by John Ringo
Mike shook his head. “My men will travel in four-hour shifts, then break while we switch out drivers at the front and back, which will keep them more alert. I expect you’ll want to be traveling from just after dawn to just after dark, not counting today, of course. I’ve been looking into the conflicts in any areas we’ll be passing through, and they seem to be more to the north and west.”
Cong nodded. “You are correct, but I cannot be certain that other groups have not gotten word of this shipment. It would be a tremendous prize for any of the various rebel groups in the country. However, we have you and your teams to ensure that that doesn’t happen.”
“Right. Now that we’re all assembled, why don’t you give us our final destination?”
“Not just yet. I will notify you when the time is right.”
Mike’s jaw worked, but he didn’t say anything else as they all went back to their respective vehicles.
“You still cool with this?” Adams asked.
“Bit late to back out now,” Mike replied. “As I figured, everyone’s going to have to stay on yellow alert for the next two or three days. Pass the word down.”
Mike and Adams had worked out the driving schedules for their various teams to give just about everyone a chance behind the wheel. The forward vehicle was under strict instructions to report in to him directly every ten minutes.
Mike and Adams did one more walk-around to make sure everything on their trucks was lashed and secure, and that the teams knew to keep their eyes and ears open. Then, with Edvin and Vanel in the lead scout truck, the convoy pulled out onto the road.
* * *
In the Toyota’s passenger seat, Vanel sat very still, trying to keep an eye on everything around them at once. Away from the city and after sundown, the night was deep, with a three-quarter moon providing scattered silver light in between the heavy clouds.
Vanel’s job was to navigate using his tablet and its turn-by-turn directions. He flicked at the screen with his finger, following the oddly named roads to their destination. “What do you think of this country?” he finally asked Edvin.
His teammate shrugged. “Hot. Damp. Flat. This rain every day . . . I could not put up with that for long.”
“Strange, isn’t it?”
Edvin didn’t look over, just grunted. “I’m sure the people who live here would think our own valley just as strange.”
“I suppose.” Vanel stared out the window at the dark landscape whizzing past. He made sure his weapon was at hand before calling in for the first time. “Inara Four to Mal.”
“Go, Inara Four,” the Kildar replied.
“All clear.”
“Roger that.”
And that was that. Vanel leaned back in his seat, mentally counting down the time to the next check-in.
Even on this main road, the farther they got from the city, the sparser the traffic got, until the only other vehicles on the road were large tractor-trailers and the occasional car or truck. Vanel was prepared for anything, even crazed guerillas on elephants charging them, for he had seen the huge beasts while driving through the city. But except for the six radio checks, the next hour passed in mind-numbing monotony.
Well, I guess everything is not guaranteed to end in a firefight, he thought.
Edvin glanced over at him. “You might as well relax. Nothing is going to happen this evening.”
“How do you know?” Vanel asked.
“We are still too close to Yangon. Any rebel forces would strike farther away from the city. That way they protect themselves from the army, as well as delay the response from the army forces if they do strike us.”
“Oh. Of course.” Slightly nettled that he had not thought of that himself, Vanel took a deep breath. “I just do not wish to disappoint the Kildar, that’s all.”
“Do not worry, Vanel, you are not doing that. Your skills are fine, all you need now is experience. Soon you will be able to feel how a situation is going to play out simply by trusting your instincts. Sometimes they can tell you more than all of the training in the world.”
“Yes, but . . . how will I know which to rely on?” Vanel asked.
“As I said, experience will teach you that. Don’t get me wrong, nine times out of ten your training will win out, and it will be correct. But every once in a while, your gut will insist on something. When it does, you would be wise to heed it, or at least take another look at the situation you are in, for the belly does not often lie.”
“I will remember that, Edvin. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, but I tell you this as much for me as you. If knowing these things helps keep you alive, then it helps you to keep the rest of the team alive. It is simple as that.”
* * *
The next two days passed in a blur of tropical scenery and a lot of collective sitting on asses. Mike’s take on the route had been right; the main highway was simply too open a target for anyone to risk assaulting a convoy on it. And even if someone had wanted to take on the large convoy, they would have been spotted by the point vehicle in enough time for the others to mount a preemptive strike. Other than a roadblock caused by an overturned lumber truck, there was a distinct lack of danger.
Passing unmolested through the country, they reached the small city of Pyin U Lwin by late afternoon of the third day. As they approached the outskirts, Cong radioed Mike to call back his scout vehicle and pull off to the side of the road before entering the city.
“I will take the lead from this point forward. Your vehicle will follow me, and the rest will trail behind the convoy. I will lead you to where we’ll offload the cargo.”
“All right.” Mike radioed the orders down the line. Along with the men on site, every word was heard by Vanner and the girls back on the Big Fish.
“Hey, Kildar, am I seeing your position correctly? You’re near Pyin U Lwin, right?” Vanner asked.
“Correct. Cong is taking us in right now. We’re almost done here. Just have to get the handover on film, and we’re out.”
“Okay, we’ll be watching.” Vanner wasn’t kidding either—they were tied in to Katya’s remote viewing system.
