Shadows of War - [Red Dragon Rising 01]

by Larry Bond

  The SEALs would have fallen over laughing if they’d heard him. Not that Mara didn’t feel the same impulse.

  “This is just getting too thick,” said Josh. “We have to get closer to the road.”

  “You’re right,” said Mara, changing direction. “We can go right to the road—the SEALs have them tied down.”

  ~ * ~

  If the world were perfect, Kerfer would have been able to swing two or three of his men around the flank of his enemy while his main force engaged them in the field. They’d squeeze and the bad guys would go bye-bye.

  But the world wasn’t perfect. The Chinese helicopters and their machine guns made it hard to move up through the field. And the bastards on the ground weren’t exactly looking the other way either.

  The first order of business was to get rid of the helos.

  “Little Joe, I want you to put a grenade into that helo’s door. You got that, Joey? Just like you were trying to do to that whore you bought last weekend.”

  Little Joe—the SEAL’s real name was actually Riccardo Joseph Crabtree—cursed in response, telling his lieutenant that he could put the grenade in there himself.

  Music to Kerfer’s ears.

  Three seconds later, as the helicopter pivoted around the southern side of the field, the petty officer rose and pumped a 40 mm grenade from his EGLM launcher into the open hatchway of the chopper.

  “Pretty!” shouted Stevens over the squad radio.

  “I thought you were pinned down, point,” barked Kerfer in reply.

  “I am.”

  “Well stop gawkin’ and get your ass unpinned. Little Joe ain’t doin’ all the work.”

  The SEAL responded with a burst of gunfire.

  “Jenkins, time for your end around,” said Kerfer. “Run to the left. I’m going to be right behind you.”

  “Good. Copy.’’

  “Any of you assholes frag me, I’m comin’ back as your girlfriend in my next life and giving you the clap,” said Kerfer, jumping to his feet and running to flank their enemy.

  ~ * ~

  Jing Yo saw the flames shoot from the helicopter as the grenade exploded, and knew instantly that the crew was lost. The helo disappeared into a fireball, sailing over the trees behind them.

  The second helicopter immediately backed off, leaving them alone in the field.

  These were definitely not Vietnamese soldiers they were fighting; they had to be Americans, come to fetch the scientist. There weren’t very many of them—a dozen maybe, or perhaps twenty. But they had his small squad outnumbered and outgunned.

  A foe this good would try to hold him in place while they sent men to attack the flanks. He had to withdraw temporarily, pick better terms for battle.

  Moving back in the face of a superior foe was not dishonorable, but it nonetheless stung to give the order.

  ~ * ~

  Josh nearly lost his balance as the thick branches gave way to the shoulder of the road. He jogged a few steps, swaying left and right as he struggled to stay upright. When he stopped, Mạ slipped down from his arms but continued to cling to his leg.

  She was sobbing.

  “Come on now,” he told her. “We’re going.”

  “This way,” said Mara, a few feet away. “Come on.”

  Something exploded in the distance, louder than the grenades they’d heard just a few minutes before. Mạ clung tighter to his leg.

  “One of the helicopters went down,” said Mara.

  “We’re going to be all right,” he told Mạ. “Come on.”

  Mara picked up the girl. Mạ tried to clutch him tighter, but Josh gently pried off her fingers. Then he put his arm around Mara’s back, holding Mạ’s neck gently as they began trotting along the road.

  “It’s beginning to rain,” said Josh, feeling the first drops.

  “Let’s hope it does. It will make it harder for them to find us.”

  “It’ll also make us wet.”

  Mara laughed.

  “I didn’t mean it as a joke,” said Josh. “People are trying to kill us, and you’re laughing.”

  “Crying isn’t going to help,” she said, laughing even harder.

  ~ * ~

  Kerfer was almost to the road when he realized that the Chinese had decided to withdraw.

  Ordinarily, that would have pissed him off—how dare the mothers run away before he had a chance to properly kick their butts?

  But given that his job was to grab the spook and the dweeb with a minimum of fuss, he was almost happy to let them go. He told his men to hold their positions while he and Jenkins looked for stragglers or snipers.

  “Where the hell are our bicycles?” he asked.

  “Blown to pieces, Cap,” said Stevens. “I’m standing on them.”

  “Stinking reds,” said Little Joe. “Now we gotta fuckin’ walk.”

  “Walkin’s good for you,” said Stevens. “Work off your beer gut.”

  “Hey, Cap, who ordered this rain?” asked Mancho.

  “Yeah, his dress is gonna get wet,” said Stevens.

  “Screw my dress. I’m worried about your perm.”

  “All right, girls. Cut it,” said Kerfer. “Let’s get to Baker Point with a minimum of bitchin’ and lynchin’.”

