The welfare of one man was stacked against the welfare of God only knew how many Americans. As well as the life of Quan. The nephew of the President of South Vietnam, the one man capable of destroying everything they’d fought and shed blood for so many years. He didn’t have a choice.

  “Okay, we’ll do it the hard way.”

  He was about to move, but Akulov stopped him. “I’ll deal with it.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m an Alaskan. Before we became part of the United States, we were a Russian colony. Most Alaskans have ancestors who fell victim to brutal Russian persecution. Wherever they go, they export cruelty and terror, these days in the name of Communism. Always the same people behind it. My great-grandfather was slaughtered by the Russians. This is payback.”

  “He’s not Russian, he’s Vietnamese.”

  He shrugged. “Every Communist is a Russian puppet.”

  He went to work on the Viet, and Heller had to prevent himself from intervening. After ten minutes elapsed, the commissar was a bloody mess of blood and gristle, whimpering for it to stop. Presently, it stopped, but not because he’d given the order. It stopped when his body couldn’t take anymore. His face purpled, and he suddenly gasped as a final breath left his body.

  Everyone went silent, aghast at what they’d witnessed. They’d also lost their last chance of getting a lead to the prison camp, but there was no time for recriminations. Akulov, who seemed unmoved by what he’d done, heard them first.

  “Trucks. Heading this way.” A moment later, he said, “I make it four vehicles. Could be loaded with infantry.”

  Since they’d landed on the beach, they’d had several run-ins with the enemy and left a trail of bodies impossible to hide. They stood surrounded by yet more bodies. The Viets would’ve been deaf, dumb, and blind if they couldn’t work out what was going on, and why they were here. They had to move before a shitload of soldiers arrived. He glanced around, trying to work out which way to go. Dao got there first.

  He pointed to a path. “It leads to a village about ten klicks west of here. I had a good friend who used to live there, a boy I went to school with. If he’s still there, I think he’ll help us.”

  Heller nodded. “We don’t have any other options, let’s go. Run!”

  They made it into cover as the first truck laden with soldiers rolled into the village, followed by three more. Inside the treeline and ducked down, they watched the NVA soldiers spill from the trucks and begin searching the village. They retreated further into the bushes and pushed their way through. Dao led them along an almost invisible game trail into dark, dank, odorous foliage, until they were satisfied they were far enough away to remain undiscovered.

  They settled down to wait, trying to prevent hordes of insects from crawling up their legs. Spiders dropped down from tree branches, and they blessed their heavy, uncomfortable steel helmets for offering protection from something other than bullets. Bloated flies and mosquitoes buzzed perpetually around their faces. They endured it for a couple of hours, and it looked like they were in the clear. The enemy hadn’t tracked them, so far so good, but they still had a big problem. Like they were lost. Dao knew the area, but when they’d run, he’d lost his bearings and didn’t have a clue where they were. Heller had a compass, but not knowing their location it was of little help. They didn’t know the location of the camp, and it looked like the only way out was to go back the way they’d come.

  Akulov said he’d go alone and retrace their steps. See what was going on. Dao insisted on going with him, and the two men set off. They were gone for three hours, and when they got back, they had good news and bad news. The good news was most of the soldiers had gone, leaving just one truck and fifteen men. The bad news was they were giving the villagers a hard time. Many of them had returned after they’d hidden in the jungle when trouble started. Now they had more trouble than they could deal with.

  Dao explained. “They’ve rounded them up, and they suspect they helped us escape. They’re threatening to kill them all unless they talk.”

  He grimaced. “They can’t tell them what they don’t know, so we should be okay. We wait for them to leave, head back to the village, and try to work it out from there.”

  “That’s not the problem. They’ve already started killing them.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “There’re three dead bodies on the ground, two men and a woman, and they were about to kill a fourth as we left. One every five minutes. One body is the guy I used to know. He was my friend.”

  “You’re kidding me!”

  “I wish I was. In another hour, twelve more people will be dead, and they’ll keep killing them until they’ve wiped out the entire village.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. It didn’t sound possible. Then again, this was Vietnam, where anything was possible. Even the impossible.

  “The motherfuckers.”

  “I agree. It’s just too bad,” Vien mumbled.

  Dao nodded. “I agree. This is not our fight. It’s between the Communists and those villagers. We have a mission to complete. That includes finding your Quan and getting him out along with the MIAs. Why waste time on a few useless peasants?”

  Heller exchanged glances with Ripley. He was as appalled as him. They were talking about the slaughter of ordinary people. Innocents who were guilty of nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the background, he heard Dao talking about sneaking past the village while their attention was distracted by the murders.

  “It’s the perfect opportunity. While they’re killing them, we can slip past, and we can continue searching for the camp. It can’t be too far from here.”

  “No!”

  The two Vietnamese raised their eyebrows. Vien said, “What do you mean, no? We must do it like this. It’s our best chance.”

  He gave her a withering glance. “Madame Vien,” deliberately being formal, “I don’t know how things work in Vietnam, and I’m not sure I want to know, but it’s not what we’re fighting for. If there’s a chance to save those people, we take it.” He held up a hand to forestall Dao, who’d started to protest. “Hear me out. We can do both, save those people, and find the camp.”

