A pistol shot jolted through the bunker, and Murdock felt the white-hot fury as a poker reamed into his left leg and dug deep, burning all the way far into the flesh of his left leg. He whirled and fired six rounds from the Bull Pup into the body that had been draped over the MG on the bunker floor. He must be tired. What the hell was he thinking? None of them had made sure the body was dead. It was now. He saw the pistol slip from the Chinese man’s hand and a last gush of air come from dead lungs.
“Skipper, you all right?” In his earpiece.
“Yeah, our Chinese friend wasn’t quite dead. He is now.”
“You hit?”
“Yeah, but not bad, just in the left leg. What are you finding?”
“Nothing yet.” The words were whispers from the night. “Tucker says the bivouac is just ahead.”
There was silence for a few seconds. “Oh, shit, Skip. Here they come, a damn assault line. Must be fifty of the little bastards and they’re heading straight for you.”
23
When the first firing broke out, Sara Livingston knew what it was. She grabbed the blankets, slid under the bunk on the floor, and pulled the blankets around her. The wooden sides of the tent frame would at least slow down any stray rounds. She’d seen enough shooting scenes to know what bullets could do. The tent top would not stop anything.
She huddled there for what she figured was an hour. Then the door jerked open and Lieutenant Hing stormed in. He was swearing in Chinese, she was sure. He rummaged around in a box that had been locked and pulled out another pistol. She watched him a moment, then cried and wiggled out from under the bed. She was still naked. She removed the three-inch hat pin from her hair and held it hidden in her hand.
“Who’s shooting?” she asked. “Will they hurt any of us?”
He turned to look at her and some of the anger drained from his face.
“Wish I had time right now. You are so damn sexy. Just like those sophomore girls who wanted it all the time. Come here.”
She walked to him, hips swaying, her breasts bouncing and jiggling. He bent and kissed both breasts, then stepped back. He was about to say something when her right hand jolted out. She swung her hand straight at his heart. The hat pin stuck out between the knuckles of her closed fist like an ice pick.
Before he could cry or jump back, the hat pin lanced into his flesh, scraped off a rib, and plunged deeply into his heart. Surprise turned to shock and then to pain. He tried to grab his chest. Instead he caught her arm. He dropped to his knees, taking her with him. Then he shivered and shook his head. His other hand reached for her throat, but fell away. He let go of her wrist and dropped hard to one side.
Sara grabbed the pistol in the holster at his belt. Racked back the slide to make sure there was a round in the chamber. Then she shot the Chinese lieutenant four times in the chest. Sara watched him die with a hard smile on her face. The bastard got what he deserved. She just happened to be the one to pull the trigger. She stared at his dead body a moment more, then picked up the other pistol and held both of them. Sara had never killed anyone before. A shiver ran down her spine, but she lifted her chin and it went away. He should be dead. She wouldn’t think about it anymore.
She picked up her clothes and dressed, then looked in the box to see if she could find the keys to the padlocks. Sara grabbed a ring with several keys on it.
She hurried to the tent door and looked outside. She still had one of the pistols in each hand. For a moment she saw nothing. Then her candle-lighted blindness receded and she saw two Chinese soldiers running to the east. There were no guards around the tents. Maybe they were fighting.
Sara slipped out of the tent and wished for shadows, but there were none. She walked toward the tent three down where she had been with Patricia. The candle still burned inside. Sara slipped in and found Patricia sleeping curled up in the blanket.
There were four keys on the ring. The third one opened the small padlock holding the metal strap around Patricia’s wrist.
The woman came awake slowly, then reached out and hugged Sara.
“Oh, you’re back. Sara, I was so frightened for you.”
“That part is over. I have the keys, you’re unlocked. Come on, let’s get the men freed before any soldiers come back.”
Patricia frowned. “But we’re chained up.” She lifted her arm to prove it, and when she saw it was free she shrieked in delight.
“How in the world…”
“Don’t wonder, just hurry outside with me. Come on.”
In the darkness of the men’s tent they stumbled, and the governor came out of a troubled sleep.
“Who’s there?” he asked.
“Just us chickens, Governor. I have the key to your padlock. You’ll have to pick the right one. Let’s get out of here.”
“What about Lieutenant Hing?”
“Don’t ask. We can talk later. Get your lock undone.”
The others awoke. The governor got his cuff off and gave the key to Vince Yamamoto, who did the same. Harry Chung’s lock needed a different key. Each of the two aides took one of the pistols.
“Where’s Karl?” Chung asked.
“I heard him slip out about an hour or so ago,” the governor said. “He opened the lock on his cuffs.”
The five moved to the door and waited while the governor looked out.
“Looks clear. Where do we go?”
“Straight over there into the brush and trees, and then we hike for two hundred yards downhill so they can’t find us,” Chung said. They moved quickly across the thirty yards of cleared space to the nearest vegetation, and walked into it.
Once there, Sara told them what happened at the tent to the lieutenant.
The governor took one of the weapons, checked it for a load, and pushed on the safety. “Are you sure about the lieutenant?” he asked her softly so the others couldn’t hear.
“He’s dead. Now we should move farther from the camp.”
They did.
Murdock could see some of the muzzle flashes blossoming in front of him. He had about ten seconds to decide. Did he cut and run and live to fight another day? Or did he use the twenty and see how much he could discourage the fifty Chinese troopers who were said to be storming toward his position?
There couldn’t be fifty, but even twenty would be too many. Also, he didn’t know where Lam and the Marine were. He might be firing right into them.
Something sounded beside him and he looked over at Ron Holt, who lifted the EAR weapon over the side of the bunker and fired at the muzzle flashes from the Chinese ahead of them.
Yes. That would help, might do the trick. Another of the familiar whooshing sounds came from the other machine-gun pit. Then Holt fired again. The gun flashes had been cut in half.
“Yes, Holt, do them again.”
When the ten-second recharge turned the firing light red, Holt had his target and fired. Six more muzzle flashes ceased in front of them, and the gunners evidently went to ground.
The earpiece spoke to Murdock. “That old EAR job did the trick, Skipper. Looks like about a dozen of them left and they are moving back. Oh, yeah, now they’re running.”
“We used six shots. Any close to you guys?”
“No, we were well clear. Karl, the Marine, says looks like the Chinese bastards are heading for their bivouac. That could mean a hasty retreat.”
“Stay with them. What about the hostages? You anywhere near the tents?”
“Another fifty yards. I can see lights in two of them. No, just one. Must be a candle. We’ll check them out if we get that far.”
“Roger that. Keep us up to date.” Murdock nodded and whacked Holt on the shoulder.