spell of this place. Time to do some ass kicking before someone does it for me.

  “Tango!” he bellowed as he stomped down the hall. A surprised Leonard stuck his head out of the mission planning room. “Get Hester the Molester and be in my office in two minutes.” Leonard ducked back into the room. Hell of a way to run a railroad, Pontowski thought. But it does get results.

  Monday, July 29

  Nanning, China

  James, Von Drexler’s majordomo, entered the bedroom and drew the curtains back. A misty sunlight streamed into the room. “Good morning, sir,” he said, waking the three inhabitants in the bed. He surveyed the room. It was a disaster and offended his sense of propriety. A silken cord with six small wooden balls strung along its length lay on the floor beside the bed. Rather than pick it up, he nudged it under the bed with his foot. He saw traces of dried blood on the balls. He hoped it was Von Drexler’s.

  The older woman stirred and sat up. “Good morning, Mrs. Soong,” James said in Cantonese. “Breakfast is ready.” Soong Yu Ke nodded, not concerned that she was naked. James clapped his hands and a maid wheeled in a breakfast cart set for three.

  “Mark,” Yu Ke said, speaking English to Von Drexler, “it is time to get up. People will get the wrong idea.” Her accent and diction were perfect. She stood and appraised herself in a full-length mirror, pleased that her body did not betray her fifty years. Von Drexler sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the bare back of Yu Ke’s daughter. “Ailing,” she said. It was enough. The younger woman came awake and smiled at Von Drexler.

  “You are wonderful,” Ailing said, smiling at him. She got out of bed, went to the breakfast tray, poured a cup of coffee, and handed it to Von Drexler. She tossed her hair over her bare shoulder and struck a sultry pose in front of him. She watched his reaction and knew what he wanted. She knelt in front of him and licked his penis.

  Yu Ke sat in a chair, crossed her legs, and studied Von Drexler’s face as Ailing sucked at him. “You are right, you know,” she said, making casual conversation. “You, even more than Zou, understand the importance of rivers in China.” She dropped the subject. She had planted the seed a week ago that the city of Wuzhou, which lay at the confluence of the Pearl and Lijiang rivers, was the key to Guangxi Province.

  “May I select your uniform?” she asked. He groaned a reply. Ailing’s head was bobbing furiously between his legs. She padded to his huge closet and chose a set of khakis patterned after the uniform of General Douglas MacArthur. A loud sigh escaped from Von Drexler as he climaxed. He pulled Ailing up to him and kissed her full on the mouth. “Please,” Yu Ke said, “your staff meeting is in thirty minutes.” Ailing led him into the bathroom for a bath and shave while the woman pinned five stars onto each collar of the shirt.

  Von Drexler preened in front of a mirror after the two women had dressed him. He touched the circle of stars on each collar and smiled. “No,” he said, “not yet.” Reluctantly, he let the woman replace them with his three stars. Finally, he was ready. One last glance in the mirror. His face looked slightly bloated but not enough to worry about. He turned to the woman. “I can’t believe we’ve known each other for only three weeks,” he said. “You are a treasure.” Soong Yu Ke bestowed a gracious smile on him and walked with him to the door.

  She closed the door and glared at her daughter. “You talked too much last night,” she snapped in Cantonese. “Get dressed.” A few minutes later, James, the majordomo, entered unannounced. “Tell Zou we have him,” Yu Ke said as she carefully examined her face in a mirror for any signs of aging.

  The twelve Americans who formed Von Drexler’s personal staff waited nervously for the general to arrive for his Monday morning staff meeting. It was part of the week’s ritual they dreaded. “What the hell,” Colonel Robert Trimler mumbled when he saw Von Drexler’s latest uniform. “He’s designing his own uniforms now.”

  The American officers exchanged worried looks. Von Drexler’s growing megalomania was the number-one topic of discussion among his staff. They had all seen perfectly rational officers change as they moved up in rank. Some became more humane and considerate while others became tyrants. For a very rare few, becoming a general was the chance to use all their talents and become true leaders. Every man in the room admitted that Von Drexler was an organizational genius and an expert at moving supplies and materiel. But increased rank had brought out the dark side of his personality, for he savored power for its own sake. He wanted to control and dominate people. Most of the officers on his staff accepted the good with the bad and hoped to get through the assignment with their careers unscathed.

