Edge of War

Quach smiled. “That is not considered a handicap in Vietnam.”

“It may be, out on the water. We have to swim to the ships to set the charges.”

“I believe you will find that when the time comes, I will perform adequately,” said Quach. He pulled on his cigarette, right down to the filler. “And if we find ourselves too much in the water before we reach the harbor, there will be other problems to worry about greater than my age.”

* * *

They broke up the meeting a half hour later. Zeus waited to speak to Tien.

“I know what it feels like,” he told the captain. “I’d rather be with my men.”

“We all have a role,” said Tien stoically.

“Your English is good.”

“Thank you. I have studied since I was eight.” Tien took out a cigarette and offered the pack to Zeus.

“No thanks.”

“You Americans invented cigarettes,” said Tien. “Now you give it up.”

“Funny, huh?”

“We are very grateful for your assistance,” Tien said. “Your strike at the dam was legendary.”

“I didn’t hit it myself,” said Zeus. “I just came up with the idea.”

“Vietnam is grateful. You saved us.”

The praise made Zeus a little uncomfortable. The strike had stopped the Chinese advance, but surely that wouldn’t last.

As for this operation… the odds of success were stacked very much against it.

Still, there was no sense dashing the captain’s hopes or enthusiasm. They spoke for a few minutes about what Zeus might need. Tien gave him some pointers about working with the marines. He also suggested that he look at the boats himself.

“Just because they say they are there does not always mean it is so,” said Tien. “I would go myself and make sure.”

“All the way to Hai Phong?”

“Yes.”

“All right.”

“One of my sergeants would be able to drive you,” offered Tien.

“I’d have to leave soon,” said Zeus. “Right away if I could. I have a lot of other things to do.”

“The sergeant will be at your disposal.”

“Great.” Zeus stuck out his hand, deciding he would leave right away. Then he remembered Mara Duncan’s cell phone. “Damn.”

“Major?”

“I need — one of my friends may need some help. Probably not at this point.”

Zeus explained that he had a cell phone. He was as vague as possible, saying only that his friend was trying to get out of the country, and he had promised to give her information on the Chinese advance if necessary. But he couldn’t do that if he wasn’t in Hanoi.

Tien offered to help.

“Nothing classified,” Zeus said. “But if she needs to find an open airport or highway or something.”

“I would certainly help a friend of yours,” said Tien, taking the phone.

22

Soi Rap, near Dong Hoa, southeastern Vietnam

The Ne River was a calm, meandering stream, gradually widening as it made its way to the ocean. It took them nearly six hours to get down to near Soi Rap and the delta. Mara spent much of the time walking back and forth across the top deck, watching for other ships. As they approached the coast, Kerfer called her down to the bridge to listen to the radio. A Vietnamese navy patrol boat was challenging vessels near the mouth of the river. Which gave Mara an idea.

The SEALs rigged the ferry so that it would continue to sail on its own at about six knots. Then they took the lifeboats and, after veering temporarily toward the eastern side of the river’s mouth, snuck off the boat, taking advantage of the lingering dawn’s early shadows. They paddled away as silently as possible, hoping to escape notice, at least until the patrol boat approached the ferry.

Kerfer was the last one off, waiting until the others were away and then steering the ferry back to the middle of the channel. He made sure it was headed directly for the patrol boat before going off the side. The current pushed him toward the life rafts, which had stopped near the dark part of the shore to wait for the Vietnamese ship to take the bait.

Kerfer had to swim a considerable distance, and for a while Mara fretted that he wouldn’t make it. A jittery anxiety took over. She felt her hands shaking as she dipped her paddle into the water, holding the small raft steady.

It was ironic, she thought — he’d been almost a total jerk toward her since they’d met, yet here she was, actually worried that he was dead.

Of course, she thought; he was part of the team, and she would be concerned about all of the members of the team.

But it was more than that. And as much as she wanted to distance herself from any sort of sexual attraction — the idea was revolting — she still felt exhilarated when she spotted his head bobbing in the waves thirty yards from their boat.

“This way!” she called.

He gave a wave and continued swimming, not toward her boat but to the other, which was a little closer to shore and farther from him.

She felt disappointed.

“All right,” she told the others in the boat. “Let’s move south along the shoreline. Hold off the motor until we’re beyond the patrol boat.”

“How long before we get to the airport, you think?” asked Josh, who was sitting across from her with M?.

“If we can get across the bay before daylight, we’ll be less than a mile,” Mara told him. “If we have to put into shore before then, it may take longer. We’re going to make it, Josh. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not worried.”

“How’s your stomach?”

“Good.”

She could tell he was lying. “Are you okay to paddle?”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. He put his paddle into the water, making a show of pushing off.

“You’re not sneezing,” Mara said.

“Yeah, I’m not allergic to seawater, I guess. I’ve never had problems with that.”

She put her hand against his forehead. “Your fever’s gone,” she told him.

“Fear,” he said. “Miracle cure.”

* * *

Josh felt the coolness of Mara’s fingers on his forehead long after she had taken her hand away. He tried to focus on the water in front of them, avoiding her gaze. He was definitely attracted to her, but of course the circumstances made that completely inappropriate — impossible, really.

His body still ached, though not as badly. Soon they’d be the hell out of here, he thought.

Then what?

Then he’d be talking to the president of the United States, telling him what the Chinese had done.

And would he tell him about the Vietnamese soldiers they’d killed? Or the men in the hotel?

The men in the hotel had been Chinese agents. He was pretty sure of that. They definitely had meant to kill him. So killing them in turn had clearly been justified.