Shock of War

side of the bridge. His throat tightened — it would be impossible to get to the bridge if they stayed there.

But they weren’t standing guard. They were relieving themselves in the water. One after the other they finished, zipping up and walking to the embankment. One stopped, scooped up a rock, and spun it back across the water. It hopped three times across the ten yards or so, then sank near the other side.

The others laughed.

Zeus took a deep breath. Stooping down so the water came to his neck, he began walking toward the middle of the stream, trying to drift gently and not splash. The water was not very deep even in the middle; if he’d stood it would barely come to his chest. He held the case under his arm, fighting against its buoyancy.

A truck started across the span. Zeus pushed faster, finally reaching the shadows next to the stanchion as the vehicle passed directly overhead.

Zeus pulled the missile box up and opened it. He dipped water inside and let it settle down, holding it against the current. Then he took the missiles out, one at a time, placing them on the cement pier the girder rose from. Climbing up onto the curved archway, Zeus examined the strutwork to find his target.

From the distance, the idea had been easy: he would tie the warheads against the steel X where the upright met the arch; the explosion would topple the bridge. But up close it didn’t look anywhere near as easy. The steel was thick, and while the shaped projectile would undoubtedly go through it, Zeus wasn’t sure that it could both penetrate the steel and explode the warheads at the same time.

He’d have to be a goddamn engineer to figure it out.

So why the hell had the Iraqis succeeded when he couldn’t?

Or rather, what exactly had they done?

A swell of despair clamped over him. Paralyzed, Zeus stared hopelessly at the struts, unable to move. Fatigue, hunger, and exhaustion were his real problems, but explaining his paralysis could not erase it, and understanding it was no help in dealing with it at all. Zeus hung under the bridge, his body vibrating with the rumble of one of the heavy APCs passing above. All his courage and strength were negated in that moment; he was a black hole, empty of everything, even fear, just a collection of frayed nerves and taut muscles clinging to the underside of a highway far from home.

Then, in the pit of his mind, a single thought rose up:

Anna.

It was not love that brought him back to himself. It wasn’t his concern for her, or even his need to save her. It wasn’t even his lust for the softness of her body against his.

Anger broke his paralysis. Rage at the injustice of her persecution.

It was a ferocious anger, a madness — truly an insanity, a righteous rising up against the cruel, cruel injustice of a world that would harm a woman who tried to save others. And while logic might have directed that anger more properly toward the Vietnamese, in Zeus the emotion focused on the Chinese, Evil’s agent in the war.

The rage that had driven Zeus at different points over the past several days, the blind craziness that even he mistook for courage, merged with the deepest parts of his soul. It became something he could control, something that would allow him to do what had to be done, to act with the logic and directness of a warrior.

Zeus pulled off his belt and slipped the missiles against the beam. He tied the belt as tightly as he could, then started to slip into the water. As he stepped down, a vehicle came onto the roadway and stopped almost directly above him. The bridge vibrated with its motor.

Zeus stopped, concerned that the warheads might slip from his knot. He glanced upward, trying to get a glimpse to make sure they weren’t coming loose.

A soldier began to shout. Zeus barely heard his yell over the engine, but the gunshot that followed was loud and clear.

23

Washington, D.C.

The tall bastard with the pockmarked face pushed him down against the floor of the prison cell. Greene gasped for air — he couldn’t breathe. Hands grabbed him — dozens of hands, gripping tightly against his arms and legs and side. Someone hit his genitals and he felt a pain rise in the pit of his stomach. Tears were streaming from his eyes, and he was ashamed…

* * *

President Greene lurched upright in his bed. He knew was just a dream, but for a moment he was confused, lost. Was he home? Why was he alone?

He was in the White House. His wife was gone, visiting relatives.

He was in the White House. Home.

The dream was somewhat familiar, a not-quite accurate replay of some of his experiences as a guest of the North Vietnamese government. They had beaten the hell out of him, and the tall bastard was a real guard, and a genuine tormenter.

Not that the session had taken place the way he saw it in the dream. And many of the details were off. In the dream, for instance, the cell was spacious and well lit. It had been the opposite in real life.

Am I doing the right thing helping the bastards now?

Yes. Unfortunately. China had to be dealt with.

The bigger question was: What should he do next? The Russian weapons would help, but clearly they weren’t going to be enough. How far was he willing to go? Already some would say he was breaking the law, or at least its spirit.

Greene glanced over at the clock on his sideboard. It was a little past two.

Too early to get up, even for him.

He slipped back beneath the covers, thinking of how much he missed his wife.

24

Inland from Halong Bay

Zeus turned toward the sound of the bullets. They were striking the water just to the side of the highway.

They couldn’t be firing at him. But what?

The vehicle above him started moving again. There were shouts, but the sound of the APC drowned them out. He considered dropping into the water and making a run for it, but decided it was wiser to climb up higher against the bridge and see what happened.

Worst case, Chau would fire at the beam. He’d be dead either way.

There was more gunfire. The vehicle reached the south side of the roadway. There were shouts — three or four different voices. Zeus saw a pair of legs coming into the water on his left, then another.

The men shouted and pointed. Zeus leaned over, watching as they grabbed the missile case from the water.

The men shouted something in Chinese.

Zeus waited in the shadow of the bridge. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare look.

If they come for me, Chau will kill them all anyway.

An eternity and an instant passed. Finally, Zeus heard the sound of another vehicle starting across. The bridge began to vibrate heavily.

Slowly, he leaned out from behind his perch. The men had moved on.

* * *

Zeus ran the entire way back, hugging the shadows, trying not to slip or splash in