Forged in Honor (1995) (12 page)

They'll all come back soon enough! The lying pye dogs are up to no good with their promises. I can smell it."

Xu Kang took off his turban to reveal silver-white hair that he pushed back with a liver-spotted hand. He didn't feel sixty-nine at that moment but he knew later, once he rested, his old body would feel the effects of the long hunt. He turned once again and gazed down the valley where he had marched in 1945 as a twenty-year-old lieutenant in the Chinese Army. So long ago, he thought. Motioning for the colonel to join him, he strode to the shade of a towering teak beside his small bamboo and thatch headquarters and sat in his old campaign chair. An aide brought a chair forward for Banta, and a young Shan corporal poured two cups of cool green tea.

Xu Kang leaned forward in his chair. "Our small army is not what's important. Our secret army in Rangoon is our real source of power. We must use it and find out what the junta is doing. Also, I must have forty here who speak Burman.

Send them to Rangoon to establish multiple radio bases.

They should provide guidance, money, and whatever is necessary to help the others watch the DDSI and the army."

Colonel Banta unfolded a map. "And what of these lai labs?"

Xu Kang's brow furrowed. "The fools! I warned those Sawbaws that dealing with the DDSI was like sleeping with a cobra. We should patrol the lai houses and ensure there are no cobras lurking about."

Banta sipped his tea until he decided the time was right.

Then he asked, "Chindit, why are you so sure DDSI will not keep the agreements? Your own son is-"

Xu Kang's eyes dimmed. "Stephen is like the others. He wants desperately to believe in them...." He slowly shook his head. "Stephen doesn't understand them as I do. They're lying pye dogs! We control the mountains! The silver, tin, jade, tungsten, teak forests, and ruby mines are owned by us, the minorities. Do you really believe after all these years that they will give us independence and lose those resources?

Never! Their agreements and honey words of rebuilding the country are worthless! They will strike as soon as our guard is down!"

Banta smiled and said, "The hunt has filled your heart with bloodlust."

The old soldier raised a silver eyebrow. "The Shan women say I'm too old for pleasuring them and would rather fight.

There is some truth to it. I have fought too many years and know these cobras want us to believe they are tame. They only want us to become docile and expose our throats."

Banta heard the rumble of engines in the distance and stood. "I'll see to the arrivals and have the equipment stored; then I'll begin planning the Rangoon intelligence campaign."

Xu Kang rose and patted the colonel's thick shoulder.

"Keep faith with this old man a little longer. I smell treachery. The cobra will strike very soon."

.

1400 Hours, 3 June Ministry of Defense, Rangoon, Burma Director Swei was escorted into the prime minister's office and came to attention in front of the desk. The general of the army and prime minister of Burma, Aung Mawg, motioned his old friend to a chair. "The Americans are demanding more information on the terrorist attack. Do you have anything yet?"

Swei tried to look disturbed that he was letting his leader down. "I'm sorry, my general, but we have come up with very little. The cassette tape sent to the government television station is our only lead at this time. This 'People's Communist Battalion' that claimed responsibility for the bomb is new to us. We are working with the police and the army on the matter. I can assure you I have my best men on this."

Mawg sighed with resignation. "We didn't need this, did we? Our operation is still on schedule, I hope?"

Swei raised his chin. "White Storm is on schedule-soon you will be able to lead us to greatness."

Relieved, Mawg began to smile but remembered his other problem. He frowned instead. "I need to give the minority leaders a date for the announcement of the loan guarantees.

Without those agreements, they will break the truce. Xu Kang has already fled to the mountains and is calling for others to join him. I fear that old man the most. Many listen to his claims of treachery on our part."

Swei nodded in sympathy. "Yes, I heard the old Chindit had returned to the mountains. It's just as well, for he will be made the bigger fool. Tell the others the date for the announcement will be Martyrs' Day, the nineteenth of July. The people will be home for the public holiday and you can make the announcement on television with the minority leaders in attendance."

Mawg's eyes brightened. "Excellent. So the plan is going well?"