She, however, was less than enthusiastic. “Should put out sign: no hitchhikers.”
“Hey, you’re getting paid very well just to stand around and watch this time,” Mike said.
Katya smiled at that. “Is true. Much easier than usual.”
“All right, then. Just make sure you have your eyes on the transfer, and once it’s done, we’re out of here.”
Mike, Adams, and everyone else saw Cong’s SUV pull back onto the road again. “All right, here we go.”
* * *
On the Big Fish, Vanner had taken Neilson’s concerns about the mission to heart, and had been tracking communications around the convoy and any possible destination for the past two days. They had come up empty so far; just a lot of commercial truck driving chatter and everyday military communications that weren’t pertinent to what the Kildar was doing.
Now that his boss was so close to what was basically a large, potentially hostile military encampment, Vanner and his team were all on high alert this evening. “Anything yet?”
“Nothing of interest, Patrick,” Greznya replied. “Is it possible that this is just a simple drop-off, and that the Kildar will be able to head back without any difficulty?”
“Possible, but not probable,” Vanner replied. “Think about it. Would you leave an American and his very foreign entourage who had just seen you deliver a large cache of most likely stolen arms to a foreign country leave in one piece?”
His beautiful Keldara wife cocked her head. “Probably not, but not necessarily for that reason. If he is dead, then I do not have to pay the other half of the money, for who is going to argue about it with me?”
“That is the other thing,” Vanner said. “Along with never get involved in a land war in Asia, a good rule of thumb is to never, ever trust a crooked military general.”
“The convoy is mov
ing again,” Xatia said.
“What was the conversation between Cong and the people at his destination?” Vanner asked.
“Just that they are coming in with the complete shipment, and to expect them within ten minutes.”
“Everything seems to be proceeding according to plan,” Vanner said. “So why do I have a bad feeling about this?” He looked over at another console. “Where’s Cong’s ship?”
“Maintaining a steady distance of eight nautical miles ahead of us, sir,” Martya reported. “The nearest port city to them now is Sittwe. We’ve been altering our course to plot an ‘S’ across their trail. Hopefully that will make them think there is more than one boat out here.”
“All right, keep it up.” Vanner tapped the arm of his chair in nervous anticipation. “Damn it, what am I missing—other than the fact that we’re working with a double-dealing criminal?”
* * *
Adams drove the command vehicle, following Cong’s SUV through the town to a fenced-in site north of the city. It looked fairly innocuous, consisting of several concrete buildings with metal roofs, all of various sizes, spread out over about four acres. Several construction vehicles were scattered around the site as well.
Cong’s bright white SUV pulled up next to the largest building and stopped. Adams pulled up next to him. “You’d think they’d have a forklift or two for unloading—” he began.
* * *
Vanel had also taken his recent conversation with Edvin to heart, and was looking around as they drove into the facility. “One access point, closed-in area, no maneuverability. This would be a good place for a trap, Edvin.”
His team mate looked out the back of the M35. “Yes, it would—”
That was when the high-pressure sodium arc floodlights went on all around the perimeter, throwing the vehicles in the middle into sharp relief. At the same time, the sound of diesel engines growling to life reverberated throughout the compound. Seconds later, spotlights from the armored cars driving out of the buildings and coming up behind them lit everything up even more.
* * *
“Communications have increased exponentially across all channels, sir,” Martya said. “At least a company’s worth of men have been ordered to move out.”
“There are also vehicles moving all around the Kildar and the others.”
“They don’t need that many people to unload those trucks—shit!” Vanner hit his mike. “Kildar, it’s a trap!”
* * *
In seconds, the convoy and smaller vehicles were all surrounded by EE-9 Cascavel IV armored cars, their turret-mounted 90mm cannons and 12.7mm machine guns of the six-wheeled vehicles all pointing toward the group.
“Acknowledged, Big Fish. Cong should be handling this already. Will advise as soon as possible.” Mike switched over to the team frequency. “All units, this is Kildar. Do not engage, repeat, do not engage. Stay where you are and await further orders.” Next he contacted Cong even as a voice blared at them through loudspeakers.
“Unauthorized vehicles, you are on restricted military property! Turn off your engines and step out with your hands up!”
“General, what is going on out there? This is not the reception I expected,” Mike said.
“Do not worry. I am sure it is just a bit of confusion on their end. I am going to talk to them right now. I will straighten this all out. Just stay where you are.”
“I am so not liking this,” Adams said, his hands still on the steering wheel. “This better not be one of those, ‘what happens in Pyin U Lwin, stays in Pyin U Lwin’ situations.”
“Just sit tight. Right now we have to wait and see what side Cong is going to come down on, theirs or ours,” Mike said.
“I got fifty bucks that says he’ll come down on his own goddamn side,” Adams replied.
“Not much we can do against those armored cars anyway. The only thing we got that could penetrate that armor is Lasko’s .50 caliber, and one gun wouldn’t do a hell of a lot against everything out there.”
“That makes me feel so much better,” Adams muttered.
