“What’s up?” asked Kerfer.
Mara pointed to her mouth. Josh guessed that she was reminding them that the room might be bugged. Then she pulled the headset out of her collar, indicating she’d have the radio on. Meanwhile, Josh pulled on his shoes.
Stevens and Little Joe were sitting in the lobby when Josh and Mara came down. The SEALs shadowed them out of the hotel, staying a few yards back as they crossed the street.
Night had fallen, and most if not all of the buildings in the city were observing the blackout rules. But with a clear sky, there was enough light to see through the trees to the river. A few people walked along the sidewalks, passing them quickly, heads down. But as they walked northward, Josh spotted groups of people gathered near the riverbank, talking among themselves, or occasionally staring at the water. A few young couples held hands.
“Let’s go back the other way,” said Mara. “There are more people than before.”
They turned around and went back, walking past a naval ship tied up at the dock. Mara took his hand, wrapping her fingers in his. Then she leaned toward him.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
“You’re slowing down.”
“I’m okay.”
“I want a spot where it’s not easy to hear us,” she said. “All right?”
“Okay.”
“You have to talk to my boss. Peter. Is that all right?”
“Sure.”
Mara guided him through the trees to a cluster of rocks on the shoreline. As soon as they sat down, she took out her phone. Josh leaned back, elbows against a rock, trying to look at ease.
He definitely felt a little better than he had earlier. Maybe Kerfer was right about the beer.
A small fishing boat moved across the river in their direction. As it drew near, a woman pushed out from under the canvas tent at the middle of the boat and went to the prow. She had something in her hand, and Josh felt a moment of anxiety, worried that she might have a gun. But it was just a line; she was getting ready to tie up at the dock about thirty yards to his right.
“Peter wants to talk to you,” said Mara, handing Josh the satellite phone.
“Yes?”
“Josh, how are you?” said Peter Lucas.
“I’m okay,” Josh told him. “A little tired.”
“I’ve heard what’s on the video, the files you gave Mara. It’s incredible,” said the CIA officer. “Everything.”
“I hope it can help.”
“It
“Sure, I guess.”
The phone clicked. A new voice came on, a little louder and clearer.
“Josh MacArthur?”
“I’m here.”
“This is George Greene. Are our people taking care of you?”
“Mr. President? President Greene?”
“I’m here. Are you getting good care?”
“Yes. She’s, they’re — I’m doing fine.”
“Good. I heard what happened. It’s a terrible tragedy. Horrible.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You have pictures and video?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you tell me where you got them?”
“Um, well, I had this little Flip 5 video camera. It’s not very good quality, but it’s good for snapshots and little videos.”
“Where were you when you took the video, Josh?” asked the president.
“I don’t — see, that’s our base camp. But the others… I had to go through this village. I don’t know how far away I went.”
“But it was definitely in Vietnam?”
“Yes, sir. We were pretty far from the border. I mean, a couple of miles. You know — I don’t know. Five?” Josh felt he was making a fool of himself by being so tongue-tied. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. “It was definitely inside Vietnam. I went — that night, I think it was, I found the border to the north. I was always in Vietnam. There was a big fence. And guards. And then these trucks came down. They looked like Vietnamese trucks but — ”
“Was there resistance at the science camp?” asked the president.
“No, sir. Well — I started to sneeze and I woke, and I had, uh, I had to uh, uh — ”
“Nature called,” said the president drily.
“Yes, sir. Anyway, I walked away from the camp, and then I was sneezing and I wanted not to wake anyone. So I went a little deeper into the jungle. The next thing I knew there was gunfire.”
“The scientists didn’t have guns, did they?”
“No, sir. Not that I know of. We had a couple of Vietnamese soldiers with us, but they’d gone to bed.”
There was a pause. For a second, Josh thought the line had gone dead.
“Josh, we’re looking forward to talking to you when you get back,” said Peter Lucas, coming back on the line. “All right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“You’re going to be home real soon. Please give me Mara.”
“Okay. Uh, thanks.”
“No, thank you.”
7
A nice phrase, surely; the perfect motto for a warship. But they were just words until put to the test.
Commander Dirk “Hurricane” Silas thought about his ship’s motto as he strode across the bridge, casting a wary eye on the helmsman and the long row of controls and instruments necessary for her to do her job. Like all members of his family — including and especially the nine-thousand-ton guided-missile destroyer that held them — the petty officer was dedicated and squared away. Her eyes were focused, her hair very neatly trimmed.
Silas stopped and peered forward through the destroyer’s bridge windows, into the dark, vast emptiness before him. To all appearances, the
But appearances were deceiving. A Chinese cruiser and frigate were just beyond the horizon to his right, shadowing his course. The cruiser was one of the most accomplished vessels in the Chinese fleet, aside from the country’s two recently completed aircraft carriers. Commissioned as the
The weapons posed a formidable challenge, easily capable of sinking most ships. But the