  “How?”

  “We go back and take them by surprise, nail every single one of the sonsofbitches. They don’t know we’re here, so they won’t be expecting us. We keep two alive. See if they can tell us what we want.”

  Dao wasn’t happy. “As I recall, you tried that the last time when that officer refused to talk. Even though Akulov beat the crap out of him.”

  “He was a true believer. We’d better hope the men we grab have more sense.”

  They headed back, glad to be moving away from their insect-infested refuge. They reached the treeline before the village and looked out on a scene of horror. A half-hour had elapsed since Dao had returned, and more bodies were laid out on the square. One soldier was busy hacking off the head of an elderly man, probably the village headman. He impaled the severed head on the bayonet fixed to his AK, held it in the air, and paraded it in front of the remainder of the terrified peasants. Another execution was imminent, and they had to move fast.

  “There’s just five of us and a lot of them, so we have to get this right. Hit them hard right at the start and take them all down.”

  “Six.”

  He looked at Vien. “You?”

  She gave him a scornful look. “Master Sergeant Heller, I was previously a serving officer in the Republic of Vietnam Air Force, and every man and woman is required to know how to use a gun. Tell me what you want from me.”

  He handed her the Makarov pistol he’d grabbed when they escaped from the pit. “Don’t forget I want two soldiers left alive. Ripley, Collins, take the north flank. Dao, you and Akulov the south. As soon as I start shooting, give it everything you have.”

  They cocked the AKs and crawled into position. Heller, with Vien following, snaked forward, getting as close as he could. In front of him, they’d lined up the next victim. A tough-looking NCO shoved a woman into the center of the square. When she whimpered and begged for her life, he slapped her across the face so hard she spun around and fell to the muddy ground.

  The Viet grabbed her long, black hair and pulled her head upward. He had a bayonet in his hand which he placed in front of her eyes, so she was in no doubt about the next bit, then positioned the blade beneath her exposed neck. He looked to the guy in command who looked on with an impassive face, arms folded. He shouted a question, and the woman shook her head. Pleaded with him, her voice shaking with terror for what was about to happen.

  “She’s telling him she doesn’t know anything,” Vien murmured in his ear. The guy gave a faint nod, and the NCO pulled her neck up even further, bending her body backward like a bow, “Do you want me to kill him?”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  He eased the selector to single shot and took careful aim. At fifty meters, it wasn’t a difficult shot, and he gave the trigger a gentle squeeze. The last thing he wanted was to miss and kill the woman he was trying to save. He didn’t miss. The bullet tore into the soldier’s head and tossed him to the side, blood fountaining from the mortal wound. Heller pushed the selector to full auto and fired. They all fired, sending withering bursts of fire into the ranks of the surprised soldiers. Moments before, the Viets had believed they were in charge and could carry out a wanton act of mass murder unopposed. Big mistake.

  Some had propped their rifles against the huts, and they went down as they ran to grab them. Others still held their rifles, which made them priority targets. They died first. The attack went like clockwork. Almost. Apart from the three men who took to their heels and ran into the bush.

  “Get them!” he shouted.

  If they made it to the nearest garrison, more soldiers would come looking for them. Many soldiers, a whole shitload. Sooner or later, they had to find out what’d happened here, but later would give them a chance to survive and finish the mission. He shouted at Vien to stay with Collins and for the others to join him and go after them. They sprinted after the leakers, and Akulov quickly nailed the first. The soldier had left tracks so faint they were invisible to a man who didn’t know what he was looking for. The Alaskan knew what he was looking for, found him, and a short burst followed by a scream confirmed he’d scored.

  Two fleeing soldiers were still loose, and Heller went after them with Ripley. They crashed through the jungle and emerged in a clearing. There was no sign of them, so they kept running. Dived to the ground when a storm of bullets buzzed past them. The bastards had dropped out of sight and waited for them to show. They heard footsteps, men pushing through the jungle toward them. And waited, tensed, fingers on triggers.

  The wait was long, but they didn’t have a choice. He was gambling the enemy had seen them hit the deck and would come out into the open to check. The wait was endless. Could he have made the wrong call, and they’d continued their flight? He looked at Ripley. “We can’t wait any longer. I’ll show myself and see what happens.”

  “Uh, that’s not a good idea, Sarge.”

  “It’s the only one I have. When I…”

  Before he finished the sentence a storm of gunfire erupted up ahead of them, so they were still there. They kept flat on the ground, waiting for the hail of bullets to pass overhead. Yet none came close. Screams erupted and died from inside the treeline ahead of them. They swapped glances but couldn’t make it out. Heller began to crawl forward. Something was happening and he had to check it out. He was halfway to the trees when he heard men talking. He must be hallucinating. They were speaking in English, not Vietnamese. How come? They got closer. A minute later, he heard a familiar voice, the grating, Northern Irish tones of PFC Barry McGuigan.

  “What the fuck are you doing down there? No need to be scared, we took care of them.”