  “Seats,” Von Drexler said. He stood in front of his staff and stared over their heads. “Two items. First, I want action on the new MAAG compound. We are growing and need to move into our own headquarters. Second, gentlemen, it is time we bring the war to the PLA,” he announced. He paced the floor and outlined his plan to attack Wuzhou. “It is imperative,” he concluded, “that we winkle Kang out of Wuzhou before he makes further advances into Guangxi Province. We are going to push him back to Canton.” He marched out of the room.

  “Winkle?” an Army lieutenant colonel asked.

  “My God,” Colonel Charles Parker, the vice commander, grumbled to Trimler, “he fancies himself a MacArthur. I’ve never seen anyone come unglued so fast in my life. You’re lucky to be reassigned.”

  Trimler agreed with him. He had convinced Von Drexler to reassign him to the First Regiment to create an ASOC, air support operations center, for Kamigami. The ASOC’s job was to have the Warthogs in the right place with the right ordnance when the First Regiment needed them. It was called close air support, or CAS for short. “Someone,” Trimler said, “had better tell the heavies back home we’ve got a first-class wacko running the show. I’m out of here.”

  Trimler found the sanity he was looking for with Kamigami’s First Regiment in Pingnan. He relaxed when he discovered it was at its full strength of four battalions, almost three thousand men. The more he saw, the more he was convinced the First Regiment could handle anything up to a division that Kang could throw at it. But the real difference was Kamigami. He was distant from his men, yet one of them. Thanks to Jin Chu, a mystical quality surrounded his orders and his soldiers were willing to live and die following his lead.

  “Von Drexler is talking about an offensive against Wuzhou,” Trimler told Kamigami. “He wants to push Kang back to Canton.”

  Kamigami stiffened. “Does he have any idea what he’s talking about?” He leaned over a map spread out on a table. “It looks simple on a chart, but Wuzhou is a major PLA stronghold. I wish he had to deal with real bullets, real tanks, and real bodies.”

  “What do you need to do it?” Trimler asked.

  “Ded
icated close air support,” Kamigami replied. “Pontowski’s A-10s have got to be totally committed to us from the get-go. They have to be there when we call for them.”

  “That’s a problem,” Trimler said. “VD uses the A-10s as a bargaining chip to control Zou. Zou does what VD wants or Zou doesn’t get the A-10s. We’ve got to change that.” He wished he knew how.

  Kamigami sat down, recalling the work detail when he and Jin Chu had been pressed into burying bodies in Wuzhou. He wanted to talk to her. But she had disappeared the day before without a word and he wasn’t sure when she would return.

  Tuesday, July 30

  Southwest of Guilin, China

  The two Warthogs descended to five hundred feet and flew southward along the Luoqing River. The Luoqing was a fierce river, flowing swiftly to the south, where it joined the Pearl. Ahead of them, the Luoqing was forced into a narrow river valley by a well-developed mountain range to the west and a single jagged ridge line of karst peaks, the sharp-sided limestone buttes that jutted out of the land, to the east. It looked as if the river were flowing into the mouth of the mountains, with a set of huge teeth on the bottom.

  Maggot’s voice filled the headset in Pontowski’s helmet. “I call this ‘the Gullet’ and the ridge of karsts to the east ‘the Dragon’s Teeth.’ “It was a good description of what Maggot had found. Pontowski had told him to find an area where they could conduct intensive training. Now Maggot was showing Pontowski the results of that search.

  Pontowski zoomed to two thousand feet, rolled inverted, and took in the scenery. Below him he could see Maggot’s Warthog snaking a flight path along the river. He continued the roll and descended onto the broad plain on the eastern side of the Dragon’s Teeth. He flew at one hundred feet over the rice paddies and firewalled the throttles. To the west, the jagged peaks of the Dragon’s Teeth hid Maggot and the Luoqing. To the east, rice paddies and an occasional karst formation extended into the summer haze.