we’d been doing, I’d been smoking reefer like a mad dog.”
“So Country wasn’t the only one wandering around messed up out in the dark?” Remy asked.
“Nope. Most of Victor’s crew stayed messed up back in those days. How else do you think we made it through all those operations?” McGovern took a drag off his cigarette. “Where the wheels come off was when Country went to take a nature call and saw Tran’s boy slippin’ around in the jungle.”
›› Highway 19
›› Qui Nhon, Vietnam
›› 2241 Hours
›› October 15, 1967
While he stood there in the bushes taking care of business, Tyrel tried to get his thoughts together. The fog that had filled his mind back at the cantina was not only proving unshakable but seemed to be growing steadily worse.
That was when he saw the Vietnamese man gliding through the forest.
Tyrel froze in the brush the way his daddy had trained him to. Animals could only see in black and white, and people were so used to looking without actually seeing that only movement really drew attention. Tyrel had tried to get that point across to other soldiers out in the jungle, but not many of them listened to him.
The Vietnamese man was a soldier. Tyrel knew that from the easy way he moved through the trees and brush. If the moon hadn’t dusted him silver for just a split second while he’d been moving, Tyrel knew he’d never have seen him.
Unfortunately Tyrel had also lost sight of Victor and the other guy, the African-American one. McGowan. Something like that.
Easing into motion, Tyrel picked up his rifle and stayed within the bush. He moved slowly and cautiously. The adrenaline pumping through his body sobered him up a little, he thought, but his vision was still double and blurry.
At that moment, Victor seemed to materialize out of nowhere beside him.
“Where are you going?” Victor whispered, so close he was breathing in Tyrel’s ear.
“Charlie,” Tyrel said, his heart thumping in his chest. “Got Charlie in the jungle with us.”
Victor looked around. “You sure?”
Tyrel nodded slowly. “Saw him. Saw him myself.” He licked his lips. “Might be more’n one of ’em.”
“Just slow down,” Victor said calmly. “Just slow down, and we’ll figure this out right enough. Follow me.” He slid into the brush.
Slow and easy, regretting every beer he’d had, Tyrel followed. He was amazed at how fluidly Victor moved through the jungle. There was so much darkness around them that Tyrel almost couldn’t see the hand in front of his face. He didn’t know how they were going to find Charlie in the brush without getting themselves killed.
Where’s McGowan?
›› Atwater Apartment Building
›› Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
›› 0933 Hours
“I saw Victor and Country creepin’ through the brush,” McGovern told Maggie. “Didn’t know what they might be doing other than maybe playing war games. But I knew Country was tense. You could see that in every line in that white boy’s body.” He shook his head.
“Where were you while this was going on?” Remy asked. He didn’t care for McGovern. He’d known too many men like him back in New Orleans. His grandma had tried to keep him away from such men, but that hadn’t always been a battle she’d won.
Remy glanced at Maggie to check and see how she was taking everything in. She watched McGovern and didn’t seem in any way concerned.
“I was takin’ care of Victor’s business,” McGovern replied. “He had a shipment of black tar heroin comin’ from Tran. Victor shipped packages like that out of Qui Nhon all the time. We all made money on it.”
Revulsion filled Remy.
“Business like that was easy,” McGovern said. “All you had to do was be willing to share a bit.”
“And Victor was?”
“Victor always was. Man liked him some money, but that wasn’t what he was all about. He liked havin’ people look up to him. To get that kinda attention, you gotta be willing to give in order to get. Know what I’m sayin’?”
Remy did. “Yeah. I know.”
“What went wrong?” Maggie asked.
McGovern took a drag on his cigarette and breathed out a cloud of smoke that rolled across the small living room. “Hinton. He musta got lost in the darkness.” He shrugged. “Probably wasn’t his fault. Fat Mike didn’t like him, and he probably ducked out on Hinton to let him fend for himself at the wrong time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, that’s when Country shot Hinton. While he was jumpin’ at ghosts he thought he was seeing in the jungle.”
54
›› Highway 19
›› Qui Nhon, Vietnam
›› 2244 Hours
›› October 15, 1967
“Keep my six,” Victor ordered. “I’ll watch what’s up ahead. You just cover my six.”
Tyrel turned sideways as he followed Victor. That way he could watch along their backtrail and protect their flank.
“You stay close, Country,” Victor said. “You just stay close and be cool. I’ll get us out of this.”
Afraid his voice would crack if he spoke, Tyrel instead chose to say nothing. He kept the M14 snugged into his shoulder, ready to raise it up at a moment’s notice.
“Where’d you see this guy?” Victor asked.
“To the left,” Tyrel said. And his voice did crack. He felt embarrassed.
“It’s gonna be okay, Country. I’ll get you out of this.”
Tyrel knew they shouldn’t have been there. He should have stayed back at the base, crawled into his rack, and slept it off. Instead he had to be stupid and prideful.
A light flared in the darkness.
“Look out!” Victor warned.
Tyrel twisted to track the light at once. He had just a momentary glimpse of the Vietnamese man sighting down a rifle not more than sixty or seventy yards away.
“Rifle!” Tyrel called as he brought his M14 up and started firing. He got four shots off before Victor Gant dropped a hand on the rifle and told him to stop shooting.
“Just hold up,” Victor whispered. “Let’s see what we’re into here.”
Breath ragged and hot against the back of his throat, Tyrel stared into the darkness where the Vietnamese soldier had stood. Nothing was there.
Then a figure ran across the darkness to where the Vietnamese soldier had been. It took Tyrel a minute to recognize the man as McGowan.
›› Atwater Apartment Building
›› Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
›› 0937 Hours
“I was the one what found Hinton,” McGovern said. “He was lyin’ up in them bushes where Country said he saw the Vietnamese soldier. Hinton had been shot twice. Once in the face and once in the neck. It was an awful mess, but I seen worse while I was over there.” He slapped his useless legs and cursed. “I had worse done to me