"Only a few setbacks, but nothing for you to worry about.

I can guarantee the nineteenth. You will be able to announce the new loans from the People's Bank in Hong Kong and can begin implementing the economic rebuilding programs immediately."

The prime minister nodded reflectively. "It is our last hope. We've strived for this day. I've given you complete authority in the execution of your master plan and have never doubted that you will see it through. We have made too many mistakes in the past my friend ... too many."

Sensing that the meeting was over, Swei stood and gave a respectful head bow. He was about to walk out when the general said quietly, "Find the terrorists, General. They killed more than Americans. My wife's sister was shopping across from the embassy."

Swei showed grief yet resolve in his eyes. "They will be found," he said confidently and walked out. The prime minister's executive aide stood in the anteroom, and Swei motioned for the man to follow him into the hallway. Once there Swei lowered his voice to a whisper. "I told him the nineteenth-that should hold off the minority jackals until we can deal with them."

The aide whispered back, "We are ready for the word."

Swei patted the man's shoulder. "It will come sooner than you think. Keep me informed of whom he talks to."

Minutes later Swei was in the underground tunnel that ran from the Ministry of Defense to his own Directorate complex. He strode past the guards into his underground command center, where General Tan was waiting.

Tan raised an eyebrow. "Was he satisfied with the date?"

Swei allowed himself a small smile. "Of course. He trusts us."

Chapter 8.

5 June, Washington, D. C.

"How'd you do today, Josh?" asked the old boathouse custodian.

Joshua Hawkins placed the scull on the rack and looked back at the river. "I think I'll be ready, Fred. I think maybe this is my year."

The old man motioned to Josh's eighteen-foot, flat-bottomed bass boat tied to the pier. "I gassed her up for ya. Looks like ya made a good haul on your hunt this morning. By any chance ya see him?"

Josh strode toward his boat as he put on a dirty khaki shirt.

"Now, but I've designed a new trap. I'll get him."

"Sure you will," said the old man with a smile.

Josh checked the tie-downs over the rectangular wire traps in the front of the boat before climbing in the back. He pulled down the bill of his faded blue ball cap and smirked seeing the old man's disbelieving grin. "Just you wait and see, Fred. You're a disbeliever just like the others. I'm tellin' ya he's out there."

"Sure he is, Mr. Hawkins. Have a good trip home."

Josh cast off the line and started the outboard. He pushed his Conway Twitty tape into his old eight-track player that was rigged to the console and gave a last wave as he headed the small boat down the Potomac.

Fifteen minutes later Joshua tied off at the back pier of the Emporium fish market and rang the service bell. Seconds later a small, Oriental man opened the back door and stepped out. As usual he was wearing his beat-up baseball cap, ragged sweater, low-riding dress slacks and dirty, calf-high rubber boots. Mr. Ky, the owner of the Emporium, scanned the interior of the boat before barking, "How many you got?"

"Well, hello to you too, ya old goat," Josh said dryly. "Be nice to me. I had to work hard at it today, but I got ya a dozen that'll go at least three pounds apiece." Josh bent over and pulled back the wet tarp at his feet to reveal a writhing jumble of green shells, elongated necks, and clawing feet. He picked up one of the water turtles and held it up. "This one will go four at least."

Ky's eyes remained impassive as he stepped back inside the door and yelled out. Seconds later two young Vietnamese boys came out and began unloading the catch. Josh followed Ky inside, past mounds of crushed ice, stacks of iced-down fish and crabs, cleaning tables, and plastic buckets brimming with unwanted fish and crustacean parts. Ky entered his small, cluttered office. He motioned to a rusted metal chair stacked with papers. "Sit, sit, sit."

Josh settled himself on the lip of Ky's desk, knowing the pirate wanted to deal.

Ky smiled a toothy grin and held up two fingers. "You bring two dozen next time, okay? Chinese cus-ta-mers like.

They want more."

Josh wrinkled his face. "Now, a doz a day is all I can handle. They're gettin' smart. I'm having to hunt downriver as far as Fort Belvoir to get ya the dozen."