  “What fun would that be?” said Jenkins beside him. Jenkins was a black guy from Brooklyn, New York, who spoke in a voice so high he sounded like a girl. No one made fun of it though, because he was sensitive about it. Ordinarily that would only have encouraged razzing, but Jenkins stood six ten in his bare feet, and weighed so much it took two guys to balance him in the chopper.

  No one made fun of it except Kerfer, that is. He was the only person in the platoon Jenkins wouldn’t hit or sit on.

  “Come on, Squeaky, I’ll race you to the road. Let’s see if we can get there before your voice changes.”

  ~ * ~

  The rain was torrential by the time they reached the slope below the spot where Mara and the mercenaries had slept. Mara, still holding Mạ, put her right hand over her eyes to shield them from the worst of the downpour. She couldn’t remember being this wet, not even in the ocean.

  Josh, walking a few feet ahead, stopped.

  “Global warming, right?” she said as she caught up.

  “Not exactly.” He reached out and took Mạ. The girl was so tired she simply couldn’t walk on her own. “This is the way it’s always rained in Vietnam. The aggregate is different, but if you look at the individual episodes, this is well within parameters.”

  “I keep forgetting you’re a scientist. How long is it going to rain?”

  “To know that I’d have to be a meteorologist. Or a fortune-teller.”

  “Come on,” she said, tugging. “The intersection is only a half mile away.”

  ~ * ~

  “The infrared can’t see through the rain, Kerfer. You know that.”

  “You Air Farters are always making excuses,” Kerfer told the major who was handling the interface between the SEALs and the Global Hawk UAV supplying them with intel. Equipped with a powerful infrared imager, the drone had been flown into position specifically for the mission, but the heavy cloud cover and rain rendered the sensors useless. “If it was a nice day you’d tell me there was too much glare.”

  “Fug you and the airplane you flew in on.”

  “Any time, Major. I can always use some R & R. Call me back when you have something to contribute.” Kerfer killed the transmission and turned to Stevens. “Are you sure this is the intersection?”

  “Spooks marked it on the GPS.”

  “Screw the GPS. Let me see the paper map.”

  Stevens pulled it from his ruck. He switched on his pocket LED light, crouching low to the ground and cupping his hands to contain the glow.

  “Why this intersection and not that one?” Kerfer asked, pointing down the road about half a mile.

  “This is the one they marked, skipper.”

  “Get on the horn with Lucas and find out if he can r
ead a fuckin’ map. Little Joe, you’re with me. We’re going to check out the next bus stop down the line.”

  ~ * ~

  Josh pulled the sat phone out and looked at it as it started to ring.

  “Answer it,” said Mara. “Go ahead.”

  “Hello?”

  “Josh?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Peter, Josh. Are you where you’re supposed to be? Your friends are looking for you.”

  Josh looked in Mara’s direction. They were less than three feet apart, but he could barely see her.

  “Are we where we’re supposed to be?” he asked her.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Lucas. “I have it now.”

  He hung up.

  “The line’s dead,” said Josh.

  “The SEALs must be close,” said Mara. “And the Chinese, too.”

  ~ * ~

  Kerfer and Little Joe walked along the shoulder of the road, moving as quickly as they could despite the darkness and steady rain. The road had become more stream than highway. The muck sucked at their boots and made it hard to keep their balance. Kerfer, who’d taken point himself, pushed himself to stay ahead of Little Joe—if the big man fell forward on him, it would hurt more than being shot.

  A hill rose on their right. The road angled to the left. The intersection was coming up.

  He heard something and immediately took a step left, grabbing Little Joe and pulling him into a crouch.

  “Think it’s them?” asked Little Joe, kneeling next to him.

  “Hope so.”

  Kerfer listened. The rain was falling so hard he couldn’t be sure of anything.

  “Hey,” he said finally, his voice soft. “Goldilocks—this is the Big Bad Wolf. That you?”

  ~ * ~

  Mara’s heart jumped when she heard the voice on the road.

  “I want the identifier,” she said, trying not to drop her guard.

  “Fuggit you want ID. I want ID,” answered the voice. Then he added, “Lucas sent me. I have a grocery list.”

  “Is eggplant on it?”

  “Who the hell comes up with this bullshit?” said Kerfer. “You guys practice to do this?”

  “You’re Lieutenant Kerfer?” asked Mara.

  “Yeah, I’m Kerfer. What about it?”

  Mara started down the hill, sliding on the slick grass. Kerfer and one of his men were standing in the muddy stream that marked the shoulder of the road. He flicked on a small penlight, holding it in her direction as she reached the road.

  “I’ve heard about you,” said Mara.

