Bamboo Terror Page 12

  He looked across the short distance between them and saw the searching look in her eyes.

  "I have not seen you since you first arrived," she said. "It has been a long time."

  "Only one month," said Hazzard.

  "It seems longer. The time goes so slowly here for me. It is very boring to live in this big house alone. Tell me, what do you do every day?"

  Hazzard stood up. As she talked, she kept leaning closer to him. Too close. A man can take just so much of a woman like this, then his will power will break down before the overpowering urge to taste the forbidden fruit.

  He turned his back on her and spoke as he looked out across the village. "I get up early every morning, and all day long I train your men to be soldiers. It is very interesting."

  "What do you do in the evenings?" she asked.

  "I read."

  "What do you read?"

  "Old magazines," said Hazzard.

  She had come to his side and was now looking up at his profile. Hazzard did not know whether he wanted to look down into her upturned face or not. She was a temptation that Hazzard could not resist for very long, and for some unexplained reason he felt that he should not tamper with the feelings of this woman. Maybe it was the thought of the giant Ming Lee, or maybe it was fear. The fear of becoming emotionally involved.

  Her voice came in a husky whisper. "I do not think that reading old magazines is very interesting. You must find the evenings here as boring as I do."

  He looked down at her, and suddenly she was in his arms, her body arching slightly into his. Her lips held firm against the pressure of the kiss. Then slowly, as the tenseness in her body relaxed, her mouth opened to his, and they devoured each other in along wanton kiss of passion.

  She broke away with a gasp and faced the window, her shoulders trembling under Hazzard's hands.

  "You are the first one who has ever kissed me," she said in a low whisper. "You are the first one I have ever wanted to kiss." She turned around to face him "Is it wrong?" she asked.

  "The kiss?"

  "No," she said. "To want a man."

  Hazzard took her chin between his hands and looked down at the unbelievable beauty of the face that had sent this urgency of passion coursing through his veins. "No," he said softly, "It is not wrong."

  "Will you come here to see me again?" she asked.

  "Do you want me to come?"

  "Someday you must leave here," said Ling Ling. "I want always to carry the memory of you in my heart. Yes, I want you to come."

  Hazzard left her question unanswered. He had heard the voices in the corridor and dropped his hands from her face. When the others entered, Ling Ling was standing by the glass-paneled doors gazing out across the sea, and Hazzard sat once more in the chair, his feelings a mixture of emotions that he could not understand.

  Chang unrolled a detailed chart of the North Vietnam area on the table before them. Each communist supply dump was clearly marked in red ink with notations of what the dump contained. Hazzard ran his eyes over the map, scanning the clearly inked words: small arms depot, 105mm. art. shells, clothing, medicine, vehicle tires—there was everything you could possibly need, and the majority of the supply dumps were located along the coast.

  Chang gave them the basic outline of the raid. Sturmer would leave the next day and attack a small arms ammunition depot that was situated in the lightly guarded town of Thai-Binh, located at the head of a narrow bay sixty miles north of Tu-Hao-Tuc. Then for two hours they worked out the details; haggling, suggesting, rejecting, and agreeing, until all of them were satisfied.

  Sturmer would take forty men with him. They would go up the coast in two of the armored motorized sampans, regulating their speed so that they would enter the bay at eleven fifteen at night, and land at eleven thirty. The population would run into the jungle or remain hidden in their huts at the first sound of gunfire, and the small garrison that guarded the warehouses would be quickly dealt with. They would then load the sampans with as many cases of small arms ammunition as they could carry and return over the same route. The forty men that Sturmer would take with him would not be briefed on the raid until one hour before departure. It was hoped that in this way the information could not be transmitted to the Reds by the unknown spy in time for the communists to send reinforcements and ambush the raiding party.

  They went over the details of the plan a second time. At each point Sturmer nodded his head in agreement. He had gone on many raids in the past, and this one seemed much simpler than any of the others.

  "And you should return here no later than two hours after dawn," concluded Chang. "Do you understand everything?"

