Blood Lines

58

›› Phu Cat Airport

›› Qui Nhon, Binh Dinh Province

›› Socialist Republic of Vietnam

›› 1341 Hours (Local Time Zone)

“You watch all those movies like Full Metal Jacket, you don’t expect Vietnam to look like this,” Remy said.

Shel gazed out at the long runway in front of him and silently agreed. The city, looking very modern with the tall buildings that hadn’t been there during the war, flanked the airport to the southeast and ran deeply into the jungle. The metropolis fought the creeping vegetation back, and a few paved roads snaked up into the mountains surrounding the port city.

“Doesn’t look like the pictures Daddy took of the area,” Shel admitted. “He was here in 1967. The United States Air Force’s RED HORSE Civil Engineering Corps started building the airport for the Air Force use the year before.”

“Your father was in the Army, not the Air Force, right?”

“The Army worked the jungles, kept the supply routes clear, and flushed snipers and kill squads from the riverbanks to keep the PBRs safe.”

Sunlight glinted off Remy’s sunglasses as he surveyed the jungle that began immediately on the other side of the city. It was thick and tall and verdant.

“You ever fought in the jungle?” Remy asked.

“Nope. My first taste of action was eating sand in the Middle East. Did some work down in Africa. A few hot spots in Europe.”

“Me?” Remy said. “I wouldn’t want to have to run through all that brush and try to fight an enemy that had grown up in that type of environment.”

“I know,” Shel agreed.

“And most of the American soldiers in that war were nineteen years old. Away from home for the first time and dropped right into the middle of a fire zone.” Remy shook his head. “Unbelievable. At least you and me, we’ve been around the block.”

“A time or two,” Shel agreed. He stared at the city beyond the long runway and tried to feel his daddy’s footsteps in the land. It was strange, but he felt closer to his daddy than he ever had. This was his daddy’s battleground, and it was about to become his.

›› 1348 Hours (Local Time Zone)

“I hope you realize you’re in a unique position here, Commander Coburn.”

Will sat in the back of the air-conditioned limousine and stared at the heavyset man across from him. As a military man, Will didn’t like dealing with politicos as a general rule. Dealing with their secretaries and lackeys was even worse.

Ashton Finlay was a Yale graduate who hadn’t had enough pull to get a cushy State Department job. Instead he’d landed the Socialist Republic of Vietnam and wasn’t happy about it. Not many people had to deal with him, and most were likely not impressed. He was in his early thirties and wore good suits. His haircut was neat and he had a fresh manicure.

“How so?” Will asked.

Finlay blinked at him. “Getting the weapon permits for your team wasn’t easy.”

Will understood immediately that he was supposed to be impressed with Finlay’s abilities. “I suppose it wasn’t. You did well, Mr. Finlay.”

A small, uncertain smile pulled at Finlay’s face.

“Of course,” Will said, “given the fact that this country is filled with soldiers armed with assault weapons and that my team wouldn’t really have anywhere to run even if we did try to initiate World War III, plus the fact that the people in charge of this country don’t care that much about the citizens here, maybe that wasn’t as hard as one might think.”

The smile went away. “What I’m saying is that I stuck my neck out for you people.”

“Thank you.”

“I wasn’t even told what you were doing here.”

So that’s what this is about, Will thought. “There’s not much I can do about that.”

“I thought maybe we could talk.” Finlay leaned a little closer. “Just man-to-man.”

Will leaned closer as well. In a softer voice, he said, “We are talking.”

“I thought you could tell me what you’re really doing here. I mean, not just the recovery of a dead soldier cover.”

“I could,” Will agreed, deadpan despite the disgust that moved through him, “but then I’d have to shoot you.”

Finlay pulled back. He shot his cuffs and looked away.

Will nodded at the military jeep rolling toward them. “Is that the captain I’m supposed to liaise with?”

After a quick glance through the window, Finlay said, “Possibly.”

“Maybe we could go find out,” Will suggested.

›› 1356 Hours (Local Time Zone)

The Vietnam People’s Army captain was in his forties, a quiet and dapper man with an easy but professional manner. His uniform was neatly pressed and clean. His men moved immediately to flank him without a word and without offering direct challenge.

“Commander Coburn,” the captain said.

“I am.” Will stepped forward and offered his hand.

“I am Captain Cuong Phan of the Vietnam People’s Army. I hope you had a pleasant flight.”

“That much flying,” Will said, “is never pleasant.” He took his hand back. “You were informed why we’re here?”

“To recover and transport the body of a missing American soldier you believe is somewhere in the area?” Phan nodded. “I have been so informed. But it’s been forty years, Commander. Do you really think such a thing is possible?”