  “Yeah, well I never heard anything about you.” Kerfer raised the light, shining it toward her face. “Which is my loss.”

  “You’re right.”

  “They didn’t tell me I was rescuing a model,” said Kerfer.

  “Flatter me all you want, Lieutenant. Your reputation precedes you.”

  She stuck her hand out to shake, not sure what to expect. She had heard about Kerfer. He had a reputation for being difficult to get along with and a serious flirt.

  “Glad to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand quickly. “You should have some others, right?”

  “We’re here,” said Josh, coming down the slope with Mạ.

  “And who are you?” Kerfer asked the girl when she got close. He shone the light in her face; she ducked back behind Josh.

  “Her name is Mạ,” said Josh. “She’s shy.”

  “I have some candy.” Kerfer dug into his pockets and held out an energy bar. Mạ peered out from behind Josh’s leg. “Go ahead, you can take it. I ain’t gonna bite you. It’s candy”

  Mạ didn’t move. Kerfer told her she could have it in Vietnamese.

  The girl peeked out tentatively. He tore the side of the package, unwrapping the bar halfway.

  “If you don’t eat it, I will,” he said, mimicking doing just that before holding the bar out to her again.

  Josh took it and handed it to her. She took a bite, then began to devour it.

  “You’re the scientist, right?” said Kerfer, rising.

  “Josh MacArthur.” He held his hand out.

  “Yeah, let’s get going,” said Kerfer, not bothering to shake. “We have to get as far away from those Commie bastards as possible before this rain lets up.”

  ~ * ~

  27

  Northern Vietnam

  The van’s windshield wipers slapped frantically at the raindrops, pushing them off the glass with a hard squeak. Zeus squinted and leaned toward the steering wheel, trying to get a good view of the road. He had his high beams on but even so could barely see twenty feet in front of him.

  “We’re coming to that intersection,” said Christian, looking at his GPS. “It’s a half mile away.”

  Zeus backed off on the gas, slowing to almost ten miles an hour. Though asphalt, the road surface was very slippery. He’d nearly gone off the road twice while turning.

  “You drive like an old lady,” said Christian.

  “You’re welcome to take my place.”

  Zeus found the road and turned up it, slipping in the mud as the incline increased.

  “This road goes straight up,” he told Christian.

  “Hey, we’re in the mountains, right? You wanted a shortcut. This is it.”

  The van rattled and slipped; the transmission and the traction control working against each other. The rear end began slipping to the left. Zeus started correcting, but the rear end kept moving up.

  He started to think he would have to turn around when the hill abruptly crested. Zeus jammed on the brakes, skidding on the wet pavement. He stopped crosswise in the middle of the hill.

  Christian glared at him.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose. Jesus,” Zeus told him. “Like I’m saying, if you want to drive, be my guest.”

  “You can drive,” he said.

  “Where the hell are we, anyway?” asked Zeus, not quite ready to start down the steep hill.

  They were about three kilometers from Pho Lu, midway across the Con Voi mountain range. The SEALs had jumped in about fifty kilometers to the west. Lao Cai, thirty kilometers north, was still in Vietnamese hands—but feeling increasingly nervous, as the Chinese had continued to mass troops nearby and started shelling the place. The small Vietnamese army contingent there would not be able to hold them off if they crossed the line.

  “We can move down to that farm near Pho Lu,” said Christian, “and wait for them there.”

  “It’ll take them all night to get to us in the rain,” said Zeus.

  “Perry said under no circumstance are we to go beyond the river,” said Christian.

  “Yeah.”

  The rain pounded on the glass. Zeus put the truck in gear and gingerly began downward. Not trusting the tires, he began pumping the brakes. As soon as they slowed almost to a stop, he let off, built a little speed, then began pumping again.

  “I think you got it,” said Christian.

  “Don’t jinx me.”

  A series of switchbacks began about a half kilometer down. These were easier to navigate, though if anything the road was even more slippery because of accumulating runoff. Zeus angled the van as he made each turn, sliding with the mud but still retaining control.

  “Man, you’re gonna get us killed,” muttered Christian.

  “I keep telling you—you want to drive, take the wheel.”

  The road began curving around the side of a cliff, leveling above a jagged valley. Pho Lu sat somewhere at the left end of the valley, though in the dark and the rain it was impossible to see. Zeus spotted a pull-off to the right and drove into it cautiously, flicking off the lights but leaving the engine on.

  “Let’s check on them,” he told Christian.

  “Yeah.”

  Christian picked up the satcom, punching in the frequency for the Bangkok CIA station coordinating the pickup. Zeus leaned back, trying to stretch out. The long drive had knotted his muscles.