“Who are you?” Jing Yo asked again.
The man groaned.
“Tell me your name. What unit are you with? Or are you with the Vietnamese?
The man didn’t respond.
“You’re American?” Jing Yo asked. “Are you CIA?”
No answer.
“Where is the scientist?”
The man yelled in anguish. Jing Yo reached to his vest and took out his morphine injector. He removed the cap, then plunged the needle into the man’s leg.
“Lieutenant, what’s this?” asked Ai Gua, plunging out of the brush.
“Our enemy is wearing our uniform.”
Sergeant Wu and three other commandos came up behind Ai Gua. Though the explosion had been fearsome, the IED had wounded only two men, both lightly. Wu had left two of his soldiers to care for them.
“Are they Vietnamese?” asked Wu, looking at the man.
“I don’t think so, but it’s possible,” said Jing Yo. Years of intrigue had taught him not to rule out any possibility; though remote, there was even a chance the man was actually Chinese.
“They must have gotten the uniforms from whoever they stole the trucks from,” said Wu.
“Yes,” said Jing Yo. “We’ll continue to pursue them. The best odds are that the scientist is with them, or behind them somewhere.”
“If they reach the road they’ll be gone,” said Wu.
“The helicopters will continue to patrol the area,” said Jing Yo. “It’s the best we can do.”
Ai Gua had dressed the man’s wounds and checked him for identification. He had none, not even a wallet. But he did have money — nearly a hundred Vietnamese five-hundred-thousand-dong notes were wadded in his pants.
Not a bad amount of cash for a soldier wearing a private’s uniform.
“Who are you?” Jing Yo asked the man.
The man began to babble. If he was speaking coherently, it wasn’t in a language Jing Yo recognized.
“Stay with him,” Jing Yo told Ai Gua. “We’ll go after the others. Kim, you’re with me.”
As Jing Yo started back through the jungle, he tried to visualize where the various forces were. The enemy soldiers had retreated eastward; both he and Wu were moving in the same direction and parallel to each other, separated by about a hundred meters. They covered a wide area, but there was still room to lose their enemy. The jungle to Jing Yo’s right was thick, and from the satellite maps was almost impassable farther south. The area where Wu was moving was sparser, and backed into a series of farm fields about a kilometer away. Jing Yo had sent troops there before heading to the area of the mine shaft; they should be in place by now, though they had yet to report any contact.
The jungle pitched upward abruptly at a set of rocks that swung in a diagonal to the north. Jing Yo stopped, examining the ridge carefully. It was a perfect ambush point, with a good line of sight to the north.
Just as he started moving to his right, a gunshot cracked through the jungle. He raced forward, throwing himself against the rocks as the gunfire suddenly thickened.
It took him a few seconds to realize that the firefight was at least a hundred meters away. Wu and his men must be under fire.
Jing Yo told Kim to move left, sending the private sweeping around his flank. Then he climbed up the rocks, digging his fingers into the thick moss and hauling himself through the bushes at the top. He rose and started to trot, jogging forward as the gunfire continued. When he had run nearly a hundred meters, he saw something running to his right. He raised his rifle and fired off a burst, then threw himself down. The answering fire came from two distinct directions, right in front of him and to his right.
The one on the right began to run through the jungle.
The enemy had split up. Most likely the man running was with the scientist.
Assuming the scientist was with them at all.
Jing Yo took a few steps back, then started moving to his right. There was a loud pop, and something flew through the trees.
“Grenade!” he yelled, throwing himself down.
The grenade soared over his head and exploded. Jing Yo started moving again, tamping down the impulse to run. He picked his way through the bushes, trying to stay low.
Something green moved through the trees about fifty meters ahead. Jing Yo went down to his knee and fired two bursts.
There was a scream.
Jing Yo leapt to his feet and ran. There was no need for stealth now, no sense in trying to blend into the jungle. It was a race — he had to get to the man before he recovered enough to shoot back.
He saw him lying on the ground, writhing in pain, half groaning, half screaming. He was dressed in black fatigues — no Chinese uniform.
Something about his agony touched Jing Yo, provoking sympathy. He stopped, suddenly filled with compassion.
The man rolled over onto his back. He had a weapon — an FN 40 mm grenade launcher.
Jing Yo leapt to his right as the grenade fired. The projectile passed so close that he felt the wind rushing past, the breath of a dragon provoked from its lair.
He hit the ground hard, rolling as the grenade exploded in the trees some eighty meters away. Jing Yo got to his feet and, before he took a full breath, killed the man who had tried to kill him, crushing his windpipe with the heel of his foot.
The monks had taught him this lesson long ago — save your compassion for the appropriate moment. In battle, it is weakness.
The dead man had no ID, but like the other man, he had a considerable bankroll of Vietnamese money. He was out of bullets and had no more grenades. His face, big and gruff looking, seemed European; in any event, he was clearly not a Chinese or Vietnamese native.
Was he the scientist?
He was dressed like a warrior, with combat boots. He looked nothing like the man Jing Yo had seen the first night, or what Jing Yo imagined a scientist would look like, it was much more likely that he was one of the rescuers.
The stutter of automatic weapons interrupted his thoughts. Jing Yo put a fresh magazine in his gun, gazing back to his left. He waited, watching for movement, but there was none. Finally the gunfire stopped.
“Lieutenant!” yelled Wu. “Lieutenant!”
“Here!” answered Jing Yo, finally allowing himself to relax. “It’s clear!”
“We got two of them,” said Wu when he arrived a few minutes later.
“I have a third,” said Jing Yo.
“Only four men held us off?” said Wu. “There must have been more.”
Jing Yo said nothing. The soldiers had been very skilled. Certainly there must be more, someone with the scientist. But where?
“The scientist has to be farther along,” said Wu. “Should we pursue?”
“Yes,” said Jing Yo, but even as the word left his mouth he realized he had made a mistake. The scientist had escaped down the stream; the enemy had distracted him, and he had done the logical thing, pursuing them rather than his target.
7
