'Kriangsak?'
'Our liaison with the That armed forces. I was on him at the meeting last night, and again this morning. He says his government is afraid large numbers of aircraft would be misinterpreted by the Burmese, maybe trigger a war.'
'If that's what it takes-'
'Knock it off, Commander. We're not at war with Burma, okay? And the Thais don't need that kind of pressure right now. Not with an all-out insurrection going on up there, not with all the rumors floating around about a possible coup attempt. I'm afraid we're going to have to let them handle this their way.'
'Their way. What's that… sit back and wait for Batman and Malibu to walk out of the jungle on foot? Good God, they could be lying up in those hills hurt, or dangling from their harnesses in a tree!' Tombstone licked his lips. 'Look, CAG. Maybe we can't send the wing up there, but how about just a couple planes? A sneak-and-peak TARPS. I'd like to-'
'Negative.' Marusko's voice was flat. 'The word is to wait, let Bangkok handle it.' He folded his hands on the desk. 'Look, Stoney, I know how you feel.' Marusko's usual casual warmth returned. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his seat. 'Why don't you take the rest of the day of?
Catch the bus into Bangkok, get your mind off it.'
Tombstone considered it. He'd enjoyed the day he'd spent in Bangkok with Pamela and had been entertaining hopes of seeing her again. Now, though, knowing Batman was down… maybe dead… the prospect felt like torture.
'If it's all the same, CAG, I have some paperwork to catch up with.' He stood, and the chair's legs scraped the deck like nails on a blackboard.
'I'd scuttle that paperwork if I were you, Stoney. I suggest you-'
'Will that be all, sir?'
CAG scowled. 'That's all.'
'Thank you, sir.' He turned and strode through the door, his thoughts whirling. He found himself thinking again about Pamela. It was strange. He very much wanted to share his grief and worry with someone… but not with Pamela, not when he was still trying to puzzle out the newly awakened feelings for her which he had only just discovered. Talking with her about Batman right now would feel too Much like a play for sympathy.
Besides, how could she know what losing a friend like Batman was really like? That special camaraderie among combat aviators was something not shared with outsiders, mostly because they simply were not expected to understand it, couldn't understand it without having been part of the fraternity themselves.
Briefly, Pamela's words about the death of her brother returned to him, but Tombstone dismissed them. It didn't really matter whether she could understand or not.
Bitterly he strode down the passageway toward his quarters.
The darkened chamber of CATCC seemed quieter than usual this morning, and Howard felt as though every one of the men in the room was waiting, listening to hear what he had to say. Somehow, he forced himself to walk across the deck to the raised swivel chair where Chief Paulsen sat sipping a mug of coffee while reading the morning report.
It was the hardest thing Howard had ever tried to do in his life.
'Chief?' he said.
Paulsen did not look up. 'Yeah, kid?'
'Chief, I gotta talk to you.' He glanced around the room. 'Alone…
please?'
His section chief considered for a moment, then heaved himself out of the chair. Setting the mug down, he jerked his head toward the passageway.
'Okay. C'mon.'
Howard sighed and followed.
He'd waited at the bar for two and a half hours after leaving the others, wondering if Bentley and the others were ever going to come back for him.
He'd been half afraid his desertion had made them mad enough to leave him there.
Then he'd started getting worried. Bentley might pull a trick like that on a raw nugget, but Howard thought that Rodriguez and Paterowski actually liked him. They'd have come back for him.
It was nearly midnight when Howard decided he had to leave. The last bus to Sattahip left from in front of Lumpini Park on Rama Four Road at 0100, and if he missed it, he'd be marked AWOL ? absent without leave ? in the morning muster. That could lead to a captain's mast and disciplinary action.
First though, he'd returned to the Golden Coast. Something about the setup had not seemed right. That one girl, Number 15, had gotten rid of the other girls… but then explained they'd all meet later. Something was wrong there. Howard had heard stories of sailors getting rolled in strange cities while on liberty. Once Bentley had told the story of a friend of his who'd woken up in Tijuana to find his companion of the previous night gone… along with his wallet, shoes, and every stitch of clothing.
Suppose something had happened to them.
He'd felt embarrassed going into the Golden Coast the first time; it had felt a thousand times worse going in again later, alone. A smiling That girl had come up to him, and he'd stuttered as he asked if she knew Number 21.
'Sure,' the girl said. 'She's on duty now. I get her.'
Howie had felt his blood turn cold. Number 21 was supposed to have gone after the others. What was she doing here? Quickly, Howard had scanned the other people in the bar, searching faces. He didn't see Bentley or the others, but…
Then he saw Number 15. For a moment, he'd thought perhaps it was a different girl with the same number, but there was no doubt. Even in the near darkness, he could see enough to know it was her. She was wearing the skimpy G-string and bra again and was sitting in the lap of a customer. A moment later, she turned slightly and her eyes met his, widening in recognition.
Howard had turned and fled then, certain that something was wrong.
On the street outside, though, he'd changed his mind again. The likeliest explanation was that Bentley and the others were having some fun with him. They'd met with 15 and 21 and the others, had their sanuk, then decided it would be a great gag to go off and leave Howie waiting in Patpong.
They'd probably boarded the midnight bus and were already halfway back to the ship.
So Howard had caught his bus and made it back to Sattahip, boarded the mike boat, and motored back to the Jefferson with a mob of drunken, story-swapping sailors. It was after 0300 when an exhausted Howard had tumbled into his rack, promising himself he would have words with the others when he saw them at breakfast.
But they'd not been at breakfast. At morning department muster they'd been marked down as AWOL.
Chief Paulsen led Howard into the passageway. 'Okay, kid,' he said.
'What's on your mind?'
Howard swallowed. He was still embarrassed by the events Of last evening, didn't even want to admit that he'd been to Patpong, but he was worried about his friends. 'Chief? I think Bentley, Rodriguez, and Paterowski might be in trouble.'
'Damned straight they're in trouble. When they go up before the Old Man, I'll lay you odds Bentley and Paterowski lose their crows. That's trouble, all right.'
'No, Chief. Something worse.' And he began to explain what had happened.
Batman had nearly reached the top of the ridge when he heard the clatter of a helicopter in the distance. The sound brought new strength to legs aching from the long climb and he quickened his pace. He could see patches of sky just ahead. There might be a clearing at the top.
He emerged into full sunlight. The crest of the hill was strewn with house-sized limestone boulders rising from the clay and soft earth of the slope, and the rock was holding the surrounding forest at bay. Panting, holding his side where a painful stitch burned with each breath, Batman stumbled onto the flat surface of one of the rocks.