  "Ja, I understand," said Sturmer.

  "And just in case something should go wrong, keep someone listening on your radio constantly until at least eleven ten. After that, it will not make much difference one way or the other."

  "I don't see why I can't go," broke in Hazzard. "I haven't done anything but sit around looking at the scenery, and I want a chance to give those roughnecks of mine a little action."

  Ling Ling felt a jolt of fear stab at her heart as she heard these words. It had not dawned on her until now that Hazzard would possibly be sent on one of these missions, and the memory of what had happened to all the other raiding parties during the last six months made her shudder as she unconsciously bit her lower lip.

  "It is my turn to go," said Sturmer. "Do not worry, Herr Hazzard. Your turn will come—all too soon I am afraid."

  "Then it is settled," said Chang. "Unless there are any questions."

  He looked from one to the other. There were no questions. Each one seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, and Hazzard caught himself wondering if one of them was thinking of a Chinese telegraphic book and a radio message. Then, abruptly, Kelly stood up.

  "Well, if you will all excuse me. I must return to my hospital," he said. "It's time for my evening tonic."

  Hazzard watched him leave with growing suspicion. If Kelly was the spy and sent a message to Hanoi now, would the Reds have time to set up an ambush? Then he brushed the thought from his mind.

  "Where does the doctor get all his liquor?" he asked. "Way out here at the end of the world."

  "Ze natives make eet," Maurice told him with a laugh. "And Monsieur Kelly theenks zat ze taste weel change eef he puts eet in zose fancy bottles."

  The door behind Hazzard opened and he turned around to see Wong the houseboy coming in with a large tray of tea and cups.

  "Well, if it's a choice between native moonshine and tea, I guess I'd better stick to tea." He reached for one of the cups and held it up. "Bottoms up."

  "I wish I had your sense of humor, Herr Hazzard," said Sturmer. "But somewhere, many years ago, I seemed to have lost the virtue of seeing pleasure in anything." He noticed that the rest of them were looking at him strangely, and he forced a smile as he took a cup of tea. "But come, let us not be sad."

  "Wait!" said Ling Ling.

  The sudden outburst surprised them and they watched her questioningly as she went to a large cabinet and brought a bottle back to the table.

  "I have been saving this for some great occasion," she explained. "And I think tonight is as good a time as any to open it."

  Maurice gently picked the bottle up. "French cognac," he said reverently. Then he held it up for all to see and laughingly said, "Ah, monsieur le doc-teur weel keel himself tomorrow when he hears about zis."

  Ling Ling brought crystal glasses to the table and Maurice opened the bottle and poured the drinks.

  "To Herr Sturmer," said Ling Ling as she raised her glass. "May the gods of good fortune go with you."

  "No, wait," said Sturmer and he held up his hand. "Do not drink to me. Rather, let us drink to what we are gathered here for: freedom and liberty for ah."

  These words, coming from Sturmer, stunned everyone into silence and immobility. From another person, at another time, in another place, they would have been laughed off as corny dramatics, but now, espec
ially coming from the usually silent German, they took on a deep meaning of sincerity.

  Slowly rising from his chair and raising his glass, Maurice broke the silence.

  "To freedom, liberty—and to you, Monsieur Sturmer."

  14 The Raid

  COLONEL WU had been wakened in the early hours of the morning by an urgent call from his office at the intelligence center, and now he sat at his desk reading the decoded message from his agent at Tu-Hao-Tuc. He had left standing orders to be summoned immediately if any messages were received from this particular agent.

  Now, this nest of troublemakers was planning a raid on the ammunition dump at Thai-Binh. Colonel Wu had less than twenty-four hours to try and stop it. He knew that the remoteness of the area and the military situation along that section of the coast would prevent him from sending in any troops before the scheduled time of the raid. There were no naval units close enough to use effectively, and air lifting troops was out of the question.

  He picked up a telephone. "I want to know the exact position of Captain Chen and his troops immediately," he snapped, and turned around to study the large map on the wall.

