“Yes, they may be counting on that. You will launch your grenades at the northern point, and make them think we are concentrating on them there.”
Sergeant Wu nodded.
“Take the radio from Ai Gua. Have the helicopters take some of the regular troops to the farming area beyond the jungle,” Jing Yo told Wu. “And tell them to continue patrolling above. Give us ten minutes to get into position, then launch your attack.”
As Jing Yo leaped up, a fresh fusillade of bullets crashed into the jungle near him, forcing him to dive headfirst into the brush to his right. He crawled nearly ten meters on his belly before rising again, running in a crouch as he started to arc into position.
Ai Gua and Kim, meanwhile, withdrew from their spots near the shoulder of the road. They met Jing Yo about fifteen meters from the curve just opposite the enemy’s southernmost position. They moved another fifty meters farther west, crossing the road near a stream culvert.
Jing Yo slid down into the crevice cut by the stream. The streambed formed an easy path southward, keeping the brush at bay. He trotted down it for twenty meters, then went up the embankment, leading his men into the jungle at a slow but steady pace. They could hear the enemy gunner firing his rounds, but the vegetation was so thick they couldn’t see him.
Both men were on his left, Ai Gua a few yards away, Kim closer to the road. Jing Yo signaled to them to stay put, then began slipping forward through the brush, moving as quietly as he could. Stealth was an animal virtue; he imagined himself a tiger, passing through the stalks and branches with less sound than a raindrop slipping between the leaves of a tree.
The gunfire was very close.
A dark shadow shifted on his left, moving ever so slightly.
The enemy, twelve yards away, temporarily protected by a tree.
Wu’s grenades exploded to the north near the road. The gunfire stoked into a thunderstorm.
Jing Yo waited for the shadow he was watching to move. He didn’t, nor did he fire.
Very disciplined.
Sergeant Wu’s attack continued with a fresh round of grenades. Jing Yo heard the man near him say something, undoubtedly speaking into a radio, and start to move to his right.
Jing Yo raised his rifle, then fired a three-shot burst into the middle of the moving green blur. It didn’t stop.
Bulletproof vest.
Jing Yo adjusted his aim lower, but there was so much vegetation and debris that he couldn’t be sure of what he was aiming at. The soldier crashed farther into the jungle, moving eastward.
The others were, too. Jing Yo got up to start after them, then realized the danger.
“Down!” he yelled as loud as he could, hoping his voice would reach not just Ai Gua and Kim but Wu and the others. “Down!”
His warning was cut off by a tremendous explosion. The enemy had planted an IED or improvised explosive device at the edge of their position, exploding it to cover their trail.
“Come on!” he yelled to Ai Gua and Kim. “They’re running away!”
3
The airport at Bangkok in Thailand had a long enough runway and was relatively close to Vietnam, but was known to be under surveillance by Chinese agents. So was the airport at U-Tapao, the Thailand naval air base that doubled as a sparsely used international airport. But U-Tapao’s regular military use made it a little easier to camouflage the ultimate destination of the plane’s passengers, and so it was chosen as the RT-1’s destination.
Zeus Murphy had never been aboard the hypersonic aircraft. Though the outer hull of the plane was large — lengthwise, it rivaled stretched versions of the 747 — the interior cabin was about the size of a corporate jet. It was nowhere near as luxurious. While the Air Force used the RT, as everyone called it, exclusively as a VIP transport, Congress had severely limited the amount of money that could be used for the aircraft’s amenities. That meant the cabin looked a lot like what would be found in the first-class section of a circa-2000 Boeing 777. Not bad by any means, but not ultrafancy.
The stewards, all male, left something to be desired, but that was another story.
The flight itself was so quick — just over two hours — that Zeus hardly had time to finish his PowerPoint presentation for the Vietnamese. The general’s translator, a Vietnamese national on contract to the Defense Department, worked on a translation page by page on a piece of paper next to him as they flew. He hadn’t even had a chance to type it into the computer when the steward came back and said they were landing.
“The captain requests that you buckle your seat belts,” said the steward. “General? I’m afraid your seat has to be upright for the landing.”
“Yes, thank you, Sergeant,” said Perry, fixing his seat.
While the RT could fly at roughly ten times the speed of sound, the flight was extremely smooth, without the nosebleed, gut-punching acceleration of a fighter, let alone a spacecraft. For the passengers, taking off felt no different from what they’d experience in a Boeing Dreamliner, and the acceleration was gradual. On most flights, the same might be said of landing. In this case, however, with time at a premium — and no concerns about a sonic boom over the ocean — the landing was relatively abrupt. Zeus felt himself straining against his seat belt as the plane began to drop. The strain continued, increasing as the plane lowered itself toward the runway.
Even so, landing seemed to take forever. The RT lacked windows, so Zeus had no way of knowing how close to the ground they actually were. The noise of the engines continued to increase; inertia kept pushing him against the seat belt. Zeus felt as if he were stuck in a bizarre amusement park ride that would never end.
Finally the plane jerked up, then back down, the tires screeching. Despite huge shock absorbers that dampened the impact, the vibration could be felt throughout the entire craft as it slowed to a stop on the tarmac.
Zeus undid his belt and picked up his briefcase, waiting for General Perry to lead the way out of the cabin. Win Christian studiously avoided his gaze — just fine by Zeus.
General Perry paused in front of the door as the steward cracked it open.
“Smile, you’re on
Zeus had never been to Thailand before — in fact, his only tour in Asia had been a very brief temporary duty in South Korea — and he decided that he was going to take his time, savoring the moment and absorbing as much of the scene as possible.
The first thing he absorbed was the tremendous heat. Everyone said that Southeast Asia was warm and muggy; everyone was right. Zeus felt as if his clothes — he was in his Class A, look-your-best-because-you’re- meeting-the-top-brass, dress uniform — absorbed a gallon of water in his first step off the plane.
They’d been directed to a relatively secluded area of the airport, not so much to avoid prying eyes as to stay away from the simply curious. The RT sat at the center of a large expanse of concrete. The nearest buildings were a pair of hangars about a hundred yards away. A U.S. Navy Orion electronic intelligence-gathering, or ELINT, aircraft was being refueled in front of one of them, guarded by several sailors. A small civilian airliner was rolling on a ramp beyond the hangars, passing rows of warehouses and a fenced-off area used for ammunition storage by the Thai Navy.
A pair of large Korean Hyundai sedans stood with their doors open about twenty yards from the aircraft. Flanked by a handful of marines and sandwiched between two Hummers, the limos had their doors open, waiting for
