The night had been miserable. A heavy rain during the hours before dawn had soaked Batman to the skin. Swarms of mosquitos had descended on him from the nearby river, bringing with them glowing memories of countless films and lectures on the dangers of malaria in the tropics. He'd swallowed a couple of Dapsone pills as preventative and smeared insect repellent from his survival kit on his face and hands… not that the stuff seemed to have much effect.
Between the rain and the insects, he'd gotten little sleep during the night.
Throughout those hours, Batman's SAR radio had remained silent, though he checked it periodically and broadcast his Mayday message as frequently as he dared. He was still afraid of being tracked down by whoever had launched on him, but the need to contact the That Air Force or his own people far outweighed the need for radio silence. That faceless enemy out there in the jungle might home on his transmission and run him down, sure, if they had the equipment, if they had the trained personnel, and if they had the desire; on the other hand, friendly forces would never find him if he remained silent.
So he kept calling… but he was more certain than ever that the valley walls were blocking his signals. He would have to climb higher to have an unrestricted line of sight. The problem with that idea was that he would be leaving Malibu. He was sure his RIO must be in the same valley somewhere.
They'd ejected at almost the same instant. The fact that Batman had not seen his partner's chute meant little. He'd had other things on his mind at the time.
Batman didn't let himself think about the possibility that Malibu's chute had failed to open at all.
He'd spent most of the previous afternoon and evening quartering as much of the valley as he could reach, which, he was forced to admit, hadn't been much. Visibility in the jungle was less than thirty feet, It was possible he'd passed within ten yards of his RIO and never known he was there.
He'd felt more hopeful as he searched along the riverbank and found tracks… dozens of them, like bulldozer tread marks in the mud, but narrower. It looked as though someone had been driving construction vehicles back and forth along the river. They seemed relatively fresh, which suggested that someone ― loggers, possibly ― were working the area, that this stretch of jungle was not as isolated as he'd thought.
But after several more hours of searching, Batman was forced to admit that he couldn't tell which direction the vehicles had been moving, north or south, and while they weren't old, they still might have been several days old.
And he still needed to find Malibu.
Finally, as the unseen sun began warming the jungle floor, burning off the mist which had lingered there since the rain, Batman decided that his best bet was to get to the top of a hill where he could signal an aircraft if it passed overhead.
The river ran north-south, which meant Thailand ― assuming he had strayed over the border ― lay that way. To the left, the valley's east slope gave him the quickest access to an unrestricted hilltop.
And possibly from up there he could look down on the valley's treetop canopy and spot Malibu's chute.
He started climbing.
"Thanks for seeing me, CAG," Tombstone said as he stepped into the cramped office. He'd not had much sleep the night before, and he was feeling the effects this morning.
"No problem, Stoney." CAG looked drawn and tired as well. "Pull up a chair and sit yourself."
He sat. "I'd like to know what's being done for Batman and Malibu," he said without preamble.
Marusko sighed. "Not a hell of a lot, Stoney. Not yet, anyway. Half the brass on this boat were up in Bangkok last night. You must have heard."
Tombstone nodded. "A little."
"The admiral was pushing for a full-scale SAR effort, but the Thais turned us down."
"But why?" The Thais had a fair-sized air force, but most of their planes were old and dated, Vietnam-era stuff like Broncos and F-5s, plus a single squadron of F-16 Falcons. "We could make a TARPS run, and-"
"It was a TARPS mission that got us in this mess, remember?" Marusko shook his head. "Things could be getting hot up there. After our meeting last night, something had the Thais stirred up. And the Hawkeyes we had on station over central Thailand picked up what might have been an invasion."
"An invasion! Who? The Burmese?"
Marusko fingered a ballpoint pen on his desk. "That's the working theory for the moment. The Burmese are denying it, of course." He shrugged. "The… ah… historical animosity between Thailand and Burma goes back a long way. Sometimes the Burmese shell the That side of the border just for the hell of it, it seems."
"Still, that shouldn't stop us from sending in a search and rescue.
Those are our people up there, CAG."
"I know that." Marusko's voice was hard. "But we're not running a SAR.
That's being left to the Thais."
"No SAR! Shit, CAG! We can't just leave them up there!"
For Tombstone, the situation had an eerie sense of de ja vu. When his wingman ― another friend ― had been shot down off Korea three months before, distance and political considerations had prevented an immediate search-and-rescue effort. The look on Marusko's face told him that this situation was very much the same.
"Tombstone, you have to understand that the That government is very sensitive about their northern border. They've had trouble with the Burmese for centuries… and there are constant charges of corruption and connivance on their part regarding the drugs that come through that region out of the Golden Triangle. They agreed to have our two planes come into the area to help with recon the other day… but inviting our whole SAR force is something else entirely."
"Oh, come on, CAG! We could manage with just a couple of planes-"
"Tombstone, we don't even know if Batman and Malibu are still alive.
Two-oh-three didn't sight their chutes, remember."
"Damn it, we've got to know!"
"Look, it's out of our hands, okay? I just got off the phone with Colonel Kriangsak just before you walked in here."
"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. He fumbled for his SAR radio. "Mayday! Mayday!" he called. "This is Batman! Does anybody read me?"
The view from the limestone cliff looked out across mile upon green mile of jungle to the north and west. He could see the helicopters now, two of them, flying side by side far to the north.
North? He checked the position of the sun at his back. Yes, north. And far enough away that they had to be over Burma even if he was on the That side of the border. At this distance, he could see no markings. Were they That helicopters intruding over Burmese airspace as they searched for him, or did they belong in Burma's air force? They looked like UH-1 Hueys, and he remembered hearing somewhere that the Socialist Union of Burma had a few Slicks left over from Vietnam days. Now that he thought about it, those two were moving too fast to be part of a search pattern.
Hell, at this point it didn't matter who they were. "Mayday! Mayday!"
He was shouting now. "Calling two military helicopters approximately two miles north of my position! Please respond!"
He kept at it until the helos were out of sight. They hadn't even slowed down.
Batman raised the SAR radio to his ear and gave it a shake. If the helos weren't part of a search, they wouldn't be listening on the SAR channel.
Still, he was beginning to wonder if the damned thing had been damaged by his collision with the riverbank. That would explain…
He froze, aware ― without knowing how ― of movement directly behind him.
He'd heard nothing, but something, a movement of air or shadows, had alerted him. Very, very slowly, keeping his hands in view, he turned around.
The girl was standing ten feet away at the edge of the jungle. She was young, no more than twenty, with dark skin and eyes as black as her hair.
Batman thought she looked Filipino or even Latino; she didn't have the obviously Oriental features of most of the Thais Batman had met so far. She wore a green bush hat and ragged camo fatigues with a tiger-stripe pattern. A red triangular badge with a gold star was pinned to the hat's front, and she carried an AK-47 with the muzzle leveled at Batman's chest.
"Yah kiihyun vahi!"
Batman didn't know what the girl was saying, but the tone was unmistakable. The language sounded like That, but he couldn't tell if she was Burmese, That, or a hill bandit. It seemed best not to antagonize her, however. Making no sudden movements, he dropped the SAR radio and raised his hands. "I don't understand you," he said.
The girl's eyes widened. "American?"
There was no point in denying it. "That's right." The AK's muzzle didn't waver. "You come. Reeb kao! Hurry!"
At gunpoint, Batman was led back into the jungle.