Shadows of War

just left their vehicles parked around? Hell no, they drove. Or fucking walked. What’s my solution?”

“I don’t know, Kerfer,” said Lucas, finally losing his patience. “You tell me what your goddamn solution is.”

For the first time since he came on the videoconference line, Kerfer smiled. “Bicycles.”

“Bicycles?”

“We ride them out of there. I did something like that in Pakistan,” the SEAL lieutenant added. “Almost like a picnic.”

Lucas reminded him that there was a little girl with them.

“So we get her a little bike.”

“If you think bikes will work,” said Lucas, “go for it.”

“All right. Get them to the drop area.”

“Me?”

“Helicopter picks us off the sub in half an hour, Petey. We fly straight to Okinawa and leave as soon as we get there. You either get the bikes aboard the jet, or get them there yourself. Your call.”

“All right. They’ll be on the jet.”

“I ain’t biking all the way to Hanoi. It’d be okay for me and my boys, but your people are going to crap out. Arrange a truck to meet us somewhere halfway.”

“Not a problem.”

Maybe he could find a Vietnamese national to leave a track somewhere. He could use the embassy.

Not that he trusted them worth shit, as Kerfer would have put it.

“We’re set, Petey?”

“Yeah, we’re set,” said Lucas. “And don’t fuckin’ call me Petey.”

“Always a pleasure, Petey,” said Kerfer, laughing as he killed the connection on his side.

20

Northern Vietnam

Jing Yo’s unit had to return to the forward air base so the infrared searching gear could be installed. The device itself was relatively small — it fit on a long spar at the side of the helicopter, making it look a little like a catamaran with a rotor on top. The control panel, however, was the size of a small desk. Two had to be loaded into the helicopter, each with its own operator. The gear, less than three months old, was considered so valuable that four soldiers had been sent to guard it. They had insisted on flying in the Sikorsky with the operators. That cramped the small helicopter, forcing Jing Yo to put his men and Sergeant Wu in a second helicopter. It also lowered the size of his assault force, limiting him to just two other regular army soldiers instead of the entire squad he’d had earlier.

The operators were a pair of sergeants from Beijing who went about their work very quietly, communicating with each other rarely, and then mostly by nods and an occasional one-word question. Jing Yo leaned over them, watching as they finished calibrating their equipment.

“We can take off anytime,” declared the lead operator as a loud tone sounded from his panel. “We are prepared.”

Jing Yo picked up the microphone on the helicopter’s interphone headset and told the pilot to take off. Within minutes, the aircraft was pushing forward across the field, tilting slightly to the right as it rose.

The main display screen looked very much like a standard television display, except that everything was shaded blue and red. The color scheme was preset to toggle through several variations, each one keyed to a different range of temperatures. The system automatically notified the operator when it found something within a specified range — in this case, roughly the temperature range of a human body. The operator could then “zoom” in by switching to a more sensitive heat band.

The infrared system was not magic. It had trouble “seeing” through thick jungle canopy, though it was better than most commercially available systems at filtering through the trees and brush, even from a distance. It also couldn’t “see” in the rain — a problem shared by all infrared systems.

The forecast called for rain. So far it had held off.

A yellow cursor opened around a red squiggle at the bottom left of the screen. The operator circled it with his index finger, then put the tips of his fingers on the screen and pulled up. The image inside the circle expanded, then changed to a collection of muted greens and blacks.

“What is it?” asked Jing Yo.

“A man,” said the operator.

Jing Yo went over and looked out the window toward the ground. The sun was setting, and there were long shadows everywhere. All he could see were the tops of the trees, puffy patches of black punctuated by shadow.

“Is that our target?” he asked.

The operator smiled. “A soldier, having a cigarette by the side of the road,” he said. “A half kilometer from the field. He’s a guard.”

“You’re sure?”

The operator double-tapped the screen. The image expanded again, once more changing color, this time to yellowish brown.

Except for the tip of the stick that jutted from the yellow blotch. It flared red, then went back to orange.

“Very good,” said Jing Yo. “Let us get to work.”

21

Noi Bai Airport, Hanoi

“What do you say we have a beer?” Zeus asked his pilot after they landed and were trundling toward the parking area at Noi Bai Airport.

“I like it,” replied Captain Thieu. “You pay.”

“You got it.”

In the two hours since they had been gone, dozens of antiaircraft guns had been brought onto the airport property and lined up opposite the hangars. There were also two mobile missile batteries out on the edge of the apron area, older Russian ground-to-air missiles that Zeus guessed would not be any more effective than the launchers on the perimeter that had failed to strike the intruders the night before. But the Vietnamese had to do something; a second strike at the airport would almost certainly be launched, and if it was half as devastating as the first, the field would have to shut down indefinitely.

Thieu turned the jet around at the far end of the cement, parking it about thirty yards from another Albatross. That one had holes in its wings, and the tail fin looked as if something had taken a bite out of it.

“Are you coming, Lieutenant?” Thieu asked, popping out of his seat as the canopy rose. “I’m thirsty for my beer.”

“Aren’t we getting a ladder?”

Thieu laughed, then jumped to the ground. Reluctantly, Zeus unstrapped himself, gathered his gear, and followed.

His binoculars slipped from his vest as he landed. He fumbled for them awkwardly, managing to grab them before they hit the ground.

He dropped them as the pilot slapped his back.

“You did all right for a soldier. Maybe you should learn to be a pilot,” said Thieu.

“Thanks.”

Zeus scooped up the glasses — fortunately not broken — and followed Thieu toward the hangar. They were