arranged like a bar with tables and a dance floor. It was packed. A soldier and a girl came out. They kissed for a while, then headed for the stables arm in arm. A moment later the door opened again, and another couple stepped out. They too headed for the stables. Would they notice there were no guards?
Again the door opened.
'This is going to be risky,' Nark whispered.
Bolan tapped Nark and they left the trees. Bent low, they ran across the open ground and untied the reins of two horses. They were mounting them when the door opened and a soldier appeared. Bolan pointed his M-16 at him like a pistol and fired. The soldier toppled backward, a woman screamed, and pandemonium broke out.
Bolan and Nark galloped off, the horses' hooves drowning out the shouts from the receding villa.
They headed down the road past rows of palms, the moon lighting their way. As they rounded a corner they saw the gate was closed. The gate was the only way out, the plantation being surrounded by a tall fence.
At their approach, figures materialized. One of them knelt in the roadway, and a muzzle flashed. Bolan let go of his reins, set his rifle on automatic, and stood in the saddle. Nark followed his example. Guns blazing, they bore down on the guards. Bodies toppled, figures scattered, the wrought-iron gate clanged from ricocheting bullets.
'Cover me!' shouted Bolan as the horses slid to a stop before the gate.
While Bolan leaned down to open the gate, Nark wheeled his horse in a circle, firing constantly, keeping the guards pinned on both sides of the gate. Bolan went through and proceeded to fire while Nark came out. Together they fired a final burst and galloped off into the night, free men once more.
For Bolan it was a glorious sensation. He ignored the pain in his crotch although it was aggravated by the furious gallop. What counted was the wind in his face, the moon in the sky... and freedom.
Behind them, an air-raid siren began wailing.
Two miles down the road they turned into a trail leading into the hills that would take them home to the Meo village. But here they had to slow down. The ground was uneven, full of rocks, and the thick canopy lowered visibility. A horse could easily break a leg, and they had to maintain a walking pace.
A little later they heard the thunder of hooves on the road they had left. The sound died out at the junction of the trail, telling them Tiger too had turned into it.
'They're going to catch up with us,' said Nark.
'We still have a few minutes,' Bolan replied.
The enemy would catch up because they were familiar with the trail and would know where they could speed up without risk of injury to their animals. Before they caught up, however, the trail left the thick woodland for a ravine in open grassland. The ravine sloped to a bridge across a stream, then the trail rose sharply up a hill, disappearing into some woods. For Bolan this was their opportunity. He sent his horse into a gallop and Nark followed. They crossed the bridge and scrambled up the slope, reining inside the woods.
'I'll try to delay them,' said Bolan. 'You go ahead.'
'I'll help you,' said Nark, dismounting.
'Nark, I'm giving you an order,' said Bolan. 'One of us has to make the air drop.'
Nark was on the verge of replying but changed his mind. Bolan was right; the mission came before friendship. He remounted. 'Take care, John,' he said and rode away.
Bolan tied his horse to a tree and went to the edge of the woods. Nearby was a large boulder, and he dropped behind it and waited. He did not have to wait long because they were gaining on them faster than he had thought, and for good reason. They had torches, and the woods flickered with light.
On the third horse rode a man with a pistol strapped to his belt. There was one individual who would have benefited from the Vietnam War, thought Bolan. Nam taught officers not to advertise rank by such telltale signs; the VC always fired on officers first.
Bolan counted nine men. As the leading rider reached the bridge, he sighted the officer. A flame stabbed the night, and screeching birds rose from the treetops. The ambush was on.
Bolan picked them off one by one. The ponies in the ravine milled as the riders toppled. The flaming torches that had helped the Tiger soldiers to catch up quickly now helped Bolan to kill them quickly. They lit the target, complicating Tiger's defense. To reach the rifles on their backs, the soldiers had to drop their torches.
But the horses were panicked by the torches flaming on the ground, which made it even more difficult for the soldiers to unsling their rifles.
When the ambush was over eight corpses lay on the trail. Over them stood a few dazed horses. The rest of the animals had gone back the way they had come, along with the sole surviving soldier. From behind the boulder Bolan observed the silent scene, lit by the dying torches on the ground. Not a soul moved.
Bolan shouldered his rifle and walked back to the woods. He mounted his horse and resumed his journey.
Chapter 7
Bolan and Nark reached the ridge overlooking the village late in the afternoon. One glance at the activity below told them something was up. An armed crowd milled outside the headman's hut, everywhere horses were being loaded with household belongings, and children were rounding up animals.
They dismounted and led the horses down the slope. That way they could descend faster. By the first house they came to, a woman was tying pots and pans to a horse already laden with bales of tobacco.
'What's going on?' Bolan inquired in Meo.
'Chinese are coming to kill Hmong,' the woman replied.
'Why?'
'To punish the Hmong for helping white men.'
'Who told you this?' Nark asked.
'Ask the headman,' the woman said with a nod in the direction of his house.
They rode into the village past doorways from which women emerged, arms full. Piles of furniture and bedding lay everywhere. Pigs were squealing and hens were cackling. The entire village was preparing to move out.
In the square, men were loading a large crate onto the back of the village elephant. The beast knelt with the driver, the mahout, astride its neck. Nearby lay sacks of corn and rice for loading.
As they reached the crowd, the people parted to let them through. Faces watched them in silence, impassive. There was no hostility, but there was no friendliness either. The men were armed with muskets and crossbows. Where were the rifles they had captured? Bolan wondered.
They dismounted and entered the headman's gloomy home. The place was packed with people, the air thick with smoke. A shouting match was in progress at the far end. So absorbed was the audience, Bolan and Nark's entry went unnoticed.
'Did we not tell you?' a man shouted. 'We told you not to have anything to do with him. We told you he would bring us trouble.'
'You told me, you told me,' shouted back a voice which Bolan recognized as Vang Ky's. 'You told me many things. But when he offered you money you also accepted.'
'Only because you vouched for him. You said he could be trusted. You said we would get the arms and money before we went to war.'
'Pao is right,' added a third man. 'The agreement was for arms and money first. They tricked us.'
'Why are you saying this?' Vang Ky retorted. 'You know it is not true. It was the arrest of the first man that delayed the money.'
'Who are these long noses, anyway?' broke in a fourth man. 'I don't believe they are Russians. My son says they speak English to each other. He thinks they are Americans.'