  The door opened and a junior officer came in with a file folder and a detailed map of the area north of Tu-Hao-Tuc. Captain Chen's route from Hanoi had been carefully marked on the map, and he was now about twenty miles northwest of Thai-Binh. Twenty miles through the jungle in time to meet the raiders would mean a continuous forced march. Colonel Wu looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to four. If a message were sent now, Captain Chen could be on the move by four thirty. This would give him exactly nineteen hours. They would have to travel through dense jungle at over one mile an hour without rest. Under normal conditions this would be impossible for fully equipped troops.

  Colonel Wu bent over the map again. There was a dirt road winding down through the jungle from north to south that connected the scattered villages along the coast. Captain Chen was now eight miles southwest of the road at its closest point. If he reached the road at this spot he would have to travel another nineteen miles southeast to reach Thai-Binh. This increased the total distance to twenty-seven miles, but traveling along the road would increase his speed. It was this or nothing, and the raiding party must be stopped.

  "You will transmit this message to Captain Chen at once," he said to the junior officer, and Colonel Wu wrote out the instructions that would send Captain Chen and his four companies to Thai-Binh.

  Stunner's men had been briefed on the coming raid and were now boarding the two armored sampans while Hazzard, Maurice, and Chang stood on the wharf with Sturmer watching the preparations.

  The sun had disappeared below the level of the treetops and the short tropical twilight was fast darkening into night. Sturmer walked along the edge of the wharf making one last check of the men and equipment, then looking at his watch, he nodded to the others. "It is time to leave," he said, and strode off toward the lead sampan.

  Moro jumped aboard the held the boat steady against the wharf, waiting for Sturmer to board. The German hesitated, and then coming back toward Hazzard, he took a cord with a key dangling on it from around his neck.

  "Herr Hazzard, will you do me a great favor," he asked.

  "If I can," said Hazzard.

  Sturmer held out the key. "This is the key to a metal chest in my room. If I should fail to return, I wish you to open it, pour gasoline inside, and burn everything; without reading or looking at anything. Will you do this for me?"

  "But you'll be back . . ."

  "I have your word?" said Sturmer, holding out his right hand.

  Hazzard took the key. "You have my word," and he gripped the right hand of Sturmer in a strong handshake.

  When Sturmer jumped aboard, the two sampans were poled out toward the mouth of the cove, the motors coughed, then caught, and soon they were lost in the growing dusk, the soft sound of their engines fading away under the noise of the pounding surf.

  Kelly was sitting on the steps of the quarters when they returned from the lagoon.

  "Has he gone?" he queried.

  He received no answer, but he knew by their attitudes that the German had left, and he got up to follow them inside.

  All of them were apprehensive and nervous. They fidgeted around the large room for a long time doing nothing until Chang, in desperation, finally suggested that they play poker. They went through the motions of the game automatically, none of them concentrating on the cards nor caring whether he won or lost.

  When Captain Chen had received the message from Hanoi, he had consulted his map, gotten the men up, and had them moving in fifteen minutes. Ruthlessly he had pushed them through the eight miles of jungle, kicking at those who fell, cursing those who lagged behind, and promising swift punishment to all if they arrived at Thai-Binh too late to stop the raiders. When they reached the road, he had ordered them to alternately run for five minutes and then walk for five minutes. Men fell into the dust of the road under the heavy weight of mortars, shells, and ammunition that they carried on their backs, only to be hauled to their feet and shoved harshly along again at the grueling pace.

  It had taken nine-and-a-half hours to come the first eight miles, but only six hours to travel the nineteen miles along the road to the village. They had arrived in Thai-Binh at eight ten. Captain Chen let them rest for twenty minutes before ordering the junior officers to deploy two companies on each side of the narrow bay. When this was done, he went in search of the local garrison commander, and demanded to be shown through the warehouse area.

  The commander readily agreed, exclaiming his admiration for the past heroic feats of Captain Chen, but in reality, the commander had taken one look at Chen's special papers, and had felt the cold sensation of the icy hand of death on his heart when he saw the imposing seal of the Secret Police of the People's Army.

