Through the binoculars the girl looked very frightened. “One of the pigs,” Tel said, passing the binoculars to Kamigami.
Kamigami studied the scene for a moment and then scanned the village. “How many?” he asked.
“Seven,” Tel replied.
“Do we know where they all are?”
“Affirmative,” Tel answered.
“On my command,” Kamigami said, still sweeping the village with the binoculars as Tel spoke into his radio. Below them, twelve men ghosted out of the nearby jungle and moved into the village, their weapons at the ready. A little boy ran out of his house and almost ran into one of the shooters. Kamigami saw it all and tensed. Then he relaxed as the man spoke to the boy, reassuring him. He gave him a little pat on his backside and sent him scurrying for the jungle and safety. The shooter turned in Kamigami’s direction and pointed to the boy’s house. He held up two fingers and then made a waving motion over the entire kampong. He held up five fingers on his left hand, closed his fist, and held up two more. Two soldiers were in the house and seven in the entire village. Their intelligence was good.
Now the shooters were in position. Kamigami raised the gold whistle to his lips. He refocused his binoculars on the soldier standing on the veranda and gave one long blast that carried over the valley below them. The soldier’s head jerked at the sound, and he started to key his radio. But a single gunshot dropped him, the radio falling between the floorboards. At the same time the shooters burst into the houses. Sporadic gunfire echoed through the valley, and it was over in less than ten seconds. The shooters dragged six bodies out of the houses as Tel examined the soldier on the veranda. He looked in Kamigami’s direction and signaled that the soldier was still alive but unconscious.
“Keep him that way,” Kamigami ordered. Tel spoke into the radio, and bent over the downed soldier, administering a knockout shot. Then he methodically bound up his head wound and stopped the bleeding. Kamigami came to his feet. “Call in the ’copters,” he ordered. He walked down to the kampong as Tel made the radio call.
Colonel Sun paced the ramp as he waited for the helicopters to land. He kept looking nervously to the north, all pretense of calm shattered. “There is one very nervous man,” Janice Clark told Pontowski.
“It’s not right,” Sun told them. “The general should be here, not on operations.”
“That’s Victor,” Pontowski told him. “He leads from the front — always. That’s why he needs you, to hold things together.” They fell silent as two A-10s took off in formation. They turned out of the pattern, carving a trail against the early-morning sun and cloud-laced sky. “Area familiarization,” Pontowski explained. “We need a training range.”
Clark made a mental note. “I’ll talk to Maggot and arrange something with the MA.”
“Good luck,” Sun muttered. In the distance they heard the distinctive beat of helicopters. Sun tensed as he waited. “The general insists on radio silence,” he explained. Slowly his tension eased as the first two helicopters approached from the north and settled to earth. The lieutenant leading Tiger Red climbed out of the first helicopter and marched over to report while they discharged their precious cargo. He spoke in Chinese, and Sun breathed in deeply, the tension now gone. “Total success,” Sun said. “No casualties. The general is on the last helicopter.”
Two more Warthogs took off as another two helicopters approached. Three trucks provided by the International Red Cross emerged from under the trees to load the villagers. “We’re relocating them to refugee camps near Keluang,” Clark explained. Keluang was the nearest town, ten miles west of Camp Alpha. They talked as they waited for the last two helicopters.
“We’re settled in here,” Pontowski told her. “So I’m heading for Singapore today and checking in with the MAAG. I’m thinking of creating a detachment here to expedite logistics and maintain operational control.”
“That’ll be a neat trick,” Clark said, “if you can bring it off.”
“I’d like you to come with me,” Pontowski said.
“It might expedite matters,” Clark said. She steeled herself as the last helicopter touched down and Kamigami got off. “There he is,” she said.
“Let’s get this behind us,” Pontowski urged. They walked toward the helicopter. Kamigami recognized Pontowski and quickly shrugged off his equipment, shedding over sixty pounds. He handed his weapon and helmet to Tel and jammed a red beret onto his head as he walked toward them. They met in the middle of the ramp. “It’s been a while,” Pontowski said.
“Not since China,” Kamigami replied, telling him the obvious. They shook hands.
“I’ve got a problem we need to discuss,” Pontowski said. Kamigami nodded and waited. “When you cleared the snipers off the base,” Pontowski continued, “did you execute either of the two prisoners?”
“No,” Kamigami answered. “I let them go.”
“But your aide,” Clark protested, “said you did. He said it was better that way.”
Kamigami shook his head. “Tel doesn’t fully understand. He’s still learning. He once saw me summarily execute a man who had butchered my family. At the time I set the other prisoners free so they could tell their comrades they met the vampire. I did the same with the two snipers we captured.”
“But you did kill a prisoner?” she snapped.
“He wasn’t under your jurisdiction,” Kamigami replied. His voice was very soft and matter-of-fact. He didn’t tell her that it made no difference who held the soldier. But he did owe her an explanation. “They did unspeakable things at my kampong.”
“What’s this vampire nonsense?” she asked.
“The Chinese tend to be very superstitious. I’m using it against them.”
Clark turned to Pontowski. “I’m not sure I want them on my base.”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Pontowski told her. “For now they stay.”
Twenty
Maddy Turner sat at the head table in the new convention center, and for the first time in twenty-seven days she laughed heartily. The banquet was a major campaign event, with full TV coverage and all the required celebrities in attendance. Below her, the organizers had staged a fashion show satirizing politicians and were gently mimicking not only her but Senator Leland. The actor portraying Leland was a dead ringer for the senator. The only thing wrong was the red tip of the devil’s tail that kept sneaking out of his pant cuff with a mind of its own. The audience roared when the woman impersonating the president suddenly sprouted horns, with a pretty bow tied around one. The two actors ended the sketch by joining together to sing “I Got You, Babe” with a very different set of lyrics. Later on, her speech would bring them all back to the serious business of the times. But for now she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
Richard Parrish moved to her side. “Madam President,” he said in a low voice, “we have a situation that requires your immediate attention.” And for added emphasis: “I’ll make the appropriate excuses.”
Turner spoke to Maryland’s governor and thanked him for the wonderful evening. She rose and quickly followed Parrish out to her waiting limousine. “What’s so urgent?” she asked once they were inside.
“The National Reconnaissance Office reports that a satellite monitored six missile launches in Malaysia. Shortly after that we lost contact with our embassy in Kuala Lumpur.” Parrish checked his watch. “That was twenty minutes ago. We should have more by now.” He spoke into a telephone. “Thank God we’ve got the first of the FIA satellites up ahead of schedule.” The FIA stood for Future Imagery Architecture, the innocuous-sounding name given to the new generation of spy satellites being launched by the NRO. He listened for a moment. “United Press International reports thirteen missile strikes in Kuala Lumpur. That doesn’t make sense at all. Our satellites are too damn good.” He spoke into the handset as they pulled up to the waiting helicopter for the flight back to the White House. “The ExCom will be waiting when we arrive.”