“I have hope, Captain. Little expectation, but hope.”

Phan looked past Will. “These are all your people?”

Remy, Shel, Maggie, Nita, and Estrella stood behind Will in a ragged line. Max sat alertly at Shel’s boots beside their duffels.

“Yes,” Will answered.

“So few of you?”

“I hope this is all that it takes. But I’ve got a few others en route.”

“Who?”

“Two specialty dog teams,” Will said. “They’re civilians trained to find historical remains. Old teeth. Bones. Clothing. Things that you’ll find at old, unmarked graves.”

“I’ve never seen dogs like this.”

“Well, you will if you’d care to come by and have a look while we’re working.” The dogs and handlers were due to arrive later that afternoon.

Phan looked at Will. “I have also found out, unofficially, that you’ve got another interest here.”

“We do,” Will said and wondered where the captain was getting his information. Will had intended to share it anyway.

Phan smiled. “Since we have started depending on the tourist trade for part of our economy, we have found it beneficial to find out who some of the people are who enter our country. Your Sergeant McHenry is very much in the news at present.”

“Your people appear to be very thorough.”

“The world is getting smaller these days, Commander. It pays to know whom you let enter your borders. Your country has learned that the hard way.”

“We believe Victor Gant is somewhere in-country,” Will said. “If we cross paths with him, we intend to take him into custody.”

“You would need to seek permission from the government to take him back with you.”

Will smiled. “I happen to know that Victor Gant is wanted in this country as well, Captain. If we do have the good fortune to detain him, we’ll turn him over to your government initially. At that point, my government would be happy to enter negotiations with yours as to the final deposition of the prisoner.”

Phan nodded and appeared a little relieved. “As long as we understand each other.”

“I think we do.”

“Do you believe the six of you are going to be able to accomplish your goals?”

“I hope so.”

“Victor Gant, as you say, is known to us. He’s a very dangerous man. A killer several times over. Not just in the war, but during recent visits to our country. We intend to bring him to justice if we ever find him. Unfortunately Gant remains elusive because he’s in league with one of the drug lords in the area.” Phan paused and looked at Will. “You people are taking quite a chance walking out into that jungle.”

“If there was another way,” Will said, “I’d do it.”

“Perhaps there is. I was thinking that I could send a few of my men-”

“No more than two,” Will interrupted.

Phan smiled. “You know what is on my mind.”

“You want to use us as a stalking horse,” Will said, “to draw Gant out of the brush.”

“Yes. And if we are favored by fate, his partner as well. I have heard Gant has cause to hate your Sergeant McHenry very much.”

“Yes.”

“You are counting on that.”

Will nodded.

“That is very risky business,” Phan said.

“I can’t think of another way to do it. Given the circumstances, I can’t make any promises about the health and well-being of your soldiers.”

“I would not ask you for that promise. Working together in this instance will be a privilege.”

“I feel the same way,” Will said.

“Still, what we do even with each other’s assistance will be a very dangerous thing.”

“Your men will be in radio contact with you?”

“Always.”

“Then it will be less dangerous than if we were to do this thing by ourselves.”

Phan gazed at Will with new understanding. “You knew something like this would be done?”

“I wouldn’t let anybody wander around in my backyard unescorted,” Will replied. “Whether I let them know or not. I appreciate you letting me know.”

“You could have asked for assistance.”

“I could have,” Will admitted, “but I think it was probably easier for you to suggest to your superior that you be allowed to keep an eye on us. Maybe plant guides within our ranks. That way you’re in control, on the surface, rather than providing a service.”

“I did ask them for permission to spy on you,” Phan said with a small smile. “They readily agreed since it seemed we’d be fooling you. Those men take such… clandestine action for granted and think they are very clever. They are years from the battlefields. But I thought that you would suspect something was amiss.”

“That’s why you made the offer directly.”

Phan grinned. “So we understand each other.”

“Entirely,” Will agreed.

›› Nine Klicks Outside Qui Nhon, Binh Dinh Province

›› Socialist Republic of Vietnam

›› 1407 Hours (Local Time Zone)

Soaked in sweat from the heat and humidity that filled the jungle around him, Shel marched resolutely. It felt good to be doing something other than staying in hospitals or being one step behind Victor Gant.

Of course, Shel knew he was about forty years behind at present, but at least he felt he was gaining on something. In fact, he felt more hopeful about things than he had in a long time. He attributed a lot of that to the fact that he had at last slept on the long flight to Vietnam. But he often thought about his prayer in El Paso. In fact, he thought about it enough that he was praying every morning and every evening. Something about that felt right as well.

