“Of course,” Takishi said. “I will pass on the message for you. My plane should be arriving shortly in Cateel to escort you to Manila, so that you can assume the presidency.”
“Thank you,” Talbosa said.
“And Talbosa, you should talk to your men at Fort Magsaysay. They have succeeded where you failed.”
“How’s that?”
“They’ve got Matt Garrett locked in a cell.”
Chapter 57
Abe was glad that Major Ramsey’s team had finally broken contact with the insurgents. It was dark, and they had been on the move for a full night and an entire day, each man taking a turn carrying Jones’s body. Abe was glad to contribute and demonstrate strength and character by carrying the dead man once, albeit briefly.
Abe’s heart went out to the American men. They were strong and rugged, but he knew they all had families as he did. They were all only doing what their country had asked them to do. He watched their stark faces as they faded into and out of his sight in the moonlit night, silently stalking through the high-mountain rain forest. Their painted faces, streaked with black and green camouflage, reminded him of the Indian warriors he had read about in American history. The men stepped lightly, seeming never to touch the ground. Large green leaves would brush against their faces, leaving the moisture from the dew and rain across their brows. Each man held a weapon, pointed outward. He was impressed at their professionalism and quietly yearned for their, and his, safety. One day he would write a poem about the contrast in their compassion and their duty.
He could sense that the men were scared, but they dared not reveal fear. He was reassured by their compassion for one another and the fact that their leader, Major Ramsey, had brought him into the fold. He sensed that they still did not entirely believe his story about the weapons. To them, it did not compute. To him, it made perfect sense.
Over the past five days he had become drawn to Major Ramsey. Abe found himself respecting the commander’s authority and command presence. In his society, it was natural to be drawn to the source of power and obey. He had noticed in Ramsey an ability to remain calm even in the most dangerous situations. To Abe, the more confusing the situation, the more stressful, the more dynamic, the more the major would retreat into his inner sanctum and draw from a deep reservoir of knowledge and power and control.
Like adding ballast to a listing ship/the man in green/leads his men/they the arrow/and he the tip.
He patted his empty pockets for a pen to jot down the thought, then hoped he could remember it.
He had no ideological differences with the men. In fact, he had found himself to be quite similar in character to his captors, who were beginning to accept him. After fixing their radio, a quite simple task, they identified with him. He was of use to a team consisting entirely of useful people. He had been a burden but had become an asset.
In the growing darkness, Abe looked down at his jungle fatigues with the crazy black, green, and brown patterns interwoven in the fabric. He was beginning to be like them, he thought. As they walked, he carefully chose his steps through the dense underbrush to avoid the dreaded black palm plants and any poisonous snakes that might be lurking, as was usually the case. He stepped first with his heel, rolled his foot gently to the side away from the arch, then pushed quietly with his toes.
He still did not carry a weapon but could taste the excitement as they moved like an invisibly connected team through the jungle. Each man knew where the others were, always looking in a full circle. Turning slowly halfway, then back again. Lifting an arm to quietly push a branch aside. Letting the insects fly about his face. He was learning the discipline of martial arts that he had eschewed as a young man in Japan. So many of his friends had trained in the jujitsu and karate skills, but he had chosen piano lessons and engineering at an early age.
That night, as he moved in synch with the soldiers through the lush green highlands, he felt something instinctual that had never been there before. He had the taste of copper in his mouth. His heart beat fast, but in control. He wanted to be a part of the team.
He watched as Major Ramsey halted the patrol in the darkness. They had doubled back on their trail and were about six and a half kilometers northwest of Cateel. Their initial path was only two hundred meters below the slope they occupied. A rare clearing in the forest connected their current position to the previously traveled path. Abe watched as Ramsey gave instructions to Benson, who quickly went about the business of implementing them. Ramsey then slipped his rucksack off his shoulders, grimacing as he did so, and set up the tactical satellite radio.
“Bravo six, this is Bushmaster six, over,” Chuck whispered into the radio. The sun had fallen behind the mountains to his rear. He faced east, peering between two mahogany trees into the clearing. Slipping on his night-vision goggles, he saw Benson directing his men into different positions and tacking what looked like fishing line ankle high to trees near the other side of the clearing. They worked quickly and professionally, knowing exactly what to do, despite their hunger and fatigue. Three days ago they had officially run out of food. Most of the men had conserved their MREs, however, and had lasted up until that point only through Eddie’s expert foraging.
“Bushmaster six, this is Bravo six romeo, over,” a voice responded. Ramsey sighed with relief. His connection to civilization was intact.
“This is Bushmaster six, get me your zero-six, over.” The romeo, the radio operator at the other end, told him to wait. Ramsey looked at Abe, who was watching his team prepare their position. He had gained respect for the man over the past five days. Abe had so willingly given them the information about the weapons-production plants that he believed the man to be telling the truth as he knew it. Abe’s help with the radio had been instrumental both in contacting the outside world and maintaining faltering morale in his team.
“This is Bravo six,” Captain Garrett’s voice came back, “good to hear from you. We’ve been trying to contact you.”
“This is Bushmaster six. Yeah. We have some enemy hot on our trail. We lost another man,” Ramsey said.
“Christ. Chuck, this is Zachary,” he responded. They were emotionally connected, Garrett and Ramsey, two West Point classmates finally recognizing each other in the midst of an impossible situation. It was only natural that they forgo proper radio procedures and share a moment of friendship. It was lonely at the top, and sometimes leaders needed reassurance.
“I know. I’m glad it’s you down here. Any luck with that helicopter?” Chuck asked, hopefully.
“He’s on the way. He departed our area about an hour ago and will try to island hop and steal gas until he can reach you. We’ve moved. Like I said before, this whole place is under attack by Abu Sayyaf. We can still hear fighting down in Olongapo. I know you’re sucking, man,” Zachary said.
“Okay,” Chuck said, hopeful. “Any way to predict when he’ll be here?”
“Couple of days at the worst. If he’s lucky, about twenty-four hours.”
“Okay. I think we can hold out. Zachary …”
“Yeah.”
“If I don’t have a chance later … thanks. I know you could use that Black Hawk. You didn’t have to send it.”
“I’ll see you in a couple of days, and we’ll drink a San Miguel and go chase bar girls,” Zachary said, Slick looking at him with a smile, hopeful that he could go too.
“Listen, I’ve got some important intelligence that you need to get to your higher. I can’t seem to get bird sixty-five right now, so you have to relay this information, over.”