  "What is in this budding?" asked Chen as they came to the warehouse area.

  "Small arms ammunition," replied the commander.

  "And in that budding over there?" asked Chen pointing with a bamboo switch.

  "A few odd items of communication equipment," said the commander. "Telephone wire, pieces of hardware, a few searchlights, one or two . . ."

  "Searchlights!" exclaimed Chen.

  "But captain, they are in heavy wooden crates."

  "Then open them, stupid," cried Chen.

  The commander ordered his men to break open several cases in the warehouse which revealed a type of small searchlight about two feet in diameter that Chen had seen many times before attached to posts around various prison camps.

  "Do you have generators for these?" asked Chen.

  "We have a few small generators for electricity," replied the weary commander. "But I do not know if they are strong enough for these big lights."

  "Commander, you will keep your thoughts to yourself, and confine your talking to direct answers to my questions." Chen paused to allow the effect of this statement to penetrate. "Now, you will bring your generators, these lights, and ten of these rolls of telephone wire to the places I will show you on this map."

  Captain Chen unfolded the map on the top of a crate with the smug satisfaction of one who has just conceived a master plan of strategy, and explained to the commander exactly what must be accomplished before eleven o'clock that night.

  "I cannot play zis game," said Maurice, and he threw his cards into the middle of the table.

  "Don't tell me you're worried about Sturmer?" asked the sarcastic Kelly.

  "I am not worried about anyone," said Maurice. "Eet eez too hot to play weeth cards." Pushing back his chair, he walked to the life-sized nude poster, pulled the darts from the wall, and began throwing them at the naked breasts.

  "What time is it now?" Chang asked of no one in particular.

  "Almost eleven," replied Hazzard.

  Chang forced himself to ask the question that had been going through his mind, knowing he must, but not wanting to hear the answer. "What time does the radio usually give th
e English broadcasts?"

  "The next English broadcast from Hanoi is at eleven o'clock," answered Kelly. "You know that as well as I do." He paused for a moment. "Do you want to listen?" he asked finally.

  "I think I am afraid to listen, but I cannot change anything by not listening," said Chang. He waved his hand in resignation at Kelly. "Turn on the radio."

  Kelly walked slowly to the radio, turned the switch and waited for it to warm up. Static filled the room, and he tuned it until it gave forth the eerie sound of high-pitched Chinese music. Returning to the table, he sat with Chang and Hazzard and absent-mindedly began to shuffle the cards. Above the sound of the music could be heard the steady thudding of the darts as Maurice continued to throw them mechanically at the poster.

  Hazzard's watch showed exactly eleven. Any second now, he thought, and as if in answer to his anticipation, the music stopped. A voice spoke for a few seconds in an unrecognizable language that Hazzard guessed would be Vietnamese. There was a long pause, then came the voice of Hanoi Harry.

  "This is Radio Hanoi, the voice of the people, bringing you ten minutes of English commentaries on today's world events. But first, a personal greeting to our friends at Tu-Hao-Tuc."

  Everyone in the room tensed.

  "We send greetings to Doctor John Kelly. You have been in our country, at Tu-Hao-Tuc, exactly one year today. It is indeed sad that such a learned doctor should waste his talents helping the traitors and criminals at Tu-Hao-Tuc, especially under such poor conditions. How many patients have died this month, doctor? It is a pity that you cannot get medicine instead of bullets and guns to cure your patients."

  "And now for a few commentaries on today's world events . . ."

  "And I hope you die of syphilis, you Red bastard," commented Kelly.

  They all grinned at Kelly's remark. It was as though a heavy weight had been lifted from the room. The atmosphere changed. The tenseness of fearful anticipation was gone. Maurice came back to the table, sat down, and grabbed the cards.

  "We play ze poker. Ze stud seven card, weeth ze number two card eez wild." He looked across at Hazzard to make sure he had correctly learned the American poker jargon, and began to deal.