Mike turned to Katya, who had spent the last two days with her hair tucked under her hat and making sure that absolutely no one ever saw her go to the bathroom. “No matter what happens, don’t let Cong discover you’re a woman. When I give you the high sign, however make sure these soldiers do.”
Katya frowned at first, then nodded. “We will discuss fee for my additional services later.”
“Glad to, assuming we all live through this,” Mike replied.
“Here he comes,” Adams said, drawing his pistol and holding it below the window.
Flanked by two bodyguards carrying compact Steyr MP 69 submachine guns, the diminutive general walked up to the Mike’s window and pointed for it to go down.
He did so. “What’s the good word, General?”
“The good word is that I am receiving the rest of my promised payment and will be leaving shortly.” He pointed a pistol at Mike, resting it on the sill of the door as his two men also aimed their weapons at the people inside. “The confusion, I’m afraid, was on your part. You will not be getting paid the rest of your money, and you definitely will not be leaving here.”
* * *
Sun Tzu’s adage, “he who knows when he can fight and when he cannot will be victorious,” ran through Mike’s head as he ordered his men to file out of their vehicles and surrender their weapons and to the barely-bearded soldiers holding MA-1 rifles on them. They could have tried to fight their way out of the ambush; Mike had considered the option. However, against the firepower surrounding them, the fine, hard steel of the Keldara would have been smashed against the blunt, crude anvil of their captors.
Also, the fact that they hadn’t simply opened fire once General Cong was out of the way meant that the Myanmar soldiers wanted them alive. And where there was life, there was possibility.
The possibility of vengeance.
Cong was as satisfied as the proverbial cat that had just caught thirty canaries. “It is very simple, Mr. Jenkins. How in the world do you expect a country as poor as Myanmar to afford these weapons? They pay me in gemstones . . . many, many gemstones. Although I know the U.S. embargo is lessening, many countries are still unwilling to traffic in their quite lovely gems. I, however, have no such restriction. With my connections, I can move them for a very nice profit . . . especially since I never bought the weapons I am selling in the first place. Along with the motherboards, this has been one of my most profitable endeavors. And I have you to thank for assisting me in bringing it off so perfectly.”
The general had been walking around Mike while he was talking, and now stopped in front of him. “However, the mines here are always short of labor. When I found you and these Keldara of yours, I knew I had also found the perfect work force. It should make you happy to learn that you were not sold cheaply.” He nodded at Oleg. “The big one alone garnered me fifty sapphires. Pity about the leg, though. Altogether, you and yours have made me a very rich man.”
“Enjoy it while you can,” Mike said evenly.
“Ah yes, here is where you Americans bluster or threaten or some such nonsense.” Cong shook his head. “You are in the middle of nowhere, with no communication to the rest of your people, and surrounded by several thousand Myanmar soldiers. Soon you will be taken to another location, where you will work in the mines until you die. That is the reality of your situation.”
Mike shook his head. “Since you do not seem to understand, I will say it again more slowly. Enjoy. It. While. You. Can. Because you will be seeing me again, Cong,” was the Kildar’s only reply.
Cong snapped out orders in Chinese. The men were herded to one side, while Soon Yi was brought to the general. He grabbed her chin and forced her head up, examining her critically. “She will do. She is coming with me.” Cong gave her to his men, who forced her into his SUV. He, however, walked back to the line of Keldara, stopping in front of Oleg.
“Occasionally I like to
take mementoes of my time in certain places. I do have the gems, and your woman already, but I desire something more personal. This man’s artificial leg.”
“What—fuck you! How is he supposed to work?!” Mike snapped.
“That is hardly my problem,” Cong said. “I do not like his attitude. He needs to be humbled.” He signaled to four of his men, who advanced on the blond giant.
“Wait!” Mike said. “If they come any closer, they are going to be killed, and then the others will shoot him. Let me talk to him first.”
Cong looked from Mike to Oleg. “You have one minute.”
“Then back the fuck up.” Mike walked over to stand in front of his team leader. “There is no easy way to say this, Oleg. Cong wants your leg.”
The big man frowned. “As a trophy of battle? He has not defeated me. He would have to kill me first to take it.”
“I know, and I don’t think he would hesitate to do exactly that. Is there any way to do this without you dying over it?”
“You could order me to do it, Kildar. I would not have a choice then.”
“I’d rather not, as I know it is an insult to the honor of both you and your house.”
“That it is. There is only one way to erase such an insult.”
“I’m listening.”
“When someone lays claim to a trophy they have not earned in righteous battle, yet the trophy is still given to them, the only way to remove the stain is to personally kill the one who took it and reclaim the item.”
“You and I are definitely on the same page, Oleg.”
“Time’s up, Jenkins!” Cong called from his vehicle.
“Just a second, goddamn it!” Mike turned back to the big man. “To lessen the shame of this, as your Kildar, I am ordering you to surrender the leg. That way no one can say it was done of your own free will.”
Oleg nodded curtly. “Thank you.” He unfastened the titanium-and-plastic prosthetic and held it in his huge hands. “It is good that you did not order me to give you the leg. It would be a shame to have to defeat you to take it back.”