  He looked up. Three American soldiers had appeared. McGuigan, Lynch, limping badly, followed by Cruz.

  “Sergeant Heller, we heard the shooting. I thought it would be you.”

  He didn’t reply, too relieved and astounded to be alive. Lynch was muttering something about how they should’ve been home by now instead of continuing with this fool mission. Cruz just snapped, “What’s happening up ahead?”

  He gave them a quick rundown and asked how they’d found them. Cruz shrugged. “Easy, we followed the bodies you left behind. Have you found the camp?”

  “Not yet.” He explained how they’d intended to question the soldiers. Except they were unfortunately dead. He didn’t say how they died. They started back toward the village. Cruz gave his men a passing glance, ignored Vien, and looked at Dao. “Well, Captain. What have you found?”

  He was back to his old, gung-ho self. Like he’d taken a magic potion. Or a drug.

  “We have a lead, Lieutenant. The soldiers are all dead, but we spoke with the villagers. At first, they were too scared to help, but we told them nobody would ever know, and eventually they gave us the location. It’s not far from here, around eight klicks. They say it’s well camouflaged, difficult to spot from even a short distance away, but there’s an airfield several hundred meters to the south. Find the airfield, strike due north, and we’re there.”

  Cruz gazed around with hard, bright eyes. “Sergeant, get them on their feet. We’re leaving. No time to waste.”

  He didn’t point out they were already on their feet, but he did point out there was plenty of ordnance lying around for the AKs they’d ‘liberated’ to replace their spent magazines. “Best not to go in with empty rifles. Sir.”

  “Yeah, yeah, get it done.”

  Ten minutes later they left. Heller brought up the rear, looking back as they walked away. The village square was still strewn with the bodies of the soldiers they’d killed. They’d saved the lives of at least some of the local peasants, but when the Communists returned, if they saw what’d happened to their men, they’d wreak a bloody revenge. If those peasants had any sense, they’d drag the bodies away and bury them deep in the jungle. Hide every trace, every bloodstain, every sign they’d ever been there. Drive the truck away, and make it disappear. Push it deep into a remote rice paddy. He opined they’d probably get it done. These people had lived a life of continuing warfare, and this would be nothing new. Although not generally so close to home. Vietnam was a battleground and had been for hundreds, if not thousands of years. This century, they’d fought the brutal unfairness of the French colonialists. Survived the fanatical Communists who’d taken charge of the North, and survived frequent raids by marauding warlords, the scourge of most of Asia. On balance, they’d likely survive.

  Cruz led from the front, pushing the pace hard. He was anxious to get results, and now they knew the location of the target, he appeared filled with determination to get the mission done. Reach the camp and discover those men were inside. Men who were unaccounted for, the MIAs, along with Quan. If they got that far, it would be a miracle, but he wondered if Cruz had figured out the rest of it. The mission brief required them to sneak into North Vietnam, locate those men, and get them away before the Viets knew what was going on.

  They knew what was going on. They hadn’t sneaked into North Vietnam. They’d charged in, blasting everything that moved. Sure, it hadn’t been their fault. Circumstances had been against them, but it wasn’t a question of whose fault it was. The enemy had to know their objective, and they’d be waiting for them. They’d be walking into a trap, and there was no way to avoid it.

  That would require another miracle, and not many miracles happened inside Vietnam. A man could count the number of miracles on a single hand and still have five fingers free. They’d have to be almost invisible to get any closer to that camp, and invisibility was as much in short supply as miracles.

  He looked back again. Already, men and women were dragging away the bodies. They had the sense to tidy everything away, to hide the evidence of what’d happened to the soldiers. The truck was still there, but they were sure to get around to it after they’d disposed of the bodies. He turned back to catch up, stopped, and looked again. The truck.

  Why the hell didn’t I think of it before?

  “Hold it!”

  Chapter Five

  They drove away with the engine spluttering, leaving a trail of oily exhaust fumes in their rear. Dao was in the driver’s seat with Vien seated next to him. They’d found a tarpaulin in the rear of the truck to hide them from prying eyes. Dao estimated they could reach the location of the camp within a half-hour. For the first time since they’d hit the beach, it looked like things were going to pan out.

  Until they didn’t.

  * * *

  It’d been a nightmare journey, pushed into the rear of a truck loaded with sacks of rice, squeezed between four North Vietnamese soldiers, speeding toward the Cambodian border before government forces had time to respond. When they were halfway, the truck turned onto a narrow track and drove deep into the jungle, toward the area known to the South Vietnamese and United States as the Iron Triangle. They pushed him into a tunnel and waited for two days before they bundled him back onto the truck and the journey continued toward the Cambodian border. Crossing was no problem. Under coercion from the Khmer Rouge, border guards were expecting them. They waved the truck through, and it continued, albeit at a slower pace, toward its destination.

  A clandestine airfield used by North Vietnam to convey VIPs to the South. Quan breathed a sigh of relief when they pulled the heavy sacks away, and he emerged into a new dawn. An aircraft waited under camouflage netting, and at first, he was puzzled. It seemed to be surrounded by trees, with no airfield and no way to take off and land.