Ky kept smiling. "0-kay, o-kay, I give you fifty cent more a pound, you bring more, o-kay?"

Josh looked casually at his fingernails but spoke with an unmistakable warning tone. "I know you raised your price to your customers, no I expect the fifty-cent increase on this load." He looked into Ky's narrowing eyes. "Or as your only supplier, I might be forced to go to your competition next door. Antonio says he'll beat your price."

"Antonio no have Chinese cus-ta-mer! No deal, no deal!" blurted Ky.

Josh nodded absently and pushed off the desk. "Better have your boys load 'em back in the boat. I'll go over to Antonio's and see what he says."

Ky exploded into loud, singsong Vietnamese, slapped the desk, kicked the trash can, and stomped in place in his rubber boots.

Unimpressed, Josh stood by the office door, waiting. Seeing that he wasn't fazing the supplier, Ky threw up his hands.

"0-kay, o-kay, fifty cent more. You big-time thief, Josh. You take advantage of poor, old refugee, trying to make living."

"Save it for the customers, ya old goat. Pay me," Josh said with a wry smile.

Ky's worn face cracked into a small smile. "You deal like Vietnamese." He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a wad of bills. He counted out $120 and handed it over. "Tomorrow I leave buckets of bait for you on back pier as usual."

Josh stuffed the money into his dirty khaki shorts pocket as he strode through the prep area. Ky followed him back to his boat and patted his back as he got in. "You see him today?"

Josh started the outboard and spoke over the grumbling engine. "Now, but the bastard ruined another trap. I'll get him.

I've built a special trap. I'm taking it out tomorrow."

Ky grinned. "You say same last week. You catch him, I pay hundred dollar."

"Deal," Josh said, casting the line. He raised his hand in farewell and turned the boat up the channel for the nearby Capital Yacht Club docks and home.

Stefne Hawkins saw her father leave the distant fish market and could hear Conway Twitty's twangy voice over his rumbling outboard. She strode down the side deck of Lil'

Darlin' toward the bow. A small, willowy young woman, only two inches over five feet, she tossed her short auburn bangs from her eyes as she stepped over chicken wire and assorted piles of metal rods before finally reaching the prow.

Her cobalt-blue eyes narrowed as she waited for her father with her hands on her slim hips.

Josh reduced power and turned into the marina's first row of slips. He saw his daughter and waved but silently braced himself for what was to come. Aiming for the second slip, he pushed the Stop button on his eight-track player, then cut the engine and glided in.

Stefne threw down a line to him, scowled, and said, "It's six; you're late as usual. You'd know that if you wore your watch. You've got to brief the summer hires at six-thirty.

Simson called in sick, but I got Postroski to take his place.

Harry called and says he'd like extra coverage tonight for a group of high rollers. Don't be lookin' at me to help. I've got finals to study for. You're out of milk again; Clifford drove me crazy. You owe Meg half a quart of milk." She took a step to lean over and help him up, but her boat shoe caught in chicken wire. "Damn, Dad, when are you gonna clean up this mess?"

Josh climbed up to the deck and looked around at the clutter with pride. "It takes time to design the right trap. He's big and mean and-"

Stefne rolled her eyes and stomped toward the catwalk, barking over her shoulder, "Twenty-eight minutes until your briefing. At least change and take a shower. You smell like rotten fish."

Josh watched her, but he did not see an attractive, twenty-two-year-old woman. Rather, she was the little girl who had stolen his heart years before.

Stefne turned around once she reached the cockpit and saw the look in his eyes. She gave him an understanding smile.

"Tough day, huh? I put a Cutter's in the fridge for you."

She was looking and sounding more like her mother every day, he thought. He forced the ache out of his heart and put on a smile. "Thanks, hon, I'll be just a sec. I have to stow the traps."

Stefne nodded with a sigh and stepped down into the hatchway. "Twenty-six minutes until the briefing, Dad!" she said loudly, then disappeared inside the cabin.