The team had spent three days in the field so far. Estrella had gridded the area that McGovern, the paraplegic who had been with Victor Gant’s fire team, had indicated.

Even though he’d wondered if McGovern had lied to them, Shel couldn’t help but remain somewhat hopeful. Hinton’s body had to be out in the brush somewhere, but Shel also knew they could be miles from it. Or they might never find it.

Please, God, he thought. Don’t let that be the case. He knew his daddy needed some kind of closure. So did he.

Shel carried an M4 assault rifle in one hand and a GPS compass in his left. Vines and brush pulled at his combat boots and BDUs, not really slowing him down. A few feet away, Estrella walked her own line of the grid.

He noticed that she looked worse for the wear, and Shel realized he’d been pushing the pace. He felt guilty about that. Remy was about the only member of the team who could keep up with Shel over time.

The historical remains handler working Shel’s grid was a civilian, a young woman with red hair and a large, female German shepherd. So far her dog and Max had gotten along fine.

Although Max was cross-trained for search and rescue, his primary training was to find live victims. Locating old graves was specialty work, and the dogs dedicated to that couldn’t be trained to search for live or wounded people. The dog handler had mostly kept to herself, and neither she nor her animal had shirked a bit as they’d worked the grids Estrella had laid out.

“Water break,” Shel called out when he reached the top of the latest incline. He squatted in the shade of a towering tree but kept a clear field of view on both sides of the incline.

“Thank goodness,” Estrella said. She leaned against a tree and drank water from the built-in bladder in her LCE pack. The load-carrying equipment came with a two-liter bladder for storing water that also served to cool the soldier’s body.

“Easy,” Shel called as she continued drinking. “You don’t want to make yourself sick out here.”

Estrella eased off of the water and wiped her mouth with the back of her arm. But she didn’t cap the plastic straw that was built into the bladder.

She looked at Shel and shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Shel grinned. “The few and the proud,” he told her.

“Please,” Estrella said, rolling her eyes in mock disbelief. She looked back the way they’d come. “We’ve actually done a lot of work.”

“I know,” Shel replied. “We’re making good time.” He tried to remain positive though his impatience was getting higher every day.

But the truth was they were walking the gridlines faster than they’d believed possible. The men Captain Phan had put with them had actually helped speed up the process by restructuring the gridline search party method to push people into motion faster.

Max ranged the countryside, constantly on point, and remained close even though he wandered away till he was out of sight on several occasions. Shel never worried. One whistle and the dog would be at his side.

Although he’d watched, Shel had never seen Captain Phan’s men in the outer perimeter. The idea of being a stalking horse hadn’t set too well with Shel. If someone who was constantly keeping an eye on a developing situation came in close enough to alter the outcome of a potential encounter, that person could also be too close to leave events unmarked by their presence.

A stalking horse worked best against predators driven by instinct, not thoughts. He didn’t want the Vietnamese army to scare Victor Gant away. Then Shel realized that the presence of the army might enhance Victor Gant’s desire to attack his enemies. It would be a real coup. If he could pull it off.

Shel became aware that Estrella was talking to him. He focused on her. “Sorry.”

“I was wondering how your father is doing,” she repeated.

“Fine,” Shel replied. “I talked to Don this morning. Daddy’s almost strong enough to deal with the pacemaker.”

“That’s good.”

It wasn’t, though. Not really. As his daddy had told Don, the only reason Tyrel McHenry had agreed to the pacemaker was because he figured he owed somebody prison time, or a death, for killing PFC Dennis Hinton.

In all probability, his daddy was giving up. Shel had never seen his daddy give up on anything.

Except living his life for his wife and kids. That sober thought rocked him.

“All right,” Estrella said, interrupting his dark thoughts. “If you’re ready, I am.”

Shel nodded and rose to his feet. He took a fresh reading with his GPS, signaled the dog handler, then started walking again. They were staying close to the road for the first sweep. If they didn’t find anything, they would go deeper into the jungle.

What they were looking for was a man-size depression in the ground. After forty years, all the flesh would have sloughed away from Hinton’s corpse. When he’d been buried, his body had been one size. But after time and nature had stripped his flesh, his body would have been another size, and the dirt on top of his mortal remains would have sunk. Most old graves were found through visual searches.

If the approximate location was known.

And they had the dogs. It was something to hope for.

Shel glanced toward the horizon and saw the black clouds that had been forming to the east were now more vigorous. They were also on a direct approach. The storm would be upon them soon.